Conan

His footsteps quickened as he approached the burning vehicle, calling your name. “Oh, please. Please!” He didn’t think before winding back his fist, smashing it into the glass of the window. Repeatedly, the skin of his knuckles bursting with the strength behind each hit. “Don’t do this to me.” He was slamming his fist into the glass when you took a step forward, from across the street, watching him with your eyes wide. He was screaming your name, as loud as he could. “Don’t die.”