Little drabble that will have at least two more parts. It's short, but I like it that way :D

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With trembling hands, she puts the round in the camber, before carefully closing the cylinder. Her heart is beating in her ears, so loud that it almost drowns out the sounds of the spectators. Almost.

Her eyes moves towards his, the blue depth pulling her in. She feels like she is drowning, struggling to keep her head above the water. Everything comes down to this moments.

She spins the cylinder, takes the safety off the gun and gives it to him. Their hands touch when he takes it from her, a light squeeze making her tremble. There is so much she wants to say, so much she wants to do and yet, all she does is look at him.

He raises the revolver while his eyes stay focused on hers. She can read the anger at them but knows that it's not directed at her. She licks her lips, preparing herself for what will come and feels how his gaze shifts to them. It was a promise of what would happen if they made it out of this mess.

She blinks once and then the muzzle Is against her head. She knows that she has a one to six change of dying. 16,667 percent. And she hates it.

He is hesitant to make the last move, she can see it in his eyes. She smiles bravely up at him, while her whole body is shaking. She wants to make this easier for him, wants to close her eyes so he can pretend that she isn't the one he is forced to play Russian roulette with. But she can't. If this is her last moment with him, she wants to take in every second, every nuance of his face, every emotion in his eyes.

''I love you,'' they whisper at the same time and then he pulls the trigger.