Crossed wires

Julian was already broken - body bruised, skin peeled in places, blood dried and cracked along his chest where Vincent had carved his name. But David and Vincent weren't finished.

No more games. No more clever setups.

Just pain.

Julian was shackled to the center of the cold, tiled floor. Bobby, still mangled and chained nearby, could only watch with one swollen eye, his voice too hoarse to scream anymore.

Vincent approached slowly, carrying a thin, gleaming bone saw in one hand, a branding iron in the other.

David crouched in front of Julian, gently patting his cheek.

"Still with us, Fish?" he said in a soft, sing-song tone. "Good. I didn't want you to miss this."

Julian's eyes fluttered open. His lips trembled. He could barely speak.

But then... he turned his head - slowly - toward Bobby.

His voice was faint. Broken.

"Bobby..."

Bobby lifted his head weakly. "Julian... I'm sorry. I couldn't-"

Julian gave him a small, broken smile.

"It's... okay."

He coughed blood.

"I just... wanted you to know. I really did love you, man."

Bobby froze.

Julian's voice was a whisper now - rasping out between pain and breathlessness.

"You were more than my friend. We... we were a team. Fish and Fischer... stupid, right?"

He tried to laugh, but it came out like a wheeze.

"You always... pulled me back. Balanced me out."

A tear slid down his face, mixing with the blood.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving you... with them."

Then, as Vincent stepped forward with the saw, Julian looked Bobby in the eye one last time.

"Don't let them... change you. Servive and tell the truth"

That was the last thing he said.

The scream that followed didn't last long. Vincent made sure of it. The saw cut through his ribs like dry wood, cracking bone, tearing flesh - until Julian's body finally went limp.

Dead.

Silent.

Gone.

The room felt colder after that.

David stood over the corpse, then turned slowly to Bobby.

"Touching, wasn't it?" he said softly. "So sweet. So loyal."

He walked closer to Bobby and knelt beside him.

"But here's the thing..."

He tilted his head, smile fading.

"You killed him."

Bobby blinked. "W-what?"

"You chose his pain. You could've fought. Screamed. Bit off your tongue to warn someone. But you didn't."

Vincent added, wiping blood from his hands:

"You gave up. You let him die."

"No..." Bobby whispered. "No, that's not true..."

David leaned in close.

"He begged for your help. And you just... watched."

"You're the reason he's dead," Vincent said, coldly.

David stood and slowly paced in front of him.

"Maybe deep down, you wanted this. Wanted to watch someone else suffer instead of you."

"No-!" Bobby shouted, tears streaming down his face.

But the guilt had already taken root.

It filled the room more heavily than the blood.

Vincent lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

.

.

.

Julian's lifeless body hung from the chains, head slumped forward, blood dripping softly onto the floor. The warmth had left his skin, and the final traces of life had vanished from his eyes.

Bobby was shaking, sobbing, his broken body slouched against the wall, one eye swollen shut, the other staring-frozen-at his friend.

His best friend.

His only friend.

Dead.

Murdered.

Because of him.

David walked forward slowly, quiet as a shadow, crouching beside Bobby.

"It's strange, isn't it?" he said gently. "How grief sneaks in... like a slow leak in your chest."

Bobby didn't respond.

Vincent stood a few steps behind, arms crossed, gaze fixed coldly on him.

David tilted his head. "He loved you, Bobby. Even at the end. Did you hear his voice? He forgave you. He still trusted you."

Bobby choked out a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I couldn't stop it..."

David leaned in closer. "But you didn't even try."

Vincent stepped forward now, voice calm and low. "You stood there. You watched. And when he needed you most... you let him drown in pain."

"You were his world, Bobby," David added. "The way he spoke about you... it was beautiful. And you let him down."

Bobby started trembling harder, shaking his head.

"No... stop..."

Vincent knelt in front of him, speaking with cold sincerity.

"You know what would've made it easier for him?"

Bobby looked up, eyes red and desperate.

Vincent whispered, "If you'd died with him."

David leaned in from the side.

"Or at least... followed after."

There was a long pause.

Bobby blinked, unsure if he heard right.

David didn't blink.

"Think about it. Julian's gone. Alone. And you're still here... breathing. Watching."

"He wouldn't want that," Vincent said. "He'd hate it. The man who caused his death still walking around?"

David stood again and slowly walked to the table, picking up a long shard of broken mirror.

He brought it back, held it in front of Bobby's face.

"Maybe it's time to do the right thing, detective," he said softly.

"To make peace. To be with him again."

He gently placed the mirror shard on Bobby's lap.

"You know where to cut," Vincent added. "You studied law. You know anatomy."

The basement air felt still - like the world had stopped breathing.

David whispered the final push:

"He said you complete each other. Fish and Fischer. But now it's just you."

He stepped back.

"You don't want to live with that."

Bobby stared at the shard.

At his reflection - cracked, bloody, haunted.

He stared for a long time.

Tears fell.

And his hand began to tremble toward the glass.

Bobby's fingers closed around the shard of mirror.

His breath was ragged. Shaky.

But his eyes were clear now - hollow, broken, but resolved.

He whispered, almost inaudibly,

"Julian... I'm coming."

Then, without hesitation, he dragged the shard across his neck.

A deep, clean slice. The blood came fast - spraying against the tiles in a pulsing rhythm.

He gasped once.

Twice.

Then his body fell forward with a soft thud, the shard clinking on the floor beside him.

Silence.

Only the soft drip of blood echoed in the room.

Vincent stood frozen, arms still crossed - but something shifted in his face.

He walked slowly over to the body, crouched beside it, and stared.

He reached out... and, almost hesitantly, wiped a tear from Bobby's cheek - though it was half blood by now.

"...Damn," Vincent muttered, voice low. "He really... loved him."

He stood up again, sniffling once, wiping under his eye with his sleeve.

David raised an eyebrow. "Are... are you crying?"

Vincent sniffed again. "No. I got blood in my eye. Shut up."

David walked over, giving Bobby's corpse a quick glance. "Well, I didn't expect that level of drama. That was almost romantic."

Vincent gave a short, grim chuckle.

"Fish and Fischer. Two losers. Died for friendship."

He paused, then added, mockingly,

"Disney would've made it a musical."

David smirked. "If only they had the rights."

They stood there a moment longer, looking at the two lifeless bodies.

Then Vincent turned to David and said, "So... dinner?"

David nodded. "You know what? After all that emotion? I'm

starving."

They walked out of the basement together - the heavy metal door creaking shut behind them.

And once again, the light went out.

Leaving only blood, silence...

And two broken friends who would never laugh again.