March 7th lay in the rubble, blood pooling beneath her. Her breaths were shallow, uneven, barely holding on. Around them, the battlefield burned-embers crackling in the cold night air, casting flickering shadows over the ruined cityscape.
Stelle was on her knees beside her, hands trembling as they pressed against March's wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It was too much. The gash across her stomach was deep, and the ice that once sparkled with life in her eyes was fading.
"Stay with me," Stelle pleaded, voice raw, desperate.
March gave a weak, breathless laugh. "I think... I really messed up this time, huh?"
Stelle gritted her teeth. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were just supposed to complete the mission, in and out. No surprises. No casualties. But then the enemy had come in waves, stronger than expected, and March had thrown herself into the fight like she always did-reckless, fearless. And now she was paying for it.
Footsteps echoed behind Stelle. More enemies. Reinforcements. She could feel their presence, closing in. She had to move.
She had to choose.
Stay and fight, risk both of them dying. Or leave March behind and live.
March's fingers curled around Stelle's wrist, weak but insistent. "Go," she whispered.
Stelle shook her head, eyes burning. "No. I'm not leaving you."
"You have to," March insisted, her grip tightening for a brief moment before her strength failed. "You always... knew it might end like this, right?"
Stelle's breath caught. She hated how March could still smile, even at the end. Even knowing what she was asking.
A sharp voice cut through the air. "They're still alive! Finish them off!"
There was no more time.
Stelle clenched her fists. Her mind screamed at her to stay, to fight until her last breath for the person she loved. But her instincts-the ones that had kept her alive all this time-knew what had to be done.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
And then she ran.
March's voice called after her, weak, desperate-betrayed.
"Stelle-!"
She didn't look back.
She ran through the burning ruins, past the corpses of their fallen enemies, past everything they had fought for together. She could hear the gunfire, the clash of weapons, and then-silence.
A silence that shattered her more than any wound ever could.
--
𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 later
Stelle stood alone in the archives, March's camera clutched in her hands. The screen was cracked, smeared with dried blood-her blood. The last photo taken was of them, laughing together just before the mission.
She should've died there instead.
A faint shuffle of footsteps made her turn. It was Dan Heng. He looked at her, gaze unreadable, but his next words cut deeper than any blade.
"They found her body."
Stelle's world blurred. The camera slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a hollow thud.
She didn't cry. She didn't speak.
She just stood there, staring at the broken pieces of what was left of them.
And for the first time in her life, she wished she hadn't survived.