We Were Blue // Completed

45//

"You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

- J. K. Rowling

* * *

The world moves without me, in slow motion- almost like a dream. And then it's on startling clarity and I'm on my knees. My hands shake, they shake so bad, and someone's screaming I think it's me because my throat feels scratchy and raw but it sounds so far away. 

Crimson stains Damon's pale blue shirt, the same shirt I always said brought out his eyes, my favorite. Now those stormy irises look dull as they stare up at me, the life slowly beginning to fade from their depths. Panicking, I grip his cold hand, his fingers loosely tangle with my own and my breaths are coming out in ragged puffs like I've been running for miles. 

On every crime show they tell you to put pressure on the wound to halt the bleeding, but when I move to do so Damon simply shakes his head. "There's no point." My vision blurs with unshed tears, I try to blink them away to stay brave for Damon, after all he is the one with a fatal gunshot wound. Roman stands frozen, his wide eyes taking in the scene before him, he looks as numb as I feel. 

Damon shutters with a cough, struggling to perform the simple action. I hover above him, moving his hair from his forehead as if in an effort to soothe him. Damon cracks a half smile, showing off his dimples, and I can't help but think that this is probably the last time I'll ever get to see that smile.  

A sob tries to break through my body but I bring my free hand up to my mouth in a half-hearted effort to muffle it. Slowly he raises his hand to my face and traces my skin with his rough fingers, I squeeze my eyes shut trying to memorize what his touch feels like. 

"Felicity," I stop his hand by clutching it within my own, gripping it desperately before raising it to my lips and kissing it softly. It's so cold, like when you're outside for too long in the winter without gloves and the frigid wind bites your skin harshly. It's funny because he was always the one warming my hands but now as I sit next to him watching the life fade from his body the roles have been reversed. 

He was my protector, the person that always saved me, but right now there is nothing I wish more than that he would've hung up his cape this one time. Because this is what happens when you're constantly taking bullets for the ones you love, you eventually end up with one in the heart. 

Why did he have to step in front of me? Why couldn't it have been me with the bullet in my chest? A lone tear drops onto his shirt, painting it dark and splotchy. "Please, God please." But we all know it's inevitable, perhaps it's been inevitable since the day he met Julian, and all I know is that tonight when we leave there will be one less Caldwell twin alive. 

"Shhh." He mummers. "It's going to be okay." I should be the one comforting him, but somehow even on his deathbed he's still the one trying to prevent me from breaking. The blood's beginning to seep into my pant legs, it's warm and sticky like the way the summer air felt the day I met him. 

The storms his irises usually form are beginning to weaken, losing their power as he does. "No, you can't leave me." I shake my head in denial, gripping his hand tightly like maybe if I squeeze hard enough I can give him some of my strength. 

I briefly register Roman on the phone, informing the dispatcher about what happened but all I can focus on is how Damon's breaths are becoming more shallow with every passing second. His chest heaves up and down and I can tell he's in pain, so much fucking pain, but there's absolutely nothing I can do to take it away and I've never felt more helpless in my life.