when ryan first felt the blood oozing from his clothing, it wasn't panic that overtook him, but rather calmness and a soft thought of, "i've just been stabbed and a man took my wallet," and ryan didn't exactly think it through until he realized that the blood with pouring out faster than he anticipated and that's when he began to panic, "oh my god, i've just been stabbed and a man took my wallet."

and ryan collapsed on the ground of that alley as he began to cough and he grabbed his phone and dialed as quickly as possible: 9-1-1.

a woman answered right away, "911, what's your emergency?"

"i've just been stabbed," ryan chokes, "i need an ambulance right away, i'm coughing up blood."

"where is your current address, sir?"

"i, uh, alleyway between 24th and 25th on seneca avenue," ryan feels blood crawling up his throat and he coughs to release it.

"alright, we are sending an ambulance on your way, where is your—"

ryan hangs up before she can continue because he feels like the world is spinning and when he lifts up his shirt, he swears he can feel the wound prickling at his back as well and it's bleeding out fast. he lowers his shirt, keeps a hand on it despite the pain, and looks back to his phone.

he decides then and there that he is going to die, though. the nearest hospital is about five miles away, and he is most likely going to die before they get here. so he shut his eyes for a moment, exhaustion setting over him and he dials in pete's number.

it rings. once, twice, three times, then, "hello?"

"hey, pete?"

"yeah," he yawns, "what's up? why are you calling so late?"

"nothing much," ryan coughs and wipes the blood from his mouth, "i just wanted to say that i love you."

"oh, i love you, too. are you doing okay?" pete sounds worried, "you're coughing a lot, are you sick?"

"yeah, it's just the cold, i'll be alright."

"are you gonna make it to the party tomorrow?" pete asks.

"yeah," ryan replies, "it's christmas, i wouldn't miss it for the world."

he hears the sirens in the distance but his vision is already fading and he can barely muster his next words.

"you mean the world to me," ryan coughs, trying to keep pressure on the wound, but it's not working and the blood is still gushing out into a puddle on the street, "i...."

ryan feels his eyes shutting and then a tear escaping his eye, because he is dying. and pete is worried. and he doesn't like that pete's worried. he's always hated that.

"ryan?"

"ryan...? you there..."

"ry...!?"