Jean clasped Armin's hands in his, they were so cold and pale, his fingers slightly curled above Jean's. That night was so horrible, a nightmare. There was nothing he could do, there wasn't. It was just like Armin to attempt to be the peace keeper, to step in the middle of a fight and find a solution. You idiot. Jean's eyes were red and bruised from the tears, and the fact he was up for seventeen straight hours with the police.
"So Mr. Arlert saw the two men mugging the lady on the corner of South. He walked up, attempting to talk sense to the men. When he was shot. One shot located just below the heart."
Jean couldn't keep his head upright, it was the same repetitive string of words – "Yes. Yes. That's right. I called the police. I tried to stop the bleeding." Over and over again, answering the same questions with the same goddamn answers.
They rushed Armin into emergency surgery. Jean could only remember being held down, as they carted Armin on the bed behind the plastic doors, so much blood. He remembered making it to the bathroom just in time, the vomit burnt his throat and there was blood all over the sink.
"Somebody help me! Please, please somebody call an ambulance!" Jean screamed, the blood was spurting everywhere. The blood poured out of the gaping wound, on the street. He pushed his hands down where the blood was, it was so warm, it smelt of rusted metal.
"Jean, Jean is the lady okay? Did they hurt her badly?" Armin coughed, a trickle of red spilling from his mouth.
"Armin shut up, just shut up, you idiot! Why did you do that?!" Jean cried out as he continued to press down on Armin's chest.
Jean lifted his head lazily, brushing his lips over Armin's hands. The faint movements of the blanket caused by his breathing. The gentle beeping of the machine. Slowly, the jagged lines on the monitor above faltered.
"Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me here by myself." Jean's tears fell onto Armin's hand.
The little green lines started to run flat, the machine Armin was hooked up to was beeping repeatedly. Jean snapped his head up and wiped his eyes, the blurring little numbers on the screen were declining rapidly.
"No, no, don't you go. Armin don't leave me! I need you!" Jean held his hand up to Armin's cheek, he's so cold.
The soft movements of his breathing stopped. The frantic beeping of the machine echoed an alarm, alerting doctors. Jean squeezed Armin's lifeless hand, nothing. He intertwined his fingers in blonde hair, clenching his hand, nothing. The doctors and nurses burst through the door, pushing Jean aside.
"Sir you need to leave now." A nurse pushed Jean from the bed.
"He's flat lining." Another nurse pressed buttons on the monitor.
"Nurse get the defibrillator." The doctor pulled up his sleeves, leaning over Armin.
Jean's whole body was shaking, "What's going on? What are you doing? Is he going to be okay?"
"You need to leave this room now." The nurse pushed Jean to the door of the room, where two security officers took Jean under the arm, dragging him out of the room.
Jean cried as the officers placed him in the chair opposite the room, he didn't want to think the worst. As his breathing quickened, Jean clutched his chest. Sharp pains dug into his chest, crawling up to his neck. His left arm tingling a little, his nails digging in to the skin above his heart. He could hear yelling from the other side of the door. Then one last continuous beep.
Jean stared out the window. The bruising falling down above his cheekbones. His eyelids were dark and sunken, lips pale and cracked. His whole face gaunt and washed over, why did you leave me here by myself Armin?
Jean gazed at the reflection of the little white pills next the glass of water. Scooping them in the palm of his hand, Jean threw them in his mouth before gulping a mouthful of water. Mustering up the last amount of energy in his body, Jean opened the door of the now empty home they used to share.
He walked for a while, deep into the city. The pavement was slick because of the rain. He could vaguely hear the cars honking on the busy street.
"I'll be with you again, very soon Armin." Jean stumbled, barely able to keep himself upright.
Holding out his hand, a faint smile crept over Jean's cracked lips.
The last thing he ever remembered was the cold, wet pavement against his face. The little trickles of blood over his cheeks. Not being able to move his body. The lights slowly dimming to darkness around him. People screaming for an ambulance and Armin standing amongst the crowd of shocked bystanders, whispering to Jean that it's all going to be okay.