𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 , 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

13 - THAT NIGHT , him

slowly, he made it over next to you, reaching through the limbs of the crowd of paramedics surrounding you to squeeze your hand. it was all he could think to do. your fingernails were caked with dirt and your skin was covered with dried blood, but you were still warm. and he sobbed.

"28... 29... 30." the paramedic pressing on your chest let out a huge exhale, sitting up straighter, "go."

another paramedic, he was sure was the one named rodney, had a hesitant look on his face as he put a mask around your lips, and squeezed the bubble of plastic supply air into your chest. bobbie felt his own chest uncontrollably shaking as he saw your chest rise and fall in a way that was all but natural, produced by the bag valve, and begged you to wake up aloud, struggling to override the screaming chaos of the paramedics above him.

"that calls it." the first paramedic said, "three attempts after symptoms of respiratory arrest, official death-" he checked his watch, "3:26 am."

bobbie screamed.

he didn't hear it. he didn't hear it. he didn't hear it.

he refused to. he refused to believe it.

she can't. she can't. she can't die.

"NO." he said, rising from the mud and pushing the paramedics aside, ignoring their harsh words and grunts. he took the bag valve from the dirt and grabbed your chin in his hand. he felt his lips wrinkle in a sob as he looked at you. your eyes were shut, your lips gently parted, and your face was caked with mud. his jaw tightened as he spoke to you.

he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them slide down to your ear to whisper a weak "stay with me."

and, mustering all the strength his weak and broken body could give, bobbie took the biggest breath he could. and, it was then he knew, that the moment he had to resuscitate his best friend had became his worst. had become his lowest.

had become his new nightmare.

but losing you was worse. way worse.

every limb shook as they held his upper body over yours, and he struggled to hold the valve in the proper position. he breathed slow, and squeezed the valve once.

"come on," he grit through his teeth, twice.

three times.

his fingers ached. his mind begged. your body lay still, except for your mechanically rising chest. his breathing had stopped, or just severely worsened, as if he had psychologically given up the ability until you hadn't.

his hair was soaked, and it stuck to his forehead along with the sweat on his hair line. he pushed yours out of your eyes, and tears slid down his face, but it was hard to tell the difference between the rain and his tears. between the racked around him, and the chaos within him. between the pressing eeriness of the midnight air around him, and the sheer hopelessness inside of him.

paramedics tried to pry him off of you, but he shook them off, screaming at each one. screaming at you. he threw the bag valve deeper into the woods, choosing to only trust himself. he was the only thing he could count on now. only thing he could blame.

he watched as your body swayed on the ground as he pushed his palms into your chest, a move he had only watched on television but had found himself resorting to. his face contorted into another sob, and your head slid back and forth in the dirt. spit fell from his mouth onto your face, your lips, and he cried as he prayed you would wake up. he whispered your name, begging you not to leave him. begging you to be the one who stayed. to not meet the boys quite yet.

the paramedics gave up prying, and watched the boy struggle with the girl in the dirt.

"come on," hed whisper as he placed his lips onto yours, blowing air into your mouth, "come on," his voice was weak and strangled, the rasp could be barely heard over the pounding of the rain on his surroundings, to the sirens of the ambulance, "hey, hey hey-" every part of him shook, trembled with fear and exhaustion and depression and weakness, "WAKE UP." he screamed, giving up on physical matters and turning his hope to miraculous ones, "PLEASE WAKE UP !" he'd screamed into your chest, into your sopping tshirt. he felt his own spit slide down his lips and dampen the cloth as he kissed your stomach, creating lines of drool when he finally got taken off and away from you. soon, those strings were the only thing that connected you two, as bobbie lay on the grass, head next to yours. fingers still intertwined with yours, and he tried not to realize the temperature difference in them from a few moments ago.

he felt as if he was convulsing. every sob sent a jolt down his spine and up his limbs and to his heart, he screamed in agony in the mud. squeezing his eyes shut, never wanting to see the sight in front of him again, but he already knew it would be relived in his dreams for years to come.

that the regret of never fulfilling his promises to you would haunt him more than any ghost.

"i love you." was the last thing he muttered, barely audible, before the trauma,
the exhaustion,
the shock,
and the earth shattering heartbreak within the boy took over,
and he fell asleep next to you on the grass.

and both the kids lay unconscious, one much deeper than the other.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───