Lyra“Nick… please.” The word barely made it out. It felt trapped somewhere between my chest and my throat, crushed under panic. My hands were on him already, shaking so badly I could barely tell where his shoulders ended and the ground began.“Nick, open your eyes,” I said again, louder now, like volume alone could drag him back.But I got nothing.My entire body trembled, my knees pressed into the gravel as I leaned over him, my fingers skimming his jaw, his neck, his chest, searching for something. But he was too still.That was wrong.“Oh God,” I whispered, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. “No, no, no.”I pressed my ear to his chest, holding my breath like the sound might be shy. My heart slammed against my ribs as I waited.But I got nothing. My hands flew to his face. “Nick,” I said sharply, like I was scolding him. “This isn’t funny. You don’t get to scare me like this.”I bent closer, panic overriding logic, my lips hovering over his nose. I blew air into it, awkward an
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