_Finn: 28yo man - the villain - grumpy- Dead_

_Eric: 32yo man- the villains assistant_

_May: 25yo woman - the anti-hero - not so sunshine, sunshine character_

_Hanna: 26yo woman - hero’s sister/bestfriend_

Very very requested, but I am so very lost and don’t know how to continue, but I’m going to try my very best🫡

——

_May_

Blood made May’s clothes stick to her in the most uncomfortable of ways. Especially knowing whose blood it was, and knowing it was keeping him alive minutes ago.

May would sell her soul trying to turn back time, go back a day earlier, never letting Finn leave the bunker again. The forest, painted with bright, warm colors, was beautiful. It was perfect. But now the bright colors have all turned dull. It’s almost as if all color had left the world faster than the blood left Finn’s body. All she could see were numbed shades of black and white, and one other color, her favorite color, and least favorite simultaneously.

Red.

Anger turned May’s blood to fire, electrifying in her veins, burning every inch of her in the most satisfying type of torture. She now knew what it felt like to be the Villain. How The Hero’s killed whoever they needed, so the public would make them the good guy, not caring if The Villain has a family. If the Villain has a future, or a lover.

When his heartbeat stopped so did Mays. She tried to drag him all of the way to the bunker. May’s body couldn’t do it but it was clear he wouldn’t walk there himself, so she persevered, ignoring how the world spun and her heart ached.

After not returning in a long while, Eric called for troups to escort May and Finn to the bunker safely. He met them half way.

The troups were shocked, practically dropping to their knees. May screamed for their help and they tried. They took his body away from her, and she screamed, shoving at the men, not letting them tear him from her.

Two guards grabbed her and she thrashed and kicked, biting and burning, using all the anger from the past day to fight for her, to consume her. She screamed as the men dragged her life away. Dragged _him_ away. She never stopped fighting, until a sharp pain stabbed into her neck, and her world faded out of view.

-.-

She woke up in a cold room, used to heal hurt soldiers. She immediately sat up, lurching from the bed, pushing herself to the door. May got stopped for a moment, and she grabbed the doctor by the shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Where is he?” May doesn’t yell, her voice is incapable, and the words hardly come out, and when they do they are harsh, and raspy.

He looks confused for only a moment. A soft hand lands on Mays shoulder, making her whip around, ignoring the spinning of her head, as if all of her thoughts were sucked into a tornado banging violently and persistently against the sides of her head.

“It’s okay May.” Eric looks into her eyes, and they start to water, the thought of Eric permanently merged with the memories Finn, who couldn’t be dead, no matter what her eyes witnessed.

May squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to let her tears fall.

“You’ve only been out for a few hours. I have some things to go over with you, but I need to talk in a more private setting, may I escort you to the office?”

Finn never had an office, just a desk he kept in his large bedchamber, and May wanted to be there more than anything, while also wishing to never see the place again.

She walked as fast as she could, walking ahead of Eric who looked saddened, like this tragedy has robbed him of ten years of his life. She felt as is she’d lost almost all her time as well.

She bursts through the door, and time freezes. The room feels too fragile to be in. Like the memories preserved inside might just fracture, if she touched anything. Wither away, turn to dust.

Eric walked in quietly behind her, closing the door with a gentle click. He stayed silent for a moment. The room still smelled of him, a minty pine scent, the bed was only half made, the blankets laid out, but crinkled and untucked. Desk mostly empty, other than a few pens, and ink pots.

A sigh escaped my mouth at the same time as Eric. I couldn’t help but smile. My vision blurs. A single tear slips down my cheek, and I laugh, brushing it away.

I look up, and meet Eric’s eyes. He isn’t crying, but it’s in his eyes. We sit there for a moment, before he opens his arms, and I quickly step into them, yearning for some sort of comfort.

_One hell of a life I live._

May has grown up in a society she didn’t even know was corrupt her whole life, until she was auctioned off to the villain.

_To my villain_.

And in the midst of all of that, she got disowned practically, not allowed to go home, or talk to her family.

But then May found an anchor. And somehow she lost that too.

Eric is the closest thing May has to Finn. He was practically a father figure to him, while being his best friend simultaneously.

He takes a step back, and smiles softly.

“I’m sorry May.”

May shrugs it off, and backs away slightly, folding her arms, “what do you need to tell me?” She questions, feeling the familiar numbness coming over her.

“This is going to be… difficult.”

“Well not that difficult. Finn just got shot. Bled out in my arms, so…” She bit back. She didn’t want to be rude, but honestly, she just wanted to go home. The only problem was, she had no idea where home was.

“We still have Finn’s body-“

She gasps, “Where is he? I need to see him.”

“May, wait. We ran some tests, which I know you wouldn’t approve of, but frankly, I don’t care.” She glares at him before he continues, “The bullet hit him in the chest, but not his heart. Inches away, but still lethal. His heart is stopped and he is, by definition, dead.”

“Why did I need to know that? I know where he got shot. I know he’s dead. I was _there_ Eric.”

He took a deep breath, “May, I know you loved him, but you don’t know everything about him.” I don’t reply, instead wait for him to proceed.

“Finn has had a strange fascination with science. Health science in particular. Not regular health science, but a strange, abnormal type.”

“Eric, spit it out. I say that with love.” She sits forward, slightly intrigued.

“By Finn’s definition, he is not dead. He is in a suspended state, and can possibly be resuscitated.”

Her whole body stiffens, “What?! How?”

“May don’t get your hopes up, this is why I was worried about telling you. It might not be possible.”

“I don’t care. If we have a chance I’m taking it!” May yells, talking louder than she should, and embarrassment burns hot in her cheeks.

“Where is he?”

“Where is his body.” He corrects, “He’s still dead May.”

“Where.” She is much more sheepish this time, as if she had just been reprimanded.

“His body is located underneath this room. We are required too keep his body here for two months trying to resuscitate him. He signed a contract when he turned 24, saying this is what he wanted.”

May pauses suddenly. Just under her feet. He is laying there, peacefully asleep. He only has slight traces of life left, but she knows it’s going to be enough. If May had to give him half of her life, so he would live to see another day she would. Without a seconds thought.

Eric walks over a large painting of a tree, about ten feet tall, and maybe 6 wide. The sight sends a jolt of pain through her stomach, a rock seems to settle, weighing May down painfully. The leaves are orange, a golden shade of red. He died under a tree just like this one.

Eric puts a hand against the frame, before taking. A step right thought the painting. She blinks as he disappears, astonished. She reaches a timid hand out, brushing the canvas and sure enough, it is solid.

“Eric…” she calls out slowly, unsure. Maybe she was sick, maybe she wasn’t actually awake yet, still drugged and stretched on a cold bed.

“Try now.” Eric’s voice spoke. May eyes the painting skeptically, and considers running for a moment. But she remembered what was on the other side of the door.

Finn.

May reached her hand out once more, and this time, when her skin met the paint, a tingling feeling erupted up her arm, and her hand went right through the canvas. She shivered, and walked quickly through the painting, feeling like someone just rearranged her whole body like a jigsaw puzzle.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but it’s the most secure system we have.”

“What did that thing do to me? I feel all… _wrong…” _

“You always do, we rearrange the atoms in the wall, so the molecules that make up your body can just slip through and come out in one piece.” He holds out two hands, both with fingers splayed. “Like this.” He pushes his hands together, “when they are both at the same angle, my fingers will collide.” He demonstrates. “But if I rotate one hand by just an inch, they can cross easily.” He shows me as he talks, when he rotates his hand, his fingers thread together. “Same thing with all of the atoms that make up a person. But everyone is different, so only very few can cross.”

“That does not sound safe. At all.”

“It’s not. I pity the test subjects. But it works now, and we haven’t had any casualties since testing.” Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. She attempts to sweep the image out of her head, but it is very insistent on sticking with her.

Eric leads her down a long staircase, dark and cold. At the end, he opens a heavy metal door, a gentle click and hiss sounds as a light blue light spills through the cracks. I feel almost giddy.

_I get to see him. He’s right there! _

He slips through the door, holding it for her, clearly still playing the part of Assistant. She rushed through, looking only for a moment at the many monitors, very few scientist, and strange glass containers.

Her eyes find him, and her heart stops again. He looks as if he was asleep, his dark brown hair falling into his face, his eyes closed. She runs to him, tears pooling in her eyes.

Pain pricks in her arm, a strong hand grabbed it, pulling it back quickly. Her shoulder aches slightly, but she pivots, sharply glaring at a scientist.

“Let me go.”

“Ms, you can’t touch him. You could hurt him.”

All of the fight leaves Mays body in seconds. “Oh my god. I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She turns to look at him longingly.

“You need to step back ma’am.” He speaks.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” She says the words sheepishly, walking back over to Eric shamefully. She crosses her arms, almost like she is giving herself a hug.

“It’s okay May.” Eric whispers.

She nods, but her tears have fallen now. Her eyes are still glued to Finn, and she finds herself drowning out the sound of the scientists.

They say something about how much life is left in him, and it being very low, and more statistics, a lot of numbers…

“…we have removed the bullet. It isn’t one marked to The Hero’s…” A girl interjects. She gestures to a class case.

Her heart fractures into 300 more pieces.

She knows the bullet.

She knows the gun it came out of.

She knew the person who killed Finn.