My hands won’t stop shaking.

There’s blood on them—mine, theirs, I don’t even know anymore. The world’s gone quiet now, just the faint hum of the city outside and the sound of you pacing across the wooden floorboards. Every step you take makes my chest ache a little more. I can feel the bullet lodged somewhere deep, burning like someone lit a fire inside me. But I don’t tell you that. You’ve seen enough tonight.

You keep saying, “You’re gonna be fine, Harry.”

But I can see it in your eyes—you don’t believe it either.

I’m slumped against the wall, my shirt soaked through, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You kneel in front of me with trembling hands, trying to clean the wound, but the cloth turns red too fast. You keep wiping, whispering under your breath, your voice breaking on my name.

“Stop fussin’, love,” I mumble, trying to sound like myself. It comes out a rough whisper. “You’ll get blood all over your pretty hands.”

You glare at me through hysterical tears. “Shut up, Harry.”

I laugh. Or maybe it’s a cough. I can’t tell anymore. There’s iron on my tongue and warmth dripping down my ribs.

For a moment, I just stare at you—hair messy, face flushed, eyes full of fight. You’ve never looked more alive, yet so indescribably broken and that’s the cruelest part of all this.

I should’ve let you walk away when I had the chance. Should’ve kept you out of my world of gunpowder and graves. But I didn’t. I pulled you in. I made you mine.

I know I won’t make it, it’s my time. I’ve lost so much blood.

I don’t want to go, I want to stay with you. Only you, my love, made me want to have a normal life. I wanted it all with you; the kids, the dogs, the white picket fence. All the shit I once claimed to despise.

I reach for your wrist—my fingers cold, unsteady.

“Hey,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Look at me.”

You do. God, you always do.

I start, my voice hoarse. “If I don’t make it out of this—”

You cut me off, your voice pained. “Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t,” I push through, “you go. You hear me? Don’t come back to London. Don’t look for me. Don’t wait.”

Your tears fall before you can stop them. I catch one with my thumb, smearing my blood across your cheek like a promise.

“Harry, please…”

I smile at you through the blood blood, my voice weak. “You were the only good thing in a life full of bad, love.”