Life is cruel. That he knew all too well. Was life cruel for everyone? Maybe. Young Werther had suffered an entire book by the hands of Goethe. And all the young men that did take their life after reading it. Or maybe not. What did it matter in the greater picture anyway. Life was definitely cruel to him. What other explanation might there be for so many coincidences. Their only goal leading to this suffering?
There was a plan. Of course there was. He had years and years time to plan. To think about it. Every detail. Every eventuality. What he was capable of. What their weaknesses were. From the head of the snake to the small replaceable men who terrorized the streets. Each needed their own way of elimination. What people needed and how he could show them anarchy through their own hands. The plan covered it all.
He was close. Heart beating fast in his chest echoing his swift steps. Was it the anticipation of what lied at the platform before him? No it wasn't. He had outlined everything, the ending was clear to him. They would both die. One by the Finger himself. The other one by his own fingers around his throat. Meeting the expected didn't make his heart pound. It was knowing that this plan will succeed. Him dying included.
He had weighed their pros and cons. Played it through in his mind over and over again. It musn't fail. That was the only thing that really mattered when coming to a decision.
There she was. Standing at the jukebox. Why oh why had she come now? How could reunion be so bittersweet. He knew the moment she stood there. It was too late. The plan had taken months of preparation. Twenty years was such a long time to plan and now he was running out of it. He knew all the other options and what effort it took to execute them. He had no time to falter. Let it be the most cruel goodbye he could endure.
Words. His home was full of them. Filling piles and piles of books he saved over the years. Their juxtaposition giving deeper meaning to them. Using them to spread fear amongst his enemies, reviving a nation or impressing her with clever quotes. Now, he had none of them." I can't". That's all he could say. What is the point in her knowing. Both of them could not change his fate.
The Plan. It had succeeded. His role in the vendetta was over and he knew it. All there is left was dying.
Evey.
She was at the platform. He hoped she would still be, waiting to pull the lever for him, for herself, for the vendetta.
She had returned back to him, hadn't she? Dying, would have been easier, knowing she had abandoned him. But life was cruel, twisting and turning a cold dagger in him till the last minute.
Why oh why didn't she return earlier? Giving both of them more time… Time to reconcile. Time to heal that charcoal heart of his. Time to change the plan for a different outcome. Where he could live. Beside her. Warmth filling their hidden home.
It freed him. Saying what he never dared to feel, all the buried emotions of a man dying beside his love. Love. That was the essence of it, wasn't it? Life was cruel. Life was cruel because there was love. And the lack of it. Werther suffering from love until he bled to die. That was the essence of it all.
He had it all. He truly did. And that was something he did not expect to be part of the plan.