Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 7: Recover

**(Note that this chapter contains depictions of blood, panic attacks, some small references to suicidal ideation, mentions of death, and profanity.)**

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Lauren
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I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought about fleeing from the room.

Sweat coated my back as I watched Peter thrash under Malik's steady hands. His screams of pain were the worst to listen to, the sound throttling my stomach. Although my hands trembled, I managed to keep a firm grip on his wrist, pinning him to the bed. Peter was leagues stronger than me, but with Reese and Wyatt's help, us three were able to hold him down while the doctor cleaned the wound. We'd forced Peter to swallow some antibiotics before Malik began cutting away the dead skin. Twenty minutes into the procedure, Peter's limbs suddenly went slack, his eyes falling closed as he stopped moving.

"Peter?" My voice trembled slightly as I took in his pale face, his breathing ragged even to my ears. When he didn't stir, I anxiously tightened my grip on him and turned to the doctor. "What's wrong with him?"

"Don't worry, young man," Malik assured me as he continued his work. "He's simply fainted." A moment later, the elder let out a huff as he pushed up his thick glasses to rub his tired eyes. With a heavy sigh, he beckoned toward me. "My eyes aren't what they used to be. Be a good lad and bring the lantern closer, would you? I can't afford to make any mistakes."

No longer needing to keep him restrained, I released Peter's hand to grab the electric solar lantern, positioning it so the light better illuminated the burn.

It took another hour of carefully cleaning, medicating, and bandaging before the doctor finally stepped away. Wiping the sweat from his dark brow with a handkerchief before sighing. "That should do it. Now all that's left to do is wait," he stated, slipping his latex gloves into a nearby trash bin and tossing the various medical instruments back into his brown bag.

Setting the lantern down on the bedside table, I glanced towards Malik. "Wait for what?"

"For the fever to break. If the medication works at it should, we will know that his body is in recovery. After that, it is a matter of making sure the wound heals properly," Malik explained while snapping his comically large bag shut with a metallic 'click'.

My stomach churned at his tepid answer. "And if it doesn't?"

Malik's warm eyes slumped, his bushy mustache turning down in a sullen frown. Stepping towards me, he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I've done all I can for your friend," he insisted, giving my shoulder a small squeeze. "He's young and he has a particularly strong will to live. I'm positive you both will overcome this." With one last gentle pat, Malik made his way towards the stairs.

My eyes were drawn to the woman he'd come in with. She'd been so quiet I'd forgotten she was there. The young woman leaned against the gray wall by the stairs, her tanned arms crossed over her chest as she'd silently watched her father treat Peter.

"Reva, we're going back," Malik announced as he descended the stairs. Wyatt caught up to Malik, their hushed conversation trailing down the stairs. With one last glance in my direction, Reva followed after them.

I watched them all go, leaving me and Peter alone. A chill hung in the air of the loft brought on by the night and I rubbed my arms to rid myself of the lingering dread. Moving to his bedside, fatigue washed over me as I took in my companion's sleeping face.