Work Text:
As much as Joe trusts Sara, he also doesn’t.
Not with a gun in her hand, not with it pointed at his head. He watched her load the bullets from afar, unable to tell the order. The ringing spin of the barrel resounded in his ears, agonizingly loud.
It’s hard to trust like this, with his lives or dies stored in the chamber of a revolver. He knows Sara wouldn’t kill him, not intentionally at least. She’d never. They’re best friends.
But, what if she does?
A loud bang sounds off. He can’t help but startle as he watches a doll’s skull burst beside him. The fluid splashes onto him.
All he feels is fear. The purest kind of fear, the most primal. Fear of a premature death, one he could’ve avoided by taking the gun. It’d be worse if he did though, having to look Sara in the face and pull the trigger and risk killing her. Risk killing any of them, no, he’s too much of a coward for that.
Sara points the gun at him.
He looks at her, smiling best he can. It hurts to smile, but he needs to smile. For her sake.
She hesitates. Then she raises the gun to the dummy on the other side of him. All of a sudden, he’s relaxing.
Another bang.
Every muscle in his body tenses. No fluid follows this time. Just the fear in his body spiking exponentially. But it’s fine, it’ll be fine, nothing will go wrong.
There’s a long pause. Too long. Way too fucking long.
Sara doesn’t move the gun. Like she forgot which order the bullets were in. Everyone catches it, the tension thickens. Or maybe Joe is just scared, maybe it’s just him that notices.
But he trusts her.
She levels the gun at Joe’s head.
Her finger hesitates on the trigger.
It’s barely a whisper when he speaks, he hopes Sara doesn’t hear.
“I don’t want to die.”