RUBI - Part Two

RUBI - PART TWO

Nashie's hug was life. His strong arms the depthless foundations of our friendship. Of brotherhood and love. Nearly had me crying all over again, but I styled it out. Sniffing, and wiping my eyes on a T-shirt that smelled of the hospital I hadn't set foot in since we got the news that he was out of surgery. "You fucker." I flicked his ear. "Made me jump out of my skin."

"Pay attention then. I could've been anyone."

In Orla's flat? Unlikely, but I struggled to give a shit either way. My state of mind was perilous. An intruder ran the risk of dying beneath the heel of my boot, or drowning in my tears. I didn't contemplate the other option—the sneaky one where I let them end me, just to get a break from this stress. It was over now. It had to be. Nash was home.

I flicked him again. "Why did no one tell me you'd be here? And why are you here alone? We've got a system set up, my lord. No privacy for you for the next month."

"Amazing," Nash deadpanned, weary gaze tracking me as I fussed around the room, tidying shit I'd already tidied yesterday. Sitting his fine arse on the new sheets I'd put on. Black. Those death-red ones freaked me out. " Rubes ."

"What?"

"Sit."

"Why? You need something?"

"I need your company. Your presence . I missed you."

I stopped fucking around. Forced my busy, anxious hands to be still and turned to face him.

Nash looked tired. Beat up. But so far from broken that my fragile heart gave a little skip.

I ventured closer, sitting on the edge of the bed as he shifted back, lifting his monstrosity of a leg from the floor and onto the mattress. "Need a hand?"

He grinned…if you didn't know him as well as I did. "I got it."

"Like that, is it?"

"Like what?"

"You're going to be the patient from hell."

"Patient for what? There's nothing wrong with me." Nash got himself in order and patted the space next to him. "Come here."

"You want me in bed with you, Nashie, you're a decade too late."

"You got in my bed two weeks ago."

" Fine ." I untied my boots—my only boots since I'd donated my spares to a fellow giantfoot. "No funny business, though. I've got a boyfriend and shit—oh hey, you've got a boyfriend too. How weird is that?"

Nash snorted. "Doesn't feel weird to me."

"Figure of speech." I set my boots aside and twisted round, laying my big self next to Nash carefully . As bullish as this motherfucker wanted to be, I could tell he was in pain. "Is the queen gonna let you smoke weed indoors while you're laid up?"

"Doubt it."

"You got some good pain meds?"

"Over there." Nash jerked his head at the dresser. "Haven't tried them yet."

"Why not? Folk's not here, bro."

Nash let his eyes fall closed, covering them with an arm that was scraped to kingdom come. "It's not that. I can't handle the bellyache. Makes me think of Em too much."

"Ouch, Nashie."

"I know, right? Drove me mad when I was on the ward. My stomach felt like scorched earth and all I could think about was how he'd been in ten times more pain for so long."

It was Nash's turn to sniff.

I rubbed his other arm. "Just because the good father suffered, doesn't mean you have to."

Nash opened his eyes, fixing me with his very best, albeit knackered, mother hen look. "Mate, you look like you need to be fucking sectioned."

"Oi. Don't use ableist language."

"Rubes, I'm not joking. You don't look well."

It was such a Nash thing to be worrying about the state of my noggin while his leg was kebab meat. An unnecessary thing. Cute , but I didn't need his concern. I didn't want it, and I brushed it off like it was nothing. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a shitty week, but you don't need me to tell you that."

"No, but I need you to stay here with me for a bit. Locke's gone to see his kids and Orls went with him."

As much as we all loved the Children Of The Locktipus, it made zero sense to me that Nash's lovers had left him alone six minutes after he'd got out of the hospital on the off chance that an idiot like me might pop by. It made even less sense that River had left me when apparently I looked sectionable , but when I combined the two scenarios, the picture got a little clearer.

They knew we needed this—that I needed this, and fuck them for micromanaging my mental health.

Love them .

I left the bed to crank the heating, make the tea, and bring Nash a plate of hot food.

He usually drank black coffee, but I knew for a fact that builder's brew with two sugars was one of the only nice things his mum had ever done for him. That he still drank it when he was hungover or sick.

I presented him with a mug of rosy lee and the chicken pie I'd spent a thousand years dicking around with.

He inhaled both, vindicating the biblical amount of energy I'd expended on those fucking pies. It settled me and I found it easier to get back into bed with my BFF when he was done.

Then I remembered his pills and got up again.

"Christ, will you stop ?"

"Take your medicine and I'll think about it." I tossed the pill box at him.

He caught it with one hand. Gave me the finger with the other. "I'm all right."

"Skylar said you need to stay ahead of the pain. So it doesn't get a chance to beat you down."

"Skylar?" Nash arched a curious brow.

I shrugged. "Him and Riv talk sometimes. And he heard about the crash from the locals down the boozer."

Hardly a shock. However hard we tried to fly under the radar, the club was visible, and Nash was a popular dude. Almost as popular as Cam, and given the omertà we'd demanded from trusted brothers in recent months, I'd let the two of them coming off their hogs in a legitimate, lawful manner become the talk of the club. Gave the masses something to gossip about while we took care of other shit.

Whatever that shit was. Wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I bullied Nash into taking his hardcore pain pills.

Fifteen minutes later, he puked them back up, which was fun for both of us. But lucky for him, I'd become somewhat of an expert at manoeuvring injured brothers to a safe place to upchuck and we made it work with minimal mess.

Still hurt to see Nash so wrecked, though. To see him in pain that nothing but time and rest could fix.

"Maybe you need to eat more before you take them."

Nash blanched. "I did eat."

"One pie. Maybe you need two."

"Stop talking about pie."

He flailed his hand in a vague gesture.

I caught it and tucked it back down, rolling onto my side to face him. For all he'd hurled his guts up, he was still the handsomest fucker there ever was. "You still spinning?"

He gave a slow head shake. "Can't feel my legs, though."

"Both of them?"

"Nothing past the angry badger in my stomach."

"That'll calm down."

"How do you know?"

"Cos I'm clever. And because those nuclear migraine tablets did the same thing to me at first, but I got used to them."

Humming, Nash wrapped his fingers around my wrist. Couldn't tell if that was an answer or not, so I let him drift for a while. Poked around with the remote until I found Heartstopper on Netflix. Nash pretended not to like it, but I knew he loved it really. All that colour and joy. All those parents who actually liked their kids. Man, my ‘rents had come with a shit ton of flaws, but they'd loved me for me, and I wished Nash had known what that felt like before he was old enough to kill a man.

"Are you okay?"

I shifted to look at him better. He wasn't asleep. Or twatted on Tramadol. He was staring right at me—right through me—and I let the truth bubble out of me. "Not really. I'm used to Cam nearly dying, but you being brown bread really fucked with my melon."

"Worse than when we got gassed?"

"Much worse than that. You were awake by the time I got back that day. And I had a rampaging demon kicking the shit out of my skull to distract me. This time…I don't fucking know. It was all so civilised—left me too much scope to picture my life without you."

Nash was silent for a beat, staring off at the TV screen, lost in the teen drama that was a world away from any we'd ever lived in. "I couldn't sleep when you were in hospital that time with those headaches. Or the night after you went over the wall in Porth Luck. Then I did sleep, and Orls found me crying in the kitchen, pouring Frosties down the sink."

"Frosties?"

"We used to eat them when we smoked together, remember? Before you turned into the Hulk."

"Before I showed you how hot big men are, you mean. And now look at you. I'm proud of you, Pookie."

"What's with this Pookie shite? You've never called me that before."

"Trying it out, innit?" I reached over him to swipe his empty tea mug. "Change is as good as a rest."

Despite him begging me to stay the fuck still, I left him to make more tea. Brought it back and suffered through him refusing to let me help him sit up and drink it.

"I can do it."

"Doesn't mean you have to. But if you want tea all down your man tits, by all means, have at it."

"Dickhead." Nash smiled his way through propping himself upright, but it wasn't as tight as before, the rhino pills doing their job. "It's almost like you don't remember how fucking awkward you are when you need help."

He had me there.

We went back to watching Heartstopper, so used to being around each other that we both fell asleep.

I woke up to him staring at me again. "Mother of Dragons, what?"

"You don't talk to me anymore."

"I've been talking to you all afternoon."

"Not about anything that matters. And you didn't talk to me about River, either. Not until it was too late and I punched you in the face."

I flinched. Not because he'd punched me, but because I'd hurt him enough to get him there. "I talk to you."

Nash drained a water bottle. "Go on then. Tell me something I don't know."

"I had banging sex before I came here. It was so good, I cried myself to sleep after."

In years gone by, Nashie would've taken a second to stare me down, gauging if I was serious. In this moment, he knew I was, and his cute little face blazed with empathy. "I cried when I first fucked Orla. And I think I had an embolism when Locke banged me on the couch the other day."

"That good?"

Nash expelled a breath. "Sex with Orla felt like my fucking birthright by the time we got round to it. With Locke, I…I thought I was ready for it. That I knew how good it would be, but I didn't know shit, Rubes. He takes me apart and I'm not the same person when it's over."

"What about when you're all together?"

"I wish I had three dicks."

"Three?"

"Two. Whatever. Just more than one."

"So you don't have to choose where to put it?"

"It's not really like that. It just happens, you know? One of us always seems to know who needs what the most."

"Sounds like Riv." I folded my arms and dumped my chin on them. "I had this picture in my head of how it would be the first time we fucked, but he knew me better than I gave him credit for, and I swear to God, it was an out of body experience."

"Did you cry then?"

"No, but it was emotional, and I've never had that with anyone else. That world-altering closeness. I've had lots of sex, Nashie, with lots of people, but until Riv, it was never with my whole self, you know?"

We'd lost daylight while we'd been kicking it in Orla's bed, the evening casting shadows over our fraternal cuddle session. But even in the dark, Nash's face was pure sunlight and joy. "I know, brother. I know."