Yao chewed his lip; the gun lifted to the man's head across from him. click. Nothing. No bullet. Yao's eyes widened at the fact that it meant the bullet would be in one of the next two turns between him and the other. Which meant he had a one in two chance of surviving, and the same chance of losing his life right then and there.
The small male reached out a shaking hand to grip the handle of the gun presented to him. Ivan's voice, desperate, pleaded from the distance, where the big-boned Russian was confined behind the glass door that revealed to his lover everything that was going on. Yao looked to the side, his warm brown eyes adverting as soon as they saw Ivan's tear-filled violet gaze. Ivan let out a faltering cry; in a voice that Yao thought he would never hear, since he had never seen this taller man cry, not once since the day they met.
"Don't do it, Yao! Walk away now; please!" The small man closed his eyes and whispered softly,
"Oh Ivan, I'm sorry. . .But I can't lose this. If I do my boss will surely kill me himself," his voice was barely heard by the Russian- the words just slightly reaching his ears. Immediately Ivan struggled against his restraints, wailing and crying for Yao to put the gun down. Why, why did they have to do this?! Not my Yao! he thought din desperation, tears freely flowing down the once strong man's cheeks.
Ivan had finally broken.
The man across from Yao smirked evilly and sent a look to the man beside him, who had been sure to place the bullet where neither man would be able to discover. Whether it was in this cartridge or the next, they would just have to wait to find out.
Yao mentally apologized to everyone in his family, and then he turned his head back towards his trapped lover.
"I'm so sorry, Ivan. . ." He whispered softly, Ivan's eyes widening in shock.
"No, nyet, NYET, YAO DON'T," The man wailed loudly, then began shouting incoherently in Russian. But his cries did not reach the small Chinese man; his heart was thudding heavily in his chest and the blood roaring in his ears drowned out the sounds around him. The man's laughter, Ivan's pleas, all silenced. It was just him and his memories.
Already, his life seemed to flash before his eyes. From when he was a baby, to a toddler, his childhood whipping past him and sending a shudder down his spine. Then when he met Ivan- oh, his Ivan. The man who claimed him as his little sunflower; the man who had made him happy for years that he had expected himself to be at his worst.
"Wo ai ni, Ivan. . ." The man whimpered softly, then lifted the gun to his temple. Perspiration dotted his forehead. His throat grew dry. His lips dabbed themselves together- the lips that Ivan's once melted with. All colour drained from his face.
One. . . Yao mentally counted, his memories still flashing before his eyes, one millisecond at a time feeling like an eternity. His fingers trembled as they adjusted themselves around the hilt of the gun; his index finger coming to rest on the little trigger.
Two. . .Memories nonstop- one shaky breath after the next. All warmth fading from his body and the band holding his hair back falling off and releasing his halo of deep brown hair. A tear traced it's way down his cheek and dripped from his chin.
"Wo ai ni. . ." Three.
Please just pull the trigger.
"Hah. . .Hah. . .Hah. . ." Click.
"YAO" Wo ai ni.