Forever

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TW:
-mention of infection/blood

:]

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3rd Person POV:

How many times must he be alone? How many times would he have to endure the consequences of wearing his heart on his sleeve? He had been hurt so many times, but this? This was something completely different.

'How dare they, how fucking dare they.'  No matter how many times he thought over the conversation, he couldn't understand, didn't think he ever would.

He was so close to giving up at so many points in his life, but now? Now he couldn't fathom the sheer amount of betrayal that ran through his blood like a ravaging infection.

'Fucking cowards.' He mumbled to himself, not loud enough to be heard by anyone who could be lurking near him.

Gun in hand, Alex slowly made his way north, trigger finger itching for a target, something, anything to just shoot.

A clatter in the distance, "oh fuck!" someone bites out, it's not close enough to be in reach, but for them, it's damning enough.

'Got you now, you sick, two-timing, fuck-head, bastard.'

Sure, he didn't exactly know who had made the noise, but it was irrelevant, he wanted revenge. By the blood of the gods themselves, he would get it.

"Shut the hell up." Now, he definitely knew who that was. Between the unmistakable bite and hiss of the words, to the near audible eye roll, it could only ever be one person.

Alex's ears perk up, like those of a hound at the sound of a gun cocking.

They knew. They knew he was there.

'There goes calculated manipulation.' He thinks to himself as he runs into the next room over. A click, bullets fired, an earsplitting shriek, a sigh, and the deed is done.

"Oh you fucking bastard!" George spat at Alex, watching in annoyance as Karl sits up from where he fell (far too dramatically, mind you), the light on his abdomen gray instead of blue.

"Let's go, let's go, lETS FUCKING GO! In your FACE, George!"

Sapnap pouted, having sat in a corner, taken to being a bad sport. "That's rigged."

"What do you mean, rigged?! I'm incredible at laser tag, you just didn't believe me! You could have been on the winning team!" Sapnap scoffs at this, a disgruntled noise falling from his lips as Alex kicks him for the first noise. Laughter warbles out of Karl and George rolls his eyes at the familiar interaction; shit like this always goes down when any sort of competition is involved. "You fucker." Alex mumbles—intending on it being loud enough for Sap to hear—as he helps Sapnap up from his 'pout-corner', and Sap just rolls his eyes and plants a casual but affectionate peck on Alex's lips.

"You love me." He teases at the content expression Alex makes at the show of fondness.

At this, Karl decides Alex is distracted enough for him to pull his beanie over his eyes, kiss his cheek, then move over to Sap to ruffle at his hair and comment: "Mmhm, no I think he's quite taken with me." He manages to sputter out around betraying giggles.

Alex pulls the beanie up above his eyes and affixes it as he sees fit, huffing as a chime over the PA system finally catches up to the game, and decides to let them know their fun is over.

The four make their way to the door in different variations of walking— one sauntering, one huffing, one rushing energetically, and one skipping with the pride of victory, wearing his win in contentment.

They put away their laser guns and 'armour' (as Sapnap wouldn't stop insisting it was called) and exit through the large, medieval looking, set of double doors. The entirety of the group bursts out in self-satisfied, highly amused, and extremely obnoxious laughter at the indignant look Clay's face carries.

"Did you guys have fun?" Clay's words hold no bite, despite the way he spat them as if they were a curse.

"Oh, thank you for asking, honey! And, why, yes, we had a lovely time. Although I so wish you could have been there!" George retorts with, looking the epitome of innocence, and holding that knowledge with an iron fist. After all, in Clay's eyes, he could do now wrong, and George, being the idiot that he is, uses that to his full and complete advantage.

"Did I really deserve this?" Clay says, sounding pleading as George holds his face in his hands, and runs his fingers delicately under glowing green eyes.

"Absolutely. No one takes my chips and lives to tell the tale, you're just lucky I felt merciful." George gleams at the taller.

In all fairness, George did tend to take things quite literally, and perhaps he didn't understand that "having skeletons in your closet" wasn't meant to be taken seriously.

———
Heyyy guys! I come beating good news, and bad news. To torture you, I've elected to give you the good news first!

I get to see my sister for the first time in multiple months, and I know that doesn't pertain to you guys, but maybe if you guys leave funny enough comments I'll show a picture of her cat.

The bad news is, we have neared the end of 'Meant to be?' and if all goes to plan, in five to six days time, you'll have a beautiful epilogue.

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