The clashing of swords, his grunts of his effort to finally kill me. the smell of his blood and mine conjoining together, unable to tell the two apart. he had wanted this for a long time, and all that time I had wanted just to show him that he couldnt.
his sword cuts the side of my hip, crimson fluids quickly spewing out. I soon collapse and look up at him like I'm looking up at the gates of heaven, or hell. whichever one lets me in first. my first instinct is to crawl away as fast as I can, try my damn best to avoid the looming fate infront of me, but then, I remember something.
before I had met the hero, I had been dreading doing anything. I was committing crimes and having people to committ crimes for me. what was that even for? I woke up every day and fell asleep every night with that same, dreadfull feeling that one day my consequences will reach me. I didn't want to be bad, and I used to think that the crimes came to me, but I came to the crimes. I started. I got addicted. I sucked out all of the serotonin of rebelling against the world that fucked me up and the enticing feeling of fucking the world up in return. I was the only one making me commit them, I was the only one making me do anything, even after I wanted to repent.
that's when the hero came.
he looked average, acted average, but passing him by on the street, that cold glance he gave, it made me feel threatened, excited. I could tell he wasn't as average as he made people believe, and he saw the same in me. he was a worthy rival. I think if I was more like him, we could have been friends. he made me feel alive again. I owe him my life.
so when I'm on the ground, bleeding out, he raises my head with the tip of his sword, and he asks me one simple question. "any last words?" I sit there, knowing what I have to say immediately. these feelings that came obvious to me just now, I have to let them out before it's too late. "I think... I'll have more than a few words. hero, I met you on the street that day, that woke something up in me. you were a challenge, motivation. before seeing you I was thinking about just ending things, taking my life or turning myself in, it didn't matter to me. I wanted out, no matter what happened to me. then I saw you. I think you were there because the universe was telling me to fight until the very end. I've done so much, why should I stop now? that encounter wasn't much, but it kept me alive for another 5 and a half years. thank you for that. I truly believe if I wasn't the villain in your story, we could have been friends... one more thing, I'm glad you get to end things instead of me ending myself. deep down, I wanted to see you do this since the beginning, just so that I could say I helped someone, even in my life of villainy." I preach. the hero stands for a moment, flabbergasted. he doesn't know what to say and it shows. "I hope you're not trying to get me to pity you before I stab you... right? you have to be lying..." he asks, his expression still plastered with disbelief. "damn it hero, you don't think I'm that much of a sore loser, right? I know when Ive lost. everything I've said is genuine."
the hero suddenly drops his sword. "I don't care if you really are trying to make me pity you or not... I do... I really fucking pity you. I hate that I pity you, but I do." he admits, tears lining his eyes. "I'm glad that wound on your hip isn't fatal... quite yet. I've wanted to talk to you too." he says as he crouches on the floor and hugs me. this action shocks me, then again, I was shocked when he said he pitied me too... today is just full of surprises. "I know what you mean when you say that I saved you... from experience actually. being a hero isn't all statues in your honor and having a guaranteed legacy. I never wanted to do this." he cries on my shoulder, pressing his arm into my wound to stop as much of the bleeding as he can. "at least you can choose when to stop, once you commit serious crimes like I have, you can't do anything else but run." I say, trying to comfort him. "hah... I guess you're right... we would be good friends if things were different." suddenly, his eyes light up in realization. "...we can be friends... we can leave our spotlights, we know what it's like to be each other better than anyone else... right? we can be with each other, alone. not saving or killing anyone. we can-" "hero. stop." I interrupt. I reach over to his fallen sword on the ground, I place the handle in his hand, and I point the tip at my chest. "as much as I wanted to, I can't repent. you need to stop me from doing anything else." I say, the following silence screaming loud enough to break the sound barrier. "i- I can't... how can I hurt you now? you made me like you... how can I stab you?" he asks in terror. "you wouldn't be stabbing me in the back, you would be stabbing me in the heart. you aren't betraying me, you're hitting the part of my heart that will let out all of the thanks and love that I have for you. you finally ending me Is my final wish, so please... can you fulfil the last wish of a criminal?" I ask. tears flood down his eyes, his hands tremble, which I feel as the sword draws blood from my chest, just slightly. "I hate to do this, but I love you. thank you for helping me see I'm not alone. thank you for helping me see things clearer. fuck you for making me pity you. I love you, Acheron." he says. "I love you too, Gabriel."
the sword pierces through my chest and out the other side. he slides the blood covered sword out of my chest and gently kisses me,
but I'm too dead to kiss back.
