vanillaxx

“Calm down,” Tanner thought to himself, shaking his head as if to rid him of his nerves. “It’s just a Championship…” 

Suddenly, arms wrapped around his neck from nowhere, causing him to jump. “Tanner!” His older sister, Hannah, said, smiling brightly at him as he turned to face her. He smiled.

“Hi Hannah.”

“Super excited to see you again! Mom says you're really good?” She complimented, pulling her arms off of him. Ah, right. Since Hannah’s been away at university, she has yet to see him out on the ice. Tanner sighed, looking out at the ice, almost passed it.

“I hope so…”

Hannah frowned, nudging his shoulder with her own. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll do good. It’s not the end of the world, right?” She reasoned. He nodded hesitantly in agreement. Even if he didn’t win, it wasn’t like the loser died. That’d be berserk.

“Anyways, I wanted to wish you good luck before you got on the ice! So did Katherine but she was too lazy to get up.” Hannah bitched, huffing out Katheirne’s name. They’ve been fighting a lot recently, and Hannah’s especially been complaining to him. 

“I could probably use this against her later,” he noted mentally. “Some sort of blackmail.”

“Thank you Hannah, and tell Kat I say thank you too. Seriously.” He said, putting up a hand to stop Hannah from disagreeing. Predictably, the blonde groaned, slouching.

“Fineee… Okay, bye T-Bag! Can’t wait to see you in action!” She walked away, leaving Tanner alone with his thoughts once again. He sighed heavily, leaning on the railing with all his weight. He felt a hand on his back, looking up to see his coach. Dad. The very man that got him into ice skating.

“Champ, you ok? You look down. Nerves gettin’ to ya?” Dad asked, rubbing Tanner’s back gently. He just sighed, resting his forehead on his arms.

“Obviously. I’m going against, like, their best skater. I’m not even the best on our team!”

“And who told you that?”

 “Sport statistics.”

“Ah, sport statistics are just old guys trying to bring down upcoming athletes.” Dad waved him off, buzzing his lips. Tanner didn’t respond, frankly only feeling worse. His dad, sensing this, sighed, leaning down to his level.

“Listen kid-”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

Dad pursed his lips. “Listen Tanner. I can assure you, the girl you’re going against is just as good as you. She ain’t bad by any means, but neither are you, alright? You’ll crush it out there, just like you always do, cause you’re a champ.”

Tanner chuckled, tilting his head up to look Dad in the eyes. “You’re such a cheese.”

“Hey, I just gave you an uplifting speech?!”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he did a couple minutes ago. Dad grinned in victory, just as the announcements started, signaling for everyone’s attention.

Tanner’s stomach turned uncomfortably, the lights suddenly a bit too bright. He stood completely still as he listened to the announcements drone on. He watched as his teammates went onto the ice, sometimes scoring more points, other times not. He hoped he wasn’t other times.

Soon enough (too soon if you asked him), the announcer called his name. His teammates wished him quiet “good luck!”’s, Dad nodded at him, and off he went onto the ice.

It was as if all his anxiety melted away. Not instantly, never instantly, but still. It was just like training. Him, by himself for hours on end, music playing in his ears as he trained. Except this time, he was scoring points.

He did his routine exactly how he rehearsed, making sure not to break his rhythm. Even as his music mysteriously shut off, even when someone groaned in annoyance at that fact, he continued. He went through his whole routine, finishing off with a bow and leaving the ice.

Immediately, his teammates told him good job, patting him on the back. He smiled, confident that he would get at least close to a full score, if not win.

That was, until his competitor came out.

Evangeline, the announcer had said. That was her name. She had beautiful baby pink dyed hair, presumably undone — though that couldn't be the case, because it was too perfect. Her eyes were blue, soft and warm like a blueberry milkshake, with speckles of lime green.

Oh. OH. He was so screwed.

As she went through her own dazzling routine, he could feel his stomach sinking, groaning into his hands. “Ugh, I’m screwed. She’s too good.”

One of his teammates, Easton, smacked his shoulder, grunting out, “Dude, she’s doing half as good as you.” Tanner just groaned again, reminding himself that it was just a championship. There wasn’t actually anything on the line other than a medal. Still, ice skating was his world, one of the only things he was good at. If he failed?

He wasn’t sure what he’d do.

After an agonizing amount of time, she finally went towards the middle, the judges signalling for him to do the same. He glided over, stopping a couple of feet away from Evangeline. Her originally warm blue eyes darkened as she glared, scowling at him discreetly.

The judges talked back and forth quietly for a bit, each second feeling like a millenia. Eventually, they turned their attention back to the two, and they both instantly straightened, awaiting their individual scores.

“And Tanner Floris scores a… 9/10!”

He sighed in relief. “A high score. That’s good.” But not good enough. If Evangeline scored a 10/10, he would lose and leave the ice with everyone staring at him. Not with awe, but pity. Both contestants held their breaths as they awaited the second score.

“And Evangeline Valentine scores a… 8/10! Tanner Floris wins this round! Now, we will take a break for a brief intermission.”

Tanner immediately felt a million times lighter, only slightly flinching when they turned all the lights back on for intermission. Randomly, he was shoved to the side, barely catching his balance as Evangeline skated away, watching as she stomped onto the regular floor and away from all her teammates.

“Yeesh, someone’s a sore loser…” He thought, shrugging it off as he went over to his own cheering team, grinning like someone who won the lottery. He might as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking home during the winter was always a pain in the ass. Of course, he didn’t do it often, but sometimes Mom wouldn’t be able to pick him up and he’d have to bite the bullet and trudge the freezing 20 minute walk home.

Today was especially bad because there was about 2 feet of snow (curse Alaskan weather) and it was nighttime. He had stayed late for a voluntary meeting for the yearbook club, and he was beginning to regret that decision — scratch that, he did regret that decision!

“Stupid Alaska, worst weather at the worst times…” He grumbled to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold that was currently biting into his skin.

He paused. It felt like someone was… watching him.

He whipped around, looking in all directions only to find nobody in sight. He hummed in confusion, before simply shrugging it off and whistling as he continued his way down the path. He knew lots of shortcuts, this one being his favorite. It was the most secluded, there were barely any animals (surprisingly), and it was peaceful majority of the time. Right now though, it just felt…

Off.

He looked around again. No one.

Rightly creeped out now, he subtly picked up his pace, and that’s when he heard another pair of hurrying footsteps. He froze. The other person paused too.

“What the hell…” he thought to himself, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. “Why the hell would someone follow me?”

He strained his ears to hear breathing; nothing. Maybe he was just imagining it…?

He began to walk again, at his usual pace and, once again, heard the footsteps. Still going faster.

Oh. Oh. He’s in danger.

On instinct, he starts sprinting. Down the trail, over the creek, anywhere. Yet the footsteps remain there, only growing closer. He runs, even as his legs go numb, even as he loses feeling in his fingers from the cold. He turns a corner, recognizing it.

“I’m almost home,” he thinks to himself, almost deliriously. “Just a few more turns.”

Fate, God, whoever was in charge, seemed to have other plans. He feels something make contact with his back, and he tumbles down, his head crashing into the ground with a sickening crack. Definitely concussion worthy.

He groans, trying to push the person's weight off his back, only managing to flip off his stomach. Said stomach then sank.

Evangeline?

The girl looked manic in the dark, pink hair frazzled, blue eyes wide and unrelenting. The two stared at each other, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes feeling like hours. Then, she whispers, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it over the wind:

“… Hi.”

Tanner clenched his jaw, biting his lower lip to prevent himself from lashing out at her. Why was she chasing him?! The longer he looked, the more his eyes adapted to the darkness. Was she… crying?

Her face much clearer now, she seemed to be holding back laughter as tears streamed down her face, holding something in her hand, which was trembling. Something sharp.

“Holy shit, she has a knife.” Thinking hurt, but his heart paused, a sharp ringing filling his ears. She had a knife in her hands. Pointed down at him. Was this because she lost?! This is insane!

“It’s not nice not to respond, Tanner.”

“... Hello.” He hated how shaky his voice was, but he reasoned with himself. A crazy girl was holding a knife over him. Evangeline just smiled at him. They continued to stare at each other, Evangeline’s tears only becoming more and more until some of them were dripping onto his face.

She let out a laugh, not soft and kind like the ones he heard her share with the judges or her teammates. No, this one was sharp and edged with emotion he couldn’t name.

“Oh, Tanner, Tanner, Tanner…” She sang, bringing the knife down an alarming amount. Alarming enough that Tanner flinched, grabbing her wrist to keep it from coming closer. She flinched at the sudden contact as well, but quickly recovered.

“You won earlier this week, right? Against me?”

“I d-don’t see why that’s… that’s relevant.” Damnit, stupid concussions.

“Oh, it’s very relevant. I don't like being beat, y'know.” She hummed, pushing down harder with the knife, growling in frustration when he restrained her from doing so.

“So this is about you losing?! Have you lost your mind?!” He shouted, voiced strained. “Damn, she’s strong,” he thought

Her eye twitched, and her relentless pushing with her knife ceased. He nearly sighed in relief. The only reason he didn’t was because she grabbed his neck.

“I have not lost my mind, I am not crazy!” She cackled out psychotically, tightening her grip on his neck. He pulled in desperate gasps of air, clawing at her hands as her nails dug into his neck.

“You think I’m crazy? I’ll show you crazy! I swear on my life-”

“Evangeline! S-stop!” He choked out, coughing the longer he went without air. Suddenly, the pressure was completely released, and he heaved in breath after breath like a man who had never breathed before.

 The pink haired girl sat there, silent, her blue eyes turning near silver in the moonlight. She stared at him, arms limp at her side. He shuffled away from her, surprised when she obliged, slowly climbing off his stomach and allowing him to sit up.

Though, he didn’t let his guard down. She just tried to choke him to death and stab him, she was not letting him off the hook at this point.

And he was right.

As if she’d never stopped, she thrusted the knife at him, struggling against his strength. The two grunted against each other's force, Tanner not noticing when he started crying or how she began to cry more in turn.

“Stop?! It’s just a championship, it’s not life or-”

“Oh, but Tanner, I don’t think you understand, I don't think you could understand! You're just a new skater, so I'll teach you something. I win.”

Suddenly, she used all her force, using her whole body weight to push the knife. Tanner struggled and tried to hold her back, but he couldn’t.

He went stiff as the knife entered his stomach, mouth agape. His hand hovered over where the knife was lodged in his stomach, vision blurring. Evangeline too went stiff , both shaking.

Tanner from adrenaline and terror. Evangeline from adrenaline and excitement.

She let out a belly laugh, stabbing him in the stomach. Again and again and again. Each time, the knife pulled away with more blood, his shirt getting stained. His vision focussed on the psychotic girl, stabbing him over and over like some sort of sport. Her breathing was fast, chest heaving, and at some point it stopped seeming like she was actually laughing. 

“Hysteria,” he concluded numbly, his eyes wide as he couldn’t tear them away from her, his own breathing soon matching hers. 

“Shit, fuck– Tanner I- I told you I don’t lose. I'm a winner, I win.” She muttered, dropping the blood stained knife into the snow. She looked down at him — when did he flop over? —, smiling at him like a madwoman.

She stood, dusting snow of her pants. She grabbed his limp body by the legs, dragging him somewhere. Where? Who knows. Tanner’s eyes were drooping, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep them open. Tears streamed down his face freely, unable to make any more sound. 

“I don’t want to die…” he thought, attempting to swallow a lump in his throat, distress only growing as he found himself unable to. The last thing he heard was soft humming, a girl singing, “And then there were two…”

Later that week, a girl with pink hair would walk through the streets with her friends, laughing with her full chest.

“Did you hear about the kid that was murdered recently?” One of her friends would ask. She would say she did not.

“Yeah, found dead on a trail? Poor guy, gotta feel bad for his family…” Her other friend would say. She would agree.

She would not tell them where she was the other night. She would not tell them until she was 32, where she would be found with a knife over a brunette girl. 

“Ethan!” Marcus cried, sprinting over to his brother's side, stumbling around and over other soldiers. Some friends, some enemies. All with one thing in mind; make it home alive. Once he got to his brother, Ethan was bleeding out of his stomach, coughing up blood (but covering his mouth in hopes to stop it), clutching himself in pain.

The brother Marcus once knew, the one filled with the need for adventure and the one that dragged them into this war, was now the one on the floor, slowly losing his life. Marcus fell next to Ethan, yelling for a medic. No one answered.

Marcus screamed again, “Someone go get a medic! Get the medic!” Ethan groaned from the pain beside him, clutching himself more as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“Fuck, it hurts so bad..” Ethan muttered, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. C’mere Ethan, you can still move, right?” Marcus prodded, concern and horror full in his eyes. Ethan moved closer to Marcus, but that just hurt him more. Marcus didn't know what to do. Could he touch him? Would touch hurt him more?! What does he do?!

A medic rushed over, soldiers shielding her from attacks. She rushed to the two siblings, kneeling next to them, opening her med kit.

“I’m so sorry I took so long, I didn’t mean to, I-I… let me see the wound.” The medic said, looking Ethan dead in the eyes. After a slow moment of processing (that was bad because him slowing down meant his systems were shutting down and his systems couldn't shut down because he can't die-), he lifted his shirt with trembling, revealing a nasty bullet wound in his stomach.

It was oozing with blood, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the hole in his stomach and maybe even through to the other side. The medic gasped, quickly grabbing bandage. It wouldn’t do much, in fact, it wouldn't do anything at all. Ethan groaned, tears beginning to trickle down his face.

“I’m gonna die… aren’t I?” Ethan asked, sounding like he was looking for a genuine answer.

“Hey, hey, shh. Shhh. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, alright?” The medic reassured, but even she sounded like she didn’t believe herself, her voice cracking.

“There- it’s all wrapped up. That’s all I can really do, bullet wounds are hard to heal out in the field.” The medic informed them, standing up as she heard others screaming for her and she rushed away.

“Pathetic excuse, are you kidding me?!” Marcus thought to himself, biting his lower lip as he looked back to his brother.

Ethan was always a young minded person, who always chose to keep his youthful soul and heart. They were 18. This shouldn’t be happening to them. But world war stops for no man.

“It hurts. It hurts so badly Marc..” Ethan murmured, finally letting his tears fall freely.

“I know.. I know it hurts. But we’re gonna fix you up, like brand new. I promise.” Marcus reassured him, but he was mostly saying this to himself. Ethan looked up at Marcus with a sad smile.

“I'm so- I-I’m dying..” He whispered, the fight he used to always have in his voice dying out slowly. Marcus shook his head, not believing it–-refusing to believe it.

“No. No, stop. Stop talking like that. You’re going to be fine.” Marcus said, with hoped, grabbing Ethan's hand and holding it close to his own chest.

“There's no point in denying it Marc...” Ethan asked.

“N-no, you'll be fine...”

“...I’ve failed, haven’t I? If I go now, I can’t finish my job, which means I failed it..”

Marcus felt his eyes stinging. “No, no, you did so good. Don’t worry, you-you did so good..” Marcus promised softly, his voice trembling and quiet, his hands shaking as he held his brother tighter. Until Ethan gasp in pain, which made him release him. 

Ethan looked up at him, his lip slightly trembling but still forming a small smile, the light in his eyes ever so slightly fading. Marcus noticed. Marcus shook his head violently, tears beginning to stream down his face. He grabbed his brother’s hand with both his own. Hands were uninjured, it was safe to grab them.

“No-no, you’ll be ok… please be okay, please be okay, please-please be okay…” Marcus said under his breath, his voice shaking, his hands shaking. “You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine… y-you’ll be fine, I promise..”

Ethan let out a weak laugh, one that sounded like it hurt him. His body, which was usually tense, what Marcus hoped stayed tense, began to loosen. He was dying. Marcus reached his arms out, holding Ethan against his chest. 

The sounds of war, the screaming, the crying, the shotguns, bodies dropping, swords clashing against each other, grenades being thrown and exploding, all of it just faded away. All that Marcus could hear was his brother's slowing breathing, his own quick pulse. All he could feel was horror and his own brother, someone he grew up with, dying in his arms.

Ethan's breathing grew shallower and shallower, his body growing less tense by the minute. Marcus was crying, his tears falling onto his dying brother, when he heard him whisper,

“Marcus...?” Marcus opened his eyes which were originally squeezed shut, his vision blurry.

“...W-what..?” Marcus stuttered, raising his eyebrow.

“I-I love you... I don't think I told you that nearly enough...” Ethan breathed, unable to move his body; but his smile was still there, even if it was smaller than before.

“I love you.” 

“... I love you too, Ethan...”

The two boys sat there, waiting. One to die, for the pain to end. The other to stay, just to bask in his brothers fading presence.

Marcus stayed even when his brother went limp, the light leaving his eyes. Marcus choked back a sob, clutching his dead body like he too would die if he were to let go. He stayed even as soilder exited the battle field.

He doesn't know why he didn't die when he was sitting there. maybe the offending soldiers took pity on him.

He wished they didn't.