AN: omg
I want to apologise for this one jfc. How many deathfics is this now? Wow I am so so so sorry you don't even understand. Idk why I wrote this and I kinda regret it um I'm sorry if you don't like um sadness or whatever this is. It's tense ok.
A gun in your hand.
One bullet, one minute. Do you raise it, aim it, shoot it, drop it, run from it or do you toss it away, jump to the side?
Freeze.
Stop, put your hands up, drop it?
They have a gun.
What do you do?
They're going to shoot you either way. You're outnumbered.
Now what?
You can feel the revolver in your hands, smooth and cold, yet searingly hot, burning the skin on your palms.
What do you do with it?
Raise it, aim it, shoot it?
They push him forward.
Him, it's him! They're holding a gun to his head. Tears are streaming down cheeks, blood seeping from a gash on an eyebrow.
Now what?
Drop it.
You do.
They're running, pushing you to the ground. Your knees hit concrete, denim scuffed. Your arms are bound together, then your legs.
You're trapped.
Did you make the right choice?
Your gun is still in sight.
A beacon of light, of hope, yet so small, so unreachable. It's impossible.
You don't know if you're going to make it through.
Your face is pushed against the ground, the gun is out of view. You can taste dirt, blood and you feel sick.
You hear him whimper and you clench your fists.
Nothing you can do.
Now what?
You hear the scraping of metal.
They've taken it, they've taken your gun.
Now what?
They've taken your only protection, the protection you never used, never shot.
Should you have?
Would it have been different if you had shot? If you had pulled the trigger before he got him? Would there still be hope?
They pull a bag over your head.
Blackness.
You can hear a hushed whisper, but no words, you don't know what's happening.
There's nothing that you can do.
They move you somewhere. You're small, you always were, you're not hard to move. They throw you into a room, you're not sure what it is then you feel another body next to you. It's him!
You hear doors slam shut, an engine rumbles to life and then motion.
A van.
You feel him shimmy closer to you, feel the warm, comforting weight of his body against yours but you're both tied.
You hear a muffled statement, you can't even be sure what it was but you think you know.
"I love you."
You're not sure, but you don't care.
Then you realise, you aren't gagged. And you realise that it's now or never.
"I love you too."
You hear a sharp intake of breath through the nose and then he moves closer and you swear, /you swear/ you can smell his scent. But then again, you could be very wrong. It might just be a memory.
The van goes over a bump.
Your body flies up, then falls with a bang. You feel your head hit the floor and there's a second of blinding light and silence then you're back in the van.
It feels like you're at the bottom of a well. You can still hear, but it's muffled and there's a strange ringing in your ears.
You say it again as you lose consciousness.
When you wake you're still tied.
It's different now, you're upright, arms tied behind your back still, legs spread, ankles tied to something solid, a weight pushing into your back.
A wooden chair, you're tied to a chair.
You notice that they've removed the bag, but you don't care. You're gagged now.
Your head is lolled forward and there's a kink in your neck. Your eyes are still shut, you think it's better that way.
There's a shuffling at the other side of the room and your eyes instantly fly open, your head snaps up.
Your head screams in protest, bright patches appear in your vision and for a second you think you've lost yourself, but then you're back.
Your eyes come into focus.
He's there.
He really is.
Grey eyes burn into your own and you feel a wave of compassion. You see the pain in his eyes, agony, he's calling out for help.
Nothing you can do.
Now what?
Behind you, there's the clicking of shoes on stone.
Someone's coming.
His steps get closer, closer, closer, always closer until you can almost feel his breath on you neck.
You're terrified, too scared to turn, you're paralysed.
His steps round you and he comes into your line of sight.
Black trousers, smeared with dirt and- is that blood?
You press your eyes shut, but they don't stay like that for long.
He takes another step and they flicker open.
Where is he going?
He's hardly moved.
Black, leather shoes. They're scuffed and worn, but they look expensive; too expensive to be in this state.
You gulp, raise your eyes.
A black shirt, sleeves rolled up and dirty. It's torn and ripped and you can see more blood. Who's blood?
Your eyes raise even more.
He's a brunet, hair wild and unkempt in thick curls, but it's short. A rugged face, warn and aged and weathered and unattractive.
You're surprised but you don't know what you expected.
His eyes are fixed on him, they're mocking and cold, nothing like the rich blue the irises could be.
He takes another step away from you and he turns slightly, he's facing away.
They you see it.
Tucked into his belt, it's there.
It's your gun.
He spins suddenly and grins, a hideous, humourless grimace.
He knows you've seen it.
It's pulled it out.
You flinch and you see Dan flinch too.
You're guilty, you nearly forgot he was there, but you glance at him and your eyes meet for a second before you both turn back.
The man runs a grimy finger down the barrel.
"One bullet." He says and it sounds so very familiar. "All you have to do is shoot, then you're free." You don't understand. "Take the gun, aim-" he points it in Dan's direction.
"No!" You shout, but it's muffled by the gag you nearly forgot was there.
He laughs. "-shoot." The man mimes shooting.
You shake your head.
The man walks over to him and un-gags him.
"Kill me. Do it, please. You have to do it. Please." Dan begs. "For you. Please." And you know that it's what he wants, but you shake your head.
But you have no choice.
The man unties you. His hands are rough against the skin on your wrists and you close your eyes and try to steady yourself.
When you open them again he's there. His hazel eyes are pleading. You know what he wants. Those eyes are pleading with you silently, but you can't.
The man un-gags you and your body is free, but you don't move. You can't.
"What if I shoot you instead?" You ask quietly, head swivelling round to meet the man's eyes.
"Then you both die."
You hear his pained scream of "no!" as you watch the man's eyes silently mock you.
"Stand up."
You follow your commands.
You feel the gun slide into your hand. Your gun.
"Shoot." You know that you have to do it.
Your hands raise, trembling and you can feel them dampening. Your grip on the gun is immeasurable, knuckles turning white.
The tears are flowing, streaming down your face. You can't control them.
"I'm sorry." You say. You know it'll be the last thing he'll ever hear you say. "I love you."
You see a small flicker of warmth in his eyes, see the brown glow just a bit brighter. Your eyes clash, swirling brown meeting pools of icy blue, and you converse silently. Last words.
You find myself turning the gun in your hand, the bullet tearing a hole through your brain, and as your body crumples, you're aware of his screams, raw and piercingly loud.