Ash turned his back on Blake without a word. The soft, broken sound of Blake’s sobs clung to the air as Ash walked across the room. His steps were uneven, his body aching from where Blake’s strikes had landed, and his own blood soaked through the sleeve of his white shirt. But none of it mattered.

His gaze landed on Lucas.

Lucas lay sprawled across the cold ground, a stain of crimson spreading across his stomach. The sight made Ash’s heart lurch painfully in his chest. Lucas’s eyes were open- thank God- but they stared blankly into space, unfocused, almost lifeless.

"Lucas," Ash called out softly, his voice rough with panic, but there was no response.

His mind spun.

Ash’s hands trembled as he crouched next to Lucas. His eyes darted over the wound. Blood, too much blood- was pooling around Lucas’s shirt, darkening the fabric and staining the floor beneath him. The blade had gone deep. But it was more than that. Ash knew Lucas had asthma, which meant every shallow, ragged breath was a struggle.

He’s bleeding, and he’s gasping. What the hell do I do? I’m not a doctor-

The frantic voice in his head cut off, and for one single moment, another thought slipped in.

Stop the bleeding.

Ash swallowed thickly and sat down next to Lucas, his own knees collapsing beneath him as his exhaustion threatened to overtake him. But he didn’t let it. Instead, he yanked off his jacket in one rough motion, the fabric catching on the dried blood from his arm where Blake had slashed him earlier.

Beneath the jacket, his white shirt was soaked through with red, his own blood. The sight barely registered. It didn’t matter. He had to keep Lucas alive.

He balled up the jacket as quickly as his shaking hands would allow. Then he pressed it against Lucas’s wound, applying pressure.

Lucas flinched, a low whimper escaping his lips. Ash winced with him. “Serves you right. Why did you come in front of me, huh? I never asked for this, dammit.”

Lucas didn’t respond. His eyes shifted slightly, flickering toward Ash, but they were still unfocused. His breathing was fast, shallow- too shallow.

Ash felt his panic clawing its way back up his throat. What if this doesn’t work? What if the bleeding doesn’t stop? What if-

The pressure he kept on the wound was firm but desperate, his fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as he leaned forward. His thoughts were spiraling. He felt helpless- utterly, terrifyingly helpless.

Call for help.

Ash quickly registered the fact that he had to call for help, and he started to pat his trousers pocket for his phone. He wasn’t sure if he even brought his phone, but to his favor and relief, it was in his pocket.

He took it out with shaky hands, Lucas’ blood smeared across his thumb started to make stains on his phone’s screen, But he didn’t care.

Before he could call anyone- an ambulance for help, a voice cut through.

Blake.

“I’ve called for help. They are on their way.”

Ash glanced at him from beside his shoulder, Blake was sitting up, his head lowered, and guilt plastered on his face.

Ash didn’t respond.

Instead Ash said again, a little louder this time, as if he could make him stay awake. “Hey, Lucas!”

Lucas’s mind, hazy and slow, barely processed Ash’s words. He felt the pressure on his stomach- a dull ache beneath the sharper pain, but it felt…far away. Like it wasn’t really his. The world around him seemed blurry and muffled, his own name a faint hum in the back of his mind.

Ash shifted beside him, his voice slicing through. “Lucas, I swear, if you don’t wake up, I’ll-”

Wake up.

That’s when it clicked. The words jarred something loose in Lucas’s mind, and suddenly, he remembered.

Something was tugging at the edges of his consciousness, soft and rhythmic.

A melody.

He remembered being eight. The house had been too quiet, too still. It was always like that when Jamie wasn’t home. Lucas had come back from school that day with a stomach ache.

Nothing serious, or so he thought. He tried lying down, curling up under a blanket, but by evening, the ache only grew sharper.

Then Jamie had come home.

Lucas remembered the sound of the door unlocking, the soft thud of Jamie’s bag dropping to the floor. He had started talking almost immediately- ranting about work, about his idiot coworker, about how it was his turn to patrol- until he noticed Lucas curled up on the couch.

“Hey,” Jamie said, his voice shifting from casual to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

Lucas winced as the ache throbbed again. “My stomach…”

Jamie crouched down, his usual teasing grin replaced with a frown of worry. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, huh?”

Lucas shrugged, the movement small and weak. “Thought it’d go away.”

Jamie sighed, running a hand through his hair before gently smoothing it over Lucas’s forehead. “Okay. I’ll make you something warm. Soup, maybe?”

“Nuh-uh.” Lucas shook his head faintly. “I feel like throwing up…”

Jamie’s lips quivered into a small, affectionate smile. “Alright, no food. But you need rest, and I mean it.”

But by nighttime, the fever had hit. Lucas’s head pounded, his body felt like it was on fire, and the stomach pain had only gotten worse. Jamie had sat at the edge of his bed, worry written across his face as he smoothed Lucas’s hair again, trying to comfort him.

“Try to sleep, Lucas. The medicine will kick in if you get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep,” Lucas murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jamie sighed softly, shaking his head but smiling faintly as he said, “Fine. You can’t sleep, so I’ll help you.”

“How?” Lucas had asked weakly, blinking up at him.

Jamie’s smile softened. “I’ll sing something for you. That’s how.”

Lucas blinked. “You sing?”

Jamie chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not that bad. Besides, it’s what Mom used to do for me when I was your age.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Lucas frowned faintly. He’d never met his mother- never even seen her face.

But Jamie had stayed.

And so, he sang.

His voice was soft, far from perfect, but it held warmth. It was the kind of voice that wrapped you up, kept you safe, and made the world outside seem just a little less cold.

You’re not supposed to be cold,

I’ve never lived a day thinking of leaving you alone.

Don’t you wanna wake up?

Feel the world inside you?

Every breath you take… I’ll be there beside you.

Lucas remembered how his eyelids had grown heavy then, the pain fading just enough for him to feel like he wasn’t alone. The soft hum of Jamie’s voice had stayed with him long after he fell asleep.

Now, as he lay bleeding on the cold ground, that same melody echoed.

“…Lucas,” Ash’s voice broke through the haze again, more desperate this time. “Come on. Don’t you dare drift off on me now-”

Lucas’s lips twitched faintly, the melody still echoing in his mind. He thought of Jamie- his big brother, his rock. He thought of those words.

I’ve never lived a day thinking of leaving you alone.

“…I’m not cold,” Lucas whispered suddenly, his voice barely audible.

W-What?

Ash froze, his eyes snapping down to Lucas’s face. “What?”

Lucas’s gaze flickered up to meet his for half a second- weak, unfocused, but there. “I’m… not cold. Tell…J-Jamie for me…”

Ash let out a shaky breath, his hands pressing down firmly, resolutely, against the wound. He didn’t understand what Lucas meant, but it didn’t matter. He was still talking. He was still here.

“Tell that to him yourself, idiot,” Ash muttered, trying to mask his relief with irritation. “Don’t you stop talking. Got it?”

Lucas didn’t answer, but he nodded faintly. Somewhere, in the dark corners of his mind, Jamie’s voice still sang softly.

Don’t you wanna wake up? Feel the world inside you…

And at that moment, a terrible realization hit Lucas.

He didn’t want to die.

And so, Lucas’s eyes had fluttered open again, and Ash wasn’t going to let him slip away.

“Hey,” Ash muttered, voice tight, almost trembling. “Hey, Lucas. Talk about- anything. I don’t care what.”

Lucas’s lashes flickered weakly as he winced beneath Ash’s touch. His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a murmur.

“…I always liked s-shooting games.”

Ash blinked down at him, momentarily thrown.

Lucas let out a faint groan, but he didn’t stop. “Shooting games…when I went to the…a-arcade. FPS, too.”

Ash’s brows furrowed as he leaned closer, trying to catch every word. Lucas’s voice was too soft. “You’re talking about video games?”

“Mm,” Lucas hummed faintly, as if agreeing. “Arcade shooting games are fun.”

Ash swallowed hard, nodding quickly even though Lucas couldn’t see him properly. “Okay, fine. Whatever. Don’t stop, Lucas.”

“W-Which ones do you…like?”

Ash huffed out a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ve never even been to an arcade in my life.”

Lucas’s brow twitched slightly, his eyes flickering toward Ash as if trying to focus on him. “Never?”

“No,” Ash muttered, shaking his head. His voice softened as he looked down. “Never had the chance.”

Lucas’s gaze shifted faintly. “You’d…probably suck,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

Ash glanced back at him sharply. “Shut up.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder quickly to where Blake still sat on the ground, unmoving.

Ash tore his eyes away just as quickly, turning back to Lucas. He ducked his head lower, his voice softening into something more careful. “Help is on the way, okay? Just don’t stop talking. Come on, Lucas, You’ve to stay awake.”

“Once…” he started, pausing as if struggling to pull the words together. “…Once Jason told…me about a guy. Said he could beat me in a s-shooting game.”

Ash’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening slightly on the jacket. “Yeah? What happened?”

Lucas’s lips parted, and for a second, nothing came out. Then, barely a whisper, he said, “…I a-agreed to play with him.”

Ash shifted closer. “And?” he pressed. “Did you win or lose? What was his name?”

Lucas’s eyes flickered, unfocused again as he stared past Ash. For a long moment, he said nothing.

“Lucas.” Ash’s voice wavered slightly. “What was his name?”

Lucas blinked slowly, then let out a faint, breathy sound- something like a sigh. “…I can’t remember.”

Ash froze, his stomach sinking. Forgetting isn’t a good sign, right? It never is.

He swallowed hard, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “Hey, that’s fine,” he muttered quickly, forcing his voice to stay steady. “It doesn’t matter. You probably beat him anyway, right? You’re a cocky bastard like that.”

Lucas didn’t respond, and Ash’s panic rose again. He leaned lower, his voice sharp. “Lucas! Come on, keep talking…Damn it.”

Lucas’s chest rose and fell faintly, the rhythm too shallow, too fast. His breathing was ragged, but his lips twitched faintly again- like he wanted to speak but didn’t have the energy.

Ash’s mind raced, every second stretching endlessly as he pressed down harder, trying to will the bleeding to stop. His own arm throbbed from Blake’s earlier attack, the cut soaking through his shirt, but he ignored it.

“You’re not pulling this stunt on me. So talk. Say something. Anything.”

He didn’t respond. It was like the air had been pulled straight from his lungs.

I don’t want to leave Jamie alone.

A tear slipped out of the corner of Lucas’s eye, trailing down his blood-smeared face. Ash couldn’t tell if it was from pain or exhaustion, but seeing it knocked the breath out of him. He wanted to shout at him to stop- to fight.

Lucas’s mind drifted.

He remembered Jamie again.

It had been a terrible day. Lucas was twelve, sitting at the kitchen table while Jamie paced across the room, muttering furiously about work. Lucas had barely been listening until Jamie groaned dramatically and flopped onto the chair beside him, throwing an arm over Lucas’s shoulder.

“I’ll hug you to death, I swear,” Jamie had said, his voice exaggerated and warm, as though he were announcing the most heroic solution to all of life’s problems.

Lucas had wrinkled his nose and shoved at him weakly. “I’m not a hugger.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Jamie had laughed, ruffling Lucas’s hair like it didn’t matter.

Being hugged to death suddenly seemed a lot more comforting than being stabbed to death.

But there was no going back now.

Lucas blinked slowly, his breathing faltering as the pain pulled him under. Jamie’s going to be mad, he thought dimly.

“Crap…” Lucas whispered faintly. His voice was strained, broken. “It h-hurts…”

And then his head lolled to the side.

“No, no- hey!” Ash’s voice was sharp, panicked, as his hand shot up to grab Lucas’s shoulder. “Wake up, Lucas! Do you hear me? You’re not- ” His voice faltered, breaking into a rasp. “You’re not dying on me, you- wake up, damn it!”

The wail of sirens cut through the heavy air, loud and jarring. Ash barely registered it as a flurry of lights flashed from the distance. The sounds grew louder.

The ambulance doors slammed open as the paramedics rushed toward them.

Ash didn’t move. He didn’t waver. His hands stayed pressed against Lucas, even as the medics called out to him, their voices urgent but distant.

The ambulance- they came.

And then the paramedics were there, pulling Ash back- not gently but not roughly either.

He stumbled back, feeling cold all over as the paramedics worked. Lucas was being lifted and Ash stood there, unmoving, watching it all happen in front of him. He couldn’t hear much anymore; it was like the chaos had been muffled, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Ash blinked as the stretcher passed him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Lucas was still breathing. He could see that- the faint, rhythmic rise of his chest under the oxygen mask. And that should’ve been enough to let Ash breathe a little easier, but it wasn’t.

Because all of it- the blood, Lucas’s fading voice, the tear slipping down his face- was still playing over and over again in Ash’s head like a nightmare stuck on repeat.

Not to mention, Ash’s jacket was still in his hands. It was warm and sticky- with blood, of course.

And then, just as Ash tried to step forward, exhaustion hit him all at once. His knees buckled. His vision tilted.

“Hey! Someone get him!” a voice shouted, sharper this time. The paramedics. Ash barely processed it.

He collapsed before he could stop himself, his legs giving out beneath him. The cold ground met him in a dizzying blur. For a split second, he saw Lucas’s stretcher being loaded into the ambulance, but then the world spun, and everything tilted sideways.

Ash felt hands catch him, voices surround him, but it didn’t matter. All he could think of, as the exhaustion dragged him under, was Lucas’s weak voice and the look of quiet pain in his eyes.

If you die on me, I’ll kill you dumbhead.

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