"It's bad," he says.

"It's not so bad," you lie.

"Listen..." you kissed him to shut him up, your hands pressing at his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "Help is on its way. Just hang on."

"All those years I thought I was living, I was merely waiting for my life to begin. My life began with you. It will end with you," he said.

"Stop talking like that. You're going to be fine," you tried to hold back your tears. But the blood just keeps flowing through your fingers. What are two hands against a tide?

He grabs your hands, raising them off his wound and kissed each finger. "I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Your heart swells to bursting. Then shatters as a rising panic chokes you. He is saying goodbye. This CAN NOT be goodbye. "Please," you beg, "please hang on. Don't leave me."

"Be brave for me," his voice grows hoarse. "Be happy..."

His fingers slip from yours.