#Forbidden line I had to cut off because it didn't match the tone of the post:

[kyouka-supremacy]

You know, actually, there's one distinctive trait, a very simple reason that had me fall in love with sskk.

They meet each other for the first time; they don't hate each other. Akutagawa was just doing his job (rip), and Atsushi's main sentiment towards Akutagawa was fear- hatred too, maybe, but nothing more than any other mafia operative. They don't know each other yet.

Then, they get to know each other. They start to understand each other's reasons and motivations as they share-scream them with each other while fighting. They start to understand each other, and that's when they start hating each other like they've never hated anyone before. But why is that? Where does all this loathing come from? It's quite simple: because as soon as they started knowing each other, they started seeing themselves in the other; and the person both of them hate more than anyone else is themselves. You don't even need to check how both of them have themselves listed as their own major dislike on their respective profiles to perceive that: it's already more than evident by simply taking a look at their self-destructive tendencies, need for validation, null self-esteem they've been carrying through the whole manga. They see themselves in the other, end they hate themselves, so they hate the other too.

But then. Then they start to see something else too. They start to see how broken the other is. They start to see how kind the other is. They start admiring how strong the other is!! And they start questioning, how is that person not worth of love? Isn't it beautiful how they lived through hell, yet they're still standing? And finally!! A slow realization makes its way through them. If they are worthy of love, and they are like me- doesn't that mean I'm worth of love too? If they're worthy of living, does that mean that so am I?

And that's how their feelings of hating themselves, hating each other, loving each other, loving themselves come full circle. That's the thing I love about this ship: how the journey towards learning to love each other is actually a journey to learning to love themselves. And I think that's beautiful :')

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

okay everyone! i forgot to do the drabbles i had planned for the christmas-new year's eve deadweek, so i'm speedwriting and posting them now even though i didn't proofread, cut half of them, and it's already 2022 for me. i'm using timezones to justify this though, so sorry for mistakes or overall poor quality.

there are lots of ships/combos so check the tags, and read the ones you want 😎 ily all, you deserve better but thank you for being so wonderful ❤️❤️❤️

also, some motifs echo and lines are reused, so if you read them all it's supposed to sound like an echo! a lil artsy thing for y'all 🥵

Espighty, Pre Chaotix-Split

The two watched the last-minute shoppers frantically sprint through the drowsy city, like speckled ants on lightly powdered roads.

“Do you think he’ll notice?” Espio asked warily, the clinking of their glass bottles functioning as makeshift bells. The armadillo shook his head with an amused smile, shoulder brushing his friend's as he reached forward to rest his chin on his knees; “Vector hardly remembers his name these days because of Charmy and Ray, a couple beers won’t be missed.”

Mighty was radiating with warmth, and the chameleon was still flushed from the minimal contact they had just made, unable to blame it on the alcohol since they hadn’t even tried the stolen drinks yet.

“Should we have brought one of those uh, opener things?”

“Did you forget who you’re with?”

Snickering as the armadillo popped the stubborn caps off, Espio used his hoodie sleeve to wipe the excess foam off Mighty’s hands, which earned him a curious look.

Teal met gold, they saw red.

“Your gloves will get sticky,” he explained, but the words didn’t reach either of their ears, and neither are sure that Espio had ever actually said anything.

After clinking their bottles once more, intentionally this time, the two took a swig from their forbidden beverages…

They instantly spit them out.

“It was the bubbles,” Mighty said quickly through coughs, and the chameleon nodded in agreement, both adolescent mobians bonding over this mutual understanding.

Beer tasted like shit.

They were too proud to put them down though, and performing for one another was a comfortable routine, oblivious to the scenes and stories below them.

Team Chaotix, Post Chaotic-Split

“Do you still miss him?” Charmy asked, ignoring the stern look Vector was giving him from behind the couch.

The chameleon shrugged, avoiding eye contact; “Do you still miss Ray?”

Neither questions were answered.

“Well, at least Vector doesn’t have to buy us as many presents, right? Oh, and we don’t need to take turns when we play Street Fighter on New Year’s!” the bee reasoned, unaware that his remote had never been plugged in.

Espio snorted, and looked back at the crocodile who was holding back a smirk.

“Yeah, we’ll make do this year.”

Mightourge, Post Chaotix-Split

“Do you still miss him?” Scourge asked, kicking some broken glass into an alley as they wandered the barren streets– there was no snow in this city.

The armadillo shook his head, shoving his boyfriend with his shoulder, fingers laced; “I miss all of them, but you don’t have to worry about anything if that’s where your mind is, I swear.” Mighty’s words were clear and honest, but the hedgehog found himself smiling in disbelief, trying to mask his grimace.

“Scourge,” the armadillo called, the sweet but dry tone of his voice making the other’s cool exterior crack, his mirage of aloofness failing.

Mighty giggled at the hedgehog’s rosy contorted face and inhaled sharply before placing a peck on his cheek. He instantly looked down to fixate on their matching boots, still bashful with their open affection. This was new.

“You can’t just do that,” Scourge blurted out, shoving his face in his arm, muffling both his flusteredness and nervous laughter. The armadillo looked back up, no longer intimidated by his boyfriend’s reaction, taking pleasure in the power he had over the edgy musician.

“It’s Christmas, we’re a walking mistletoe Scourge. I’m going to kiss you until you realise I’m not going anywhere.”

The hedgehog hummed and pulled Mighty a bit closer, some newfound confidence added to his step. “Good,” he replied loudly, startling the other mobian.

“That’s just more motivation for me to doubt you now.”

Sonic & Infinite, During Forces

“Happy New Year,” the jackal drawled, picking debris from underneath his exposed claws.

Sonic had requested to know the day, at the very least, and the hedgehog’s loss of temporal perception was only entertaining to a certain extent.

“What reason do I have to believe you?”

Infinite didn’t answer, because he didn’t have any responses that held merit.

Sighing, the blue hero laughed quietly, sliding down the wall of his cell to sit in the corner, joints numb and unfeeling. The other villains were familiar at least; Zavok was probably his favourite as the most chatty adversary, and Shadow was his least favourite: Eggman had definitely done something to his memory again.

This new foe, the masked one, could be entertaining if Sonic was lucky. Some days he’d talk, others he’d merely laugh at whatever universe the hedgehog was thrown into, and the vertigo that followed.

“Y’know, I don’t think anyone would be able to kiss you with that hideous mask on, next year you should try going without it to see if you get lucky,” Sonic teased, eyes lowered to avoid catching a glimpse of his reflection in the silver lining of the villain, who was now on his side of the bars.

Infinite didn’t respond, his elegant stature towering over the seated hedgehog, tail swishing almost nervously as he watched the broken mobian's attempts at breaking through the fog.

“I don’t need luck, I’ve already won,” he finally said, each word chosen carefully after timeless premeditation.

Sonic sensed there was something embedded in the jackal’s words, but he couldn't make himself care enough to look for it.

He loved adventures, but running while imprisoned would be an introspective journey, and Infinite’s mirrors were better than him at deflection.

They stayed there, unmoving, as change leaves room for perception, and neither mobian wanted to be known by the other, or reminded of themselves.

Knouge, During Forces

“You're not supposed to be here,” Rouge commented, hiding the smile on her face when she saw the red echidna approach the base cautiously.

Hearing her voice, he deadpanned to avoid laughing; “Okay, then why’d I get a message that read, and I quote, ‘Meet me outside the shuttle base at 11:50’ with your signature attached?”

The spy huffed and pulled Knuckles towards her and into the nearby foliage, which made him sputter nonsense until he noticed the security camera they were now tucked away from. “At least you're strong,” she mumbled coyly, refusing to pull away from the echidna even though he was already in the blindspot.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Knuckles snarled, but the grin plastered on his face made it obvious the anger wasn’t genuine. Normally he’d shy away from the bat’s physical teasing, but he hadn’t seen Rouge in months, so the semi-embrace was uncharacteristically desired.

“You weren’t followed, right?” he asked quietly, on a more serious note. Unlike the Resistance which was disheveled and dull, Rouge had maintained her composure and charm; she smelt like licorice, leather, and cigarettes. Even if she didn’t have the benefit of being a double agent posing on the side of the Eggman Empire, the echidna knew that Rouge wouldn’t sacrifice her image, and her consistency was comforting.

The bat pulled away to look at Knuckles with a judgemental smirk, “Should I be offended that you don’t trust me to keep my cover? Knux, this is my job whether there’s a war or not.”

He looked away to minimize the damage of their conversation, knowing that if his rose-tinted face was visible to the bat, he’d only dig himself a deeper grave.

“I know, but I can still be concerned,” he admitted.

“So you care about me?”

“Shut up.”

“Do I take that as a yes?”

“If you know me so well, then you don’t need to ask that.”

Rouge turned the echidna’s face to meet her eyes, but the time on her watch caught her attention in the process, pulling her mind away from the conversation.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s 11:58, not that I’m big on New Year’s celebrations or anything,” Rouge mumbled, looking down and pulling away from the other mobian.

Knuckles frowned and tried to move back into her line of sight, but the bat was shaking her head and smiling, deflecting. “What, is there something people are supposed to do at midnight?”

The spy huffed, crossing her arms; “It’s stupid. Nevermind, you should probably get back to the base, you’ve got to set an example for everyone else or Amy will take over,” she taunted, but Knuckles wasn’t taking the bait.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me, Rouge.” he said calmly, which definitely hit a nerve.

Glaring at the echidna’s shoes, she elaborated; “You’re supposed to kiss someone, apparently. I wouldn’t know, but neither would you, so I guess we’re even,” the spy concluded abruptly before turning to leave.

Knuckles grabbed her arm before she could fly off like she always did when hinting at vulnerability, and pulled Rouge into a proper hug this time.

“Happy New Year, probably. I can’t see your watch, but I’m guessing two minutes have passed,” he mumbled into her shoulder, relaxing when Rouge’s wings folded back down.

She let out a singular laugh that was muffled into Knuckles’ locs, refusing to move lest she revealed her glassy expression— it would shatter if they made eye contact again that night.

“It’s still 11:58 actually,” Rouge admitted. He only let go at 12:03.

Espave, Post Forces

The two watched the last-minute shoppers frantically sprint through the drowsy city, like speckled ants on lightly powdered roads.

“Do you think they’ll notice?” Espio asked warily, the clinking of their glass bottles functioning as makeshift bells. The swallow snorted and laughed, crossing her arms and elbowing the other mobian by accident in the process.

Wave quickly apologized with a laugh before elaborating; “When have they ever noticed us missing? Worse case scenario, they’ll notice I’m not there rambling and celebrate,” she joked, but there was a subtle twinge of sorrow inside the depiction of neglect.

“What about me?” Espio asked, glancing up with his kunai wedged under their bottle caps.

The swallow snatched her beer back and smashed the top of it on the rain gutter next to her, “Do you even need to ask that?”

Her recklessness was amusing and enticing, the detective couldn’t ignore the thief’s appeal. She’d steal his time and composure in exchange for being noticed, which made her worth observing in the first place.

“Wave, I don’t even like beer,” he explained, but the two mobians were already holding back giggles as they stumbled along the rooftop to watch the sunrise from the other end of the building.

“When’s the last time you had one?”

He didn’t want to think too hard about it.

Espio didn’t actually mind the taste, it was better than letting history rhyme again. He liked structure in his life, but not his poetry, because confining art to a formulaic pattern felt like a self-damning time loop.

Wave saw the distance in the other mobian’s eyes, and drank with him even though it wouldn’t make her forget the nauseating and nostalgic sense of abandonment that distance always left her with.

“Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” the chameleon coughed, but he was smiling.

They didn’t love love, but it loved them back out of spite, which is the only way to speak to the abandoned.

Infinadow, ??? Years after Forces

The clinking of their inhibitor rings functioned as makeshift bells that echoed across the frozen lake. Finn winced at the noise, but the lifeform was oblivious to the contact.

“Are you high?” he asked, but Shadow didn’t respond. Sighing, he stuck his snout in the hedgehog’s neck, both mobians immune to the cold but drawn to warmth regardless.

Amused by the jackal’s pouting, Shadow brushed his thumb along the snowy hairline, snorting when Finn’s ear twitched from the sensation. “Would you be mad if I was?” he asked quietly, lip twitching from repressed laughter when met with a heterochromatic glare.

He didn’t need to hear an answer.

“Well then, you’ll be pleased to know that I’m just content right now, without any substances,” Shadow confirmed, which earned him a look of disbelief.

Finn pulled away and rubbed his face, irritated from the ticklish sensation; “I call bullshit, what’s there to be happy about?” he inquired, crossing his arms.

“I realized that by going from Infinite to Finn, you’re finite, as in limited, which aligns with the inhibitors.” the hedgehog began to explain, which was met with a mouthful of hair to the face as the jackal dramatically pivoted away from Shadow.

Frowning, the hedgehog spun Finn back around, trying not to laugh lest they get distracted; “I wasn’t done yet! It’s not a weak joke, I swear,” he assured. The jackal didn’t believe Shadow for a second, but nodded as if to say “go on.”

Continuing, the hedgehog got up and began pacing as he elaborated; “Anyways, you claimed to be born in pain and darkness, but Finn means light or fair, which is also the opposite of unfair, which was your life as Infinite. So you went from unfairly treated and born in darkness, to light, or enlightened, as in expanded or built up, and treated properly.”

Finn was admittedly not listening and more focussed on Shadow’s expressions as he rambled, tilting his head curiously as they got further and further away from sensible conversation.

“Is that all?”

“No, not yet. So, my name is Shadow, right? As in, a lack thereof or an absence, a reflection that has no matter or light… something that is not enlightened, a reflection that has no purpose or prospect, which is why I always felt so insignificant,” the hedgehog continued, unaware that his air shoes had begun to activate, which wasn’t desirable since they were standing on ice.

Finn didn’t point out the hazard and instead opted to encourage this meaningless analysis; “So are you saying that my self improvement gave you a reason to live… based on our names?”

The hedgehog shook his head, “Yes, but actually no. Light destroys shadows, it gets rid of them completely because it is something instead of a lack of something. Infinity can’t be defined, it's a concept that cannot be perceived or exist on a comprehensible level, so it's nothing too. Finite things have purpose because they can exist, Finn. You can actually exist, you do exist, and so do I. Even though I was created as Project Shadow, you don’t see me as a project, do you? You destroyed me, but in a good way, I’m not just an anti-material reflection now, by enlightening me you’ve given me a purpose outside of Project Shadow, what I was designed for. We broke design, we’re unified, we’re—”

The ice broke.

Laughing to hide his concern, Finn pulled the hedgehog out from the freezing water by his quills and back onto the safe part of the lake, using his body as a blanket to dry Shadow off.

The lifeform’s coughing eventually ceased, but the rawness of his throat rendered him silent for the time being, and Finn begrudgingly teleported them to the ARK.

“You’re high, aren't you?”

Shadow wiggled out from under the jackal's hair to hold his face, chuckling when Finn cringed from the icy contact; “Maybe, yes. But I meant what I was saying, I was just trying to bullshit some sort of linguistic way to say I love you.”

The bluntness, no matter how many times he was on the receiving end of it, always stunned Finn. They were both frozen now.

“You’re a pretentious bastard,” he finally grumbled, flopping back down on Shadow and adding some extra force to make it hurt.

It didn't hurt the hedgehog, because all he heard was “I love you too.”

[astormoffeathers]

This Wasn’t For You

Fandom : Dickinson

Pairing : Emily Dickinson x Sue Gilbert

Words : 1.2K+

"I get it." Sam said with a look of pity.

The expression on his face made Emily Dickinson's mind whirl with anger red as blood.

"No, Sam. You don't-," Emily starts, but Sam Bowles begins to speak over her.

"You had a crush on me and I didn't reciprocate." Sam tells her. He’s so sure of himself.

Emily can't help, but crack a smile. She begins to laugh at him. Sam's face drops when he hears Emily laughter.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

Emily snorts as she continues laughing at Sam. He looks at her with a strange look on his face.

"This wasn't for you," Emily says with a wide smile. "All this was never about you."

"But, the letter-," Sam started. It's Emily's turn to cut him off.

"Oh, yes. The letter to your wife," Emily said amused, "I feel like my feelings for someone else got caught up in the letter. I tried to tell you that at the opera, but you don't listen."

Emily lets out another huff of laughter at Sam's bewildered face.

"What was this all about then? Why did you want to be published so badly?" Sam asks her and gestures wildly.

"Are you blind? Or maybe it's your head so far up your own ass you hardly notice what's right in front of you." Emily says to him while matching his gesturing.

"Emily."

"This was about Sue. It always has been and it always will be." Emily told him in a calmer tone of voice.

It's Sam's turn to let out a bark of laughter, "you and Sue? That's rich."

"Is it? Maybe if you paid attention to someone besides trying to turn everyone's pockets outward you would see it." Emily replies.

"You know Sue and I slept together and now you're upset because you think I stole her from you?" Sam asks in an exasperated tone of voice.

Emily's lips flatten into a straight line, "at first I was, but then I remember no matter who we're with or where we are. Sue and I will always belong to each other."

"You're delusional!" Sam tells her.

"No," Emily shoots back. "No, I'm not. Sam, this is not the love story you think it is. This isn't some forbidden affair of lust and grandeur between you and Sue. You have no place in this story. You're nothing, you're nobody."

"Emily, you are insane."

"Maybe, maybe not." She replies smugly.

A familiar voice calls out, "Emily!"

Emily can feel her heart almost jump from her chest. It was Sue. Even after all these years the mere sound of her voice could make Emily's pulse jump and her palms sweaty. She hears Sue call out her name again before she answers.

"In the parlor," She yells back as she continues to stare at Sam.

Sue walks into the parlor. She wears a lovely beige dress with black lace stitched to the bodice. The dress had a wide neck with short sleeves which was also bordered with lace. Emily's eyes trailed to her exposed skin. She could almost feel Sue's stately collarbone under her fingertips. In Sue's hands she carries a shawl that matches her lace of her dress.

"What's going on?" She asks, confusion is apparent on her face.

"Emily's imagination is just getting away from her and I'm just setting her straight." Sam says.

Emily rolls her eyes at his remark.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sue asks defensively.

"She's saying that you two are lovers and that you're in love with each other." Sam tells Sue with another bark of pathetic laughter.

"She's telling the truth." Sue replies.

Sam's face falls again. For the first time since Emily has met Sam Bowles he is speechless.

"Everybody loves Emily," Sue said and looked at her with a small smile. "How could they not?"

Emily knew she was supposed to be upset with Sue, but she can't help smiling at her love. Sue smiles back, a sight Emily knew very well. Sue's smile could light a whole forest brighter than the biggest bonfire.

"And what if I tell someone? Sister-in-laws caught in an affair would make a sensational headline for the Springfield-Republican." Sam asks bitterly.

"All of Amherst loves the Dickinson family and you're just a nobody. An outsider who doesn't belong here." Emily argues.

Sam pauses in thought and his frown deepens.

Sue folds her arms over her chest, "you can say whatever you want, but no one will take your word over the governor's daughter."

"Maybe I could tell your brother about this little dalliance of yours?" Sam threatens.

Neither woman is phased by these cheap accusations and hold their ground.

"He knows and he rather it be me then you." Emily replies.

Sue walks slowly toward Sam as a shroud of fury settled on to her face.

"If you threaten anyone in the Dickinson family again. I will ruin you, Samuel Bowles." Sue told him in a tone of voice Emily had never heard before.

The woman staring down Sam was not the Sue Emily knew. This Sue was made up of all rage and all mania. The look in her eye was all the confirmation Sam Bowles needed to know that Sue would make good on this promise. While this face of Sue had not been shown to Emily; she loved it as part of Sue nonetheless. Emily walks to the entrance of the Dickinson's house and takes Sam's hat off the hook in the foyer.

"I think this is where you take your leave, Mr. Bowles." Emily says in a mocking voice with his hat in hand.

Sam scowls as he retreats from Sue's burning gaze and to entrance hallway that lead to the parlor. He retrieves his briefcase. He all, but snatches his hat from Emily's grasp once he gets in the front door Sam shoved it on his head unceremoniously.

Sam calls to his coachman, "start the carriage!"

Emily watches him retreat quickly from the Dickinson's front step and jumps onto the back of the already moving carriage. A realization dawns on Emily. She gathers up her skirts while repeating a curse word under her breath and begins to run after the carriage.

"Wait!" She screams as she attempts to run after the carriage.

That awful man still had her poems, the poems she had written for Sue.

"I'm doing you a favor!" Sam shouts as Emily fails to catch up with the carriage's gaining speed.

Emily throws her head back and lets out a groan.

Emily hears Sue's gentle voice as she stares at the sky, "Emily. What's the matter?"

She turns to look at her and lets out a tired sigh.

"He has my poems, Sue. The ones I wrote for you." Emily complains.

Sue walks toward Emily with her shawl in hand. She wraps it around Emily's shoulders even though she would more likely need it.

"Come inside." Sue tells her in a low voice and puts her hand on Emily's back.

Emily lets herself be led back inside her family's home as hot, angry tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Who knows what that bastard will do with them now that he knows about us." Emily grumbled to herself.

After the two women the foyer they close the door behind them.

[elvenladysakura]

@your-simplymusings-posts my dear friend and the creator of the edit below (part of her #forbidden series). Much love for the inspiration.♡♡

~Epiphany~

(A moment of sudden revelation)

Oh the softest of petal

That lure to settle

A kiss upon blood drenched lips

She is a rose set among thorns ready to kill whoever dares to touch. Beautiful in the way deadly things are. His fingers are already stained in blood and he was only afraid of tainting her. Empty like a fired bullet and aftermath of something deadly.

Who was the bane, and who the boon - when they are each other's destiny and doom?

Things that don't kill me, might make me want to kill you…

It started as a prank, a blind date that neither of them had given a second thought to. Perhaps there were feelings involved, however subtle or faint, she had always known they were there. Well, that's what made it easier and harder at the same time. Easier, because none of them had managed to come as close as she did. Harder, because she couldn't yet imagine that moment of execution without a gut wrenching sense of guilt or a whoosh of warm adrenaline. 

It's not everyday that you date a man like that, and it's not everyday that you do it to kill. So Jenna did what she knew she did best; waiting, for the right moment. 

She didn't look at him yet, since she didn't want any more complications and kept lighting the candles with an unnatural focus. Her left hand remained where it was since quite a time now, buried in her pocket where it swathed around the cold metal of the butt of her gun...death at the tip of her fingertips, still it did not stop her right hand from trembling as she held the match to the wick of the candle. 

It burned too fast, or she had been preoccupied, Jenna dropped the 

matchstick just as it scalded her fingertips. The fire and the metal contrasted against her fingertips, she pondered over it as her finger slid and rested against the trigger with a practiced ease. Just like her feelings for him, a dormant affection and a bottled up hatred. 

It had not been an easy choice. No betrayal is, unless you are some demonic creature with no sense of feeling. Oddly enough, Jenna feared she was turning into just that, after all she had traded her soul to the devil. Of cause she would do it again if the choice was given. But, the circle of thoughts came back to the starting point, he had been a friend. She let go of the concealed weapon for a moment. Just so, she could carry the candle lit cake back to their table. She wanted a fitting farewell, but it had not been easy to convince him into this private celebration without getting a doubt casted on herself. 

Once upon a time she was fascinated with his eyes, for reasons she could no longer recall. Now she watched them calculatively, glittering in the flickering candle light, noting for signs of the pill she had slipped into his drink starting to affect. 

The smile came easily, when their eyes met. Jenna wasn't even pretending when her lips curled instinctively to reciprocate his gesture. The closer she went to her goal a weight lifted from her expression.“Make a wish, birthday boy,” she said brightly, placing the cake between them. 

He looked at her curiously, lips curled into a playful grin. 

“Aren't I a bit too old for that?” 

“You're supposed to do as I say for the evening mister,” she reminded him playfully. “I won this fair and square.” 

The warmth of her tone was no pretence, and she gave him no reason to look any deeper into her intentions. Jenna folded her arms on the table, watching him until he complied. With a sigh, and without much objection he did close his eyes. 

Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more, she thought to herself.

The words muttered to her every night by a muffled voice on the other side of the telephone line. The man who had her strings at the end of the day.Jenna didn't want hours, only if her hand wasn't shaking so terribly. 

She pulled out the pistol, using both her hands to secure her grip and pointed it at him, a second before he reopened his eyes. She could have shot, just like she had done in her mind for past so many nights, but her finger delayed pressing the cold trigger a minute too long. 

Jenna felt the chill that had suddenly seeped in, into his eyes, every rigid muscle in his frame, and onto the voice with which he spoke next. 

“Why?” 

He blinked involuntarily and she knew he was noticing how his vision was suddenly becoming blurry. She saw him clenching and unclenching his fist to regain the feeling of his fingers, the drug was working. 

“Why, must you?”uninvited laughter bubbled from her throat her aim still unrelenting. 

“Something I’d been curious about as well,” she replied mockingly unsure whether the joke was on him or her. “Why? Why must I make the choice?” 

“Since when?” 

Unconnected questions. She did know what he was doing. Her eyes were sharp enough to notice his movement towards to pocket, where he assumed he still had his mobile. This time when she smiled, it was as twisted as she felt inside. 

“It’s not there So Young - ah don't bother.” Her voice snapped his eyes back to her, and she stretched out her arm to touch his forehead with the cold barrel. 

Oh, she wished him to close his eyes, make things a bit easier for her. But no, he held her gaze with an unwavering one of his own. 

“But I must know, you were a friend, we were close.”

“Perhaps that made it all easier, don't you think?” She lied through clenched teeth, “Perhaps that's how I knew to spike your drink in case I couldn't get you at the first chance.” 

“Since when did you plan this?” 

The betrayal she expected, didn't quite reflect itself on his eyes. 

Instead he looked terrifyingly clam as if he didn't believe she was capable of killing him, as if he took it all like some bad joke. That look, if anything, unnerved her; it was a look of a man who had greeted death many a time. 

“I don't know why you want answers to take to your grave. If you're simply trying to distract me, it's not gonna work tonight, darling.” 

“I didn't know you hate me so much,” He mused slowly. 

“Do you think it's that easy?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.”If it had been so, you'd be long gone.” 

His eyes flickered over, as her gaze followed where his had slid off to, he grabbed that fleeting moment. The candles she didn't wait for him to blow out, were suddenly under her arm Pointing the gun at him as he kicked the table to topple over knocking the gun out of her grip. 

The minute she spent putting out the flames that licked her sleeve, he used to get away. But he was no longer steady on his feet. Unconsciously he reached out to grip the nearest chair for support, stumbling a few blind steps backwards. But of cause, it was far from over, they both reached the same conclusion at the same time and both dived for the gun. 

They rolled on the ground, each trying to snatch the weapon from the hands of the other. Jenna could feel it in the air, the end was near in one way or the other. She elbowed him under the ribs, swinging around the hold he had on her. The move somehow rose them both from the ground with her arm twisted behind her back and his arm pressed against her throat. The cold metal of the weapon pressed against her side, where the shirt had rolled up. 

“Stop,” he breathed against her, sounding as exhausted as she felt. But it only enraged her further. “I don't want to do this. Please - Stop.” 

“Then just die!” A low growl escaped her throat as Jenna smashed her head backwards against his chin, in an unexpected move and swept around punching him square on the jaw as she did so. 

He did evade her leglock but splattered a bit of blood as he stumbled back. The breath that she drew in tightened on her lungs. It reminded her why she hated him so. He never made it easier to do what she had to; no, even in this last moments he had to be the noble one.

“Stop taking cover and fight me back damn it!” she spat, throwing another punch. 

“I won't,” he said simply blocking it and her fingers swathed around his throat, cutting his sentence off. She locked her legs with his, backing him against the railing of the rooftop, both her hands choking his breath and her gaze frozen on his. 

The breeze of the open terrace brushed her hair against her face, but Jenna did not blink. In that one second it felt like she was choking some part of herself. There was something cruel about watching a life draining away underneath your palms, feeling the desperate throbbing of veins protesting against the fate she delivered. The ice of the barrel was pressed against her belly still, and she took a deep breath. 

It came to that finally, the et tu moment. They both had the end of the other within the tips of their fingers. Only the traitor would survive the night. 

“Jen,” he muttered, gasping for that one word. 

She wished her eyes didn't sting the way they did. But of cause her hands didn't stop. 

“Jen,” he said again, his voice a rasping protest. 

“Just die!” She screamed, hushed up against the dull night. “You made me lose so many people. No more, just die!” 

There was an echo, of a dull bang. The pain that seared up her spine didn't register with Jenna at once. But the blood that trickled out of her nose did and her grip loosened. 

He didn't push her away, as she hoped he would have done. Instead the distant clatter told her he had let the weapon fell instead of her. His arms came around her in a embrace that brought no warmth as they both sank to the ground. 

“Jen,” the third time he said it she let the tears fell. There was no need to hold it back anymore. 

“Jen, Jen,” he muttered as his fingers ran through her hair, his 

other hand clasped over the hole he punctured through her. 

“Just promise me something,” she heard herself saying, the words already a distant memory, the life slipping away.“Just stay away from those you love, just stay the hell away.” 

*