Memories flashed back, scenes of her, scenes of the blood-splattered floor, sounds of Headur meowing, sounds of people panicking. His torn up leg, his Dhreim. (LOL U GET IT...U GET IT???? HIS "DHREIM?" )
"...losing blood fast.."
He tried to remember. What she had said. For god sakes, what did she say.
Rivaille opened his eyes groggily. He wasn't in the real world, he felt like he was floating...in water. He just laid there, silent, cold, covered in a blanket of darkness. He remembered being beat up, remembered stealing, remembered how much people he killed...How much people he hurt. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Rivaille was so tired, tired and cold. Sick of killing, sick of not being able to know warmth. He slowly closed his eyes until he felt a little spark of warm. Memories of him and Dhreim flooded back in, the happy memories. The day where they first met, the day when he first kissed her, the day where he felt like his heart was ripping out, the day where they both left... He didn't want to die, not yet. He wanted to know what she said at the end, he wanted to hug her closely and never ever let her go again. Rivaille closed his eyes and a single tear rolled out.
"I love you."
"...I love you too."
Lance E. Rivaille woke up from a coma the doctors had put into him. He woke up with a bunch of tubes in him, a bandage wrapped tightly on his left thigh and a migraine thingy coursing through him. He stared at the white ceiling, the bright white ceiling and wondered. He was told he was shot in the left leg, near the thigh and that the bullet had sliced through an artery. They told him that they were probably found hours after they've been shot and it was a miracle they survived. They asked him questions, but he would answer. What they wouldn't tell was what had happened to his female companion. His dull hazel eyes glazed over, and he could only say one word.