Risk

RISK  that bald mix of tratil and nitroglycerin. Inventor of the Russian rullet, the knife game, mile high club, any type of sport worth watching on the zombievision. The beast with an attitude to win or at least live long enough to show off the scars. RISK cries when humans spend time on art, to him life only happens when adrenalin makes him hyper aware and it feels like the time slows down.

 However no one but him lacked enough brain cells to walk up to Fobia and talk about life. He was the only one that had ever gotten into a decent conversation with her, that conversation ended up being a short term relationship. They seemed perfect for one another, she excited him and the reaction he received from the crowd for being so nonchalant with Fobia gave him a rush. Fobia for the first time in her life had someone to talk to, and someone who cared about what she  said. As anything beautiful they were bound to rot apart because RISK had phobias in him many of them but Fobia didn't have the nerve to risk her feelings being stomped on by some Die Hard fanatic. She ended it by cutting him off and ignoring him. Breaking the one bone RISK never knew he had the heart bone, or at least it felt like it was breaking.   Ever since then he's been trying to get with :)NESS any chance he can to feel .000003% of what he felt with Fobia. Boiling down love into a cheap thrill.   Like his scars he keeps most of what Fobia said on him at all times. And if not for that winter romance he'd never care for Hope much or learn that inspiration can be gathered from many different sources. One thing he confesses is that whenever nightmares come he smiles because to him it's a love letter from FEAR.