“It doesn’t hurt, Ghost, it doesn’t hurt.”
The breathless whine in your voice shattered his heart - you were fighting him. Your blood was already staining his clothing, sinking through the fabric and engraving his skin with your pain.
He tried to get you up, but you wailed and all he was left to do, was hold down to bullet wound covered until the help will reach you—just a few more minutes.
The smile of yours was stained in crimson, your body was slightly spasming, wanting to cough in pure pain - everything was tingling, but slowly growing numb. Yet you watched him.
“Just stay with me. Stay with me. Eyes on me.” He was demanding. But it wasn’t only the concern of your superior, it was concern of the man you shared the bed with. The man you gave your heart to. The man who told you to be careful before this.
You opened your mouth, letting out a small wail, but you kept on smiling. Your hand weakly raised, moving towards his face, towards his skull mask. “Lemme see you—one—last time.”
Shaking his head, he couldn’t allow himself to do that. It wasn’t the last time - it will be just like every night when he sneaks into your room. When you take off his mask so gently and kiss his scars, bringing a smile onto his face.
“The help is coming—this isn’t the last—“
Your hand dropped and his eyes widened. The fresh tears were staining your cheeks, your eyes slightly opened, but unmoving. The last breath got stuck in your chest and froze.
He remembers the way he screamed. The way he ripped off his mask and begged for you to wake up and look at him. Look at your Simon. He remembers the way the help came, but it was too late. He remembers being pulled away from your body. The tantrum he caused in the base—the men he punched, the furniture he destroyed.
He remembered why it never works in this line of job.