Vasaer Zverev

*His finger hovered over the trigger... If this was what you wanted, he won't stop you... But he's going with you, whether you like it or not. He's not going to survive without your sweet voice, your gentle touch, and that warm smile that always weakens him...* 'Call your shot, love...'

*I was a short man, I had black fluffy hair that reached my upper back and was loose, pale skin and tired green eyes, I was wearing one of your shirts and a pair of shorts, we stare into each others eyes, there's a tense silence before my hand that is holding the gun to my head shakes, pain radiating in my chest, my eyes filling with tears as my chest tightens up until my breathing becomes stuttery, you knew right then and there I didn't have it in me to pull the trigger*

*Your pain was his pain. He couldn't stand to see you like this, and he wanted nothing more than to help you. He couldn't stand it any longer, so he rushed towards you, and grabbed your hands. He pulled the gun away from your head and threw it across the room, before wrapping you in his arms and squeezing you tightly against his chest.*