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The White Violin bends down, and gently picks up her instrument from where it lays beside Luther’s unconscious body. She stands, and brushes it off, then straightens her suit. Distantly, from somewhere between rows of abandoned chairs, someone – maybe Diego – groans in pain.
Sensing a presence behind her, the White Violin hesitates, and then relaxes. She speaks without turning around.
7: Get lost, Five. It’s the only thing you’re good at.
Behind her, Five is clutching his side, leaning against a pillar and blocking the way to the stage. The walls shake and his breathing rattles, but his voice is steady and certain.
5: Nah.
Rage. The White Violin whirls around, pulling her face into a scowl and spitting words at him.
7: I’m getting up on that stage to play my last song, and I’m going to end this world. You know you can’t stop me.
Five sniffles, and wipes blood from his lip. They both know that he is the only person she might possibly listen to right now. He has tried everything else.
5: Uh, yeah, I get that. We’ve tried, we’ve failed.
7: Then start running.
Five laughs like a person with broken ribs laughs.
5: Run? Where? Where else am I gonna go now? You’re my best friend. If the world’s gonna end… Where else would I want to be?
The White Violin scoffs, trying not to be affected. She lets her weakness twist into resentment.
7: I can see what you’re doing. Pathetic - is this really the master plan? What, are you gonna tell me about how this isn’t the real me? How there’s still time to stop, to save the world, to finally be a hero? How much you love me?
Her words drip with bitterness and sardonic satisfaction, but also intense want. She wants love from him, but she doesn’t want to take it. 17 years of hurt. Five closes his eyes for a moment, and then gestures outwards.
5: Well, I was going to hoist up a piano over the stage and drop it on you, but, eh, it seemed kinda cartoony.
The White Violin is not amused, and pushes past him, stomping up the stairs, stepping over the body of a Commission agent.
7: Still making jokes. Just get out, Five, I don’t have time for this. Unlike some people, I’m not thirteen anymore.
Five staggers, not trying to stop her - just following. His tone is conversational.
5: I’m not joking. I know you’re in pain. The kind of pain that – that curls up and dies inside of you. And I know you’re about to do something apocalyptically evil and stupid. But I haven’t heard you play the violin in 45 years, so I’m here to listen one last time before I die - because I’ve missed you, Vanya.
She stops. Turns around. Snatches him by the tie with the hand holding her bow. Five wheezes.
7: Don’t call me that.
She shoves him away, and continues to the middle of the stage, kicking the discarded chair of a musician out of her path. He slowly approaches as he speaks.
5: When we were eleven, you broke your wrist and didn’t tell anyone for two days because you were afraid you’d get in trouble. You’ve come pretty far since then – ending the world, maybe a tad extreme, but the thing is? Yeah, I love you, Sev. I loved floppy-wrist Vanya and I love scary glowing Vanya. So if anyone is finally going to put me out of my misery, it’s you. [His voice cracks for the first time.] If you’re going to kill the world, then start with me. I’ve earned that much.
The White Violin, towering over him in her heeled boots, tries to hold onto the uncaring cruelty she has grown attached to, despite her confidence clearly wavering. She cocks her head, challenging him.
7: You think I won’t?
Time seems to slow, and she waits for what he’ll say next, ready for a fight. He gives her a very small, sad, lopsided smile.
5: You know something, Vanya? It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you.
7: Shut up.
At his declaration, The White Violin lashes out, sending a sliver of white energy out that slashes across Five’s cheek. He touches the cut.
5: I love you.
She slashes again, harder, raking across his chest and arm. It sizzles. He gasps, falls to a knee, but looks back up at her and stands shakily. The building shakes and rumbles.
5: I… l-love you.
7: Shut up!
She hits him again, this time with a shockwave that sends him sprawling across the floor. He lands on someone’s broken cello, and it crunches beneath him. There’s blood in his teeth, blood dribbling down his face. Still, he gets back to his feet, opening his arms and stepping towards her, hiding nothing. Her face twists, and she bounces nervously, shaking her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
5: I love you, Vanya.
7: Stop.
She is crying now, and backs away from him as he starts to walk towards her. With shaking hands, she swipes her bow through the air between them and he tenses, expecting another wave of energy, but it doesn’t come. She curls in on herself, taking another step backward and stumbling over a fallen music stand.
5: I love you.
7: STOP!
He is close enough to her now that she can shove him away, not with much strength. He comes close again, and she raises the bow, pressing it against his neck like a warning. She glares down at him, inches away, tears in her eyelashes, and the radioactive white glow in her eyes drains away, leaving just warm brown. His gaze flicks to the black lines of eyeshadow sliding down her cheeks, then back up. She sobs.
5: I love you.
Slowly, without looking away from her, he reaches up and pries the bow from her hand, and she lets him. When he drops it, it’s as if the spell is broken, and her violin clatters to the stage as well. Vanya brings her hands to her face, and starts to cry for real, broken, lonely, gasping sobs filling the air. Five catches her in his arms easily as she slides to the floor, the two of them crumpling together in a messy embrace.
5: I love you.
She seizes onto him for dear life, fingers tangling in his shredded blazer, and he wraps his arms around her, letting her shake and sob and wail into his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her temple, runs his bloodied hand through her tangled mess of black hair, and holds her while she cries.