❤✚ (I couldn't decide on one so gomen ;w; )
Our characters are in a dating game and they are a love interest for each other. Send ❤ for our muse’s Good End. Send ✚ for our muse’s Bad End.
When he confesses that you're all he can think about, you don't quite know what you're feeling. Your heart twists inside its ribcage, but your mind is apt enough to encourage not to take it in...any silly ways. Of course he thinks about you. You've left enough scars and tormented him with your words enough for that to be natural-- and he's done the very same, so there's no need to think of anything else.
Oh, but he decides to go on, despite your silence. He tells you that he hates you, he truly does, but in a way that he can't imagine ever feeling as strongly for anyone else. He respects you, he feels everything one could ever feel for someone--
And he extends his hand. 'Will you allow me to join you in your crusade?' he asks, dead-serious, because he knows exactly what he's talking about. Because he's smart enough to get that he's giving his life-ling purposes away.
For a moment, you are silent. You entertain the idea; you'd be lying if you said this was the first time you did so, and you imagine drowning the world by his side. You imagine everything you ever wanted, plus a partner-- someone finally on par with you, someone who could grow to finally get you, someone you could maybe not dispose of once you grow bored...
You really, really should've seen this one coming.
Luck is always on his side, isn't it? Even when you're the better athlete, the overall better opponent, he seems to hit the right spots when provoked, when making use of a weapon he simply picked out of his kitchen cabinet.
It's all infuriating, but you somehow find the force to smirk at it all. It's so ironic, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
He looms over you, looking as exhausted as you feel. All your decisions have brought you here, lying face-up at his feet, and he closes the distance, placing pale hands around your neck. Pressing.
'It had to be this way,' He tells you. 'For everything's sake-- for hope...'
Yet...his resolve seems just as tired as he looks. It's more like he's trying to convince himself that what he's doing is right.
You are chocking. What was once your voice and breathing are now a collection of illegible sounds, trying to tell him the usual. How stupid he is. How naive.
By the time your vision is growing blurry, you think he's still speaking. Are those his lips, moving along the lines of--?
You go down without a fight.
