He began cooking dinner once he got home. Joe seasoned, chopped and sauteed veggies, occasionally sampling some. It was raining hard, and the power was out. A candle flickered in the corner, providing light to his sensitive eyes.
There was a loud bang on the door, like someone trying to break in. Joe gasped, wiped his hands and went to the door, carefully opening it, and preparing for the worst.
Donald tumbled in. Joe hurriedly dragged him onto the couch, shutting the door. He examined Don's face. Scratches, and a busted ear that wouldn't stop bleeding. Joe felt hot tears form, but mustered up the courage to speak. "Who... Who did this to you??"
Donald, being his bitter self, snapped back. "It doesn't matter. I'll never fine."
"No. Tell me, who did this? You're not okay just look at you. You fell into me and you're leaving blood everywhere. Who did this?" Joe became protective.
Donald sighed. "We don't know yet, just that they shot me."
Joe's eyes widened. "SHOT?? Donny.." He hesitated, realizing he used his nickname. "I'll get them. I'll keep you safe. You won't have to deal with this ever again as long as I'm here."
Donald reached for Joe, cupping his face in his hands, planting a wet, orange kiss on his lips. "I'll be okay. I'll get better for you. I promise. I'm so sorry for how I've been. I was in denial; I really do love you."
Joe smiled. "It's okay, we're here now aren't we?"
