She looks down and sees a patch of red slowly staining her white dress but despite that, she looks up to him and gives him a shaky smile. "Please don't take my sunshine away..." She closes her eyes as she falls onto her side, the field around them both no longer being vast as darkness instead begins to cover everything, it not being long before it covers her as well. He only gets one last look at her before the dream ends.
He held the knife. He always did. The hand he held her close to him with had its fingers curled around a blade and he dropped it in horror before he caught her, too. “No, no, no,” he chanted, as if it was a prayer, as if there was a God when he knew that, even if there was, God wouldn’t even listen to him at all. His shirt, once white, was now red from her blood, and he found himself covered in crimson, the stain spreading from his own chest until it covered him entirely, until his eyelashes dripped with the liquid, staining her cheeks, too.
"Wait — wait, I can fix this —," He was desperate, even more so when the darkness came. Of course it would come. “_Don’t take her away _—!”
And, just as quickly as he entered it, so did he leave that forsaken world, lungs heaving for real oxygen, fingers clawing at the sheets and — and something soft. His heart beat too quickly, too loudly, and he looked beside him to be able to breathe again. There she was, alive and breathing and not dead, and he could’ve sworn he cried. Did he? Shit, he didn’t even know; he had to put his fingers to his damp cheeks to realise that, no, it wasn’t blood. That was enough to convince him for now that it had been a dream. A nightmare. Both? How could he be sure?
With a soft groan he fell to his side again, and allowed one arm to wrap around her, pulling her closer, always. “Don’t die,” he mumbled, and wasn’t quite certain if it was his entire being or just his voice that shook from — sadness? Fear? Who knew? “Don’t ever leave me. Please.”
