#sorry.......

"Forgive me."

He slumps beside you, his clothes coated in blood. Blood of the innocent. Blood of his friends. Blood of his own. All of which you were there to be a witness—no, you were no mere spectator; you were a part of it all; you killed people with your hands, you killed them without any regard for the life they'd leave behind. No one pushed you to do them, not this time.

Maybe you needed forgiveness, too.

But it's not forgiveness he asks for, you realize as relief settles on his eyes when he turns to you. He's not asking you to wash away his sins, nor is he asking for another chance to redo the choices he's beginning to regret.

He's asking for one thing only. Company.

So you hold his face with your own bloody hands, you stare at his eyes like you would when staring at a starry night sky, and again, and again and again and again, thoughts that are not of your own begin to emerge as it always does. A blissful reminder.

This is your curse. This is your punishment.

And in seconds that felt like years, you slowly press your lips against his. For one final time before the dawn breaks. One final time before this dream ends.