C: Zero

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❝True love stories never have endings.❞
—Richard Bach

A whisper in my mind that began since I reunited with (Y/N) in Russia, although I can't make out what it is saying.

July 5, 2063.

I love (Y/N). I loved...

Had I known she was the soldier I encountered that day, what would I have done? The correct answer is to kill her — to end what I started all those years ago and to follow through with my plan.

I swore I would kill her. But I promised I would love her.

Only one can happen. Only one can remain true. And I was sure I knew what to do. I brought her here after all. Here. The place where our fates were supposedly tied. The place she should have been killed. 

She is... the last person from this town who is still alive.

With that in mind, I was ready to execute my plan. I was so ready... Then (Y/N) sent me spiraling with a single kiss.

I am utterly susceptible to her. Pathetically vulnerable. Her lips my Achilles heel. Her touch the most persuasive poison. I can't resist her, no matter how much I wish I could. I resented it. After all she's done, she assumed her right to enclose me in a kiss. I relished it. After all she's done, I still craved her affection and warmth.

I wanted nothing more than for her to be mine. And yet, she parted from me.

It took all my strength to regain my composure; tears were welling in my eyes as she stared at me hopefully. How can we forgive one another for the things we never said? For the romance we never actualized? The love we never let go?

"John... Never forget that I love you. Truly. Helplessly. Unconditionally. You have my heart."

Because she loves me. It would be easier if she didn't or if I didn't believe her. But I know she does, and I believe her with every string in my heart.

She made half of a heart with her hands; our way of telling one another how deeply rooted our love is. She waits, expecting me to return it. With trembling muscles, all I can do is keep my rifle fixed on her.

But when she turns her back once and for all, I find my strength and return the other half of the heart she deserves. She won't know it. She will never know it. But if I know it, then maybe I can forgive myself.

I told her to run, just as I did all those years ago. But she goes at a slow pace, her steps short and heavy as though her legs were lead. She isn't scared, not like she was all those years ago. Shouldn't that make this easier?

I release a shaky breath as I stare down the scope of my rifle. What a familiar situation. What a sad outcome.

I have to shoot her — to kill her. Unlike in the past, I can't let her go. Not again. This will be the last time we are together, so I must do what I said I would do. The world is drawing to its end because of her. If I were to let her go, she would walk away from all of that forever. 

But Lord...

I love her. Despite the lies. Despite the bloodshed. Despite everything. Despite myself. I love (Y/N). Every cell in my body is obsessed with her. My mind is restless with thoughts of her. My soul aches as she gets further.

More tears collect in my eyes as I weigh my two choices. I know which I should choose. I know which I shouldn't choose. No one else knows but me. But how can I decide with this whispering hazing my thoughts?

"If I could go back and do it all again, I would still let you go all those years ago."

I mutter this to myself, a pang of guilt attacking my heart upon deciding that it was something she ought to have heard herself.

"I love you," I whisper, continuing to watch her from my rifle. Her steps seem to falter as if she heard me from this distance and were ready to reciprocate. 

The sky looks as though it is on fire. Is it tragic? Is it beautiful? I think it is a mere reflection; the Heavens displaying the Earth. With my lungs carrying all the air they can manage, I prepare to fire my gun.

Aim at her? Aim at the sky? End her suffering? End mine?

"I love you, (Y/N)... I love you enough to know what I must do."

I make my decision, and just as I pull the trigger of my rifle, I see (Y/N) turn around to face me, her mystifying eyes locking with mine.

My angel. My Sunshine. My love.

♙♟♙♟♙

I get in the car, shutting the door after me and releasing a long breath. The radio is on, although I don't remember leaving it on. I don't understand the report, and I don't care to.

However, I hear a set of Russian numbers that I recognize (of course, AC troops were taught numbers in all sorts of languages when learning the NLS).

But to hear this NLS code at this time, it is startling.

0231.

What? What caused such a code to be used? And why would a Russian news station be referencing Allied code?

I turn off the radio. It doesn't matter. I am no longer a part of this war.

I reach into my bag, retrieving a cigar and putting it up to my lips. But before I can light the cigar, a thought dawns upon me.

I don't want to smoke a cigar... I simply don't.

I return the cigar to where it was before and set my hands on the steering wheel. I have a long way to go, my destination somewhere completely new and completely isolated from the destruction of the war.

The sunset is truly marvelous. How many sunsets do I have left? I don't care to think too much about that. 

She was right. The sky is turning red.

Before I can start driving, however, I glance at the passenger seat. I smile, then focus on the road ahead of me. 

All the whispering suddenly makes sense, and as cryptic as the message may seem, it brings me nothing but serenity and peace. I am not lonely as I once was. The whispering, therefore, is my divine comfort. The precious words of a love I will cherish until I fall.

The end is here.

End of Act Three: Mission Failed Successfully

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