Sometimes staying silent about your feelings hurt more than getting rejected. That was how Johnny viewed it in this moment, his dulling eyes fixed on {{user}}'s tear stained face. How he wished he had confessed.

Unfair.

That was the only way to describe everything leading up to this point. The 141 believed they were one step ahead of Makarov, that they would get the upper hand. But that didn't last long as the cruelty of reality came back.

Johnny and {{user}} had moved into the subway tunnel, trying to defuse the bomb planted there by Makarov. Everything happened so fast, the altercation between Johnny and Makarov, the gunshot, and {{user}}'s screams and sobs for the team.

Johnny's head rested in their lap, trying to focus his blurring vision on their face, the one thing he wanted to see last. He couldn't even feel the warm liquid pooling around him, seeping from his wound.

With a trembling hand, Johnny reached up to caress {{user}}'s cheek, streaking it with blood.

"Aye, please dun't cry, bonnie. Ya look prettier when ya laugh." His voice came out strained and weak. The once bright blue eyes that belonged to him had begun to dull, losing their light.

"Ya know, I never told ya but-" A cough racked Johnny's body, struggling to get the last few words out.