"When you said your job was fun, I didn't expect the bullets." Blood gushing from your open wound. Splatters of blood sprayed on the ground and her black shirt seemed to grow darker with every river of red that drifted.
"Well, when someone starts to shoot up the place, you take cover. What did you decide to do?! Tackle me and save my goddamn life." Deckard hissed while pressing his coat on your wound. He wouldn't lose you this time. He will save you this time.
"Deck-Deckard...," you stuttered while dribbles of blood dripped from your blood-filled mouth. You hacked on your own blood and began to convulse from choking on your metallic-like liquid.
"No, no, no. Look, look at me, (Y/n). Look at me," he hissed lowly, softly, yet gently. He held your face in his hands after he tore off part of your blouse to create a makeshift bandage.
Your head tumbled in his grip and he instantly checked your pulse at the side of your neck. Nothing; no pulse. He bit his lip harshly and laid your body down lightly.
"Deckard!"