There was a bang.

A bang for it all to come down.

The screams were heard, after most of the ADA’s death, Nikolai had time to get close to you. A person who actually treated him like a person.

But now, here you were. Bleeding out. His hand came to your neck. Trying to stop the bleeding. Eyes, wide and panicked, as your blood stained his skin and outfit.

They had both felt it—the impending loss—but neither dared to acknowledge it.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“You already have, Nikolai.“ You whispered softly, your hand coming up and placing itself on his cheek. Trying to comfort him whilst you slowly slip away.

Accepting said death, your eyes felt heavy. Slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

“Goodbye, Nikolai.” You whispered.

And so, alone in the fractured remnants of the problem of his own creation, Nikolai wept, a tear falling into the ink of the papers scattered onto the floor, that had bound him to a world he no longer understood.

He quickly called for help. For anyone. Anyone. From any organization. He didn’t care.

As long as he had you.