Holy frack Luna-chan updated? What kind of twisted universe is this O-o

*.*.*
[Marco's PoV]
People in white scrubs. Stethoscopes around their neck. Yelling. Beeping. Pinch in my arm. Mask pressed into my face. Someone saying it'll be okay. More yelling.

[Jean's PoV]
The paramedics were communicating through a phone on speaker. The people in Marco's ambulance were saying something about him losing blood fast, and then something that sounded a lot like "amputation".

I closed my eyes as the paramedics ensured I had only flesh wounds. Hey, God. Sorry for being such a sassy little sh*t before and not praying. But this isn't for me. It's for a friend.

Marco Bott. You might have heard of him. Barely ever gets a B. Freckled Jesus. Might as well be your son. He's the poster child.

Anyway, we got into an accident today. Help him get through this alive. I wouldn't be able to repay you if you did.

Thanks for listening.

I opened my eyes as the ambulance sped into the hospital parking lot. Marco's was just ahead of us, his gurney being unloaded out of the back of the wailing white vehicle.

I could see the crimson on his figure as if some unearthly being had reached down and finger-painted with red. The paramedics around him were yelling, though I couldn't hear them very well.

In fact, the whole world seemed to be swimming, people sounding like they were trying to yell through a distorted pipe. All except for Marco's figure. It was crisp and in high focus.

Panic attack? Not quite. To this day, I don't know what to call it.

To try and ease my nerves a little, I started humming "This is the Time" by Nothing More.

This is the time that we let it go. These are the words that'll take us home. Singing the song that's inside us all... If we don't open our eyes, we're walking blind...

*.*.*
[Marco's PoV]
Silver-hued clouds closing in. Stars spinning as if in a kaleidoscope. Screaming. Yelling. Bumps. Gasps of breath coming from me. Sirens. The sound of wheels spinning futilely. The smell of a hospital.

Emergency room smells. Sanitation and sickness, somehow taking place at the same time. Screeching. Fluorescent lights spiraling. Blurred images of doctors. Creaking hinges.

Yelling. My name. Over and over. Mask slipping. Readjusted. Crashing through doors. More yelling. Metallic scent of blood as my mask falls farther down. Pushed farther up.

Wondering about death. What would it be like? Another gas pumped into my oxygen. Anesthesia. Can't feel anything. Slipping away.

*.*.*
[Jean's PoV]
I yelled at them to let me see him. They ignored me and rushed through the doors. I shouted again, beginning to run towards the door. The doctors taking care of me held me back, the silver-haired woman grabbing the collar of my shirt.

"You need to relax and take your mind off of him. We have some of the best surgeons here," she said, adjusting her glasses with the heel of her hand.

"What do you have to do? This is an emergency room..." I said, feeling some of my normal snarkiness come back as I forced Marco out of my mind.

"You could write down the numbers of some friends or think of some calming exercises."

"Write down the numbers of friends?"

"So that a nurse could contact them and tell them what happened."

"Oh... I honestly don't know many of their numbers, I just use their contacts. I, uh, lost my phone. It flew out of the car." I felt a twitch of guilt for fibbing, but it was half-true.

"Okay. Do you want to talk?" She gestured to the chairs.

"What could we talk about?" I asked, sitting down stiffly.

"School, how you've been doing, et cetera." She sat down next to me. "I'm Rico, by the way." She held out her hand in offering.

I shook it. "Jean."

*.*.*
[Marco's PoV]
The car crashed, and Jean was in my place. His arm was trapped under the car. His eye was cut out by glass. He was the one who would need amputation.

He wasn't crying. He was staying strong. For me? I couldn't tell. But I could tell he wanted to scream, yell, something. Anything.

He turned to me, his expression sad. "Goodbye, Marco." White wings that had black tips burst from his back. He spiraled upward, leaving his body. His corpse was mangled and limp against the seat.