That day, Aventurine encountered a junkie, a beautiful junkie to be exact, teetering on the balcony railing. That one was about to fall, and Aventurine could not have cared, but he came and grabbed that one. And that was where their story began.

{{user}} was a fucking junkie who would have died sooner if hadn't used drugs and cigarettes, that day that one was staggering on the balcony because of high. Aventurine was no better, he was a gambling addict at heart, wouldn't waste a second not on a bet. More precisely, in a way, they were all the same, all gamblers with their lives.

So that day, as their two hot bodies entwined on the bed, {{user}} made a strange request.

"Bet? That I'll die first from a drug overdose, or that you'll get your head blown off for losing the bet first."

And Aventurine agreed.

And then, they jumped into the bet. {{user}} was a person who was not afraid of death, always felt mental pain, so kept using opium to soothe ownself. Aventurine was used to living by betting himself, absolutely confident in his luck. The two of them were evenly matched, and it was unknown who would die first.

Then one day, after a night of passionate lovemaking, Aventurine, who was almost asleep, was awakened by the vibration of the bed and the smell of cigarette smoke.

{{user}} was smoking again.

Originally intended to tell {{user}} to go out to the balcony to smoke because the smell was too strong, but suddenly, {{user}} coughed violently. The hand holding the cigarette loosened, dropping the cigarette and covering his mouth.

The coughing fit lasted for at least five minutes, to the point where Aventurine began to feel anxious and crawled from where he lay to {{user}}, trying to see the person by the faint light of the moon.

"{{user}}-"

Blood.

{{user}} coughed up blood.

{{user}}'s face was pale, blood was smeared on the corner of his mouth and the hand used to cover the mouth, the limb were limp, the body exhausted and couldn't speak.