The Twin Flame: Grumpy x Sunshine

Exile

"You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out..."

Sam POV

"Karli!"

"Karli!" Sam bellows, seeing Karli kneel over you, her hands covered in your blood.

With the last strength and energy you can muster, you force your heavy eyelids back open, reeling yourself back in for the last time.

"It's okay. She's helping me." You hold out a weak, shaky hand to him, stopping him dead in his tracks. Sam's blood runs cold. His heart pounds against his rib cage, so loudly he can hear the blood roaring in his ears. He felt frozen, numb, and yet, he's certain he's never moved faster in his life. You chuckle, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, "Hey, Sam."

Sam's eyes frantically rake over your body, trying to process everything all at once.

"It's fine. You're- you're gonna be fine," he promises, though he's not quite sure if it's you you or to himself.

There's so much blood. Blood everywhere. Pooled on the ground. Covering your hands. It rapidly seeps out from the wound beneath Karli's hands. There's so much blood he can't even find the wound anymore.

"Would you believe me if I said it was a flesh wound?"

He knows you're hurting. He hears it in the labored breaths you take. He can see the fear in your eyes. And still, you're doing anything to make Sam feel better, to make this easier on him.

He halfheartedly laughs, tears welling in his eyes, "No."

"Barely even hurts."

It's not a very good lie. You both know that. It's the most unfounded, foolishly hopeful lie he's ever heard, and still, he holds onto it like it's all he has.

Because it is all he has.

"Just a scratch," Sam chortles, a tear slipping down his cheek.

You look up at him, once again attempting to console him, "I'm gonna be okay."

He gulps, nodding his head as he furiously wipes away the tear, "Yeah, yeah, you're gonna be fine. It's not that bad. We're gonna get you all fixed up."

You softly exhale, "Okay."

You're unable to bite back the pained whimper that leaves you mouth when Sam scoops you up from the ground, "Just hold on, alright?"

The muscles in Sam's jaw ticks as he tries to keep any more tears from spilling down his cheeks. This couldn't be happening. Not again. He couldn't lose you. Not like this.

He takes off, his muscles straining as he holds you in his arms, doing his very best to keep from jostling you around.

"I fought back Sam, I swear I did," you quietly murmur, just barely loud enough for his ears to pick up.

"I know. I know," he hushes you. "You're gonna be okay. Don't worry about that."

His assurances don't stop you from trying to explain. If this is it, you want him to know that you did everything you could to come back from this. "There was too many of them. I- I couldn't-"

"It's okay. You did so good. I'm so proud of you." Sam finds the words pouring out of his mouth. They're not words of resignation but he knows they may as well be. By all standards of the definition, those words would be very, very nice last words. He just needs you to hear this, even if it is just this once. "I've always been so proud of you."