finale

      Felix spits into the sink. The blob of blood slowly drains.       It feels like his lungs are filled with nails, every new breath is another battle in the war for survival, which he is trying to win. In vain. “You are getting worse.”       Felix feels Lila putting her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, digging her nails into his ribs so that it can be felt even through his crumpled shirt, so that it is clear to him that if the disease does not finish him, then Lila herself will tear his body into small pieces. “And you're so observant,” Felix chuckles bitterly and immediately winces from a new wave of pain. Now he has to pay for every single word.       He can see Lila's reflection in the dirty mirror: the flashing light of a single bulb exposes the black circles under her eyes, the result of sleepless nights, and yet she remains so beautiful until her last breath.       Felix barely can get to the bed, his head is spinning, consciousness is about to float away into the darkness, he falls on the mildew-smelling sheets and feels his heart beating hysterically.       A week has passed since their shameful runaway, they were incredibly lucky that they managed to check into this cheap motel.       Lila looks out the window through the cracks between the curtains, nervously looking out for secret service agents or familiar silhouettes in bright superhero costumes, but for now — everything is quiet. For now. “I'm not sure that we have enough to get across the border.”       They look at each other, it becomes clear that this is not what worries Lila at all. I'm not sure you'll live to see us reach the border — she would like to say. But she can’t. "If only we could get in touch with your mother."… “I will not-...” Felix coughs, blood flows down his chin, staining everything that is possible, but he doesn't care anymore. “I'm not going to drag her into this, I’ve said it before, and…”       Lila shudders when she hears his next attack, she is tired, terribly tired, he coughs all day, it's unbearable. “I get it. It's just... it could have been…” “Easier?” Felix smiles, but it looks like a grimace from someone's nightmare, lips dry, stained red. “We're not looking for easy ways, remember?”       Lila closes her eyes, exhaling. “It was your idea to instill the akuma in a mother who had just lost a child because of drunk surgeon.” “And you supported it.”       Silence hangs between them like a thin thread, it seems that just a little more and it will break, and thousands of mutual accusations and curses will break through, mixed with vows of love till their grave.       They should have thought that the last Hawkmoth did not just chose his victims with petty worries, Gabriel was not a coward, he knew that when negative emotions are gushing over the edge, it becomes more difficult to manipulate, only he couldn’t warn them from a coffin, what a pity.        They had to...yes, they had to do a lot of things, for example, get married quietly and go to Rome, collect their own library and whisper to each other in Latin, but no, the two of them desperately wanted to play the villains, with a bang, with destruction, with pleas. Bring Lady Bug to madness, and make new Pompeii out of Paris, so that all this chaos is only because of them and for them alone.       And then Lila lost control, the akumatised destroyed half the city and went to it’s hostess to finish her off, and Felix had to, although they agreed never to do this again, too big risks, had to put on the broken Peacock stone again to save their skin.       They thought that the whole world was at their feet, and in the end the world brutally fucked them up and spat them out on the side of the road. Try and crawl somehow, like the bones are not broken.       Lila approaches Felix, buries her fingers in his blonde hair, the roots are inevitably gray, Felix does not even have the strength to take her by the wrist, all that remains is to sit and look with bleary eyes.       How pathetic they are, Felix thinks, look at them and you won't say that these are the ones who terrorized Paris for so long.       Lila swallows the rotten "I'm so sorry", whispering a quiet “Try not to die tonight.” instead. ***       The room is cold. Chilly. Judging by the fact that the grayness outside the windows is getting a little lighter — a dull dawn is scratching.       Lila is sitting in an armchair, legs crossed, smoking her third cigarette. Watches as a trickle of smoke curls towards the ceiling. Slowly brings the burning cigarette to her hand. Pain — not strong, but unpleasant.       Lila is convinced that she can still feel at least something, she used to choke on them alone with Felix, and now — almost nothing, everything has flowed through her fingers.       It's cold in the room, but it's even colder in their bed. Felix died a couple of hours ago. Before she woke up. Half asleep, she thought that the windows were left open for the night, that’s why she was so cold. It turned out not.       There is a revolver on the table nearby, loaded, they were preparing for everything. Lila throws the remains of her cigarette on the floor and takes the weapon in her hand.       The pleasant heaviness in her hand is suggestive.       The cocked trigger clicks.       This is the final.