Are you okay?

01:52AM

"No, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Yes," Romeo grinned, ignoring my defiance as I profusely shook my head. "Come on Cassie, it'll just be something basic."

"There's a reason I choose to write instead of draw Romeo," I persisted, throwing the bandana back at him. "The closest I can get to art is drawing a stickman."

"So draw a stickman then," Romeo shrugged, oblivious to how terrible my artistic ability truly was. "Please Cass."

I sighed heavily, trudging over to him as he fought to keep a triumphant grin off his face. "Let's just get this over with then." He handed me the bandana, watching as I tied it over my mouth, loose enough so I could breathe but tight enough to protect me from the fumes. "Will I really need this if I'm only painting something small?"

"Better to be safe than sorry," he murmured, tying his own bandana in place before he moved closer to the wall and found a small empty space I could use. "So, what do you want to paint?"

"Preferably nothing," I muttered, taking a few steps to stand beside him, "I don't know. Something easy." I scanned over the areas surrounding the space, hoping to gain some form of inspiration since I had absolutely no clue when it came to any of this.

One that caught my eyes was a small image of a gun, dissected and left broken apart so that you could see the chamber with only one bullet inside rather than six. "How come it's not fully loaded?" I questioned, feeling Romeo follow my gaze as he too stared at the graffiti.

"Have you ever heard of Russian roulette?" he turned to face me, explaining after I shook my head. "Essentially it's a game where one bullet is placed into the chamber of a gun, the cylinder gets spun and then people take turns to pull the trigger while aiming the gun at their own heads."

I'd love to play that.

"I did this a while back, but... I think I was inspired because, in a way, life is just one big game of Russian roulette. We're all just going through each day, not knowing when it could end, not knowing how long we've got, and simply waiting to see if fate will grant us with a bullet in the head or another unsuspecting opportunity to continue living."

"Life loves doing that," I agreed, ruminating over his perspective, "Leaving you in mystery, sneaking up on you with surprise attacks just when you thought you'd survived another round unscathed."

I reached my hand out, Romeo sending me a questioning glance but complying nevertheless and passing me the spray paint, giving it a quick shake before handing it over. I had a vague idea of what I should do, and using a spray can didn't seem like it would be too difficult.

Beginning at the top, I painted the curved line before moving my hand down in a straight motion, the smell of paint flooding my senses immediately. Within a few seconds I had finished, holding the can back out to Romeo who stared at me with a wistful expression.

"Why a question mark?"

"Because," I began, reaching up to untie my bandana as Romeo did the same with his. "Life is like a game of Russian roulette. They both have the common element of being forced to face the unknown; the question mark shows that sometimes in life we have to do things even when we don't know what the outcome will be."

As much as I'd love it, we couldn't know the answers to everything, and most of our predestined lives would probably end up taking routes we could never have imagined. "We don't know what will come next; all we can do is carry on further into the unknown."

Even when carrying on seemed like the scariest option.

Perhaps it was just me, but I felt like everyone had been given a vague map of the unknown, and I was the only one stumbling my way aimlessly through, unsure of where exactly life was leading me.

"Maybe that's one of the greatest things about it," Romeo murmured lowly, his volume increasing as he turned to me, "Maybe that's the whole point: the mystery, the thrill of never knowing. Maybe it's not meant to be fear about the unknown and what life could bring next: maybe it's meant to be excitement."

"You mean like... when you go on a rollercoaster and you're absolutely petrified yet you can't wait for it to begin at the same time?" I clarified, trying to put it into perspective.

"Exactly," Romeo nodded. "Maybe Russian roulette isn't a game played out of fear of what the unknown might contain, but rather out of sheer excitement and exhilaration. Maybe that's how we're meant to view life too..."

"But bad things are inevitably going to happen," I reasoned, my eyes flicking between his two as I tried to grasp his mindset. "How am I meant to be excited for what life could bring when I know it's going to go wrong eventually? Why would someone even bother playing a game of Russian roulette when they know they'll end up dying eventually? What's the point?"

"Of Russian roulette? Or of life?" Romeo broke my gaze, sighing as he glanced down at the floor. "You don't need to answer that, since my response for either would be the same."

I paused, realising the full weight of what I was actually asking him. "I know it's a heavy question, but what is the point? Of Russian roulette, of life, of living when we already know it's destined to end badly?"

He ran a hand down his face, tugging on his hood before his eyes returned to mine.  "Playing Russian roulette must be terrifying, but... there's a reason it's a game. Yes, it's scary, and you could die at any moment, but for the players I'd imagine that the wild sense of... ecstasy and excitement they'd feel would be enough to overpower the doubts. Maybe, despite the chance of death, the exhilaration would make it worth it. And I think that's what life's all about..."

"What?"

"Finding those things: feelings, emotions, moments, places or even people." He spoke softly, his voice a mere whisper. "Things - beautiful things - that make the pain all worth it."

"Like you said, things in life are going to go wrong: it's inevitable. But maybe that's not the point: maybe dying isn't the point of Russian roulette, and maybe things going wrong isn't the point of life. To me, what matters - what truly matters - is the excitement it gives you, the thrill of never knowing what's going to happen and embracing it, enjoying it, each and every second, holding onto memories of the good that makes the bad all worth it."

Romeo's gaze had stayed focused on me during the entirety of his words, his deep depths of wisdom drawing me in as I blinked back speechless at him.

The pessimist in me yearned to speak out and correct him but... he was right. I couldn't fault a word he'd said, and I was left wondering why I'd thought my original argument was so strong in the first place.

"Thank you," I found myself saying, a gentle smile on my lips. "For giving me the answers I couldn't see."

"Thank yourself," he amended, humble as ever while he mirrored my smile. "If you didn't ask the questions, I could never have given the answers."

Before I could protest, he retrieved his rucksack and placed the spray paint back inside along with our bandanas, zipping it up and swinging it back over his shoulder before turning to face me expectantly. "We should probably get going; there's still plenty more to do."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What happened to not having a plan?"

"I still don't," he grinned sheepishly, "But maybe we're not supposed to: let's just get caught up in the thrill of the unknown together."