"Twelve... Please don't go."
The words come out azure and strained, as if on the verge of breaking. He can feel his hands trembling. A migraine is pulsing against his temples, but he ignores it.
"Don't choose her."
He knows the words will hurt him, but he says them anyway. He has to.
"She's nothing compared to me. To us. To everything we have! I've told you before that she's not one of us. She has no idea! Don't just throw it all away for her when I-"
Nine draws a sharp breath, wavering over the decision whether to speak his next words or not. He stares into those reflective eyes and knows Twelve is struggling. He knows this isn't a choice he wants to make. But it's one he has to, all the same. And that's what makes getting his next words out all the more crucial.
"I love you, Twelve," he whispers.
It's an admission that part of him hopes Twelve won't hear, but he knows he does. Twelve sees it in evanescent violet and feels his heart tear in two. "I love you." Nine says again just an octave or two higher, just a little clearer, and a bit more mauve with longing.
And in his mind he wants to say in all the ways she never can and never will. She will never have what we have or know you the way we know each other. She will never understand. But he spares him these thoughts. He knows it will only hurt him more and that same hurt will streak across those eyes, that are to Nine both transparent and opaque, plain for him to see because Nine knows that he can see through Twelve's every disguise as well as Twelve sees through his. But he still has to make a choice.
And yet somehow, behind those glistening eyes Nine has known nearly his whole life Twelve's silently whirring mind goes unnoticed. I love you too, he wants to say, but he knows if he does she'll die. So instead he just says, "I'm sorry, Nine."
As his back disappears into the distance, Nine knows he can't wash this bitter taste of betrayal from his mouth.
Aside from the planning and calculations, Nine doesn't have much else to do. He ignores the fact that he has not slept in days. Or that if Twelve were here, he wouldn't have allowed him to work himself dizzy. No, he completely denies the absence of gentle hands against his nape, slowly working to relax him before removing his glasses. He refuses to remember how he'd be led to the sofa, his head in Twelve's lap and those persistent hands would continue stroking his hair until he fell asleep. The same hands that traced smooth circles into his back when he had night terrors- No. There is no chance he will let himself admit he misses Twelve. So much.
Instead he tells himself it has to be perfect. Everything has to be absolutely precise before he goes through with their plan. He can't afford sleep. He's on his own now. His work is too important. This is their dream, after all. This is what they created. Together. Our goal will finally be realised. This will finally belong to us, he thinks, but it rings hollow. Perhaps it's because now it might be only his dream.
For a day, there is solace. All's been forgiven. The plan went smoothly, and Nine still feels as though he's seen a glimpse of Twelve's synthesia when the atomic bomb went off. For a day, he doesn't hate Lisa for stealing Twelve away from him. He is simply grateful that Twelve still managed to be there for him when he needed him most. He catches Twelve's persistent glances now and then, but says nothing. Instead, he patiently waits for him to approach him on his own. Twelve wants to tell Nine the truth of how he feels. But he's sharing his Icelandic music with Lisa, with an ease he's never witnessed before. Maybe once this is all over. For real. After we've told the truth about us to the world. Then I'll tell him.
When it happens it's like a power surge or a short circuit. No. He never in his wildest dreams thought Twelve would go before him. Twelve who didn't even show the symptoms yet. The gunshot is a lethal catalyst. Blood stains those lips that would never smile again, splatters against those eyes that would never sparkle again. It's an overload. Too much emotion at once. Too much agony. Too much despair. Too much fury. Nine loses all sense of conscious thought and control in that moment. Everything he spent his life suppressing floods forth leaving his chest feeling as though it were pressurised. His eyes blur with tears, and something Twelve might have called a crack of ice blue lightning ravages his throat, electrifies the air, touches the sky, perhaps even obliterates the stratosphere, extending beyond the explosion of their floating parcel. And then nothingness. His mind stops. His body goes slack. His agonised voice echoes into silence. It all fades to black and he collapses into an eternal embrace.
"I'm sorry for the mistakes I've made. But from now until forever, it'll be just you and me again. Flying upon this single bent wing we share."