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Mr. Danya
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Nate sat there looking at Fiyori in disbelief, mouth agape. He’d thought he was at his end, that there wasn’t much room for feeling anymore, but Fiyori’s story was powerful in its absurdity.

“You’re weird, you know that?”

He turned back to the view, trying to shake it off. If nothing else, it had at least changed the mood, just a little. He wasn’t relaxing or anything, but it was something. Something different fuelled by a lot of nonsense.

“I promised Matt that I’d to go home. He said it was because I deserved to, and, I don’t know, maybe he died because of that. Maybe if I hadn’t been hugging him, or something, he might’ve noticed Blair.”

He pulled at the jacket again. It didn’t matter anymore, because they were both dead, but it might’ve made the difference. He didn’t think he felt guilty, but understanding any feelings at that point was so beyond his reach that it was simply impossible to tell.

“I don’t want him to have died for nothing, I want this to be over. I know we all do, but these are the rules, aren’t they?” he glanced down at the gun, still by his side. When had he let it go? “It only gets to be over for one of us.”

He sat there a moment longer. It was nice to think that that was possible. He wanted to still think that. He had to.

“What do you mean, more?”
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