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It starts off like any other day.
Nothing seems off. Everyone was slipping into their usual routines, thinking it was just another ordinary day. But that's how things change, doesn't it? One moment, things seem fine, and the next—everything comes crashing down.
Elliot was working at the pizzeria, finishing up another long shift. He moves around on autopilot—taking orders at the cashier, serving the pizza, and wiping down afterwards. He makes sure everything is clean and neat, with nothing out of place. His working hours may be long, but he doesn't complain. After all, he enjoys it.
He’s just about to leave after clearing up an empty table when he hears it—gossip from other customers. He doesn't mean to listen. He knows better than to eavesdrop, and it's not a habit of his. But those two customers were right beside him—standing nearby, chatting away.
He shakes his head and begins to step away. He can't let himself get distracted—he needs to focus on his work. And then, he hears it—something that shatters his entire world.
“Didn’t you hear the news? The heir to the famous casino… he passed away.”
Elliot freezes. The world seems to come to a standstill.
What…? No. They couldn't possibly be talking about… Chance…? That doesn't make sense. It couldn't be him.
His hands tighten around the rag he’s holding, his knuckles nearly turning pale as his thoughts begin to race. No. No, it can't be. Please.
“Such a shame,” the other customer adds, shaking their head. “He was so young…”
“But it's to be expected, I suppose. He was always caught up in shady business, gambling at that place. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn't happened sooner.”
Elliot nearly chokes. He doesn't turn around to ask any questions—he already knows. He doesn't want to confirm his worst fears—but deep down, he’s certain of who they’re referring to.
It has to be Chance.
The rag slips from his hands and onto the ground, though he barely notices it. Elliot is already moving away, and his feet carry him towards the front door. He hears his coworkers calling after him, their voices full of confusion at his sudden change in behaviour.
“Elliot? Hey, where are you going—? Your shift isn't over!”
But he doesn't stop. He doesn't even look back once—he knows he can apologise to them later. Everything else—the consequences, and all the explanations that will follow after—it’s not as important as this.
He has to see it with his own two eyes. Chance was fine. He… had to be.
The moment he steps outside, he’s immediately hit with the downpour. It’s heavy and relentless, soaking through his uniform in seconds. The cold water clings to his hair, and runs down his face, causing the fabric to stick to his skin. But he doesn't care. Instead, he breaks into a frantic run, with his shoes splashing against the pavement.
It can’t be true. It can’t. Chance was… He couldn't be dead.
He runs blindly through the rain, ignoring the burn in his lungs. Maybe they were wrong—maybe they were referring to someone else. Maybe this was all one big misunderstanding, and Elliot would find Chance perfectly fine, laughing and smiling all the same.
But he just has to see it for himself. He needs to know.
Eventually, he reaches the end of the street—the place where Chance lives. He slows to a stop, his chest heaving. He looks up ahead—right in the direction where their house should be. But the street seems quiet, except for the sound of the downpour above. There are no other signs of life. The entire place, it seems… empty.
Something cold and heavy twists in his stomach.
He stands there for a long while, unmoving, staring into the distance. He can only desperately hope that this is all just some terrible misunderstanding—and it’s just another cruel nightmare, one that he hasn't woken up from yet.
Finally, he forces himself to move forward.
Each step he takes feels heavier than the last. His movements are slow and hesitant, almost as if he’s afraid to face the truth. And when he finally reaches the door, he hesitates again—he has to take a deep breath and calm down, in order to stop himself from shaking. Then, he reaches forward, and wraps his fingers around the doorknob.
It's locked. He should have known.
His breath catches in his throat. He leans closer, peering through the window at the side. The inside of the house looks empty—too empty for his liking. There are no lights, no sign of movement from within… just silence.
There’s no one there.
At that moment, everything seemed to hit him at once. Elliot exhales shakily, and slides down, until he’s sitting against the door, his back pressed to the cold wood. His uniform is completely soaked now, with the water pooling around him, but he doesn’t notice. He can't bring himself to care.
What was he even thinking?
Maybe all of it was a lie. It’s just some gossip—people talking about things without knowing the truth. Maybe Chance was out there somewhere, busy at the casino, caught up in some other, risky gamble. Maybe he’ll show up any moment now, laughing like he always does, pretending that everything was fine.
That has to be the truth. Elliot couldn't accept any other explanation.
Then, he lowers his head and buries his face in his palms, clearly distraught by everything. The rain continues to fall, soaking him to the bone.
What was he even talking about? Of course it wasn't fine. No, nothing about this was close to being okay.
Honestly, he’s terrified—he doesn't want to know if what those people said was actually true. His mind scrambles for a reasonable explanation for their absence, some justification for the emptiness that lies behind those walls. Maybe he should text them. Give them a call, just to hear their voice, and make sure they were alright—
And then, it hits him. He can't do any of that… he left his phone back at the pizzeria.
Elliot bites down hard on his lip. His eyes begin to sting, and the tears threaten to spill, no matter how much he tries to hold them back. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. Please, just please… let it not be true. Chance had to be fine—
A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It cuts through the rain, bitter and cold.
“What are you doing here?”
Elliot looks up, startled. For a split second, a fragile, foolish hope rises in his chest—he thinks that maybe that voice belongs to Chance, and when he looks up, he will see them, and realise that this was all some horrible misunderstanding.
But he knows better. That wasn't Chance. He was never… this cold.
Instead, another man stands before him, staring down at him coldly. He gives the black umbrella in his hand a firm shake, ensuring all the rain has properly slid off, before closing it. His expression remains unreadable.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the man says flatly, his eyes narrowing.
Elliot knows who this is—it's iTrapped.
Before they can continue to question him, and ask him why he was there, Elliot lunges forward, desperation overtaking him. His fingers clutch at the edge of iTrapped’s shirt like it's the only thing keeping him upright.
“Please,” Elliot chokes out, his voice cracking. “You have to tell me the truth. You have to tell me that Chance, he.. isn't dead. Please, I’m begging you—”
For the first time, that cold, controlled facade falters. iTrapped stiffens, clearly caught off guard. He’s silent for a while, and Elliot desperately waits for them to speak. But when they do, Elliot can't help but regret that feeling—because of the confirmation that all of his worst fears were true. When iTrapped speaks, his voice comes out quieter—but the reply he gives is devastating.
“Chance… is gone.”
At that moment, Elliot’s entire world shatters.
“Wh… what…?”
He stares up at iTrapped, searching his face for anything—for any sign that this was just some cruel joke, or some kind of mistake. But iTrapped stands there, his expression returning to that same, distant gaze—and that’s how Elliot knows it isn't a lie.
No. This… This can't be.
iTrapped simply stares back at him.
He remembers the first time he met them—the man had seemed cold and distant, clearly uninterested in anything or anyone around him. Elliot hadn't thought much of him back then, but Chance had. He really, really seemed to enjoy their company. Sometimes, more than Elliot’s. And although that hurt, he told himself it was fine. If giving up his own, selfish feelings meant that Chance could be happy with the person he truly cared about, then he would do it. He would swallow all of his feelings away, and smile through that pain.
He still remembers Valentine’s Day.
Elliot had finally worked up the courage to confess to Chance. He had spent the night before rehearsing on what to say, and even bought a fresh bouquet of flowers, ones he knew Chance would enjoy. But when he finally arrived at the casino, he saw both of them together—with iTrapped standing beside Chance, offering his own flowers to him. He saw the way Chance’s face lit up at the sight. Elliot couldn't bear to approach them. Instead, he hid the bouquet behind his back, and let them be. He walked away from it all. In the end, he should have known—he was already too late.
That night, when he was alone in his room, he almost threw the flowers out. But he couldn't bring himself to, still stung by the heartbreak. He decided to shove them away into the corner, and pretend they didn't exist. That his love for Chance… it didn't exist.
It’s okay, he had told himself. I’m fine, I’ll do whatever makes them happy. Even if I can't ever hope to be happy—at least I still get to see them be happy. For me, that's enough.
And although he couldn't deny that his heart ached from everything, he held onto that small comfort, thinking he would be able to endure it. It would all be worth it, just to see them smile… But he never imagined it would end like this.
And now, the truth dawns on him. Chance is dead.
Elliot’s grip on them loosens instantly. His fingers slip from iTrapped’s shirt, and he falls back against the door, stunned. His entire body shakes uncontrollably as those same words repeat in his head.
Chance was gone.
iTrapped doesn't say anything more. He simply looks away, deliberately avoiding Elliot’s gaze. Slowly, he lowers the umbrella, and sets it down beside Elliot, offering him a shield from the rain. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving Elliot all alone.
And he doesn't stop him. He doesn't try to ask him anything else. Those terrible words repeat over and over in his mind, taunting him.
Chance was gone. He’s never coming back… and there's nothing Elliot can do to change that.
Days pass. Life goes by in a blur. Nothing feels real anymore.
But eventually, that terrible day comes—the day of Chance’s funeral.
And now, he stands there, heart heavy with regret. He watches as the people around him step forward, one by one, just to say their final goodbyes. He sees Chance’s mother clinging onto her husband, her shoulders shaking with tears. Chance’s father stands rigid beside her, his own eyes filled with tears as he tries—and fails—to stay composed over the loss of his son.
More friends and acquaintances arrive, each giving their words of condolences. Some linger afterwards, while others simply bow their heads in silence. Eventually, there are no more people between him and the casket.
It’s his turn.
He moves forward slowly, almost reluctantly—it’s like his feet are dragging him against his will. His thoughts are a mess—he doesn't know what to say, nor does he know what words could possibly be enough for a situation like this. There are so many things he had left unsaid, so many precious moments that had slipped by. His throat tightens, and the words struggle to escape his lips.
In the end, he doesn’t speak. He can't bring himself to—doing it would mean that acknowledging Chance was well and truly… gone.
Instead, he places a single flower by the side of the casket—a lone white chrysanthemum, just for them. His fingers linger there—it’s just for a second too long—before he finally pulls his hand away. He leans in slightly, and whispers a few words of goodbye—but his voice is so soft, it's nearly lost to the wind. He isn't even sure what he says—everything seems to blur together as he fights that sting in his eyes, and desperately tries not to cry.
He takes a step back. His vision begins to blur.
He turns away, and wipes roughly at his eyes, brushing away the tears before they can fall. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and return to his place among the crowd. He has to stay strong—at least, just for now. He has to wait until he’s alone.
He looks back at the casket, his chest aching.
I hope that wherever you are, you’re in a better place, Chance. You, of all people… you deserve to be free.
But that wish is quickly drowned out by his own grief, and that bitter truth he can't bear to swallow.
You didn't deserve this—not at all. Fate is cruel—they took you far too soon, Chance. You… you should have lived longer, had a few more laughs, and be able to enjoy the rest of your life. You should have been able to grow old, and be surrounded by the ones you love.
But he didn’t. And now… he couldn't. Chance was dead, and there was nothing Elliot could do.
It was an accident, they had told him. Something sudden, something that no one could have seen coming. It wasn't meant to happen—and somehow, that makes everything worse. There was no reason behind it—just a tragic, painful loss. Chance never deserved any of it—and yet, it happened anyway.
I will never be able to see you again.
Elliot watches as they finally begin to close the casket. Something painful rises in his chest as he watches them lower it into the ground, inch by inch, until Chance disappears from sight. He watches as they slowly pour the dirt over him, burying and sealing him away from the world forever.
It should have been me. I wish it was.
And when it's finally done—when the grave is filled, and everything is gone—something inside Elliot breaks.
Chance is gone… and he isn't coming back.
Slowly, Elliot approaches their family once more, and murmurs a few quiet words of condolences. The words feel hollow and inadequate, lacking any real comfort, but he says them anyway. He hopes it will be enough. Then, he retreats, slipping away from the crowd until he finds a far corner of the cemetery. It's hidden from plain view, and here, no one will be able to see him fall apart.
That’s when the tears finally came.
His shoulders shake as his sobs tear free from his throat. He covers his face with his hands as the grief begins to overwhelm him completely. He cries for Chance—for everything they lost, and for every moment that never will be. He didn't deserve this—he was gone far too soon. He still had so much life ahead of him—so many dreams, so many memories to make. And now, it's all gone, lost to an accident that no one could stop.
A senseless tragedy.
And yet, there's another bitter thought that lingers at the back of his mind. A terrible, selfish realisation he can't help but indulge.
iTrapped never showed up to the funeral.
Maybe he’s busy grieving, staying somewhere else. Maybe that pain was too much, and it became too unbearable for him to face them, and say his final goodbye. Elliot always tries to be understanding of others, and he tries to give him the benefit of doubt—but he can't help but feel… resentful. Chance cared about iTrapped deeply—they loved him. And now, when it mattered most, he wasn't even here.
Elliot hates himself for thinking such a terrible thing—but he can't help it. It's selfish—terribly so. This time, he allows himself to judge them—after all, they will never get to see Chance again. Elliot will never get to see Chance again. And iTrapped couldn't even bring himself to say goodbye.
But then another thought creeps in, more cruel than before.
Maybe they were alike, in a way.
Elliot swallows hard. He had no right to judge them—they were both cowards, in their own terrible ways. iTrapped was a coward for saying away, for not coming to say goodbye—but Elliot was a coward too, for never finding the courage to tell Chance how he truly felt about them.
All his life, Elliot had always been the kind of person who put others’ needs before his own. If sacrificing his own happiness meant that someone else could smile in return, or even feel better for a little while, he would do it without hesitation. He had done it before—he had done it just for Chance.
But now… now it feels different.
Now, Elliot wishes he had been selfish.
He should have told him the truth. He shouldn't have kept quiet about his feelings, and stayed silent about everything. His thoughts drift to all the other possibilities—he thinks about what could have happened, had he actually told them how he had felt.
In another universe… If I had been braver, maybe we could have been together. Maybe then, things would be different, and it wouldn't have ended like this.
I’m a coward, really. That's all I am.
He remembers it clearly now—his final moments with Chance. It was the last time he had seen them—and he never would have imagined it to turn out this way.
They had been sitting together, simply chatting away about how their lives had been. It had been a while since they met up, and they had been catching up with one another. Elliot had been talking for a while, and explaining some of his current problems to Chance.
He spoke about his struggles, and how he didn't even know what he was doing with his life, or where he was even headed. Then, he continued on, trying to put his thoughts into words, and explaining about how… tiring it was, to keep up with others, and not having people reciprocate his same kindness—how worried he was about others when they struggled, and how he wished he could do more to help them. It was just a simple chat, and never meant to mean anything more.
And Chance… he had really listened to him. They let him vent, and pour his heart out—and Elliot was truly grateful. That was all he needed—a listening ear.
Eventually, Elliot finishes talking. Chance turns to face him, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I think you…” Chance begins, before pausing to consider his words carefully. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, before meeting Elliot’s eyes again, and continuing with what he was saying earlier. “I think you care about people too much, Elliot.”
Elliot lets out a small, awkward laugh, hoping to dispel the tension. However, his actions reveal how he truly feels about that statement from Chance—and his gaze ends up dropping to the ground. Then, he shrugs, his shoulders slumping just a little in disappointment. “Yeah," he murmurs in agreement, scuffing his shoe against the floor. "I guess I do…”
Upon realising how gloomy Elliot looks, Chance leans in closer—he’s hoping to cheer them up. “Hey," he says gently, before lightly nudging Elliot’s arm with his own to get his attention. "Why the long face? I think that's a good thing, really. Caring too much… I think that's better than caring too little. I mean, you always seem to be happy all the time, you know?”
“That’s what I admire about you most, Elliot. You’re always kind to everyone, even when you don’t have to be.”
“You… admire me? Really—?” Elliot looks up, surprised at their words. “Do you really mean that…?"
"Of course! I wouldn't lie about something like this,” Chance says, before letting out a soft chuckle. "You know… I kind of envy you, Elliot. You’re like a ray of sunshine—the kind that always seems to shine brightly in the sky, even when there's a storm."
Elliot looks away, seemingly embarrassed but clearly touched by their words. “I could say the same for you, Chance. You’re always brightening up my day…”
At that, Chance smiles once more—but this time, it's genuine. This time, he speaks more sincerely, and his voice loses its playful edge. “You know, Elliot…” He begins, before hesitating, and struggling to meet their gaze. “I like to think I’m a lucky guy. I’ve made a lot of bets in my life… But I think the one that truly mattered the most was the one that led me to you."
“...oh yeah, that was so corny."
“It definitely was,” Elliot teases, a cheeky grin on his face. “I didn’t know you had that sentimental streak in you, Chance.”
“Hey, don't judge!” Chance laughs, and nudges them playfully in return. But then, his expression softens, and he looks away for a second before speaking again. This time, he sounds quieter, and more vulnerable than before. “Still… Thanks for everything, Elliot. You’re really my best friend—you mean a lot to me.… you know that, right?”
“Mhm… you mean a lot to me too, Chance,” Elliot admits, a bittersweet sensation rising in his chest. “And I’m glad we’re friends. Let’s… stay in touch, okay? No matter what happens.”
“Of course we can stay in touch," Chance murmurs, slipping his hands into his pockets, before smiling once more. This time, his smile comes easily, almost like it’s practiced—but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Then, he looks away. He doesn't dare meet their gaze—he almost seems guilty—before continuing to speak. His voice sounds noticeably quieter now.
"I wouldn't expect anything else, pal.”
And that was it.
That was Elliot’s final memory of Chance—an empty promise, one he never intended on fulfilling. Now, all Elliot can grasp onto were his past memories of him—that warm smile he always had on his face, and those last few moments they had shared together. Back then, he never knew that it would be the last time he would ever see them again.
You always said you were the lucky one. But… that's not true.
No, in the end… I think I was the one who turned out to be lucky. I had the chance to be loved by someone as special as you. Thank you for teaching me what love truly is, Chance… And I’m sorry things had to end this way. I wish I had thanked you properly, and had the chance to say goodbye. I wish I had told you how I really felt, and not kept all those feelings hidden, until it was too late.
I’m sorry, Chance.
I should have tried to do something. No, I should have done something—anything—and maybe, things wouldn't have ended this way. But I didn't. And now…
You’re gone.
“What happened to him wasn’t your fault. Don't blame yourself, Elliot.”
Those words echo in his mind, though they sound hollow and unconvincing. He doesn't believe them at all.
Because in the end, it feels like it was his fault. No matter how many times he tries to tell himself it wasn't, it's never enough to comfort him. No amount of half-hearted apologies could ever bring you back, Chance.
So instead, I’ll spend the rest of my life being forced to live without you—I’ll spend the rest of my days thinking about you, and continue on to carrying these awful regrets with me. I will spend the rest of my life wishing I could have done something, and wondering what would have happened if I had told you how I really felt—and what you truly meant to me.
I’ll see your face everywhere I go. I will be reminded of you every time I feel happy, every time I feel something more than grief—I’ll remember you. I’ll think about the times we shared together, and all my regrets, for not doing anything—for not being able to do more for you.
Oh, how I loved you, Chance.
But in the end, I didn't say it. I was a coward, and let things go by. And now, I can’t. I can't tell you how I feel. I won't ever be able to meet you again—to hear your voice, to see you smile…
And for that… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being enough. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m… I’m sorry for everything.
I hope you’re in a better place now. You, of all people, deserve that. Wherever you are… may you rest in peace.
Goodbye, Chance. I’ll always love you.