Terrible drabble because I have writers block at halfway through my latest chapter. I feel like I suck so bad right now =.= I miss my blood and angst.I should really make just one story for all these drabbles and group 'em together but it makes me look cooler to have more stories lol.
So what happens in the end of this little scene? Up to you :)
He couldn't breathe, each intake of air was a struggle but he needed more air. His chest heaved as he drew in raggedly, the breath gargling past the blood in his mouth. His shoulders burned with the effort. Every part of him was screaming to be laid pitifully on the dusty ground beneath him; to give up this meaningless fight that he could never win.
It was everywhere. All over the ground, on his hands, in his mouth... everywhere. Was it really all his?
His vision was water marked at the edges, the colours of the scene wavering dangerously so that he had to squint against it.
It was the end wasn't it. Just like this he was going to die without fulfilling any dream, without completing anything he set out to do. He had barely lived. He still needed...
He bit back the bitter taste of tears that crawled up his throat making his tongue thick.
He couldn't die yet, that was just too cruel. To be taken away this way, by this.
To go alone.
But his body refused to move from it's hands and knees position and shuddered violently if he tried to raise what was already broken any further.
"Just give up."
"N-not a chance..." Giving up never had been an option. Ever. He just didn't have it in him; to abandon this.
"You can't move."
"Don't count me out yet."
"Have it your way."
His opponent didn't even have the decency to run an attack at him. The heavy footsteps were loud and slow as he approached. There was a quiet shing of a sword being pulled from its sheath. He must look pathetic right now with his body bent over and his lips curled back as he clenched his teeth in pain. But still he couldn't give up.
"Any last words?"
"You're serious about this; killing me?"
"You're a bastard you know that don't you?"
There was a funny shiver in the air, like the shaking of uncertain hands.
"I remember being told that yes."
He coughed painfully and the other seemed to be waiting.
"What would happen if you didn't kill me?"
"...I don't know."
He nodded in agreement.
"Me neither, not anymore..."
The blade came close to his face as it pushed into the ground and he spat blood. Knees in front of him and a warmth in his hair. A bloody hand. And then another lifting his chin.
"What do I do?"
The face before him looked exhausted. It was dirty and the hair framing it was messy and disheveled, but that wasn't what looked tired. The eyes, the way the mouth was being held. They were both exhausted. Tired of this.
"Hell if I know..."
"Let's end it."