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Description
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you are about to kill your best friend.

It’s something you’d thought you would never have to do. But here you are, in a small field in the forest far away from the camp, a pistol shaking violently in your hand, and Gamzee, whose looking more worst every minute he’s still breathing, propped up against a log, breathing harshly like he’s just smoked a full pack of cigs. Fate likes to fuck with you like that.

Your eyes trail across his weakened figure to the hideous bite on his arm, tears threatening to spill over. He’s like this because of you. Because your reflexes are shit and he had to come and save you. Those things latched onto his arm like a dog to a bone. Gamzee killed it; crushed it’s skull with his juggling pins. But his only spoils was an affliction that will kill him and make him one of them.

He does’t blame you. He never does. And never will. Even when dying against a dead tree. You do, however, blame yourself. Fuck, Karkat blames you. Kurloz blames you. Everyone blames you. You could still hear Vriska’s degrading laughter ring in your head about how much of a screw-up you are.

It was only natural that you’d be the one putting the bullet in his brain. Karkat couldn't do it (he won’t go through with it and it would end badly for both of them), Kurloz can’t do it (family should never kill family, even if they've never got along), and everyone else is either too uncaring or overzealous about the deed. So it was up to someone who actually cared and could do it right.

Why the fuck did they think you could do it?

You think that maybe they actually sent you so that if you don’t do it, Gamzee turns and kills you too. You don’t blame them.

You’re hand is shaking worse and tears are starting to fall.

You’d wish this was all just a trick. Like he’d would just jump back up, shout “Gotcha!”, and wipe that ridiculously realistic looking bite-mark from his arm (he’s always said he wanted to be a makeup artist). But no. This is real. This is real and denial is killing you like that bite mark’s killing him. And there’s nothing you can do, except end it for him.

You tried to steady your breathing, hopefully gain a little courage, but it’s no use. Gamzee’s still panting from exhaustion below you. He’s turning his gaze to you, his once vibrant eyes now clouded and dull.

You wish you had a DeLorean, like in that movie. You wish you could rev it up to 88, taking a few of these dead fuckers with you, go back, find out who’s doing all of this, and stop them before this ever happens. Then you can go back and find Gamzee chilling on your couch back home, a slice of pie in one hand and your pokeball shaped bong in the other.

If wishes were poppies we’d all be dreaming now.

“Tav…” His voice is weak, with small hints of desperation and fear. You hate it so much. “Please…”

Your voice caught in your throat, and sobs started wreaking through your small frame. You raised an arm to catch your tears. Your knees buckle and you fall to the ground. You don’t waste time slowly crawling over to him, wrapping your arms around his thin frame, bury your face in his neck and cry. "Don-" He tries to protest, but you won't have any of it.

You don’t care if he turns then and there, you just want to hold him one last time.

Gamzee weakly reciprocates, slowly snaking an arm around your waist, and you think he’s crying too? He whispers small soothing words in your ear and you calm down a little. He end’s with an “I love you” that nearly falls on deaf ears. Your heart makes a full stop and tears slowly trail down your cheeks as you turn your head to him. His breathing is hard as he adds, “I… mean it, brother… I... love you.” He looks like he wants to add more, but exhaustion is stopping him from doing so and he looks at you, with that pleading gaze.

“Please…” He’s cracking, alongside your heart, “Don’t let me…” Don’t let me turn into one of them.

You could only nod, before cupping Gamzee’s face in your hand and placing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. Letting what few tears remain fall, you stand, shakily, before taking the gun and pacing a few feet away from him. You aim. The gun is shaky in your hands still, but from your distance, you can’t miss.

“G…Gamzee…” You take a deep breath as he looks up at you, his deep breathing becoming the only this you can hear, besides the gun trembling in your hands.

“I… I love, you too.”

You swear you saw his eyes light up behind those dull clouds.

You could at least let him go with some happiness in his heart.

Even if you don't believe it yourself.

Description
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you are about to kill your best friend.

It’s something you’d thought you would never have to do. But here you are, in a small field in the forest far away from the camp, a pistol shaking violently in your hand, and Gamzee, whose looking more worst every minute he’s still breathing, propped up against a log, breathing harshly like he’s just smoked a full pack of cigs. Fate likes to fuck with you like that.

Your eyes trail across his weakened figure to the hideous bite on his arm, tears threatening to spill over. He’s like this because of you. Because your reflexes are shit and he had to come and save you. Those things latched onto his arm like a dog to a bone. Gamzee killed it; crushed it’s skull with his juggling pins. But his only spoils was an affliction that will kill him and make him one of them.

He does’t blame you. He never does. And never will. Even when dying against a dead tree. You do, however, blame yourself. Fuck, Karkat blames you. Kurloz blames you. Everyone blames you. You could still hear Vriska’s degrading laughter ring in your head about how much of a screw-up you are.

It was only natural that you’d be the one putting the bullet in his brain. Karkat couldn't do it (he won’t go through with it and it would end badly for both of them), Kurloz can’t do it (family should never kill family, even if they've never got along), and everyone else is either too uncaring or overzealous about the deed. So it was up to someone who actually cared and could do it right.

Why the fuck did they think you could do it?

You think that maybe they actually sent you so that if you don’t do it, Gamzee turns and kills you too. You don’t blame them.

You’re hand is shaking worse and tears are starting to fall.

You’d wish this was all just a trick. Like he’d would just jump back up, shout “Gotcha!”, and wipe that ridiculously realistic looking bite-mark from his arm (he’s always said he wanted to be a makeup artist). But no. This is real. This is real and denial is killing you like that bite mark’s killing him. And there’s nothing you can do, except end it for him.

You tried to steady your breathing, hopefully gain a little courage, but it’s no use. Gamzee’s still panting from exhaustion below you. He’s turning his gaze to you, his once vibrant eyes now clouded and dull.

You wish you had a DeLorean, like in that movie. You wish you could rev it up to 88, taking a few of these dead fuckers with you, go back, find out who’s doing all of this, and stop them before this ever happens. Then you can go back and find Gamzee chilling on your couch back home, a slice of pie in one hand and your pokeball shaped bong in the other.

If wishes were poppies we’d all be dreaming now.

“Tav…” His voice is weak, with small hints of desperation and fear. You hate it so much. “Please…”

Your voice caught in your throat, and sobs started wreaking through your small frame. You raised an arm to catch your tears. Your knees buckle and you fall to the ground. You don’t waste time slowly crawling over to him, wrapping your arms around his thin frame, bury your face in his neck and cry. "Don-" He tries to protest, but you won't have any of it.

You don’t care if he turns then and there, you just want to hold him one last time.

Gamzee weakly reciprocates, slowly snaking an arm around your waist, and you think he’s crying too? He whispers small soothing words in your ear and you calm down a little. He end’s with an “I love you” that nearly falls on deaf ears. Your heart makes a full stop and tears slowly trail down your cheeks as you turn your head to him. His breathing is hard as he adds, “I… mean it, brother… I... love you.” He looks like he wants to add more, but exhaustion is stopping him from doing so and he looks at you, with that pleading gaze.

“Please…” He’s cracking, alongside your heart, “Don’t let me…” Don’t let me turn into one of them.

You could only nod, before cupping Gamzee’s face in your hand and placing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. Letting what few tears remain fall, you stand, shakily, before taking the gun and pacing a few feet away from him. You aim. The gun is shaky in your hands still, but from your distance, you can’t miss.

“G…Gamzee…” You take a deep breath as he looks up at you, his deep breathing becoming the only this you can hear, besides the gun trembling in your hands.

“I… I love, you too.”

You swear you saw his eyes light up behind those dull clouds.

You could at least let him go with some happiness in his heart.

Even if you don't believe it yourself.