#sctma

Ai let out a pained cry as he moved, the warm, tacky liquid flowing through his fingers. Tears fell from his eyes as he forced himself to move once more. He was almost there, and he let out another pained sound as he reached his arm out. The match box was right there, all he needed… he just needed to grab it.

Ai's vision was darkening. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Blood doesn't care what you need to finish before rushing out, draining your body and killing you slowly.

'Slowly.'

This was all happening rather quickly, Ai thought, as he laid on the concrete ground, arm outstretched just millimeters away from the goal, as his blood pools around him. Ahaa. Ai was dying, and these are going to be his last thoughts. 

Most people would have been thinking about the betrayal, or their family, or friends. But Ai lays here, soaking his clothes and thinking about how quickly he's dying.