And I Will Consume You

45

The second Venice vanished out of sight and his little footsteps faded up the stairs into silence, Pete almost threw up. His stomach was twisting and turning as if he was on a never ending rollercoaster ride, stuck in a perpetual loop of nauseating swaying and sharp turns or steep dives. "Vegas..." Pete whispered hoarsely, swallowing the lump that had formed in the depths of his throat the second he had heard the man call out his name. Forcing his body to move after having been cemented to the ground for a minute too long, Pete rushed over to Vegas, helping him to the sofa to sit him down as he took the mans suit jacket off carefully as to not disturb the wound on his shoulder. Now that it was off and Pete got a bit of a clearer view of his boyfriend's body, he could tell just bow badly he'd been hurt. Not only was there a bullet wound in his shoulder, but two graze wounds not for off from it - one cutting into his forearm and the other just below his ribs on the opposite side. While they weren't deep and the one true bullet wound Vegas had didn't seem to show any sign of an exit wound, he was still bleeding pretty badly. "Didn't I tell you to be careful? I should have been there with you... I could have protected you." Pete said, His skin pale and face a sickly shade of green. He'd never once in his life reacted this badly to blood, not even his own, so why was he now? Maybe because of how much he cared for Vegas, or maybe it was the guilt of knowing he could have helped prevent at least one of the wounds on his body, but either way, it felt awful. Maybe even worse for home than it was for Vegas.

Grabbing a clean towel, Pete rushed to hold the bullet wound and keep it from bleeding too much as his other hand dialed for an ambulance, though the call was over rather quickly and the help on its way. "You selfish idiot..." Pete mumbled bitterly, taking a few deep breaths as to calm his stomach before reaching to help Vegas up again and lead him back to the front door. "You're a stupid bastard, you know that? God, I hate you" Pete cursed again, though his words couldn't be father from the truth. It didn't matter that Vegas knew it was a lie either, it still hurt all the same. Hearing Pete say he hated him was something he'd prayed to never experience, yet here he was. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry Pete."

Vegas perked up slightly, the sight of which confused Pete, but not as much as the following string of events would as they all happened in about half a second. Vegas reached in the back of his pants, pulling out a gun and firing, the gun not far from Pete's face, though another gunshot went off at almost the same time- this one grazing Pete's bicep and tearing into Vegas' skin. Pete yelped, flinching at the two sudden bangs and recoiling with the rippling pain of his flesh being torn open. That pain faded into the background, the ringing in his ear still loud, but all his focus centred in Vegas who'd fallen back to lean on the steps, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. Pete didn't know what to do. All of his senses were flooded, his head in a state of pure panic, and his heard in complete disarray. The fear and the pain and the dibilitating anxiety he felt was too overwhelming to let him do anything at all. All he could do was sit there and stare, frantically trying to keep the blood from pouring out of his lovers flesh.

How could this all happen so quickly? With every fleeting moment Pete struggled to process what happened even more, in complete and total disarray, as if his whole world had shattered like glass right before him. "Vegas-...Vegas...?" Pete said, his face drowned with tears and his mouth refusing to let anything but desperate, quiet sobs escape it. He couldn't die now, it wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. Why did it have to be them? What happened in that meeting? Why did that bastard have to show up at the last second?... Why did these things always have to happen to Pete? Vegas leaned back against the cold stone steps, closing his eyes with a gentle smile on his face sweat on his brow and body trembling slightly. "Everything will be fine, Pete. I promise. Don't cry" he hummed, his empty hand searching for Pete's and squeezing it three times when he finally did find it. "I'm right here"

Vegas squeezed the boys hand tighter, keeping his eyes shut and stroking his thumb over Pete's whitened knuckles, hearing the far distant cry of an ambulance. A shot to the stomach wasn't the end of the world, and while it hurt like a bitch for starters, it likely wouldn't kill him unless he was hit in an artery, which didn't seem to be the case based in the colour of his blood. Even if he were to die, it would have been instant, or it would be slow and painful in a way that gave them enough time to get to the hospital safely to at least take care of Pete. Vegas hadn't been shot too many times before, save maybe a rubber bullet or two and a plethora of bb guns when Macau was younger, but the pulsating waves of pain were familiar all the same. But none of that mattered. Nothing at all did. He could be experiencing the worst pain in the universe, the most painful death, and he would still be focused on Pete. Seeing him cry, sobbing desperately while holding his hand and trying to stop the bleeding, it was so miserable it was almost pathetic.

"I love you, Pete." Vegas smiled, brushing his thumb over Pete's knuckles one more time, though this only seemed to worsen his crying. "I'm right here. I'm not dying just yet, not to those bastards. I'm just going to take a little nap." He hummed, groaning one last time before his vision blurred and the light of the sirens pulling up faded into nothingness.