Cold Blood

❥Chapter Forty-nine❥

Written by ChemicalWonderland

Ash POV

"Oh my gosh, Everett, oh my g-" I whisper frantically, my voice quivering violently. I quickly rip a large piece of fabric from my already torn, dirt-covered shirt, stuffing the shirt material against the bullet wound on his chest. Blood instantly stains the cloth, spilling my fingers crimson.

Everett groans softly, trying to prop himself up. He winces as he tries to move, eventually giving up after a few seconds.

"Here, let me help you," I say quietly, wrapping a hand against the unwounded side of his chest and his arm. "All you have to do is move your legs," I instruct him, beginning to lean him against a wall not too far away.

He hisses like a snake and stifles a small scream, face screwed up in effort. Even with all the purplish-blue bruises that trace his face, the trails of dried brown blood, and the hopeless, tired look in his eyes, he's still beautiful. The pain he wears only serves to make him appear stronger, someone far stronger than the stranger I met what feels like years ago, but was more like weeks.

I can't help but say the words that sting the tip of my tongue. "You're beautiful Everett," I say, now finding the faintest of tears in my voice.

He grins through the pain. "I know," he says, muttering ouch sharply under his breath directly after.

I pause, not sure what to say to that, then decide to not say anything about that at all, changing the subject. "So this is it?" I ask dismally, trying to fathom a life without Everett in it.

He gives me a misty-eyed look. "I don't know," he mouths almost silently. He hangs his head, almost black hair hiding his broken facial expression.

A surge of anger bursts through my veins. Not anger at him, but anger at myself. Slamming my fist roughly against the cold ground, I feel the impact echo through my bones. "I know I should've left you alone. We wouldn't be here if I had. I wanted you to move on, to settle down in a nice house with a wife and have a family so that you could never be touched by this imperfect world again. You wouldn't die."

My words seem to surprise Everett, because he looks up at me with a small frown between his dark brows. "You think you should go away? And that I would safe from the world? The world touches everybody's life and screws it over. You and I are walking testiments of that."

"But you would be better off, you wouldn't die here," I say forcefully, feeling as though he can look right through me, like glass of crystal clear water.

Everett gives me a strange look, retorting with, "You think I'd be alive without you? You're the only thing keeping me alive."

"But not for long. Don't you see? I'm the one doing this to you. I'm the one who's hurting you."

Everett shakes his head at me, probably feeling slightly frustrated at my refusal to listen to him. "You don't understand. I had nothing to care about before you came in and showed me that you can't constantly be detached. Without you, I wouldn't care that I'm bleeding out on my father's basement, taking my last breaths. But because of you, I care. And that's why leaving you is going to be so much more painful."

What Everett says stings my heart, an electric shock that seems to weigh me down with dread. "You can't leave. I can't let you die. Is there anything I can do?" I ask, sounding slightly desperate.

Everett's eyes flash darkly despite their translucent aqua color. "I want to get married," he says slowly, as if I'm a young kid that doesn't know English well.

"W-what!?"

"You heard me, I want to get married."

"How can we do that?"

"Right here, right now. It doesn't have to be public or official, it can just be the two of us having an impromptu wedding," he says, now speaking quickly. I notice he's growing out of breath and his skin is slowly becoming a shade of strange white. I'm losing him.

I grab his hands, deciding to fufill his last wishes. If he does really care about me, this should be tearful and heartfelt. But it just feels fake, like we're putting on a show so he'll feel loved by someone before he dies. That's when a thought creeps its way into my head:  or what if he's just doing this in pity of me? Because he doesn't want me to be heartbroken after his death and thinks I need closure.

"O-okay. I'll do it," I say, shifting awkwardly so I'm sitting up on my knees. I clear my throat, not sure where to begin, but Everett urges me to say something more with a nod of his head. "Okay. Um, I'm here today, to uh, unite these two people in holy matrimony." I speak in a funny, high pitched voice.

Everett hides a grin. "Be serious," he says.

I choose to ignore his remark, continuing to talk and knowing I'm messing up how weddings are supposed to work but I don't care. "These two have been through butcherings and tortures, and now they're ready to get married. . ." I trail off, stifling a laugh.

I continue droning on, finding myself unable to look at Everett as I talk because I know I'll cry. Staring at the wall behind him, I focus on the cracks and smudges like I'm fascinated by them. My voice is all that fills the silence as I'm about to deliver the final lines- wishing I knew what priests actually said- not even the sound of Everett's breathing to interrupt me.

WAIT.

With panic overwhelming me, I look down at Everett's unconscious frame. He looks much younger with his eyes closed, every smudge or imperfection smoothed out like silk. And I can't tell if he's breathing. But I think I already know the answer. I feel like I'm dying.

"Groom, you may now kiss the groom."