i’m too tired for witty titles || accepting selectively
Pain. Blinding. Overwhelming. Not the worst he’d ever felt but this. This was different. He knew this was it. Not enough time to get him to medical treatment, no one near by who could slow the progress.
Arms wrapped around him and he forced his eyes open. Raven, leaning over him, dark hair tumbling down to brush at his forehead. The softness of it proved a sharp contrast to the pain in his chest, in his stomach. He heaved, curling closer, and coughing. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Blood in his lungs. He’d drown on it. A painful way to go.
“Rae,” he gasped between coughs. “Rae, I-” A high pitched whine cut him off and he doubled over again, one hand clenching weakly in her cloak. Tears, from pain, from the realization of what was to come, leaked from the corners of his eyes, trapped behind his mask.
It hurt. He’d known dying would hurt but he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, wasn’t prepared for it.
He wasn’t prepared for anything dying entailed and suddenly he was scared. His fingers clenched again in her cloak.
“I don’t want to die,” he choked out in a weak voice. “I’m scared.”
He coughed again, more blood spilling out of his mouth. He could feel himself slipping, getting weaker. Darkness crowded at the edge of his vision and he whimpered quietly. So much he hadn’t done, so many people he hadn’t said goodbye too.
It felt like he couldn’t breathe. Something ( blood, his frantic mind supplied ) filled his throat, his lungs. Fear choked him even as the darkness spread across his vision.