Solangelo Oneshots

Nintey-seven

Nico's POV

"Rude. I'm only 97."

The words I never wanted to hear. But not now, please god not now. I can't deal with this right now. He's the only thing in life that keeps me going, but I had to joke about his age. Now he's dying. Here's how it went.

Will and I were walking around the city, taking in the sights, leisurely sipping coffee. Will said something along the lines of, "I'm so tired." I had replied with, "That's because you're an old man. You're, like, a hundred years old."

That's when he looked at me, put his coffee-free hand on his hip, and said in an extremely sassy tone, "Rude. I'm only 97."

Everyone has their soulmate's last words tattooed on their body. No one else can see them, and for some reason, it's impossible to tell anyone. Your voice just stops working. But I thought he would actually be 97 when he died. I had no doubt Will was my soulmate, and I was excited about growing old together. He would die happy, slightly sarcastically, when was 97. That's 71 years away. Or, that's what was supposed to happen. But what happened was this:

A bullet comes flying through the air, about to hit Will's chest. He wouldn't have noticed, but I push him out of the way, sacrificing myself instead. The corners of my vision start to darken. I hear police sirens, ambulance sirens screaming in the distance. I see Will sobbing over my dying body, and I realize something. The words aren't necessarily the last words your soulmate says, but the last ones you hear. Maybe Will will say something else. Then I won't die, and he won't die, and we'll grow old together!

He opens his mouth to say something, but I don't hear it. The world goes dark, I pass out. And I don't wake up again.