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War. Thieves’ Den and Playground had gone to war. No one knew what started it, only that they were dancing dangerously close to the edge, a thin line ready to be snapped.
Four days had passed, and the world had already changed. Both sides had suffered heavy casualties—too many for anyone to count, too many to ignore. But neither faction showed any signs of backing down, willing to fight the other to extinction.
Slingshot readied his gear, exhaustion clearly written all over his face. The feeling of blood stained his hands, no matter how many times he washed them. He just wished the war would end. He wished things would end peacefully.
But most of all, he wished he wouldn’t have to see his friends on the battlefield. The idea of seeing them dead, lifeless was enough to make him shiver. No matter if they were on opposite factions.
Especially Skateboard.
—
“Hey, Slingshot.”
Slingshot’s eyes went wide. That voice. The one voice he didn’t want to hear. He whipped his head around, coming face to face with Skateboard.
His face was full of scars, blood trickling from his lips as he cracked a smile at Slingshot.
He looked horrible. Slingshot’s heart dropped at the sight. Considering that Skateboard was the frontline, he might not make it. And that was a truth that Slingshot was not willing to face.
“I was hoping I could see you…” Skateboard quietly said.
Slingshot stood in front of Skateboard, and it was like the rest of the world melted away. The distant sounds of battle muffled in the background. In this one frozen moment, there was nothing but Skateboard—and the smile on his face.
“How could you smile at a time like this?” Slingshot’s voice cracked. The smile was so small, so fragile, as if it were an apology itself, but it didn’t make sense.
Skateboard didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, closing his eyes.
“We both knew this would happen, Slingshot,” He said quietly. “No matter how much we willed it, this was inevitable.”
Skateboard opened his eyes, looking at Slingshot with tenderness and acceptance. Slingshot’s heart ached. This wasn’t the Skateboard he knew. The Skateboard who was carefree and cocky, the Skateboard who loved to compete, the Skateboard who was his.
“It’s going to be over soon. I’m going to die soon,” Skateboard muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. He took a hesitant step towards Slingshot. “Will you… carry out your promise?”
Slingshot’s blood ran cold. The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Carry out your promise. He curled his hands into fists, his nails digging much harder into his skin then he wanted it to.
“You know I don’t want to," Slingshot said hoarsely, his tongue dry in his mouth. “This... this isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.”
Skateboard’s eyes flickered into something of sadness, like he wasn’t ready to die. He stepped forward again, then again, and again.
Slowly and carefully, Skateboard took Slingshot’s trembling hand into his, ignoring the way he trembled as well.
Warm. Slingshot thought, as he watched the way Skateboard maneuvered his hand to curl around his gear.
Skateboard pulled back, his smile fading, but only slightly. There was no bitterness in his gaze, no anger.
“I’m sorry.” Slingshot choked out.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. But you promised, Slingshot. I need you to keep it.”
Slingshot didn’t answer at first. He couldn’t. His body screamed at him to run, to drop his slingshot, to do anything but follow through on the promise he had made.
“I won’t hesitate,” Slingshot murmured, more to himself than to Skateboard. And then, as the world seemed to hold its breath, he did what had promised.
…
“Slingshot, please promise me,” Skateboard said quietly, entangling his fingers with Slingshots. “If… if our factions do go to war, don’t hesitate to kill me.”
“I…I don’t know.” Slingshot responds. His eyes flicker over Skateboard’s expression. It’s uncharacteristically downcast, and his heart aches. The usual spark in his eyes is gone, replaced by something heavier, something uncertain. He hates seeing Skateboard like this—like the weight of everything is too much, like there’s no way out of the mess they’re in.
Slingshot squeezes Skateboard’s hand, his gaze softening. "Maybe there’s another way. We just haven’t figured it out yet." His hands fidget nervously, but his eyes stay locked on Skateboard.
“I don’t know, Slingshot. Feels like we’re stuck. I don’t see a way out of this.”
The ache in Slingshot’s chest sharpens, and he leans his head closer to Skateboard, his voice more insistent, though softer. “We might not have all the answers, but believe me, I…We can survive this cruel reality. We just need to take it one step at a time, okay?”
For a long moment, Skateboard doesn’t respond. He just looks down, like the weight of the world is pressing on his shoulders.
Then after a long breath, he looks back at Slingshot, light returning back into his eyes.
“Okay.”
…
How foolish. Slingshot thought, his face caked with tears as he held Skateboard close, the limp body cold in his hands. To even think we had a chance.