A/N: I listened to Stay by Gracie Abrams [linked above] and How to Save a Life by The Fray while writing this chapter. Though it's your choice, playing the songs will definitely add to the atmosphere of the scene. 🥺
Warning: this chapter deals with subjects that may be triggering to some readers dealing with their mental health. Read at your own risk.
- - -
- Noor's POV -
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The beating of my heart is so loud that it's deafening. I want to scream on top of my lungs.
The water in the tub is so red, you never would have imagined that it was once clear. I can't even make out his arms or legs.
"Y-yasir, s-s-stop m-messing with m-me... you w-win, y-you've g-got m-m-me." My tongue can barely form words.
He has to be playing a cruel joke on me. He's just kidding, right? He's just messing me with! He has to be!
Not a word. He didn't even flinch.
I'm too afraid to get any closer.
What if he's missing one side of his face? What if he's missing an arm? A leg? All four limbs?
As my thoughts get darker, my mind is screaming at me to snap out of it and check if he's breathing.
I slowly crawl towards the tub that's in the middle of the washroom and a trembling hand reaches out to him.
Not only am I trembling as if I'm having a seizure but I'm so numb that I can't feel anything... I physically can't feel anything.
I can't feel the touch of his skin. I can't feel my knees digging into the floor. I can't feel.
I can tell his skin is cold but I can't feel it.
No, no, no, no.
"Yasir, please, please, please, wake up... please... I don't hate you. I want to tell you I don't hate you, I never did." My tears are so thick that you'd think that I'd be able to drown in them.
I quickly wipe my tears to grab my phone to call 911, until—
"Hm..."
My head whips up, not knowing if that was from my own imagination or if it was Yasir.
"Y-Yasir?" I whisper.
"Don't..." His voice is barely a mumble. "Don't... call..."
I don't know what compelled me to do this but I jumped inside the tub of water that clearly looks like a murder scene.
I throw my arms around him, resting my chin on his head as he rests on my chest.
"You scared me, you stupid idiot!" I sob harder, barely being able to keep myself together. "Let me call an ambulance."
"Don't..."
"What do you mean 'don't'?" I look at his face, which is pale and almost grey. "Are you planning on dying in a bathtub?"
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