Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

138. The Other Half of Me, Pt. 2

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After being tightly cradled in his arms for over an hour on the trip from the hotel to Imp City, I quickly understood why Husk was so beat by the time we reached the hospital; the journey itself was taxing enough, but to complete the whole thing three times, twice while carrying an entirely separate person—I felt a twinge of guilt at the realization. But I kept quiet as we landed near the front steps of the hospital, a heavy sigh escaping his lips when his feet hit the concrete. He set me down on my feet, and I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, missing the warmth of his fur when the frigid winter air pierced my clothes.

"I'm sure you know your way around this place better than I do," he said as we entered the main building. "But they're keepin' him on the sixth floor."

"Likely in the trauma ICU," I explained numbly, my brain finally disconnecting itself from the situation. "Makes sense. They're used to patients coming in for things like this."

I noticed Husk eyeing me warily in my peripheral, his thick brows furrowing in—concern? I suppose he just wasn't so used to me being so seemingly indifferent. He reached out a hand to me, his fingertips barely grazing my forearm before he paused, hesitated, then silently pulled away.

There was something I couldn't quite place in Husk's eyes, in that split-second they met mine before they darted away from me again.

I looked at him, watching his movements as we stepped into the elevator before asking slowly, already knowing the answer, "You had feelings for me, didn't you? Back then. . ."

Husk stiffened beside me, avoiding my gaze for a moment, then looked back at me. "Yeah," he responded in a low voice. "I did."

I bit my lip, my gaze travelling down to the glossy floor. The elevator jolted slightly before it crawled up the shaft at a snail's pace, the tiny screen above the buttons signaling each floor we passed with the respective number and a tiny ping. The air was warm and stuffy, a stark difference to the cold, windy weather outside.

"Y'know, I really thought I'd lost the ability to love a long time ago," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But I guess not. 'Cause after you came to the hotel, all those things I used to feel back then—back when I was still human—they all started poppin' up again. I actually felt like . . . like I could actually care about somebody again—like I could love somebody again."

A pensive silence followed, neither of us speaking another word to the other, until the elevator pinged again and said in a stilted automated voice, "Sixth floor."

I continued to gnaw on my bottom lip, still looking down at the linoleum tiles while we exited the elevator and headed down the hallway. "Truth be told, Husk, I always wondered if you liked me. Just by the way you would act sometimes, I always had a hunch."

Husk blinked and looked at me in surprise, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "How come you never said anything?"

I shrugged. "I didn't want to make assumptions," I replied. "And I thought that if you did have feelings for me, you would tell me when you were ready." I pursed my lips. "I guess you never felt like you were ready," I added quietly.

He looked away again. "I did, actually. But. . ."

I furrowed my brows in bewilderment. "But why did you never tell me?"

A grimace marred his features. He was quiet for a moment, then finally answered, "It was around the time . . . all that shit with Neil went down. You acted so different after that, and I didn't know why at first. But we all kinda put the pieces together when Charlie kicked him outta the hotel . . . I just—I couldn't do that to you after what happened. So I waited. . ." He chuckled dryly. "Guess I waited too long."