50.

I held Tino's hand, trembling. His skin, like pale parchment, was glistening with perspiration. His half-lidded eyes looked towards me, pleading forgiveness. He was lost. He would never come home. I bent over him racked with tears.

"No," I whispered. "Don't. Or else I will—"

"Don't threaten death, Berwald." Tino responded softly.

"Please, don't say goodbye."

"I wasn't planning on it." Tino gave me a cracked, broken smile. Blood trickled down his mouth, scarring his already fragile skin. He shut his eyes, as if the light pained him.

"Don't leave me."

"So many commands, don't you think? A dying man can only do so much."

A choked sob broke through my throat. I held him tightly. I was a loyal husband, wasn't I? I cared for him. I avenged myself, I had battled Matthias. But I was still in that alley. I was still grasping Tino's dying hand. Nothing I did was of any use.

"Come home with me." I whispered, bending my forehead over, touching his chest. He was leaving, so quickly. I could hear his heart pounding, more slowly now.

Tino shook his head vaguely.

"Was I good?"

"You weren't good, you were great. You were better than good. You were better than I deserved. You were the only thing I needed, you are what I need now. Hold out, just a moment longer, until the doctor comes."

"Don't cry, no, please…" Tino's voice wavered. "Or I will too."

"I can't help it!" I asserted, pulling him up to a sitting position. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips and staining the front of what was left of his shirt. I had wrapped gauze around his wounds, but the mass of gore was still there. He was wounded in the stomach, too. I hated Matthias. I hated that bastard. I hated him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I wanted to tear his throat out. I wanted to put that bullet in his head, the one that would kill him not long after Tino vanished from my arms. But I was immobilized. I could barely breathe. The moments I would never see with Tino, his next birthday, the next holiday, fell before me, scattered like shattered glass.

But, maybe it… It was for the better? Was I ever worthy of Tino? I doubted it, I sincerely doubted I could have had the angelic being all to myself. But I wanted just a moment longer. My brain felt like it may just explode in a matter of moments.

If only I could have a moment longer…

I pleaded with someone, anyone.

Tino's life trickled away.

I forced my attention back to him. I held him tightly. He was too weak to speak. Blood continued to pour from his wounds, a dam broken. Life's water, delicate, congealing, leaving him, slowly. Where was that damn doctor? Did I even call for one?

"Hold out a moment longer, Tino. Shh, I'm trying my best." I hissed desperately, pressing a torn piece of my shirt to his wound, trying to stem the blood flow from his stomach.

Tino, kind Tino, gentle Tino, brave, accurate, deadly, loving, homey Tino…

"It's time for you to let me go, Elder Berry…" Tino managed to gasp out. His eyes unseeingly searched for me, gave up, and then slid shut. "Please… I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to be jealous anymore. I don't want to lose you."

It was selfish. It was so selfish. I wanted to go first. I couldn't bare it. I wanted to break something. My heart was being ripped apart. Worlds were colliding. The sun might go super nova at any moment. Anything, please, anything to not give me this agony.

"The river is overrunning," Tino said quietly.

"How? Why? Which river?"

Tino grabbed my arm, pooling his strength for this last effort.

"Berwald I love you."

"And I love you, more than I can fathom. More than anyone can fathom. I love you more than I lo…"

But it was too late.

I felt no more tears. I had gone numb. I pulled Tino closer, embracing him softly, and letting him go, for now.