Beauty And The Bullet

"So where to?" I asked, looking up into his chocolate brown eyes that stared down at me silently for the past few minutes. I broke the silence that was between us after everything was finally over... after he was finally dead. Since then all he had done was stare at me, silent from the lips but loud and clear from the eyes.

This was it.

We were free.

Still, he had remained quiet, but then broke the fierce eye contact we held many times before, whilst every other man or woman would not dare to even glance at him from behind

He looked down at the body on the floor and let out a deep chuckle, the chuckle he only chuckled once when I held up a machine gun at his face to shoot him. But that was long ago, when we despised each other. Now... it was different. We looked at each other differently, spoke to each other differently, EVERYTHING between us was just different.

And so was the way we felt about each other. And that was proven many times when we took bullets for each other, when he refused to disguise himself as anyone BUT my partner and then came up with the world's most lame excuse to cover it up. Because that's what MADE us different. Our personalities, our minds, our words, our hearts, our lives... everything.
And now after all those times of trying to kill each other, wounding each other but then bandaging each other up as well, we were stood only inches apart, free.

But maybe that's what I had thought, because then he had done nothing I had thought he'd do.
Instead it was something that made my heart stop. Made my emotions crash, and made my mind explode.

I had realised it all when I felt something touch my stomach. It was no hand, but instead it was the object I had grown up with, the object that ended lives within seconds.

He was holding a gun at me, and the killer look which I had seen vanish a few weeks ago was back. For me. Again.