This Love Is A Broken Hallelujah

"Tell me not to do it Bertl."

It had been years since Bertolt heard that nickname, and it was whispered with a gun to his chest. Bertolt just shook his head and rested his sweaty forehead against the place in between Reiner's pectorals where he could hear the more muscular man's heartbeat. The point of the glock dug into his skin through the fabric of his black silk shirt. He was going to bruise. He always bruised too easily. He was always too soft. This was all Bertolt's fault for always being too damn soft. Bertolt could only blame himself, not Reiner or their leaders for the order to kill him off. He should have known his anxiety was getting too bad. He could not even function, much less carry out the orders he was given without sweating or falling into a Level 10 panic attack. He would tense, curl up, and stop breathing until Reiner put a hand on his back and told him it would be okay.

The same Reiner that now held a gun pointed straight to his pericardial cavity.

Bertolt looked up for the first time, olive eyes peeking out from dark hair that stuck to his damp forehead like glue. Reiner's honey gold eyes were filming over with unshed tears. The gun was shaking now. Bertolt could feel it as Reiner opened his mouth to beg him to protest again but only a choked noise bypassed Reiner's lips when he felt Bertolt's hand covering his. It was supposed to help Reiner steady his hands, yet Bertolt's own trembling just made it worse.

Life really was not fair, but everyone who joined this kind of business knew that the moment they agreed to that unspoken contract that made them 'warriors'. Kids. They had all been kids then. Three scared pre-teens homeless physically and emotionally-scared, vagrant hearts running to the first person who offered them a hand. They had been groomed to become fighters in this militant sort of operation, this 'business' where children were forced to do the jobs of heartless adults all for the promise of a family they were too young to comprehend was actually just a dark, authoritarian society where everyone but them stood king. Bertolt could still remember the first time he broke through that mental wall of sympathy and crushed someone with a bullet to the head. He had been twelve then. Reiner thirteen. There was a third of their trio, and she was younger than all of them when she helped finish off the rest of that job. Anni was her name, and she stood off to the side, hands in the pockets of her white hoodie and lips in a firm line across her face. She looked bored, but Bertolt knew better. He could tell by the dull look in them that Anni was simply receding into herself for the moment. None of this was happening. It could not be happening. Bertolt leant his head against Reiner's chest and began to sob.

How many people had they killed since then? How many lives had they exterminated without even knowing the 'why'? They were all common murderers. Bertolt deserved this. He deserved so much more than this.

"N-no. It's okay Reiner. Really."

Bertolt was lying, but if he accepted that he was not okay (that they were not okay, that this was not okay), he would probably take the gun himself. The lying was for the sake of all of them. A littleBIG black lie to hide the heartwrenching truth. No one would miss any of them if they disappeared. Whatever biological family they had had, if they had any at all, was probably dead just like the three of them were inside. Bertolt's fingers clenched at the shirt they clung to, bitten down nails threatening to rip through the tough fabric beneath them. It was funny-they promised each other forever, but now here they all were gathered pointing their weapons at each other. "... Did you ever really love me, or did you forget that too?" Bertolt was breaking, shattering more than he already was. Truth was, he was never truly together.

Weak and broken. That was all he was and ever had been.

"... Yes, I-" Reiner was unable to finish. He drew in a shaky breath. Why would Bertolt ask him that? Bertolt should not even have to ask him that. He turned his gaze toward the sky and stared. If this was a novel, there would be angry and grey cumulonimbus clouds above them, not the rolling and fluffy stratus barely covering the shining sun. Bertolt had fallen into one of his infamous panic attacks. With each passing moment, his breathing grew more and more shallow as he choked on all of the pain he had been trying so hard to swallow down for years. It was the kind of despairing, choking of a panic attack that ate at Reiner's head and tried to tear him in two. He never wanted this. They had all been so lonely when they first met. He remembered seeing Bertolt crying literally over spilt milk as he messed up a coffee order in a cafe. Anni, the quiet girl who buried her face in books and carried everything she owned on her back. They had met each other over bad coffee made by Bertolt and spoke over books that only Anni would really pay attention to. Their own sort of dysfunctional family. That was before the militia. Before the leaders and fatal orders. Before everything there was just 'Anni, Bertolt, and Reiner'. The kind of misfit trio people wrote tragedies about that sometimes had a happy ending.

Reiner's grip on the gun loosened. He couldn't even put his finger over the trigger. The gun fell on the ground with a clatter as Reiner collapsed down to his knees. He was not crying, just trembling too much to stay on his feet any more. His nails scratched at the dirty pavement beneath him that smelt strongly like beer, piss, and so much anguish that it was choking them.

"I can... I can reject the assignment. We can run-" Reiner started but was cut short by the clicking sound of the safety being turned off. It was the sound of despondence. He turned around wide-eyed to see steely blue peering down at him with that same snowy expression of nothing. A nothing so deep it was more than empty. It was the kind of fathomless abyss that haunted people's memories. It was vacant and void of all compassion, a chilling cotton candy blue peering down at the two of them.

"We can't do that Reiner. We both know that. There's nowhere we can go." Her quiet voice was like a scream in Reiner's ears. Anni was always the rational one. She was the one who glued herself together with ice and steel to keep from breaking apart like her comrades. She was the good 'warrior'. The one the superiors always trusted when they gave her command. She was their cold, calculating snow queen who could do whatever was asked without questioning or hesitation. Now was no different.

She walked over to Bertolt and put the gun to his temple. Anni could feel him tremble beneath her steady hand. Freezing. She felt so cold. She needed to be numb and strong, but she felt so small in her 153 centimentres then, smaller than she actually was. Like a child who had grown up too fast-body bigger but heart ripped and tattered. There was an agonising pain rising in Anni's chest and a slight tremble in her lips the longer she stood. Bertolt thought he saw her lips part to mouth what looked like 'sorry', but that might have been a bittersweet delusion before she pulled the trigger and he couldn't see anything any more.

The alley was silent as Anni stared down at Bertolt, watching as he slumped to the ground. It was painless. She had been merciful. (She had been. No matter what anyone said. She had been as kind to him as she could afford to be.) Bertolt did not have to be scared any more. He would be okay. He would go somewhere better than this. Somewhere where he would not shake with fears or scream awake with nightmares only to wake up and see it was reality. She turned to face Reiner, but he was already in front of her. Her cold blue eyes were not quite so cold, not quite so stone as they widened with a creeping dread. Reiner grabbed her hand. She had not turned off the safety yet. "Reiner, what are you-"

"I promised him he wouldn't be alone Anni. I told him..." Reiner's voice broke as he spoke, and he had to catch his breath. The tears in his eyes were finally falling down. "I told him we'd get out of here. I promised him. I..." Reiner broke off unable to get the words out as he brought the gun in her hand to his mouth.

Anni parted her lips to speak again, but whatever she said, if she managed anything out at all, was outdrowned by the soft pop of the still smoking gun and the thump of Reiner's denser body landing next to Bertolt's slender one. There was an ache in her chest as the empty began to dissolve to the something she had tried so hard from. She did not realise she had not been breathing until she let it all out in a hacking gasp. Deserted. Was this what panic felt like? She couldn't remember. The distress filled her until it was the everything that conquered what was once nothing in her mind.

"What about me?"

Were those words coming from her lips? Anni did not know. She felt so lost as she just slipped down to the ground and desperately searched for heartbeats she knew she wouldn't feel.

Then her slender, pale hands remembered the gun. Anni gripped it in her blood-soaked palms and stared down at it examining the metal. She then looked back down at what used to be her fellow 'warriors'.

No.

They had been her friends.

Anni repeated that in her head as she laid down on the ground. It dissolved into apologies she spoke like a prayer for forgiveness for the souls that were long gone. Their blood seeped into the white of her hoodie and onto her skin dyeing it a faded hue of red. She lifted the gun to her mouth, tasting the metal of it on her tongue like Reiner had just moments before. She wondered what his last thoughts had been. Had he only been thinking of Bertolt? Had she even been considered? It was hard to breathe as she shoved the gun deeper into her mouth and tilted it up until it dug into her palate. She closed her eyes to the sky that rivalled them in their blue intensity.

Then her finger pressed down.