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Reaver grasped Gotham’s hand tightly, squeezing to express his affections. He smiled weakly down at the other, giving a broken laugh.
“Hey Goth y-you remember the time we skinny dipped in old man Roland’s pool? He was so angry when he saw us that he chased us down the street in nothing but our socks.”
“Your rambling…”
“I’m not. I’m trying to bring up some happy memories. We shouldn’t be s-sad right now.”
“I don’t need them. I remember everything just fine, silly. You don’t need to bring them up just for me,” the whine haired male wheezed.
Reaver’s other hand pulled Gotham in closer and held him close. He didn’t care that his shirt was slowly being stained a deep red, or how cold the other’s skin started to become. He needed the small comfort.
“It helps me,” he mumbles pathetically against the shut-in’s neck.
Gotham’s body convulsed on its own and he coughed violently. Reaver could hear emergency siren’s in the distance, but they wouldn’t make it. He knew that already. Gotham was bleeding out too quickly.
“That car was meant for me,” the older man sobbed, “Why?”
“I didn’t really… think,” He took a short breath, “I just moved… All that mattered was s-saving you.”
Reaver pulled away and ran the back of his blood covered hand across a paling cheek, “It was so brave of you,” he tried to smile again, but he couldn’t hold it.
Gotham weakly reached his hand across his stomach and laced his fingers with the magenta haired man’s. His eye lids were becoming heavy, and he was starting to feel a bit light headed. He barely felt Reaver’s lips against his. Everything was numb and with his remaining strength he squeezes his hand trying to comfort somehow.
It was funny. His lover was dyeing right in front of him and he was the one being comforted. Gotham had to have the heart of a saint. Facing death didn’t dampen his caring attitude.
“I… Love you Reav.”
“St-stop it, please. Why can’t you act like you’re supposed to?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“No. I saved you. I’m… I’m happy,” Gotham went into another coughing fit.
Reaver just sat through it as calmly as he could, pushing aside several strands of wine hair. Not much time left, he could feel it and the sirens were no closer. Gotham’s head lulled onto the older man’s shoulder.
“ ‘M sleepy Reav, and cold.”
“Th-” The words caught in Reaver’s throat, “Then close your eyes and sleep. You d-deserve it.”
“Dun be sad. Kay Reav?”
“Y-Yeah Goth.”
He pet the smaller male with a shaky hand and watched amber eyes slide shut for the last time. A content smile hung on Gotham’s lips as his breath became shallow, and then stopped all together. The man sat there fighting back the inevitable. The moment he felt Gotham’s cold hand slide lifelessly from his, his resolve shattered and he wept hard. He’d never find someone as strong as caring at Gotham ever again.
FIN