Short story based upon the prompt in the cover picture. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave feedback!

She knew. When his voice started to fade in the middle of his explanation of that TV show he inexplicably seemed to enjoy, she knew. But she didn't want him to know, not yet. So she tried to remain the same as she had done when she'd first stumbled across him while making her way home from school. Brisk, no-nonsense, comforting. Just like the big-sister figure everyone else in her life saw her as. She had to remain that way, for his sake. So that's what she did.

"Keep talking!" she ordered him, trying to hide the fear she felt. Her grip on him tightened a little, but he didn't seem to notice, somewhat mustering the energy to roll his eyes at her.

"I…I thought you couldn't stand my fan-boying." He whispered weakly. His eyes fluttered, and she gritted her teeth. No. No, you're not dying on me!

"Well, the more you talk, the more material I have to bring you down with later." She blustered. There will be no later, will there? Not the way he is going. He laughed heartily at this, but this made him wince in pain.

"Stop laughing! Help will come soon, but don't wear yourself out." She looked around her, desperately. Where was the ambulance, the police, anyone? Hadn't she called Emergency Services as soon as she'd seen him on the floor, bleeding out? Making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, she managed to turn herself away and use one hand look at her phone. 16:40. It's been an hour. But I can't hear anything else apart from the typical sounds of a Tuesday afternoon. But goddammit this ISN'T a typical Tuesday afternoon!

"Are you okay, sis?" she looked down at him, surprised. His face was scrunched up in concern as he looked up at her. Wait, you're the one bleeding out, why are you worried about me, she wondered, silently this time. After a moment, she realised that she'd said some of her thoughts aloud, and she instantly berated herself.

"You can go if you need to, you know. I'll be fine…" the words faded away as he winced, again. Why am I not surprised that he's ended up calling me 'sis' just like everyone else does? Am I giving off some sisterly vibe like it's a perfume? Still…it sounds nice, when he says it. I want him to be able to carry on calling me 'sis'. But she knew, didn't she? She knew that it wasn't going to happen. She bit her lip, and shook her head at him, firmly. She wasn't about to leave him. Not like this.

"I..I see…" he closed his eyes, tired. "Say…we're friends, right?"

"Sure we are." She didn't hesitate with her answer. She knew others would call her mad, an attention seeker and all sorts in the days and weeks and years after he'd left her, but she didn't hesitate. They were friends, even if the friendship was only an hour or so long…ah, I'm crying.

In that moment, she gave up. She let her tears flow and she sobbed, and sobbed, finally letting go of him and burying her face in her hands. There was nothing she could do anymore. She knew that. No amount of reassurance, or false promises, no number of distractions through talking about what shows and books and music they liked, or commiseration about the schools they went through would stop the inevitable. He was going to die. He was going to die. And he knew that too.

"Ah…I think I can rest easy now…" She peered through her hands at him. His eyes were still closed, but he was smiling again.

"Th-that's good." She managed to blubber, unable to carry on looking at him, but unable to get up and leave him.

"That's good. I'm glad. " he didn't say anything in response to that, and she just sat there, and wailed. She kept her eyes screwed shut and her face in her hands, as if she could somehow wish all of this away. I don't want things to turn out like this. We should have had a chance to become proper friends. I don't want this to happen! But it is, but it is…The words in her thoughts mixed and melted into one long string of despair, and she remained like that for the longest time. Even as she heard the sirens of the ambulance finally roaring down the street. She just sat there, while her precious new friend gradually died next to her.

"Uh…Miss…are you the one who called this in?" she flinched at the sound of the stranger's voice, and found herself looking into the eyes of a man in a suit, holding a badge. A detective. Wildly, she stood up, and looked around her. The alleyway was now swimming with people, and the place looked like something she'd only ever seen on TV. Her skirt was heavy with blood-his blood- and it stuck to her legs, but she barely noticed. Because he was no longer where he had been.

"Where…where?" He wasn't on the floor, there weren't people gathered around him trying to see if there were any signs of life. Not that there would have been any, but even so. She couldn't see any body bags or stretchers or anything. And with that observation, she realised that she'd broken her promise. She'd been too busy crying, and they'd somehow managed to take him away in the ambulance or whatever they used without her even noticing. She'd left him.

What sort of friend am I? Angry with herself, she whirled around and got right up in the detective's face, steaming. He put his hands on her shoulders, clearly meaning to console her or fob her off with platitudes, but she shook him off and grabbed at his shirt with one angry fist. She used the other to wipe the remaining tears from her eyelashes before getting an extra grip on the detective's shirt. And she fumed, with a deep, scorching rage.

"Where?" she screamed. "Where is he, where did you take him? Where did you take-" Oh.

Just like that, her deep, scorching rage quietened, only to be replaced with humiliation. She fell silent, and let go of the detective, stepping back. She gritted her teeth and stared disgustedly at the ground, for the final piece of her heart had fallen away and broken with a new realisation. Something that in its own way was just as bad as knowing that she'd abandoned him. Worse, even, because it would have been so much simpler to achieve, and she should have done that right at the beginning.

I said that we were friends, but I didn't even bother to ask for his name.

I didn't ask for his name.