Book I: to cross oceans for [BxB] (trans) - completed

The Wreckage And The Rubble (Part I) - Sean

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes impatiently. My eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. Even blinking hurt.

The feeling was uncomfortable to say the least. Other than giving in to sleep, there was nothing to be done about it. And I didn't want to go to sleep. I couldn't.

I had to watch Danny. I felt like if I took my eyes off of him for even a second, he would just disappear and not be there when I oppened my eyes again.

It was an irrational feeling. I knew that. It was based on the same logic as closing your eyes when facing a monster, thinking that if you can't see it, then it can't see you.

It was a child's logic. But it was all I had to hold on to. And I desperately needed something to hold on to. I'd lose my ever loving mind without it.

The rustle of fabric brought my attention back to the bed in front of me. I looked up in time to see Danny stir and open his eyes, blinking slowly.

I froze, holding myself as still as possible. I didn't want to startle him.

I hated this part. Because as much as I wanted to stare into his beautiful dark eyes, floating back to consciousness was painful for him these days.

There was peace in the blissful oblivion of sleep. All consciousness had to offer was memory. The aftermath.

I watched as he frowned, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. His eyes scanned the room. And then stopped as they landed on the heart monitor next to the bed and on the IV bag.

His chest rose and fell more quickly as his breathing quickened and the heart monitor started beeping faster.

I wanted to run to him, to hold him and tell him it was alright. That it had been only a nightmare.

But I couldn't. Because the horrible images fleeting through his brain were probably real.

I got to my feet slowly, not wanting to alarm him.

His eyes snapped to me and I resisted the urge to flinch. His one good eye was wide and I saw fear reflected in it. My stomach flipped but I tried to keep my gaze focused on his eye. But I couldn't help looking at the rest of his face.

The right side was one big bruise. His eye was swollen shut and there was a big gash on his lower lip and chin.

The rest of his body was covered by the hospital gown and the blanket, but I knew there were more bruises and cuts underneath the fabric.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked softly, taking a few hesitant steps towards him.

He looked at me, blinking with his one good eye. He swallowed and his throat made a dry clicking sound.

“Right, water.” I said, moving forward quickly to grab the plastic cup with the straw.

He flinched at my sudden movement and scooted back on the bed, away from me.

It hurt, that small movement. But I knew it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help his reaction, even though he knew I would never hurt him.

“Sorry.” I mumbled and forced my movements to be slow and exagerated.

I handed him the cup and he took it, parting his dry lips and sipping the water that had been there for a long time and was probably at room temperature.

“Sorry,” I said again, taking the empty plastic cup from him and setting it next to the hospital bed. “I should've gotten you some cold water. Do you want me to do that? I can also get you something else.”