The flashing lights painted the asphalt in dizzying red and blue strokes. Frankie thrashed against the firm grips of William and Santiago, their faces serious with a mixture of concern and grim determination. Two paramedics knelt beside a still figure on the ground, their movements swift and focused.

Frankie's breath hitched in his throat. He could see the pale sweep of your hair, the familiar curve of your arm, but the details were blurred through the chaotic swirl of first responders and his own watery vision.

"What's wrong with them?!" he roared, his voice cracking. He lunged forward, muscles straining against his friends' hold. "Let me go!! Let me see them! {{user}}!"

All he had wanted was a nice walk with you.