Light shone through the delicate, pink crystal bullet, casting small rainbows on the dirt below his boots. The bullet twirled between the blonde’s fingers, glistening and letting light pass through. Heaving a sigh, his eyes were focused where you were sat in the bar. “Cupids can’t fall in love, it’s doomed from the narrative” is what he had been told, more than once. That didn’t change that his heart nearly stopped everytime he saw you. Heard you laugh, or see your smile. ‘Get it together, Vash, you sound like a weirdo!’ He scolded himself quietly.

He had been told that he was a fool. Someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. Did it really matter that much though?

The bullet he held between his fingers was crafted specifically so you’d be able to see him, hopefully fall in love after that. The thought of controlling how you felt for anyone riddled him with guilt. Pushing the fragile twenty-two caliber in the chamber of the gun, he felt his throat tighten. What would it be like to lock eyes with you? A lovestruck sigh escaped him as he pressed his cheek into his prosthetic hand’s palm. His gun hung in his right hand, with his ribbon like feathers tickling against his pale skin beneath his red coat.

Aiming the gun, he looked over the top. If he didn’t hit where he was supposed to, that would be a disaster. Right as his finger pulled the trigger, he watched in horror as you moved from your seat to buy another round of whatever alcohol you and your friends had been consuming. Instead of the bullet piercing your heart, it lodged itself into your side. As crimson bloomed across your shirt, his eyes widened in time with his jaw dropping. His hand clamped over his mouth as he felt a lump form in his throat. Oh god.