Prompt: Doomed Love
Kyra breathes in the scent of cigarettes and stale beer, as she’s hoisted on the dirty bar counter. Those bastards took off, but Dean is still there, pressing her vintage thrifted sweater to her wound like a blood rag. He’s saying prayers he doesn’t believe, shouting he’s sorry for provoking those assholes. Warm blood begins to pull under her abdomen, and for a brief second it terrifies her. She needs a smoke, and she must have said it because the next thing she knows is Dean is sobbing as he places a fresh lit cig between her lips. She takes a puff, he pulls it away and places it between his lips. He’s crying? Fucking really? Damn.
“Well, shit,” she breathes it out with satisfaction. His tears take the place of the cig, and those big brown eyes are enough to kill her. He presses down on the sweater sending bright hot pain through her body. She screams, and he strokes her hair like it’ll be ok. It won’t, but at the very least he gives her one last puff on her cigarette. “You really are the love of my life. ”
Her consciousness is sliding, slipping away as the dim bar lights blur. There’s mumbling whispers. A siren sings in the distance, but the sound of Led Zepplin on the juke box in the corner is so much sweeter. Yet even that doesn’t compare to the sound of Dean saying
“Kyra, come on stay with me alright? You don’t get to die yet…I’ll have to do paperwork!” he laughs, and she wants to but her body feels too heavy. Her wound is on fire, and the warmth beneath her is growing.
Another puff, and she meets his gaze.
“You have a shit taste in cigarettes and bars.”