𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 , 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

13 - THAT NIGHT , him

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1 9 9 7

like it was said, you had died pretty much on the spot. your body, just like any normal one flooding with adrenaline, had struggled to keep you alive for a few minutes, but the trauma had been too much. too fast.

sadly, for bobbie, fate had been on his side, but grateful was not the feeling he had felt as he groggily opened his eyes.

from an unknown source, an ambulance had caught word of the accident and showed up at the scene two minutes after the fact. someone had been putting a cold cloth on to his forehead, tending to the minor wounds on him, whispering soft words, and for a moment, he had thought it was you.

the gentleness of the fingers on his chest, and the scent of lukes vanilla cologne you had took from his room still haunting the air. it could've been an imagination due to shock, or dream, but your eyes were the first thing he had seen.

"bobbie." a voice said, a stern woman. definitely not you.

he groaned.

"can you hear me?"

"yeah," he muttered, still trying to remember the last few moments of his life before he blacked out, "what happened? why is my head pounding." his throat was so dry he could barely hear himself speak.

"you were in an accident. your car hit a tree, and it looks like you both got knocked pretty bad-" both.

nothing else the paramedic had said resonating with him. both. both. both.

the word repeated in his head like a bell from a clock tower. both.

you.

he sprung up, his body flooding with adrenaline once again, and he desperately looked around him. he was sprawled out on the grass, next to what looked like a car, but was really just a mess of metal that was wrinkled in a way he had never thought was possible.

"sir, we need you to lie down-" bobbie, with enough clouded judgement from his own physical trauma, had stuck his hand on the paramedics face in order to shut her up, and rose from the ground, traveling towards the other sounds around him.

hoping one of them would be you, sitting up like he was, calling his name.

but what he found was worse. much worse.

he walked, or more stumbled, around the car. he realized early on there was definitely something wrong with his right leg, the bone splitting pain was enough of a sign, but now ; he could barely walk at all.

he first saw your red vans, and your legs, and he realized you were laying on the ground. the flashing ambulance lights only offering a few seconds of clarity before disappearing for a moment more.

and with the sights, came the sounds.

"she's been gone for too long-"

"we still have a chance, rodney!"

"17... 18... 19..."

"willis, get me the bag valve!"

bobbies knees gave out, slamming into the ground, and his fingers dug into the wet mud. clenching with agony, with rage.

the rain that was still pouring dripped down his back and face. thunder cracked and lightening lit up the slack features of your face a few feet away from him. it startled him, for without the light your face had bled into the darkness of the midnight air around you.