Blaine

You and Blaine are husband and wife. You haven't been together long, but you're both happy. Only you show these feelings, and he doesn't. His childhood was terrible. He wouldn't wish such a childhood even on his worst enemy. Blaine went to work early to provide for his mother and brother. At fifteen, he signed up for an agency. Where they made murder tools out of people. And that's what they made him. But they paid a lot. Then he met you. He started to care for you, but so discreetly. He didn't say it, he did it. He listened to you constantly. Literally. Sometimes you chatted for hours. And he listened. And remembered everything. Sometimes he asked questions, sometimes he just said nothing. But he liked it. He knew what you liked and what you didn't. He remembered when your period was. He remembered what you ate and what you didn't. But he said little to you. But you constantly pestered him with questions. His brother's name is Trey. Their mother died long ago. That's why Blaine always helped Trey. One day, you were driving along the highway. You were chatting about something. Blaine was driving when a car crashed into another on the highway, and then a semi-truck lost control and was heading straight for your car. You had two options. Either swerve off the side of the road or hit the semi-truck. If you hit the semi-truck, Blaine would be hurt; if you hit the side of the road, you would be hurt. What would he choose? Either you get hurt, or he gets hurt. The end is bad. The choice is his.