Paul and Ash were relaxing in Paul's room, Ash on his phone sitting on a chair and Paul sitting on the floor, surrounded by bottles of beer.

"You might wanna stop drinking now, or you're gonna have to pay for it tomorrow", Ash suggested while taking a peek at his friend, who was dazing around, clearly dizzy.

"I could drink beer all day", he replied slowly as he chugged another glass.

Hours of drinking by Paul and warnings by Ash went by. Suddenly, Paul dropped a bottle, staggered over to Ash and threw his arms around his shoulders. Ash, being light, was easily pushed back and fell onto the floor along with Paul and the chair. He was trapped.

"P-Paul...w-what are you doing...?"

"Gary's only coming back in a few hours...we can have some fun before that..."

He grabbed a sharp piece of broken glass and aimed it at the boy under him, who was staring with confusion.

"We can have...lots...of fun..."

-A few hours later-

He could hardly move. Ash lay on the floor, wounds scattered across his body, mainly his arms and legs. His throat had been slit, his arm had been stabbed. Paul was sitting next to him, piercing at his skin with a bloody shard of green glass. He dropped it and pulled him up into a hug.

"See...told you we'd have fun..."

Vaguely but clearly, Ash could see his phone just a few feet to Paul's side. Continuing to get stabbed, he reached for the phone with his shaking, bloody hands. He got a grip. He pulled it towards him, smearing it in blood. With no time to waste, he tapped as quickly as he could until he could press the numbers.

'9'

The pain was really getting to him now; his arm was getting numb. But he wouldn't give up. Holding his breath, he stretched his finger across the keypad.

'1'

He felt a sharp pain in his stomach, his arms, his legs. Everywhere, there was pain. He could hardly breathe, nor think. But he had to, just one last number. Enduring the traumatizing agony he did nothing to deserve, he felt his hand drop.

'1'

Now he just needed to make the call.

'Come on, wrist. Move', he thought to himself as his bleeding wrist refused to hoist itself up.

So he used whatever energy he had left to drag his hand over to the green icon. He couldn't make his fingers press it. No matter how hard he tried, they remained still and blue. None of his other body parts would do it. They were either being sat on by Paul, or they were numb or broken. He heard his own sounds of struggle. A glimpse of hope passed through him as he heard the tone of a dial. He was about to smile. Until the phone was smacked out of his reach and he felt his throat being closed by the same hand. As he saw his own vision fuzzing, everything going black, he caught the sight of one last text.

'Gary

I'll be a little late. Traffic. Make sure Paul doesn't drink too much'

And he lost consciousness.

-A few hours later-

Gary unlocked the door of the house of a person he didn't particularly like, partly because of their similar feelings to their friend, and opened the door to find an empty hall. 'Hmm', he shrugged nonchalantly as he confidently walked up the stairs and made it onto the second landing, expecting to find someone at least peeping through a doorway. 'No one here either', he thought with ease as he walked over to Paul's door and pushed it open, not quite looking forward.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. Traffic-"

He stopped. The bags in his hands plummeted to the ground. He'd just found a person he'd admired and cared about lying on the floor bleeding profusely, and another who he'd almost hated sitting near him, half conscious and covered in blood that was clearly not his. He ran over to the priority.

"Ash! Ash, wake up! Wake up! What happened?!", he screamed in tears as he shook the boy, who was lying lifelessly on his side. He proceeded for about two minutes, the panic increasing by the second, before he pulled the boy into a hug and burst into tears.

"This is all my fault! I should've gotten here earlier! I should've-"

What was that light, continuous tap on his back? His eyes widened and his body froze. That familiar, soothing voice greeted his ears.

"Don't...say...that..."

A weak, beautiful voice, scolding him by the syllable. Gary's eyes welled up with tears as he resumed his frantic speech. This time, with someone to listen to him.

"Ash, oh my goodness! I thought...I-I thought you...I was so worried! Oh my gosh, you-you're hurt! Why, what, how did this happen...Oh my gosh, I'm so relieved!"

His tears fell onto Ash's dislocated shoulder. Ash himself was crying a little, embracing his friend, grateful that he cared. Not that he thought he wouldn't.

"I tried to call the police...but Paul took the phone away. I saw your text at the last second, though. Traffic, huh?", he laughed in pain, trying to lighten the mood. Succeeding a little, actually.

The busting down of doors was heard, and the footsteps of heavy boots echoed through the building. Soon enough, Paul was being restrained by two men in blue suits, while another spoke to the wounded 14-year-old and his 18-year-old friend.

"You only got to us for a second...but the police won't just ignore it if they get a call. If you call and nothing happens, we'll most likely come over. It was a good thing you got us in time. The ambulance should be here soon"

He walked away with the two others and the rest, bagging and carrying handfuls of evidence. Ash felt his breathing slow again, but this time it wasn't so bad.

"Gary...thanks..."

Gary only hugged him tighter, but was still confused.

"For what?"

"For...for caring...thanks for caring about me...when I don't even care about...myself..."

Gary chuckled and tightened his grip again.

"Ash, I'll always care. In fact, I..."

There was a pause of uncertainty.

"I love you"