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. of course, just like before, 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 being forsaken.
hell, he still fell for you—-in every sense of the word.
chance’s sleep had gone undisturbed. up until now, that was. just this night, he’d woken up with a start in his single bed, clutching the bedsheets like a lifeline, so much so his knuckles had turned white.
of course, the dream had involved you. you & him. he’d dreamt that you had led him deep into the woods in the midst of winter, & had pulled out a sword on him & had slashed his throat without mercy.
essentially, you’d killed him in your dream. chance wouldn’t have ever thought about you doing such a thing, because really, why would you, his dear best friend, of all people, pull such a betrayal on him？？ he couldn’t even bear to think of it！
…still, chance would be lying if he said the dream didn’t spook him out. of course he didn’t want to believe that you, his dear itrapped, would ever pull such a betrayal on him, backstabbing him metaphorically in such a brutal sense & without a shred of mercy.
so, like the partial idiot & partial genius he was, decided to pay you a visit. he did this mostly because he wanted to prove that horrible ~dream~nightmare wrong… but also because he was seriously spooked out & needed comfort.
comfort he knew you’d provide. without hesitation！！！ right？？
clutching his bedsheets, the duvet he was holding trailing across the hallway behind him, chance trudged over to the door to your room in the shared survivalist cabin. he raised a fist to knock on the door, making sure not to knock too loud but doing it loud enough to ensure that you heard it.