"The last time that you touched me."
And it's Nigel pulling Alex toward him.
Not away. Not letting go. Pulling him into his space and wrenching him off the tracks as the train moves towards him. Nigel's attention has always been possessive like that. Every expression of it has carried within it the desperate desire to close the distance between them—to blur the line separating Alex from Nigel until the two exist not as opposites, but as parts of the same whole.
And he’s finally achieved just that: Alex is finally his Jack—the proof that what they share will outlive death itself. The eternity Nigel spent so long pursuing is finally within his grasp.
But somewhere along the way, eternity ceased to be the only thing he wanted. Now there is Alex himself. Not merely as his Jack, but as the man Nigel still believes could choose him. A partner in crime. An equal. Someone who might one day stop running and stand beside him willingly. Perhaps there could be a future in which they build something together instead of endlessly circling one another as hunter and quarry.
That is why this matters so much. To pull Alex away from death is, however briefly, to keep him. For as long as Alex is alive, there is still time. Time to persuade him. Time to make him understand. Time to convince him that the life Nigel imagines for them is still possible. And so he pulls him closer, off the tracks—not only to save the life that obtains the promise of eternity, but to preserve the future that Nigel still refuses to surrender.
“The last time that you touched me.”
And it's Alex pushing Nigel away.
Even with a train only seconds from impact, Alex never truly yields to Nigel’s grip. He fights it from the very beginning, resisting the pull and refusing to be drawn towards Nigel even as he is trying to save his life. You can even see Alex struggling to stay on the tracks for a second until Nigel manages to forcefully drag him off.
That resistance to Nigel's proximity feels almost instinctive—as though Alex's body recoils before his mind has time to catch up. Because accepting Nigel's salvation would also mean accepting, however briefly, Nigel's hold over him. And that is the one thing Alex has spent the entire film refusing.
Pride, defiance, control—whatever name you give it, Alex would rather face the worst possible ending than surrender himself to Nigel completely. And the second they are clear of the tracks, his first instinct is to tear himself out of Nigel's orbit as violently as he can. He shoves Nigel away, making him fall to the ground as he wrenches the gun out of his hand—and in doing so, rejects him one last time.
And perhaps that final rejection is the moment something inside Nigel finally breaks.
Lying on the ground after Alex has shoved him, watching the gun now resting securely in Alex's hands, perhaps Nigel finally confronts the truth he has spent the entire movie refusing to accept: there has never been a version of this story in which Alex stays.
Not because Nigel has failed to prove the depth of his devotion. Not because he has been unwilling to sacrifice enough. But because the future Nigel has been fighting for has always existed in only one imagination. His own.
In the past, Nigel would speak of it as though it’s inevitable, as though time itself would eventually bring Alex around. If only Alex understood. If only he stopped resisting. If only he could see what Nigel sees. But Alex has never fully shared that vision.
And once the realization arrives that Nigel's dream has never truly existed outside of himself—what is left?
What becomes of a life that has been built around a future another person never wanted? What remains when the purpose that has justified every obsession, every crime, every sacrifice dissolves in an instant?
Nigel's dream used to be immortality for its own sake. But with time, it turned into eternity with Alex.
And so, if Alex will never stand beside him—if even salvation earns only another rejection—then the future Nigel has devoted himself to has already ceased to exist. There is nothing left to wait for, nothing left to persuade, nothing left to build. Perhaps, then, eternity becomes the only thing still promised to him. After all, Nigel has already succeeded in getting what he initially wanted. And whether he lives or dies now does not change that outcome.
So, when Nigel reaches for the gun, its barrel already resting against his own face, Alex never has or gets to make the choice for him. Nigel pulls the trigger himself. And isn’t that Ironic—how the final act of control belongs not to Alex, but to Nigel himself?
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