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"P-Please... Stay with me... Please..." Mark said through loud sobs, grabbing Jack's hand, interlacing their fingers.
The loud wailing of sirens enveloped the scene, Jack was carried onto a stretcher by paramedics, his body bleeding badly and his chest with a huge gash on it. The sight was horrid and Mark couldn't stand to watch him as his eyes remained shut, possibly forever. All he could do was think, think about what would happen if he didn't make it. What would he do? His best friend and lover could possibly die right there, leaving him alone to stand against the world. He couldn't bear to think about it anymore as he, together with two paramedics carrying Jack, boarded the ambulance.
"Will he be okay?" He asked the paramedics, his voice shaky as he held no attempt to mask his sadness.
"Don't worry mate," One of them spoke, "He'll be fine. We're sure he can be saved by our doctors. Stay strong."
That didn't make Mark feel any better. His mind engulfed with the memory of that day, everything that happened just seemed to depress him more.
Jack and Mark had been good friends since they were 15. Now, 21, they finally confessed their love for each other and were happy together. The day of the incident, they were walking through the town in the middle of the night.
"Hey, let's go in there. I've never been inside a gay bar before." Jack said excitedly as he pointed at a glowing neon bar sign.
"Eh. Sure, why not. It'll be fun." Mark shrugged his shoulders. A warm smile appearing on his face.
They held hands, ready to discover this new experience awaiting them as they stepped into the entrance of the bar. As soon as they walked in, the high octane music and atmosphere kicked in, filling the two with energy. The bar was lively, with many empty seats at the bar but a filled up dance floor. They walked towards the bar and sat down, admiring the scene around them. It was truly magical seeing all the guys and girls dance around, no one giving two shits about each other's lives, just focusing on having a good time and dancing the night away. They sat down and ordered a few drinks.
After way too many drinks and a soda, Jack was hammered.
"Jesus, this shit is good..." Jack said, the drunkenness apparent in his voice.
"Don't get too fucked up, that's my job." Mark chuckled and took another sip of his soda.
They were having a good time just talking and laughing until eventually, the bar had to close for the night. At that point, it was already 1am in the night and the streets were dead silent, with the occasional car passing by every few minutes. Mark wrapped one of Jack's arms around his neck, supporting him as they walked. Jack was beyond drunk, he could barely even walk straight.
"Look at all those lights!" Jack randomly shouted, his face lit up like a firework.
"Huh. You really can't handle alcohol at all." Mark laughed, turning to admire his boyfriend in his drunken state. He hadn't drunk a single drop of alcohol, knowing his own tolerance for alcohol was nonexistant. Also, he just hated how it could change peoples' behaviour.
They turned a corner only to find a dimly lit alleyway. Mark sighed as he was greeted with the generic cliched situation. 'Dark alleyway, middle of the night, of course. Thank God this is real life.' He thought to himself. He dragged Jack along as they started down the alley, staying on edge the entire time.
"Who the hell are you two? What the fuck are you doing here." A low male voice said, obviously annoyed at their presence.
The man revealed himself, he was much older than them, he was a tall, burly man with tattoos of all kinds on his arms. He looked like the typical stereotype of person who beat people up just for fun.
"We're just passing through to get home, so sorry." Mark said sheepishly, he didn't want to cause any trouble, especially with a person like that.
"Oi, get out of our way you bloody fatass." Jack spouted, clearly unaware of the situation at that point. Mark swallowed hard, he knew what kind of shit would happen next.
That ticked the man off and he pulled out a switchblade from his pocket.
"H-Hey, no need to start any fights. He's just drunk as hell. I need to get him home." Mark said, stuttering. He realised the situation they were in. This guy was dangerous and Jack would get them screwed over. For once, he just wished that Jack would shut up and continue walking. Those wishes, however, were dashed as Jack opened his mouth again.
"Yeah, just fuck off asshat." Jack shouted again.
That pissed the man off further. He held his blade out, the dim light reflecting from the silvery glint of his blade. He charged towards Jack, his eyes flared up with anger. He slammed Jack against the floor, resulting in a loud cracking sound. He started slashing his chest, cutting his shirt and leaving a big slash on his chest. He screamed in pain, as if he finally woke up from his drunkenness. Mark's eyes widened in fear, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. He felt powerless as he just stared at the man who had slashed at his boyfriend, tearing rolling down his face. The man stopped, satisfied with what he had just done. He got off of Jack and walked away, ignorant to any crying or pain he heard behind him. Mark stared at Jack, who stayed still and lifeless. He realised what had just happened and was rudely shocked back to reality.
"Oh fuck oh fuck what do I do..." He was panicking, shit.
He grabbed for his phone and called for an ambulance. He then turned to Jack, who was still not moving. He looked at him from his head to his chest, realising the damage done. He had deep cuts around his body, his shirt was torn, barely hanging on by a few threads of fabric. His nose was red and bloody, his eyes shut. Mark reached for Jack's hand and interlaced his fingers with Jack's. Ten minutes passed and the ambulance arrived.
Back in the present, Mark realised that they finally arrived at the hospital. They rushed Jack into the A&E department and Mark remained outside, watching as his love disappeared past swinging doors. He sobbed quietly as he waited for any sign of hope that Jack would be okay.
An hour passed and a doctor walked out into the waiting hall, a sombre look on his face.
"Are you the one who came up with the other man?" The doctor asked and Mark nodded his head.
"I'm Doctor Grimm. I'm so sorry. The bleeding... It filled his lungs and his ribs are broken. He has a broken leg and some spinal injuries. We've done everything we can but, i'm afraid we couldn't save him. He's in intensive care right now and it would be advised for you to say your last farewells." The doctor continued.
Mark was ruined. He stood there wide-eyed as he digested the information he was given. His best friend, no, his lover, would be gone forever. He felt dizzy as his throat started to fill with sour bile. He swallowed it down and followed behind the doctor, who gestured for Mark to follow him. The walk felt painful as he tried to choke back the tears dripping from his eyes. When they reached the room, the doctor opened the door for him and allowed him to enter.
"When you're done, please let any nurse know. I'm so sorry for your loss." The doctor said and disappeared down the hall.
Mark walked over to Jack. He saw him, laying in the bed in a hospital gown, his wounds stitched up and wiped off. He looked at the peacefulness on his face, the only warming thing about the entire situation. Mark reached for Jack's hand and help it firmly, finally allowing himself to cry freely. He regretted everything and blamed himself for what had happened. He was helpless when he watched Jack being ripped apart. Now, his faint sobs turned to loud weeps. He knew that there was no way to bring him back, it wasn't possible, but he kept wishing, hoping, praying that somehow, if he hoped hard enough, Jack would return to him. He squeezed Jack's hand, it felt cold and lifeless.
He knew.
He knew he was gone.
He tried his best to choke out the last few words he could.
"I love you."