My headphones didn't charge and someone told me to die. I have all the right to make this angst.
What are you supposed to be thinking when your life practically replays in front of you? Were you even supposed to be thinking in that time?
Whatever the right thoughts were, Mona couldn't think them. She felt cold for a moment. Each and every sense faded away gradually.
She could barely see anything, but she could feel somebody grabbing her.
"Mona! Mona, what the fuck happened??!" She knew the voice. She only knew the usual snarky tone, however. The voice she heard so often was rarely sincere. His voice—Scara's voice—it sounded genuinely panicked.
"You—fuck—you tell me, asshole. I get- get caught in an ambush and...fuck- and now we're here." It hurt to form words; it hurt to do anything.
Scara didn't let go of Mona. He only held onto her tighter, attempting to avoid touching any other wounds. He absolutely refused to admit it, but he was terrified of causing her anymore pain than she had most likely already been in.
"Shit, how long have you been out here?!" "As if- as if I'd remember-.... A few hours at most." The panic worsened once Scara heard hours. He knew how much time he had to save her, and that made it seem impossible. Mona tried to sit up, visibly increasing her pain. Scara forced her to lay down again with little hesitation. "No. No, don't you dare fucking move. Don't do anything."
Mona begrudgingly complied. "Why? Scara, we're—in the middle of nowhere. If you plan on helping me, you're—you're about four hours too—late."
God, he wanted to slap her in that moment. He refused to let this girl die. He didn't want to hear how much time he had left. If there was even a small window of time he could get Mona to safety, he would use that time.
"Shut up. Listen here, asshole. You aren't gonna die fucking die here. I'm not letting that happen, okay?! So for Archons sake, stay fucking still—"
"Scara."
Mona's voice turned just as sincere as Scara's. She slowly lifted herself up once again, only to ring her arms around his neck. He tried to forced himself not to move; Mona could feel his body tremor.
"Scara, we both know- the reality of things. I mean, you've probably- you've seen death left and right. You should know I'm a goner—" "—No, don't say that!"
Mona could hear Scaramouche albeit her lack of senses. She choked out a noise resembling a laugh. The lack of feeling made it impossible. "You're crying." Scaramouche wasted no time bringing the girl closer to him. He cried, holding onto her limp, cold body.
"Hey...the stars-...stars look beautiful—tonight. Don't they..?"
Mona's arms dropped from around Scara's neck. Scaramouche laid her body down on the ground, and he moved his hand over eyes as a means to close them.
On the verge of unadulterated sobbing, he kneeled next to Mona's body. Now, if there was one thing Scaramouche made clear to Mona, it was that he never believed or showed any care for the stars. However, hearing those words. The few words she chose to say on her death bed...
"They...they really do, Mona."
Those words made him believe everything she said.
Keep in mind, I wrote this while trying not to think about the fact that somebody told me, my best friend, and my S/O to die. So if there's any grammar mistakes, point em out and I'll fix that!
