just to clarify i got the idea from autmnalmanac on instagram! the scenario is that during the parking garage scene in amsterdam, boris's gunshot is more fatal than expected. and well.
The painting had already been taken and Martin and Fritz were long gone. Boris was on the floor, bleeding out and groaning. My hand was rested on his shoulder.
"What, what do I do? Should I call someone—"
"No," he croaked. "It'll only get you in trouble."
My heart was pounding, droplets of sweat rushed down my forehead. "Well? What else? I can't leave you here."
"Yes you can. It's okay, Potter." His eyes glistened, tears slowly building up. I could hardly look at him. Blood was smeared all over him, he already looked like a corpse, stiff and cold.
I broke out crying, leaning over and hugging him. He whispered in my ear softly, "I love you."
I could feel his heartbeat slow, and I knew he didn't have much time left. Without hesitation, I kissed him. A fast and fearful one. His lips were cold and chapped. It was almost like I was dying too. I could see my entire life with him flash before my eyes, like the world was caving in on me. I remembered his heartbeat when I was clinging to him on a Sunday morning, the sun's light creeping in from the blinds. Smells of chlorine and alcohol. I hadn't even noticed that his heart had stopped. The realization hit me not just like a wave, but an entire tsunami. Destruction, broken shatters of glass, rubble. Exactly like the day my mother died.
I never got to say I loved him back.