Chapter Thirty-Six

"You with me?"

I know it's Mark. I know it's only been a few seconds since I lay down in the back of the ambulance. I squeeze my fingers around his. "Tired," I tell him without opening my eyes. His hand is warm, engulfing mine. I feel the poking and prodding, but I try not to engage with it. I don't want to be roused enough to feel what's going on. "My leg hurts."

"I know babe," Mark murmurs. His warm lips press to my forehead and he gently strokes my hair. "We're getting you painkillers, promise."

"Strong ones?"

"Yes."

Someone that isn't Mark asks a question. It doesn't register. I lean into Mark's hand with a sigh.

"Anything else hurt?" Mark asks.

I don't think so. I think it's just the pain in my leg radiating out everywhere. I try to roll over toward Mark but pressure on my chest holds me still. I blink, squinting up at Mark. His face is pale against his dark hair.

"Don't move around," he tells me.

I think hard before saying, "Bed."

He bends down, kissing my forehead again. His breath hitches. "Soon, okay?"

Cool hands grasp my arm. It's held still and something wet brushes against the crook of my elbow. I try roll again, but can't move. "Mark."

"It's just something to help you sleep," Mark reassures me. "And those strong painkillers you wanted."

There's a pinch. Coolness spreading through my arm, and then I'm gone. Nothing hurts.

???

The first thing I feel when I wake is a warm hand covering mine, the exact same as when I passed out. I blink and get my bearings, taking in the room. The white walls and humming machines are a giveaway about the hospital, though I'm in a lot less pain the last time I found myself waking up in a hospital bed, and this time I remember how I got here.

And this time, I'm not alone.

I glance to my side. Mark is asleep; head bent awkwardly to rest on the back of a chair not designed for sleeping in. He's still wearing his outfit from the party, though the waistcoat is undone and the first few buttons on the shirt are open. I stare, watching him breathe in and out for several seconds before looking away. The curtains to the outside are pulled, though no light creeps through the edges, so it must be night. And there are blinds pulled down on the door's window, letting in a small amount of light from the hall.

There's enough residual light for me to see myself. The only machine I'm hooked up to looks like a drip. The blankets are heaped up, and when I move my leg, tenderness washes over me. I'm on painkillers, but I can already tell if I wasn't, I would be sore.

I roll my head so I'm looking at Mark again. His neck is going to hurt if he sleeps like that. I twist my arm so that my fingers are facing upwards and lightly trace Mark's wrist. I only do it twice before Mark moves. He sighs, straightening up and stretching his neck. He opens his eyes; and they immediately meet mine.

Mark jolts.

"Kyle, hey," he whispers. He leans in, fingers gently combing through my hair. "You okay? The doctors said you'd be out for another few hours. Do you feel any pain? I can get someone to adjust the dosage." There's a note of stress in Mark's voice.

"I'm okay," I tell him. "Sleepy and tired, but I'm not sore…" I sigh. "I suppose I'm going to be later?" I ask gently.

Mark swallows before he nods. "Your knee is…bruised. They had your entire leg on ice to try to get the swelling down enough to get the prosthetic off. They cut it off in the end."

I sigh again. "I'm going to be in bed a while, I guess."

Mark's lips press tightly together, the red whitening under pressure.

"Hey, it's okay," I murmur. "I'll be all healed up in no time. And you'll keep me company, won't you?"

"Of course."

"I'm okay Mark."

Mark bows his head, his forehead landing on my shoulder. I reach up to thread my fingers through his waves. "I'm okay. Don't worry, alright?"

"I was scared."

"I knew you and Chris would come get me," I say. "Thank you. And Eddie—is he okay?"

Mark straightens up enough to see all of me. "He's good. He's got stitches, and he's concussed, but Damien has him set up in a private room next door. He's got Bethany with him, acting like he's a hero, so he's well pleased with himself."

I smile. "He's a good guy."

"Yeah. I owe him," Mark says seriously.

"Ronan was arrested?"

"Yeah."

"Chris beat him up?"

"Black and blue," Mark confirms, yet his tone of voice suggests that he doesn't think it's enough.

"Where is Chris?"

Mark glances towards the door. "He was here when I fell asleep. He probably just stepped out. Do you want me to find him?"

"No." I tighten my hold on him. "No, stay here with me. Can you lie down next to me?"

Unease fills Mark's expression. "Babe, they told us not to move you at all. I don't want to jostle you by accident if I fall asleep."

I hum. "I do usually wake up with you squishing me…"

"Are you sleepy? Don't fight it, Kyle, you need rest."

"I want a kiss first," I murmur, doing what Mark advised against and fighting the tiredness.

Mark exhales and bends to me, warm lips pressing chastely to my forehand.

"Mark," I complain. "Not my forehead."

Mark plants an even more chaste kiss to my pouting lips.

"Babe," I complain. "My dick, too."

Mark blinks in surprise, his dark eyes widening. Then he groans, leaning away from me. "Oh god, you're high."

"Babe."

Mark stands up.

"Babe."

"Nope, I can only withstand so much torture." Mark opens the door to the hall. "Chris, come mind your brother."

"Babe, come on," I grumble.

"I'll be back once you pass out," Mark tells me. "I love you."

"Come love me then."

Mark walks out, but I hear that groan. Hear that, ‘ he's torturing me,' remark.

Chris appears in the doorway. Like Mark, he's dressed for a party; smart trousers and shoes, and an unbuttoned vest over a white dress shirt.

"You look good," I tell him with a dopey as hell smile. I don't really care what I look like right now. Chris approaches, taking the seat Mark vacated. White bandages cover both hands. I reach out, poking them. "You always tell me not to fight."

"You should never need to," Chris says. "That's what I'm here for."

I hum. Each blink is heavy, but I force my eyes to stay open. "Are you okay?" I ask. Chris is never very expressive, but I can tell he's upset.

"I'm fine, Kyle. Just worried about you."

"I'm alright, too," I say. "Not scared at all. Promise. Cause I got you, right?" I try to smile; I'm not sure if I succeed or not.

Chris doesn't smile back.

I reach out, brushing my hand against his knee. "It's okay," I tell him.

Chris catches my hand and guides it back underneath the blankets. "Relax. Take deep breaths. Try to sleep."

"Don't feel guilty." I can feel it in the air. I felt it with Mark, too, though it had mostly been gone by the time Mark left. "It's not your fault."

Chris is silent for a long pause, sitting rigid and tense. He looks down. "If I talked to him, he wouldn't have gone after you like this."

"Who wants to talk to Ronan? He's unhinged." I frown. "I wouldn't have been happy if I knew you kept in contact with him."

Chris shuts his eyes. "Even if I didn't keep in contact, there were a dozen ways this could have been avoided. You should never have gotten hurt. I…" he cuts off with a sigh. "I'm not going to keep you awake with all the ‘should have's'. Go to sleep, Kyle."

"I don't blame you at all."

"I know you don't. You never would." Chris finally looks up. "And what you said to Ronan wasn't true. About me not thinking about you when you were younger." Chris reaches out, resting his hand on my shoulder. "I thought about you all the time. You were the only reason I came home once I moved out. I loved seeing your reaction to opening presents Christmas day," his voice softens. "And I loved seeing your face light up whenever I'd come home. Nothing has ever made me feel as good. When you were a toddler, I'd walk into a room and you'd drop what you were doing and waddle over to me. Reaching up your hands, chanting my name, and you would giggle like crazy when I picked you up. Everyone could be sitting in the living room and it would be me you'd come up to asking to be held. You were never hard to please. I just had to talk to you about anything, and you'd be babbling back at me, smiling. Just…happy. Happy to be with me. You made me feel special from the moment you were born. And I've loved the hell out of you for your entire life."

I blink. And blink. I really, really try to hold it back, but the tears fall anyway.

"I love you, too," I say thickly. "Always have."

"I know, Kyle. And it's always meant the world to me." Chris squeezes my shoulder. "Please go to sleep for me. The doctors want you to rest."

"If you promise not to feel guilty."

Chris sighs. I stubbornly keep my eyes open.

His expression softens. "Alright, Kyle. I promise."