Yo, everyone! This is just a quick little something that I came up with...it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I'm going out of town for the week (Spring Break, yay!), and I won't be posting anything for about that long...but I promise I will getsomething done and posted as soon as is humanly possible.
Well, it's not a very uplifting story, and I've never done a character death fic before (which is what this story is), but I will be doing more of them in the future, so be prepared. (The good thing about character death is the they can always come back the next time you need them!) Gojyo fans...please don't kill me. On with the tragedy!
Additional Note: My apologies to shourin, my dear beta reader, for not sending this story to her before posting it.
This should hurt, Gojyo thought, as the knife was thrust into his ribs again, with more force this time, it seemed. This should hurt, but I don't feel a thing. He could feel the warm blood that ran down his stomach; he could feel the pressure of the man that was on top of him, robbing his body of everything that it needed to survive. But the pain was non-existent.
He knew he was dying. But in that moment, that was not what concerned him the most, oddly enough. It was the thought that he might not have locked the door to his apartment before he left. Funny, the little things that you think of, even in the direst situations. He might have laughed out loud, had he any strength or breath to do so.
Vaguely, Gojyo could hear the man shouting something as he slashed and hacked at his body. He couldn't seem to make out the words, however. His ears didn't seem to be functioning properly anymore.
Oh, he's leaving now. He took my watch…and my wallet, I think. Oh well…I can alwaysget the money back at the tableslater. Or just borrowsome from Hakkai.Wait, I forgot...I'm dying, aren't I? Guess I won't need the money then. He probably wouldn't have given me any anyway. We've been kind of short on cash lately.
His vision was beginning to blur and darken around the edges. He tried to move his arms, and found that he could not. He could see, from the position where his head was resting on his shoulder, that one of his legs was twisted upward at an odd angle, and that his shirt and pant leg were soaked with blood. Blood? Whose blood is that? The answer, he knew, was hovering in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He couldn't think clearly anymore. Instead he focused on the streetlight that he could see through the narrow alleyway.
Pretty, he thought. Vaguely, he remembered something else that shone like that light. Hair. Golden hair.
And as the corners of his mouth came up in a small smile, he shuddered one last time, and then Gojyo's world went dark.
Comments are always welcome (flames will be laughed at). Happy Spring Break!
