"Are you okay?” I asked, rushing towards him.
“I'm… fine,” he answered, his breathing hard and fast. “I'm sorry you had… to see… that…”
“Lean back,” I simply said, helping him against the locker behind us stained with blood. “I'll go get you some water.”
“No,” he coughed, grabbing my hand quickly. “Stay, please. It will… only last… for a few… minutes.”
I wanted to argue, but then the tortured look on his face stopped me. So, I simply sat beside him, leaning my back against the locker as we both faced straight ahead.
We sat in silence as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He still held my hand in his, and there was this foreign sensation overriding my senses as he rubbed small circles with his thumb on the back.
What was I supposed to be doing now? Was I supposed to fuss over
