Setting Fire to the Stars (mxm)

Chapter 11: Hope

Whitt had hastily run into the kitchen, returning with a wet cloth in his hand. The blond carefully wiped away the blood from Lauren's face, his face taut with unease. Whitt looked like he wanted to ask me something, but I was grateful for his silence. I needed a minute to process everything we'd just been through.

Seconds later, a thundering of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairway. The door of the apartment slammed open to reveal a breathless Reese, followed closely by Wyatt, a stout man with a black beard, and a woman with a high ponytail.

The man with the salt-and-pepper beard bounded over to us, his large eyes narrowing as he took in Lauren's condition. I could only assume this was the doctor who'd stitched up my wound. With quick precision, he placed two fingers on Lauren's neck, pausing to check his heartbeat before he turned on me with a frown. "What happened?"

"We were attacked."

Wyatt strode towards us, his blue eyes as wide as saucers. "By who?"

"I don't know. A group of maniacs dressed in cloaks and masks ambushed us on the road toward Columbus," I squeezed Lauren's hand, recalling the cold touch of the obsidian knife against my throat. "Why isn't he waking up?"

The doctor with the bushy beard furrowed his shaggy eyebrows and shook his head. My heart plummeted into my stomach. "I need to examine him further to determine what's wrong with him. Reese, help me get him upstairs."

When I moved to help carry Lauren, the doctor placed a beefy hand on my shoulder.

"Not you, young man. You've done well to bring him all the way here, but you are still injured," he insisted, his kind brown eyes were gentle, yet unwavering. "I cannot let a man I stitched up just a few hours ago risk worsening his condition."

I shook my head at the doctor's words. "Sir, I appreciate all you did for me, I do, but no offense, I'm not letting anyone else carry him."

The man held my gaze for a few moments before he released a soft chuckle, his chestnut eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned. "I can see where your friend gets his stubbornness," the elder recounted, patting my arm gently. "Very well, young man. Let's get my newest patient to the bed upstairs. I'm sure you remember where it is."

The corner of my mouth twitched upward as he mentioned Lauren's stubbornness. Reese had said before that he'd refused to leave my side last night. Careful of my injury, I lifted Lauren into my arms. I'd noticed this before, but he was much lighter than I thought he'd be. Compared to how much I lifted at football practice, he weighed like nothing.

The fragrance of warm vanilla mixed with damp earth filled my lungs, seeping into my clothes. I couldn't understand how he still managed to smell so good after not showering for days. Slowly, I ascended the stairs of the loft while cradling Lauren against my chest. The doctor, I thought I'd heard that his name was Malik, followed us upstairs, accompanied by the other four men.

Moving across the loft to the bed, I gingerly laid Lauren down on the comforter, stroking his hair from his eyes. It seemed that no matter how many times I moved the strands, it always managed to spill back into his face. Malik soon joined me by Lauren's bedside, a solemn expression on his face as he began checking Lauren for injuries.

"I don't think his life is in any danger. The good news is that he hasn't seemed to have suffered any head trauma," he paused after he'd examined Lauren's eyes with a small flashlight. "However, his heart rate and breathing are irregular. It is more than likely that he has experienced some sort of major physiological shock."