INFURIATING！！
that’s what he was. nothing short of it！ had he been more tolerable, perhaps you would’ve kept your friendship with him. having just used him to get to his family in order to free your comrades from prison, chance had gullibly fallen right into the centre of your palm.
the naïve gambler really believed that you cared for him. that you wanted to be friends with him, truly so. he had fallen for each & every one of your deceiving words. while you were lying through your censor, he was hanging onto your every word. perhaps he had even become besotted.
the main reason you had found him so infuriating was his constant luck. it was as if the very manifestation of luck were his very best friend, allowing chance to win again & again & again & again & again & again.
you had reached your breaking point.
it was supposed to go PERFECTLY！ he’d lose at the game of russian roulette, you would win, & then you would finally be rid of him！！ he had outlived his purpose anyway, so it would be a win-win！！！
not.
he had won. you had lost. he had grinned somewhat sheepishly as you held the revolver to to your head, as he knew that you had the bullet. five rounds had passed already, & even you knew that this was marking your demise.
„ sorry, man. „
that was his apology. a mere ‘sorry’？ just a simple sorry was deserving of the loss of your life？ you knew he was more or less besotted with you, so why did chance have such a placid reaction？？ this just fuelled your hatred towards him further-more.
BANG.
。。。 three years later. both of you had been forsaken shortly after your death—chance had been condemned with being responsible for your death, for not ending the foolish game of russian roulette, & you had been condemned with initiating the game in the first place.
chance had gained his bearings of the place by now. it was a deserted city, complete with rundown shacks & buildings left behind by long-dead forsaken survivors. he’d gone out of the group cabin for a casual stroll with one of his comrades, which just so happened to be you.
of course, he was still as naïve as ever. you played him on, keeping up the façade, even if it was becoming arduous now。。。 & chance still fell for the same lies you’d told him before the forsakening.
how convenient.
you’d led him out into the woods, deep out into the woods at that. being the middle of winter, not to mention it was currently snowing heavily with a few inches of snow already being on the ground, chance was shivering. you didn’t suffer from the cold, however, thanks to the fur cape you always kept draped around you.
chance would be lying if he said he didn’t glance back at you a few times & silently hoped that you’d take off your cloak & drape it around his person instead, maybe like one of those romantic scenes in movies where a guy pulls a girl close to give her warmth。。。 alas.
it all just happened so fast. one minute, chance had his back turned to you so he could observe some frozen leaves that had frosted water-drops sat atop their bases。。。 & you’d taken this opportunity to pull out your sword. he hadn’t realised in time！ PERFECT！！ having only turned back to face you once he heard the sharp sound of the blade unsheathing from its holster, chance’s expression quickly contorted from confusion to one of surprise, & subsequently agony. wasting no time in the small window of opportunity you’d had, you had slashed at his chest twice, blood immediately beginning to gush out of his newly-torn wounds. his shirt was sliced open as well, yet still remained mostly intact, even if it was absolutely drenched with blood now.
。。。 „ y。。。 you wouldn’t leave me here, would you？ „
he’d grabbed onto the end of your cape, his bloody fingers staining the white pristine material.
he was shaking. clutching his bleeding chest on the ground, laying prostrate, he 。。didn’t seem to care that you’d just done this to him. he still resorted to pleading with you。