Chapter Four: How would you kill me
(Warning: suicide mentioning, violence)
It was finally Friday and everyone was looking forward to the rugby match later that evening. For the day, they were all cheerleaders. Students, professors and other faculty members wore the school colors from head to toe. Even Michael switched out his usual baby blue for Oxford blue. And as much as Kit wanted to join in on the festivities and wear Pantone 282, he was occupied with something far more intriguing.
That morning, his toothpaste ran out.
By that point, Kit had been planning his death for as long as he realized that he was alive. It was innocent at first, from wanting to stay underwater for long periods of time to jumping off a bridge. And with so many options, one would think that he had one picked out. Well, he didn't.
Overdosing sounds appealing until you think about the possibility of surviving and having to deal the embarrassment of your stomach being pumped on the bathroom floor. He could buy poison or anti freeze but the idea of foam coming out of his dead corpse made him cringe in disgust. And forget about guns and ropes, there's reason why he took up photography and not sports, his camera can't give him the pain of a black eye.
"It's insanity that I have to take classes with people don't know simple arithmetics. It's practically humiliating." Michael complained, pulling a candy bar from out his pocket. He eyed Kit briefly, checking to see if he was following along and while he gathered that he was, the blonde couldn't shake off the far away look in his eyes.
They had decided to meet at one of the new bars down the alley, hoping to avoid the crowds of unruly rugby fans but ended up running right into the horde anyways. From across the room, a group of boys cheered loudly, garnering a grimace from Micheal, "They do know that we are most likely going to lose, right?"
Kit didn't bother to turn towards them but hummed anyways, "I don't know, do you know that we are most likely going to lose, Oxford Blue? Where did you even get a sweater like that from, did your mum pack for you in your 'leaving the nest' basket?"
"Quite the contrary, I bought it," Michael responded flatly, pulling the wrapper down and then putting the middle of the bar in his mouth. Kit hummed again but made it as obnoxious as possible to show that he couldn't careless. He then canted his head to the side, staring down at the worn out bracelet on his wrist. Just as he was prepared to pick at it, Michael stopped him, "What's on your mind?"
"Death and destruction."
"So the usual?"
"Yes, but there's added layers," Kit dropped his arms down between his legs and leaned against the table. He lowered his voice a bit as he asked, "If given the chance, how would you kill me?"
The first thing Micheal did was glance at the can of beer Kit was drinking. It was his usual so he assumed that he came on an empty stomach before meeting his eyes again, "Why would I want to kill you?"
"Arithmetics. I don't know a single about it. Never have, never will. Things like that makes me question if there is a God."
"...I would use a sledgehammer. One hit and your out like a light, wouldn't even know what hit you."
Kit sat back in his seat, creating the scene in his head, "Isn't that a bit violent?"
"A person like you doesn't deserve a peaceful exit so a swift and clean one should suffice." Micheal replied, tapping his hand against the table as if he was locking in his answer.
