I'm sorry.
Blood soaked through Crutchie's shirt, pooling on the ground in front of him. He clutched the knife wound in his stomach and sunk to his knees, gasping in pain.
Suddenly, he saw a shadowy figure enter the alley he was in. As the figure got closer, Crutchie could tell it was Jack, even through his rapidly blurring vision. Jack ran to Crutchie and got on his knees, clutching his hand tightly. "I'se been looking everywhere for you, Crutch! What the hell happened? Who did this to ya?"
Crutchie drew in a shakey breath and squeezed Jack's hand. "Th-they dragged me into this alley a-and they tried to mug me, b-but I didn't have money so they-"
Jack put a finger to Crutchie's lips, hushing him. "Ssh," he muttered, "we gotta get you back to the lodge."
Crutchie shook his head, tears spilling out of his eyes and on to his cheeks. "N-no, Jack, I can't move."
Nervously mumbling to himself, Jack pulled Crutchie in for a tight hug, being careful not to put any weight on Crutchie's gash, which was bleeding out at an alarming rate. "I'm not lettin' you go, Crutch. Not on my watch," Jack whispered; Crutchie could hear the distress in his voice.
Crutchie gave a weak nod and clung on to Jack tightly. He breathed in Jack's comforting, familiar scent one last time.
The blood spilling out of Crutchie's knife wound eventually started soaking Jack's vest, but Jack didn't flinch. "You're bleedin' so much..." he said softly.
Crutchie chuckled half-heartedly. "Yeah... I guess this is the end then."
Jack pulled away so he could look at Crutchie directly, but he still kept his arms wrapped securely around him. "No," he grunted. "You ain't dyin'."
This time it was Crutchie who pulled Jack into a hug. Jack held him close and began to sob, soaking Crutchie's shoulder with tears. "You'se my brother," he whispered. "I-i can't l-lose you."
Crutchie only cried harder, from both Jack's crying and the burning sensation in his stomach as he continued to bleed everywhere. "It just hurts... It hurts so damn much," he cried, gripping Jack's vest with clenched fists.
"Ssh, I know, I know," Jack comforted, pulling back and planting a small kiss on Crutchie's forehead.
"M-make it stop, Jack. Please!" Crutchie pleaded, letting out a choked cry of pain.
Jack held on to him as tight as he could and started singing to Crutchie in a quiet tone, his voice quivering slightly. Jack sang the same tune he always sang to Crutchie on the rooftop; a song about Santa Fe.
Crutchie tried to ignore the pain in his stomach as he listened to Jack's familiar tune. Once Jack finished, Crutchie's vision was blurred, and he had started floating in and out of conciousness. He thought about his times with Jack and the other boys. How would they all react when he didn't come back to the lodge? What would they have to say about Jack's bloodstianed clothes? Pushing those thoughts aside, he thought about all the things he never got to do, like going to Santa Fe with Jack.
"Hey, Crutch?" Jack said quietly.
"J-jack?"
"How are ya?"
"Jack, I..." Crutchie stopped. "Just... don't forget me."
Jack didn't protest this time, he knew good and well what was happening. These would be his last moments with his brother.
Suddenly, Crutchie went limp, and his hitched breathing, which had been growing more unsteady by the minute, stopped.
His world went pitch black, and the last sound he heard was Jack's anguished cry as he took him by the shoulders and made a weak attempt at shaking the dead boy back to life.
Again, sorry.