THE NIGHT WE MET; thomas x fem!reader

[ 32. the night we met ]

| y/n's pov |

THOMAS WAS AHEAD of me, walking quickly, and it was getting harder for me to run. Partially from the cuts all over my feet, partially from the large amount of blood that I was losing.

I was holding a hand over where I had realized that while I was running to or from the Berg, I had been shot.

I had been shot.

"Thomas!" I called out, and he didn't look back. "Thomas!"

He seemed to walk faster towards the WICKED building.

"Thomas, please!" I stopped moving and so did he. He turned around and looked at me. "Where are you going?"

"To kill Ava Paige."

"Thomas..."

I blinked a few times, trying to focus my eyes, and applied more pressure to my wound.

"Y/N?" Thomas took a few cautious steps forward.

I started feeling lightheaded, so I moved my hand to my head, but quickly moved it back when I felt the blood seeping out again.

"Y/N, are you okay? Why are you--" Thomas looked up at my forehead where my hand just was. "Shit, no."

He ran back over, dropping his gun, and my legs started to feel weak, like they would give out at any moment.

Thomas's hands were placed on my shoulders, and his eyes flickered up and down my body before he noticed the darker, wet patch on my shirt.

"Shit, Y/N."

My legs gave out, and Thomas caught me before I could fall completely.

"Shit, shit, shit." He repeated as he lowered himself to his knees.

"Thomas?" I met his eyes. "I think I might be dying."

"No." The panic in Thomas's features was evident, and dread washed through my body. "No, you're not."

I lifted my shirt enough to see the wound. It was a large bullet wound. Blood was still gushing from it, and it didn't look like it was gonna stop.

"Thomas." I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment when he held his hand to my stomach in an attempt to stop it from bleeding.

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. You're gonna be fine." He nodded, not taking his eyes away from the gunshot. "You're gonna be okay."

"Shit, Tommy, I don't wanna die." My blood-soaked hand reached for his and my eyes started stinging from tears. "I don't wanna die."

"You're not gonna die." He met my eyes. "All right? You're gonna be okay because you're not dying."

I chuckled and winced from the pain.

"No, Thomas, I think I'm really dying."

"No, Y/N, I think you're really not."

That made me cry harder. It hurt so bad, and I felt so tired.

"Thomas, I'm scared." I gripped his hand tighter. "Please, I don't want to die."