"Alex..."
He's there, laying down on the cold concrete floor, breathing heavily, his eyes piercing through her. His saddened, questioning, painful eyes.
And, oh dear, he's bleeding.
Well, that's the understatement of the year.
"Al..." he tries to speak, but his body convulses, and he spits out a disturbing amount of the red liquid. It's like a sudden shot of a geyser of crimson.
"No!" blurts out Alex, whose palms are applying a firm pressure on the severe wound. "Don't speak. The medics will come to save you."
"I-I'll...be d-d-dead by then." Spencer's words barely manage to get out through his violent coughs and seeping blood.
His hands search, despite the uncontrollable spams, through his pockets, and Blake presses harder as she's glancing with horror at the expanding pool of red beneath the younger man.
"I-I'm n-n-numb. C-c-can't f-f-feel."
He can't even form his sentences properly anymore. The sadder part is that he thinks it's pathetic, and she knows it.
That's just enough for an attack of tears swelling in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Alex mutters, regret taking her in a chokehold. "This isn't right."
"I-I-I know. N-n-not your f-f-fault." He frowns. "S-s-smile?"
Oh, God. How cheesy. "I like it, though," she recalls one time when they were watching rom-com. Jesus Christ, Spencer's fucking dying and I'm here thinking about how cheesy he is.
How could she, though? Smile? At him? When he's practically seeing the face of death?
Mommy, you didn't smile when I was gone. Please give him what he wants.
Suddenly, a strength shoots up inside her and manages to grant her enough to wear a soft grin that Spencer found the most beautiful. She's here, despite the inevitable and saddening situation. The last thing he's ever going to see.
"Thanks."
His eyes eyes flutter close, and his chest ceases to rise once more.
Silence follows.
And then, a long, melancholic, thundering scream.