Finding pretty words to describe the pain was impossible because that’s all it was. Pain. Blunt, all-consuming pain. You were used to pain, so unlike normal people, your brain didn’t shut off. No. It kept going, analysing it. Going through options. But the truth was simple. Your legs were gone and the grass was being painted red by your blood. You couldn’t move. You could just stare at the trees above you, swaying softly. Death would be easier. But death was late. It was taking its time.

   You closed your eyes. You’d already cried and yelled. But your comrades were elsewhere. And so were the titans. No one to save you. No one to end you. No one to hear you. No one to be there for your final hours. Alone in a strange forest, alone outside the walls, alone. You felt a breeze sweep past you and a few leaves landed on you. Even the pain was beginning to go, replaced by nothingness. There was a familiar sound and suddenly, a loud cry.

   “Y/N!” you opened your eyes to Byun Baekhyun hastily coming down from a tree. He must have been scouting the area for survivors.

   “Baek…” you croaked, barely able to get air past your lips. He was by your side, touching the patch of blood on your shirt, touching your face, touching your hands. You were relieved you still had enough feeling to actually sense his hands on you.

   “Why are you laying here? Can you move your legs?” he asked frantically and you shook your head.

   “No.”

   “What happened?”

   “They were crushed.”

   “Why are you bleeding?”

   “I don’t know. I fell off the horse. I was crushed by one of them. They didn’t even stop to eat me.” Talking was difficult. You could barely breathe and your lungs hurt when you did.

   “Okay, okay. It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay. We can fix your legs.” You knew they couldn’t. “I’m going to take you home.” You knew he couldn’t. “You’re going to make it.” You knew you couldn’t. “The wall isn’t too far. I can go ahead with just you. I’m sure I can get you back.”

   “Baekhyun, stop.” You moved a bit, trying to reach for his hand and he grabbed yours immediately. “I don’t need more time.” The feeling was slowly starting to drain from your hands. “I don’t have more time.”

   “You do. You really do. I promise you do.” He was talking desperately. He’d lost many comrades, but losing you would be harder. Because he and you shared many memories. Memories neither of you wanted to lose. And that was what death was. It was nothing and in nothingness, there was no space for the soft memories. You felt one of his tears land on your cheek.

   “Baekhyun, help me remember.”

   “Remember what?” he asked, his features deformed by anguish.

   “Everything. Remember how you used to wake me up?” you asked, throat tighter than ever and he nodded. You closed your eyes and he gently tapped your lips, nose and forehead with his fingers.

   “Pat, Pat, the sun is here,” he whispered. You opened, your eyes, half expecting him to be smiling at you gently. But his face hadn’t changed. It was twisted and sad.

   “And remember how you used to congratulate me when I trained well?” you asked again. He nodded, running his thumb over your callous knuckles.

   “I would tell you I was proud, but that you were nothing until you beat me.”

   “I wish I had beaten you,” you lamented.

   “You still can,” he said and you didn’t reply to that.

   “Remember how we used to fight over stupid things?”

   “My eyeliner isn’t stupid,” he joked, trying to smile. “It’s important to make myself look intimidating.”

   “You just look like you have dirt on your face now,” you chastised, slowly lifting a hand to wipe away the coal stained tears from his face. He took hold of your hand and kept it against his skin.

   “I remember how I loved you…” he started.

   “Is it just a memory?” you asked and he shook his head.

   “I love you.”

   “I love you too,” you whispered and dropped your hand. You still wanted to ask him one thing. “Remember how you kissed me?”

   “I don’t.”

   “Neither do I,” you said softly. Your entire arm was losing sensation now, or else you would have pulled him to you. He brought his face close to yours and placed his lips on yours. It wasn’t passionate because neither of you had the passion nor the energy. It was just salty. You could taste his tears, and he could taste yours. After a few seconds, he pulled away and placed his forehead against yours.

   “It’s not enough,” he said softly.

   “It’ll never be enough,” you agreed, closing your eyes. You decided not to open them again. You didn’t want to see his face after your last request. “Baekhyun, you have your gun, right?”

   “No,” he said sharply.

   “Do you have your knife?”

   “No. I don’t have anything. I won’t do it,” he said in a harder tone.

   “Baekhyun. I don’t feel my arms. Or my legs. Or my middle.”

   “I’m going to take you home,” he said stubbornly. He moved placing himself behind you and picking you up, under the armpits. He pulled you against his chest.

   “No. I can’t feel your arms around me,” you whispered urgently. You wanted to. You wanted him to hold you tighter. But even if he did, you couldn’t feel him.

   “Y/N, I can get you back. And we can start over. We can remember.”

   “We can’t. You know that. Do you have your gun?”

   “No.”

   “Do you have your knife?” you asked again, trying to keep calm. There was a long silence.

   “Yes,” he whispered, choking on words.

   “Please.”

   “We didn’t have enough time,” he pleaded.

   “We would have never had enough time.” His grip around you was so strong, you finally felt it. You also felt a tear run down your neck. Soon wasn’t just tears, but sobbing. Each sob of his sent a jolt through your body, shaking your limp limbs. Your eyes are closed, but tears still flowed from them. “Baekhyun,” you said. The words barely make it out of your lips. You didn’t want to utter them. You didn’t want to leave him. “It’s time.” He didn’t respond. You feel a blade place itself on your jugular.

   “It doesn’t have to…”

   “It does.”

   The blade slipped.