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You had been leaving work when it happened.
You had seen on the news that gang activity had been up lately, but never in a million years would you have guessed that you would have gotten shot on a random Tuesday afternoon.
Getting shot hurts.
A lot.
But you couldn't feel it immediately. The adrenaline and shock got there first, and all you could think to do was gwak at the wound on your upper diaphragm.
Your collage student mentality took hold and instead of calling an ambulance like a normal person you knew someone who would patch you up for free.
"Donnie.."
You held the phone weakly. Your hand was shaking and the hot sticky blood soaked through your shirt and onto your hands.
"Y/n? Are you alright?"
"Shot."
You felt weak, stumbling and sliding to the ground.
"Y/n?! What- what happened?!"
"Been shot."
You repeated, coughing up blood. This wss the end. You were going to die in the allt beside your shit job that paid minimum wage. Life's a bitch.
"I love you donnie"
You whispered, your phone falling out of your hands. You had no strength to hold it anymore. You felt so bad. Poor donnie..it wasn't long before you had black spots bleeding into your vision.
You suddenly felt the pain of the shot in your stomach with glaring intensity. You doubled over, causing more screeching pain in your abdomen. You cried out, the world spinning around you.
.....
Donnie had tracked down your phone frantically, ever since the call had ended he had been rushing to track your location. He was trying not to cry and praying to anything that would listen that you would be okay once he found you. He drove the shell raiser down the street, not caring for speed limits.
He had tracked your phone in an alley beside the place you worked and he felt his heart stop when he saw the blood. He flung hi self out of the built train car and ran down the alley. His eyes were wide and his heart was beating out if his chest.
He was filled to the brim with worry and he was panicking. He saw the trail of blood and ran to find you. He found you face down, curled up in a puddle of your own blood and he let out an audible cry at your state. He ran to the ground, scrapping his knees as he fell down and scooped you up into his arms.
He held you so close to himself as he checked your pulse. You were too cold, and your pulse was very faint. But you were alive. You wouldn't be if he didn't act quick. He got up and was back in the shell raiser in a flash. Sure, the train car had a first aid kit but this wouldn't help a gun wound to the stomach. He saw you covered in your own blood as he laid you out and felt like throwing up.
He was covered in blood. Your blood. He couldn't take it.
He snapped into focus, flooring it to the lair. He drove with his hands still slick with your blood. He was shaking. How could he not? Adrenaline, stress, fear and extreme anger coursed through his system.
How could they do this to you?
Your just an innocent person.
You haven't done anything wrong.
He screeched into the garage of the lair, took you up and bolted to his lab. Leo stood waiting.
"Donnie wh- oh God."
His face fell and he went pale.
Donnie ran past him, laying him on a stable and fumblinging with bandages. Wait fuck he needed to apply pressure and stitch it up. Wait- stitches? How the fuck do you treat a gun wound. Keep it together! Apply pressure. Stop bleeding. Tourniquet, where are his Tourniquets?
.....
When you finally came to, you were staring up at a familiar ceiling in an unfamiliar room. You sluggishly looked down to your arm which was hooked up to a blood bag along with an IV drip. Your head felt light, and loopy. You must be on a pain killer.
You looked over to the other side if the cot you were on. Donnie lay sleeping, sitting my your side with your hand in his. You smile to yourself, wanting to cry. Though, that might just be because you were high off your ass.
In that moment, you realized what you wanted to do.
