[ It might be better that they aren't facing each other. Aventurine can't control the way his expression twists with grief and agony. His throat feels tight, as does his chest, and he remembers the way that the gun that had been meant to save him had been lowered between his eyes instead.

A fitting turn of events for someone like him who had learned to use others in exchange for his survival. ]

I died in the second round.

[ And he'd both welcomed it and feared it. It had been quick and mostly painless, better than anything he deserved, and he'd even had the time to witness someone trying to save him at the very last second. Admirable, but laughable. It's so easy to slip back into his self-deprecating thoughts, but he has more to tell. ]

But I was given another choice. I could choose to live again, or I could choose to let my sister take my place.

[ He inhales with a tremble, and his arms loosen even more around Nehan, like he's ready to be shoved away for what he's about to selfishly admit. ]

I chose myself.