❝ When I die, I want it to hurt. When my friends leave, when I have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I’m thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens, I want to hope again. And I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something. ❞ (@ Louie)
Great. She’s got him crying again. He tried to cover it up by a quick run of his sleeve under his eyes, but the tears kept coming. Louie knows that if he got mad at her, he’d just be playing into this sick fantasy she’d made up for herself. He wasn’t going to. No matter how much she wanted him to. He didn’t want Duckburg to be destroyed. He didn’t want this entire night of stargazing on the roof of the manor to be ruined. He didn’t want Millie to die.
“I’m not gonna let that happen.” Louie said firmly, his voice unwavering. “Because I am your friend, Millie. And friends don’t just leave each other when things get rough.” He points a finger at her, hoping that she saw this rule applies to her too. “I’m not gonna let you die on me. You don’t get to leave me too like my mom did.” He’s not yelling, instead he moves his accusing finger towards the sky. “You don’t get to say stuff like that anymore, okay? Leave the depressing stuff to Uncle Scrooge at three in the morning.” He grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“We should go Webby’s route and take a blood oath. That way you’ll have to swear you can’t die without me. And I’m not dying until I’m old, rich and fat. So there.”