by adrian.dakota

This is a fantasy that I kept thinking about every since getting hilariness. I don’t know why I wrote it, I don’t know why I think it, but I suppose it happens. And it’ll probably be for her.


Seven Minutes

The rain lashed unforgiving against the windows, as though determined to stop him from doing what he planned to. Raymond sighed, swinging his legs in frustration. Only a few more minutes. He had waited two years; surely seven minutes was nothing compared to that?

But he knew the costs. Because if he did do it, he would lose this entire life. Again. Another life spent painstakingly created, and destroyed in an instant.

And if it didn’t work, he was screwed forever.
Calm now, calm. Patience is the key.
Not that it wasn’t going to work. It had worked five times before; who said there wasn’t going to be a sixth?
Raymond glanced over towards his left, where Jesse was quietly working. That was the only thing that made Raymond reluctant; Jesse. Somehow, Jesse had a special pull towards him that others’ hadn’t. It made Raymond burn with the passion, a passion that couldn’t be dampened with any of the training he had had. He needed him; he needed Jesse to survive, to live, to stay sane.
It wasn’t going to work that way, though.
Five more minutes until the plan is in place. Three more until he has to begin.
Raymond threw an uncertain, confused look towards that staring person sitting in front of him. What was her name? Jane… Joelle… Joyce. That was it. He smiled, acting as though he didn’t know how to answer a question. Joyce just gave him a dirty look and turned back to her work.
I’m going to miss times like that.
Raymond’s hand tightened around the hilt. Everyone was set in place; there were two minutes left until it started. He scribbled down a few, vague answers, and closed his eyes; he took a few final breathes. He would forget about this later – so why not enjoy himself now?
But he would never be able to enjoy himself. The training, the missions, they would always be there. Haunting him. Troubling him. Reappearing in his dreams.
Nothing would ever be the same.
One minute left. Raymond dared to steal one more glance of Jesse, trying to remember every detail… perhaps, in the next life, the next mission, he could find him again? But no… even if Raymond met Jesse again, he would not be able to remember. Mission Control would make sure of that. 
He sighed. Oh well.
The knife was ready.
The silver plunged deep into his chest. It had caught everyone’s attention; they watched in horror as the blood poured out over the textbooks, the useless questions on orbits and planets.
Everyone was screaming, everyone was shouting, but Raymond stumbled forwards. He had to do this. He needed to satisfy his last desire, this desperate, burning need.
His hand gripped Jesse’s arm.
Raymond, with his last, final reserves of energy, spun Jesse around. His eyes were not listening, but he fought for control, searching for Jesse’s face. At last he found it, a beacon of colour amidst a sea of grey.
He leaned forwards and kissed him, his tongue slipping in, swiping along Jesse’s teeth, and eventually, his tongue.
Finally, he pulled away. 
"I’ve always wanted to do that."
Project Raymond Complete.