Dreams are made from White Strings [Kimblee x Reader]

19.: Three Words

Had you reacted just a second later, he would have been dead instantly. But it was bad enough like this too, because, despite your efforts, Heinkel's fangs had buried themselves in Kimblee's neck and shoulder.

"No!", you screamed when the chimera opened his jaw again and Kimblee fell to the ground. He was bleeding strongly and obviously not in a good condition.

"Kimblee!" There was panic in your voice. He was dying. You ignored everything that was happening around you, just focusing on him.

"You can't die on me!", you continued to scream, grabbing him and shaking him, but he didn't react, other than spitting blood.

This couldn't be happening. He couldn't die, he couldn't just leave you after everything that had happened. After he had kept you from ending your life, he just couldn't lose his!

"Fuck, Kimblee!", you cried. "Don't leave me!"

The words were out before you could even comprehend yourself what you were saying. But you didn't care, you didn't even think - everything that was important right now was that Kimblee wouldn't leave you. Because he was more than just your superior. More than your tormentor. He was the one who had saved Isa, had saved you several times, and turned your life around.

Before you had met him, you had just been a miserable, poor girl without any hope left. He had given you perspective, the possibility to heal your sister and the mentality to keep fighting, no matter what. He had given you so many things, even if he had never intended to.

"You made me strong", you whispered to him.

There was no sign of comprehension, and your panic made you slump down helplessly next to him. You had to do something, you had to save him, somehow.

There was nothing you could do. The fight between the child and the others continued around you, but you didn't take notice. There was just you and Kimblee.

And your medical equipment.

The moment you realized that you could, in fact, do something, you ripped open your bag and begann tending to his bleeding frantically. Your hands were shaking, but you recalled exactly what you needed to do.

Al, Heinkel and the others had fled in a car, leaving you with the injured Kimblee and the homunculus child. You didn't pay any attention to him, however, since you were focused on attending to Kimblee's wound. You had to stop the bleeding.

"And you are?", the child asked.

"Kimblee's subordinate", you managed to answer without stopping your work.

Kimblee spat blood again, and you knew that there was barely any chance to save his life. That didn't stop you.

"Well, my job here is done. If Kimblee dies, so be it", the child said, sounding disinterested.

The next time you had a few seconds to check, he was gone. Instead, a few men from Kanama were approaching you.

"I need a car!", you shouted over the them.

"What happened, (y/n)?", one of them asked, running over to you. He stopped his rush when he saw the pool of blood. "Shit."

"We don't have a car", the other man said. "But I could get a cart."

"That would help", you looked at the man pleadingly. Because he knew you, he immediately turned around to get one.

Once you had carefully placed Kimblee on the wooden cart, the men and you started pushing him to your small house, which was actually more just four walls and a pitched roof.

During the whole ride, you watched Kimblee and checked if he was still breathing.

"If you need anything, call us."

You thanked the men for their help, but just concentrated on the wound again. In this moment, you would have given everything for being an alchemist specialized in healing. Being just an ordinary human, everything you could do was trust in your skills and hope for the best.

•

The situation reminded you much of the one years ago. When you first had met. This time, though, Kimblee's condition was a lot worse.

Life was seeping from him. You knew it.

His breathing was flat, barely there, and decreasing with every inhale. You kneeled next to him, watching over his dying body. Exhaustion overcame you, and you laid down on the hard floor, since he was occupying the mattress. You didn't mind one bit. He was dying, after all, and even though he in no way deserved it, being the horrible man he was, you wanted to provide him every possible comfort in his last moments.

In your desperate state, you reached for his hand and gently intertwined your fingers with his, something you would have never dared to do had he been conscious. But you wanted - no, needed - the contact.

You watched him intensly, trying to carve his still living form into your mind, to not forget him.

In this moment, you finally realized what whas going on with you, what he had done to you. Now that you knew, an irrepressible need to voice your feelings overcame you, like a flood bursting through a broken dam, the words tumbled from your lips.

"I love you."

His breathing remained steady.