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‘I am so sorry,’ Nicolò choked out, and the next thing Yusuf felt was a dagger piercing his chest.
'Nic–’ Yusuf wheezed through the wet, clinging breath of a punctured lung.
'I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Nicolò whispered, one arm wrapped tightly around Yusuf’s waist, guiding him to the ground slowly, carefully. 'Please, don’t fight it.’
Nicolò pulled the knife from Yusuf’s chest with a truly awful sound. Blood rushed thick and fast behind it. Yusuf blinked up at his face; a face which every day had been more beloved to him.
'Why-?’ Yusuf’s eyes were going dim. All he could see was Nicolò’s fraught expression.
'Forgive me,’ Nicolò breathed, his eyes wet. 'I’m sorry, I- I’m so sorry.’
He kept saying it, even as he stabbed Yusuf again.
Yusuf went to his death with love dying in his chest, and Nicolò’s apologies ringing in his ears.