“Where do you think you’re going?”
A hand grabbed the back of Whumpee’s jacket, pulling them back, flush with Whumper’s chest. Whumpee clenched their fists as they felt Whumper’s face against the back of their head. They didn’t want to make a scene here, in the back shadows of the bar, packed as it was.
“To hell. Would you like to join me?” Whumpee asked snidely.
Whumper tsked into their hair. “Come on, darling, that’s no way to be. We had a deal, remember?”
“The deal was we meet in public.”
Whumpee tensed as a hand slipped just under the hem of their shirt, just enough to set them on edge.
“This is public,” Whumper purred, tugging them closer.
“Get off me,” Whumpee snarled, jabbing their elbow into Whumper.
Whumper’s arm wrapped around their waist and held on tight. “I do think this freedom has made you forget who you belong to. When you worked for me, you never would have fought me like this.”
“Drop the act, Whumper. What do you want?”
Whumper sighed and drew their arm back, keeping a firm grip on Whumpee’s jacket. “I don’t take well to deserters, remember?”
Whumpee heard the tell-tale sound of a knife being flicked out, and they couldn’t stop their jerking flinch.
Whumper laughed. “So you do remember. Good. Then this won’t take long.” The cold tip of the knife slid under Whumpee’s shirt and they went rigid against it. “I wanted to meet in public for two reasons, Whumpee dear. First, because it was the only way you would actually come. And second, because I don’t want this to kill you.”
The knife jabbed in, all the way to the handle, and no matter how many times Whumpee had felt it before, they would never be prepared. Their knees buckled underneath them. Whumper’s grip was the only thing keeping them upright. All breath seemed to leave their body in a vacuum, the world spinning away from them.
Then the knife was ripped out of them, and a scream was caught in their throat. Whumper chuckled into their hair, bringing the flat end of the knife to Whumpee’s face and wiping their own blood across their cheek.
“Don’t get in my way again, Whumpee,” Whumper murmured, and disappeared from behind them.
Whumpee crumpled to the floor, hands too busy clutching their wound to stop their fall. They let out a soft groan and screwed their eyes shut against the white covering their vision.
It was becoming harder to breathe from shock and adrenaline and probably blood loss. There seemed to be quite a lot puddling around them, and still more seeping out from between their fingers despite their best efforts. They focused on gaining control of their breath, counting in, 2, 3, 4. Hold. Out, 2, 3, 4. Hopefully once they’d calmed down they would be able to bandage their wound, but as it was, their hands were shaking and only getting worse.
It was impossible to tell how long they laid there, trying even their breaths, but eventually the focus on counting fell behind the effort it took to breathe at all. They were only shaken from their slow sink into unconsciousness by a wet splash nearby.
Someone cursed softly, then much louder. Whumpee looked over blearily and saw a pair of shoes turning red from the blood they’d stepped in. Very quickly the shoes became knees as whoever it was dropped into a kneeling position, reaching towards Whumpee but leaving their hands hovering centimeters away.
After releasing another colorful series of curses in a single breath, the person pressed their fingers to Whumpee’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “Hello? Are you alive?”
“Unfortunately,” Whumpee said. Or, meant to say. It came out as more of a pathetic whine.
Another curse. “Okay, hold on. I’ll call an ambulance, and--”
“Nhhh,” Whumpee managed, trying to sit up in protest.
“No no no no no, you stay down. You’ll bleed out faster if you sit up.” A beat of silence. “Do you not want me to call anyone? Any friends, or… if you did, you’re probably too delirious from blood loss,” they finished, more to themselves. “How did this happen? We’re in a bar, for f--”
They cut themselves off as Whumpee’s eyelids drooped again, head falling back down to the floor. “Hey, stay with me. I’m going to get you better.”
In a matter of moments, a thick bundle of cloth was pressed firmly against Whumpee’s wound, and their hands were placed on top of it.
“I need you to press down on that as much as you can. I’m going to carry you, okay?” The voice muttered a reassurance that, once again, seemed aimed at themself, before strong arms scooped up Whumpee’s weak form.
As their head leaned against a bare shoulder, Whumpee realized that the cloth they held was this person’s shirt.
They jolted as the person walked as fast as they dared without hurting Whumpee too much. They tried to hold on to consciousness, but as they caught sight of the cold stars twinkling overhead, their vision receded into darkness.
—
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