my muse is dying!! send “just, just hang on…” to hear their last words to your muse as they die in their arms!! | accepting bc i am trash | @unhclybeast
"Vidic,” she tried to smile, had to smile, because it was him. Vidic. Perfect, lovely, exquisite Vidic. Had he not possessed her entire heart, it would be cracking in her chest. Instead, it remained whole with him. Some lasting, mythical piece of memory that would remain behind when her body no longer could.
Sirens blared in the distance, trapped by the dinner rush traffic. “I should’ve remembered,” she sputtered. Had she not forgotten the small flower she left behind, had she not gone back for it, the car would’ve hit only a tree. Not her. God, that sickening crack, it came from her. Her body. So far away as she hit the pavement, her world spinning with light and color and the singular thought that he was watching from across the way. Watching her die. Running toward her. No. She wanted to say. Look away. Don’t remember me like this. Don’t watch me die. Tears filled her eyes for the pain and fear she saw in his expression.
“It’s going to be okay,” she lied to him. Fingers caressed his face, leaving behind lines of blood. Fox knew it wasn’t, she knew it because she could feel how wrong her body was now. Without looking, without feeling. Filling with the same deep red blood that flowed from her mouth. A leg twisting the wrong direction. Remainments of ribs floating free. Radius and ulna snapped and jutting out in flagless surrender. “It’s going to be okay,” she repeated, her body growing colder with each throbbing beat of her heart. A crowd formed around them, but no one stepped forward to help. They all waited in vigil for the paramedics, hands clasped over their mouths, tears in their eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder how she must look to them. Like children stumbling across a baby bird fallen from its nest. How vulgar and wrong the body looked. Eyes closed, beak split apart, little body featherless and broken beyond repair.
“Vidic,” a deep, choking breath. “I love you,” sirens blaring. “No matter what,” shoes hitting the pavement. “I love,” his voice too far away to hear. “You,” nothing.
