100 Ways To Fall In Love

Floch Forester

AGAIN: Take 372

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Love, to Floch Forester, is an experience that is unanimous amongst all humans. From the kindest soul to the darkest heart. While it's often brought into question if everyone has the capability to love, Floch knows it to be certain. Afterall, love is a necessity needed to survive. And if love is a unanimous experience then falling in love is a moment of certainty.

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"Stop. Why are you being so weird all of a sudden?"

Floch can hear the familiar voices but he just can't seem to see their faces. He just can't seem to grasp their names as they fade in and out of his memory.

His body aches. As though he's been put through the ringer and left to hang for days. He's drenched in water that stings his eyes and he's certain he's already begun to bleed out.

The end is near.

"Aw, REDACTED has a fan!" a familiar voice teases, "who better to have as a fan than a Titan fanatic such as the REDACTED?"

Lifting his gun he aims the barrel of the gun towards the engine of the strange machine.

Why is he doing that again?

For REDACTED. For the New World. For the life he REDACTED.

He looks away from the engine before shooting.

As soon as the bullets leave his gun a figure swooshes in towards him. His body screams in pain as a blade slices into him. Adrenaline fills his veins as the fear of an upcoming death ultimately begins to rear its head.

Is this really the end?

The various figures are discussing something amongst themselves yet Floch, for the life of him, can't see their faces. But they feel... familiar.

"REDACTED!" Someone screams, "he shot holes in the fuel tank. We can't fly like this!"

A feeling of relief and pride washes over him.

He was successful in something.

For once in his life, he had control over something in his life.

"Oh no... did I ruin your little plans? My-" He sneers, though a vicious cough cuts off his sentence.

Then someone comes towards him.

You come towards him.

He can't exactly make out your name or face but he knows for certain it's you. Who you are though, he isn't sure.

His heart flutters the same way it did when he was a school boy.

You kneel down so your face is close to his, asking, "was it worth it?"

Was what worth it?

Before Floch can figure out his own answer he hears his voice, "not a chance."

You stand up, pointing the barrel of the gun to his head, "you really did follow him all the way to the end," you look away, "this one's on you."

The ringing of a gunshot sends Floch jolting out of bed in a panicked sweat.

The sensation of dying is something that never truly leaves you. That brief moment where every part of you shuts down and everyone else leaves you for dead.

Laying in bed, Floch tries to recall your face.

Your features seem to drift in and out of his mind. As soon as he manages to capture a glimpse of you in his mind it disappears, as if snatched out of his mind by time itself. As though something is telling him that this isn't something he's supposed to remember. The only thing that Floch really forces his mind to linger on is an image of ice blue crystal. He isn't exactly sure how he knows its crystal but what else could it be?