The pain was distant. Like someone else’s body bleeding onto the floor.

He sat propped against the wall, the warmth of the blood spreading slowly across his shirt. The lights above flickered, stuttered — how indecisive. Like the world itself was unsure whether to keep him illuminated, or let him disappear into shadow.

Footsteps.

Not hurried. Not afraid. Familiar.

He smiled.

"You always wait until I’m bleeding," Johan murmured, turning his head slightly toward the figure approaching. "Dramatic timing, or is that just your style?"

Their silhouette stopped in front of him — calm, collected. A quiet storm behind the eyes. Johan blinked slowly, watching the way they looked at the wound, the floor, then at him. Not pity. Not shock. Just... calculation. As always.

"I suppose this is the part where you scold me," Johan said, tilting his head back against the wall with a soft laugh. "Or maybe you like me better like this. A little quieter. A little slower."

They crouched beside him. The scent of old books, gunpowder, and whatever bitter cologne they always wore filled the air.

"You know," Johan whispered, voice thinner now, "I was ready to let go this time. I thought — maybe that would be beautiful too."

A pause.

Their hand touched his cheek — not tenderly, not coldly. Simply there.

"But you’re here," he said. "Which means… I don’t get to die yet. Is that it?"

No answer. Not needed. The way they reached into their coat, pulled out gauze, pressed it into the wound — none of it frantic. Methodical. Planned. As though they'd rehearsed this in their head a thousand times.

"You always come when I’m at my worst," Johan muttered, eyes fluttering closed. "That’s very unfair of you."

Something in his chest ached, and it wasn’t the bullet.

When they lifted him — carefully, deliberately — he let his head rest against their shoulder. Let his body be carried like a ruin worth stealing. He could hear their heartbeat. Steady. Unshaken.

"You still believe in the story, don’t you?" Johan whispered. "Our little fairytale. The monster and the… whatever you are."

A bitter smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"I think I’m starting to believe it again too."