The Solace of a Chocolate-Eyed Beauty
-UchidaKarasu-
A long time ago, he had thought that there was something to live for. His friends, his girlfriend, to save lives, and to stay alive. He had thought that because of these reasons, there would be an incentive to carry on, to not go crazy, to keep his heart beating.
He looked down at the metal object in his hand and wanted to smile. He didn't though; instead, he sighed and tried to remember past the cool indifference his mind now ran by, and he tried to recall when he knew that he was going to commit the ultimate act of cowardice.
He remembered when he had first questioned his 'foolproof' logic that he lived by. His friends would go, his girlfriend would find someone new, someone unscarred. People would never stop dying, but sure, he could extend that inevitable end of people's lives. And staying alive was not even a top priority. He lived for the very things he questioned.
He looked around, feeling numb. Nothing seemed to penetrate the glare of the lights in the spacious room, and there was no noise other than the neverending stream of questions and the ruffle of paper. Nothing could escape the stare of a thousand eyes that were baring down on the wooden table and on the black haired man who had a gun hidden under the table.
And he was a man; a man with prospects and a man with everything at his disposal; a man who was still learning to become a man. He was a man being looked at with hope, love, admiration... everything a hero was.
For he was a hero, and yet he was afraid. He was afraid of that purpose, that glance, that hope that had left him a long time ago.
He caressed the cool steel in his right hand. This was a weapon of choice, his method of ejaculating his life in the void of time. He just had to lift the gun from its haven of blackness, put it to the smooth white skin of his temple, and pull the trigger.
It would be so easy. No lying to his beloved friends and the woman he had once wanted to marry. Just here, in the illuminating camera flashes and the bright lights in the huge room. Everyone would see him take his life with a brute, hardcore weapon. A weapon that criminals used, and police officers, and hunters, and even the poor teen-agers who committed suicide, quite like he was planning.
He looked at all the faces, all above eighteen, and tried to understand and realise what they wanted to live for. Why did these people want to live in a place where nothing got better and everything got worse? Why did they smile so? Why did they look at his pale face with so much hope and determination? All he did was save some lives! Just a couple of hopeless, dreamless, mortal lives!
He closed his eyes. A tear leaked out of a crystal eye and creeped down his face. The questions seemed to die off as the numbness in his brain gave him the courage, the last bit of gut to know that it was time.
It was time to die.
It was time to be free.
He lifted the gun, opened his eyes, and heard the gasp.
Harry Potter pulled the trigger.
His last thought was the first and only kiss he had shared with the chocolate-eyed beauty, his only solace, his dead Hermione.
