𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒃𝒚 𝑱𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒔 𝑹𝒐𝒛𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔

Lloyd woke up as François was treating the bullet wounds he saw. He groaned but was quickly comforted with kisses and thanking him for waking up.

"Lloydie, you did such a good job! Everyone's so proud of you!" White didn't look away from the window.

"W-where we-"

"We're going to Sweden, remember?" François finished treating him. "Cortéz has your party ready, you did a really great job."

"Party?"

"Yes, Lloyd, your party. It's been planned for months." He put his equipment away. "You did have a nasty fall. How does your head feel?"

"Oh, um, it's ok." His head was throbbing, but he saw François' hands shaking and his shining eyes. It wasn't a big deal.

His boyfriend wrapped his arms around him and pulled him on his lap. Lloyd felt exhausted, but he enjoyed the endless kisses.

"Dauphiné was super worried. We both were." He made a sharp turn that turned Lloyd green.

"It was very scary for a while, but I'm happy it's over." He was surprised by his own voice, it was so weak and shaky. White didn't realize it, but the other did. His embrace got closer.

"Franny." He whispered when the other leaned down to kiss his head. "Kim shot me."

"Kim was there?" His voice cracked, he tried not to get angry.

"Yeah, he got me in my stomach..." He looked down at his bandaged stomach. He felt embarrassed and ashamed.

The other hugged him tight, making him jump from pain. He tried not to fall asleep. He felt warm and weak, but he didn't let François know. He was already concerned, and he just needed a nap. There was no need to worry him anymore than he is now.

--------------------------

They arrived in Sweden late at night. By then, Lloyd didn't feel well. He was pale, his hair and eyes were dark, his wounds hurt, and he had trouble standing. The other two had to help him walk outside. Everyone was cheering for him as Cortéz gave him medals and shook his hand. Each golden medal weighed down.

François had to give Lloyd's speeches as White led him to his party. He was congrated, given even more rewards, and praised. He felt a bit embarrassed to be in rags in front of everyone, but nobody really mind.

"Sauveterre, you did excellent!"

"The war's almost over thanks to you!"

"You're the man!"

He felt even more unwell. He couldn't see anyone's face. Everything was blurry and warm. He wanted to throw up. He couldn't eat anything despite having all the sweets he could ever want right in front of him. He sat at the table, his head down. Everyone celebrated without him.

Everyone but White, of course. He saw his friend practically falling asleep in his chair. He gently led him to bed and tucked him in.

"There we go. Take a nap for a while. Nobody will be angry."

He left him alone. The pain was beginning to set in. He groaned and hugged himself, feeling something wet and slimy in his hands.

The door opened, yellow light shining in his face. François walked in, half-drunk, and all smiles.

"Oh sweetheart, everyone's so proud of you!" He gave him a big kiss on the lips.

"François, please stay with me...?" He looked at him like a lost puppy as he grabbed his hand, shaking. "I-I don't...I don't...want to be alone..."