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Haidar held it with everything he had in his body not to panic. He shouldn’t, not when there was something much more important in his mind—and hands.

Blood dripping from the wound, soaked into Ridwan’s shirt, tainting it red. His legs contorted in no way human legs should ever be. His breathing low and heavy, even barely.

“It’s okay,” Haidar kept muttering the words, whether it was to Ridwan or himself, he didn’t know. He kept applying even more pressure to the wound. His fingers started trembling, his knuckles turned white, his tears started to fall.

“It’ll be okay,” his words became whisper, “Please be okay,” the words escaped his mouth like a sob.

“Can you hear me, Ridwan?”

 “Everything will be okay.”

 

Things didn’t go ‘okay.’ At least not for Ridwan.

But at the very least, the rescue party managed to save a crying Haidar from the wreckage.