Keep Running (Killjoy)

22

P.P.'s POV:
Missile Kid's surprisingly strong grip pulled me out of my disorderly bed and dragged me back to where Destroya was kept. It was early in the morning: hardly anyone else was roaming around the halls or even seemed to be awake, for that matter. I stayed quiet not to wake anyone up, but my tired mind wandered to thinking about why Missile was doing this.

She pushed me through the doorway, not allowing me to ask her anything. My eyes landed on my beautiful killjoy with fading silver-blue hair falling around her frowning face. Dark shadows circled Destroya's tear-reddened eyes and a weak smile appeared when she saw me. I walked over slowly to her bed and took one of her hands into mine, immediately surprised by its icy feel.

"Hi Gerard." She greeted quietly.

"Hey there. How's your condition? Are you getting better?" I asked, sounding more frantic and concerned than I'd thought.

She sighed and looked down, "No. I'm worse than before. They're actually giving me a week at most since my wound got infected."

My heart fell to the floor again as my brain processed her news. But I couldn't accept it to be the truth. She was the toughest person ever and there was no way she could die at such a young age. I instinctively wrapped her in an embrace as if it would heal her. Destroya's tears fell onto my shoulders and soaked my shirt a split second later.

"You're not helping." She grumbled into my shoulder.

"Well I don't think this is going to be easy anyways." I replied, letting her loose to see her face.

"I always sucked at letting people go. And this stupid shot is painful to deal with. Even the nurse could see my breathing pattern was messed up by it."

There was a moment of silence. Then I got an idea: "What would be something you would want to do while you've got time?"

"Why? It's not like I'll be getting up from this bed. I literally can't."

"Just tell me."

"Hmm...well it's great that you're here with me. I just don't want the reason for anyone being depressed for the rest of their lives."

"There won't be promises made on that, but we'll try. You'll at least be somewhere better than here and be watching over us and the ridiculously retarded things we do."

A smile broke out over her delicate face, "I thought you didn't believe in anything after life."

"Well, I guess I can picture a place for good people watching over the chaotic world and another like a fiery pit. You deserve to be up with the good people." I explained.

"Thanks." She said with a playfully sarcastic tone then laughed lightly again, wincing this time from having to flex her stomach muscles in the process.

"Seriously, let's do at least one thing that you want to, right now." I stated.

"Fine, I've only got one idea anyways that'll work out in this instance." She shrugged innocently.

Destroya's body shifted to lean on the arm closest to me while her opposite hand pulled my arm down, bringing our eyes to meet in close proximity. Hers were sparkling with a hint mischief and appeared to have a shade of blue in them, like the colors her hair had been dyed. But they focused on a point lower than my own eyes, exactly where I directed my gaze to a moment later after understanding her silent signal. Her hand had released my arm, now gripping at my shirt collar and powerfully connecting our lips. My eyes shut instinctively, allowing me to feel more of the contact shared between us: fireworks, electrifying sensations, and all the other cliche words.

Destroya pulled back quite a while after she started it, gasping quietly for air while I spoke:

"Are you sure you're hurt because that was fücking...wow." The comment expressed my surprise to her enthusiastic passion that didn't seem weaker in any way, possibly even stronger than before.

"Yeah, trying to refill my lungs after that is actually kinda painful. But it was definitely worth it, no doubt." She answered, lying back down on the bed.

I sat down on the bench-thing beside her, taking her cold hand into mine as I had done previously. A smile graced her face briefly as she began wincing with practically every breath. My eyebrows creased with worry, holding tightly onto her while calling for a nurse. Destroya was literally panting then and positioned her body to curl around her stomach, like she was trying to prevent hurting more. Seeing her face scrunch up from the wound was the cause for a terrible aching in my chest, making me want to regret caring for people. But I'd never regret this girl, she was something unique in the most positive way. 

"Ge-gera-ard..." She stuttered through my name like someone was choking her and suddenly relaxed with closed eyes.

I was afraid that she had been struck dead and called her name frantically a few times, finally stopping after seeing her head move. She firmly grasped onto my hand as a response and took a long inhale of air. I barely caught her next words, since they were practically whispered mumbles under her breath:

"I love you...too."

And with that phrase, her lungs breathed out the last of the air left in them. Her head rolled down as the iron grip on my hand slacked and the heart monitor's beeps turned into one constant tone. The nurse looked upset and left the room in respect to my wrecked state from being with my, now dead, girl. I quickly thought of what last words to tell her while we were alone. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, meaning my time was running out fast.

Then I remembered what she had said to her group whenever they had to endure some tough shít and needed encouragement. A few subconscious tears slipped from my eyes and, in a rushed voice, I managed to leave her with a message before anyone came in to kick me out of the room: "Keep running, Destroya."