"Zack?!" The blond shouted, spotting his boyfriend on the ground, completely soaked in blood. Jonathan knelt down beside him, his eyes wide in panic. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. Who did this? WHY did they do this? His head was swimming, anxiety bubbling inside him. "What happened?! W-who did this?" Zack probably wouldn't even be able to speak, the injuries looked too severe. Jonathan swiftly took out his phone, his hand trembling as he called for an ambulance.
He was really losing it. Zack should’ve been able to fight against this guy. He should have been able to win against him. But, of course not. That’s not what happened. It was only one guy. How did he end up on the ground, bleeding to death?
That fucker had a knife. That’s why.
After being stabbed once or twice and a punch or two, with an addition of a few sharp kicks, Zack probably felt like shit more than he looked. Pain was spreading through his body once his attacker was finished. There were tears at his eyes. Football players don’t cry! This shouldn’t have been affecting him! And yet, there were tears slipping from his eyes. His attacker had left with a rude comment. Leaving Zack there to die. And he was going to accept it. The pain was too much and he was way too far from a hospital to walk.
Wait, where was he going in the first place? Oh that’s right. Jonathan’s. He had snuck out that night to have a nice cuddle with his boyfriend. Of course, that didn’t end well. And he was on the brink of death. But, suddenly. He felt a jolt of energy, just enough to make him stand up. It was hard to stand, he had probably lost a few pints of blood at this point. He struggled to stand, staggering over to the near by building and leaning on it.
He was just a few blocks away. Zack’s boyfriend wasn’t far. He could make it. Just the thought of Jon was all he needed, since he was now pushing himself through the empty streets with every amount of energy. It was probably smarter to call him but who said the jock was trying to be smart? If he was going to die, then he’d rather do it seeing Jon’s face one last time. Even from how selfish that sounded, he pushed himself harder. Crying out every so often when he felt a string of pain spread through his wounds.
Moments later, he saw the familiar home of the Combs family. A smirk slipped onto his lips as he limped over to the doorstep. He was staggering more than before and his head felt like it was going to fall off from how badly it was spinning. His feet were at the mat at the front door. He leaned on it, catching his breath. A bloody hand shakily reached up to ring the door bell. And right as he did it, he felt himself falling. Slipping down the door and onto the ground. He yelped as he hit the floor. Eyes closing from utter exhaustion.
It was weak, barely even a whisper. His entire body was shaking at this point, as if he were freezing even though he had a jacket on. His closed eyes seem to become more heavy as he started to drift. Jon’s voice only being a faded memory in Zack’s mind.
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