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

Chapter 11: Hope

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Peter
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My foot banged against the sturdy door to the apartment on the second floor of the Foundry. "Reese! Wyatt!" I yelled urgently, kicking the door over and over. "Open the fucking door right now!"

The sound of hurried footsteps behind the door reached my ears. To my relief, the door opened, only for a gun to be shoved in my face. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I stared down the barrel of a Glock.

"What the hell do you want?" Reese demanded. He immediately froze, his gaze landing on Lauren's unconscious body in my arms. "Oh, shit—"

Shouldering past him, I pushed my way into the room. Whitt and Josiah reclined on the grey sectional, the blond's headphones over his ears while Josiah has a book in one hand. The two glanced up, jaws consecutively dropping open like a couple of gaping fish.

Josiah jumped to his feet first and quickly crossed the room, eyebrows climbing as he met me halfway. "What the hell happened?"

"No time," I grunted, hefting Lauren in my arms and racing past them to reach the couch. Carefully setting Lauren down on the cushions, I tilted his head towards me. His face was so pale it was almost white with dark shadows under his eyes. I touched his forehead, my insides sinking at the chill on my fingertips. I turned to Reese, who remained anchored by the doorway. "Where's your doctor?" I asked.

Reese stood there unmoving, eyes glued to Lauren.

"Reese!" Whitt snapped his fingers, shooting the man a fierce glare. "Dammit, go get Malik!"

Blinking rapidly, Reese secured the handgun in his pants. "He better be still breathing by the time I get back!" He shouted, running out of the room.

My hands quivered as I hovered near Lauren. What should I be doing right now? How could I save him? It was even harder to ask myself these questions because I didn't know the goddamn answers. Inflicting pain was familiar to me, not mending it. Lauren's confidence when he took care of me wasn't something I could replicate. My hands balled into fists at my sides, fighting to restrain the rage warring with my mind as I watched him inhale hoarse breaths through blood-smeared lips.

I couldn't lose him. I would not fucking lose him.

Shit, had I ever felt such acute dread before in my entire life? I'd always been worried about how other people saw me. All I had wanted was for my parents to see me as their perfect golden boy and to be proud of the man I'd become. Even a hint of their approval used to make me happy, hanging off their every word and begging for scraps of their affection like I was some fucking dog. Goddammit, how could I have been so blind? Everything that I'd ever worked for my entire life meant fucking nothing in the face of losing him.

"I'm here," I leaned in close to him, taking his hand in mine, my thumb smoothing over the cool skin of his knuckles. Fuck, his skin still felt like an ice cube. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just hang in there, Laurie."

His slim fingers were far too cold, so frail that I worried if held him too tight, they would shatter. Brushing the mousy locks back from his face, I swallowed the ball of fear forming in my throat.

What more could I do besides hold his hand and will him to keep breathing?

Josiah stood quietly behind me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. The gesture was awkward, though not enough to shake him off. Whitt strode into the kitchen, returning with a wet cloth in his hand, carefully dabbing away the blood from Lauren's face. The blond looked like he wanted to ask me something, but swallowed the words. Good. I really didn't want to talk, needing a minute to get my shit together.