The tips of his fingers were already cold. It felt horrible. Those fingers never would play piano again. And his arms? Would never be able to protect someone. He felt his legs, blood-soaked, they no longer run. The same with his back, against the cold ground, they would not touch the soft warm mattress at morning in a dorm at the academy. Ah, the academy… Never more would bow his chest to find someone who did not like over there (or feel the fur of a cute cat). Nevermore would recognize a flower by the smell, because his nose no longer worked. His ears would not hear music anymore. His lips, throat, tongue… Do not pronounce nor scream as always, because he did not have more strength for it. His eyes, now blinded by darkness, never would see the light shining in Leo's iris. He would never see who was crying over his dead body. Well, he wanted to cry too. But he could not. He would never cry or smile anymore. Never.

It was too late.