“This world is so cold,” you say. I agree. Your eyes are calm, your arms are warm. I lift my hand to your face, gently touching along your cheekbone and then tangling my fingers in your long hair. It’s always so nice when we’re hiding from the world. You smile, then speak again. “I wish we could stay like this, away from everything forever. But they know about us now and it’s only a matter of time...” Your voice trails off when your eyes become cold with hatred. I watch your face for a moment before offering my unsure reply. “I’ll... I’ll buy a gun.” Your eyes widen slightly at the sound of my voice. Even if it is you who had wanted it, I suppose my giving in to the suggestion is a bit of a shock. I turn away shyly, embarrassed. The tears began to fall quickly this time. You lean forward to embrace me again, tightly. Your voice is gentle in my ears, playing with your heartbeat as you hold me to your chest. “Shinta... I’m so sorry... Everything will be better though, everything will be better soon. Please don’t cry... shhhh...” You rock me in your arms then, but my tears won’t let me forget when you first suggested the gun. Something tore at me then, something broke loose from me then. Your eyes told me something strange. I won’t tell you that. Whatever reason you can think of for why I’m hurt so badly with this thought is better than that. I cry, your loving embrace around me, crying that you might ask me, make me tell you why, but you never do.

The next morning I bought the gun.

I’m the only one who can, of us. It’s because I can run. Run from them if they see me, if they feel like something morbid in their hearts for us. I walk to your apartment with a pistol in a crumpled bag. It feels so dirty. A pistol... Hell... When you open the door I am already holding my face in my hands. You pull me close to your chest like you always do, pulling the bag from under my arm and holding it behind me when I collapse against you. I cry so often now that I almost hate myself. But your words always lift my heart from my misery of tears. Your words always make me want to live again, live with you and your strength and your warm love. “Toshide... Why...” My voice is muffled in your shoulder, but you know my words. You lead me slowly to your couch, latching the door expertly behind us. Laying me down against you, you stroke my hair. “Shhh...” You kiss my forehead when I raise my wet gaze to your face. “Shinta... They don’t understand... They refuse to understand us. We’re gay.” You nuzzle my neck, placing a kiss onto the side. You can make anything seem casual. I lift my hand to your face, running my fingers over your chin and onto your lips. “Toshide, I love you.” I force a smile through my tears. You smile back sweetly, your smile is always so sweet... You lean to my neck and bite it gently and you make me want to live again.

You don’t know how to use a gun.

It doesn’t help you that I know how, even though I showed you. You can’t practice anywhere around here and we can’t leave here. But you seem so noble. You said, “if I ever have to use this, I’d rather be a bad shot. That way, I’m not choosing their life or death, I’m just pulling the trigger. And I’d rather miss.” More than that, you told me to buy just one bullet. “Why?” I asked you, confusedly looking up at you. “You don’t get extra chances when it comes to life. People who use more than one chance with taking or saving a life are cheating.” I agreed. I bought you one bullet, even though it still made me cry. The thought of you shooting that pistol was too much. It coupled the weight of that strange feeling and the look in your eyes when you said ‘just one.’ I don’t want to let you down. I wait for you to ask, but you don’t. I wish I was as strong as you.

Every night, you always say that, after a kiss.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, my love.” Last night, you closed the door softly, after saying confused words and then this. Your eyes showed pain when you smiled but it hurt so much when you simply closed the door, looking to hide. From me? What’s wrong? And I came to visit you again, long after the night turned black. But you were always the strong one. Even if I’m too weak to carry you away from your misery, please let me try. I love you.

I wish I lived closer to your apartment, but I can’t. Especially not now that they know. It doesn’t make the walk easier. And I’m worried about you, my love. I finally come to your door...

Vaguely, I feel them falling.
Tears.
Warm on my face.
My heart, silently calling,
Your gentle voice, soft touch,
Fragile embrace.

My gaze wanders over to you,
A lost gaze aimless and fearing.
When my mind drains to white,
My heart jerks away screaming.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, my love.”

There is something about you now.
Cold.
I see it bluing your skin.
My body is struck still,
My heart ripping from within.

Your face is so emotionless,
Staring sideways on the floor.
The gun you hold was weak,
It was all I could afford.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, my love.”

My knees draw me downward,
Breaking.
My eyes will not turn away.
Limply, I fall to the side,
Still staring at where you lay.

Shaking, shuddering now, my body.
My heart, torn away, leaves nothing.
Though my trembling hands grasp my face,
It won’t stop my frantic screaming.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, my love.”

Cold, everything, cold and wet.
Smeared.
A smooth red river from your open lips.
Your beautiful long hair swirled in red
Dried hard, though from your mouth it drips.

The awful sound fills the room.
I writhe in the pain of it, thrashing,
Horrid rythm, louder than my scream.
But I never told you something.

I always carried an extra bullet.

I’ll see you again tomorrow, my love.