The President of Space

The Hospital

Barack's POV

Barack woke up to white fluorescent lights shining above him, burning into his eyes. Am I dead? Am I in heaven?

    Barack sat up slowly, but it was met with a shooting pain in his leg. His leg burned like it had been shot. Oh wait; that's what happened. He'd been shot for an unknown reason, and Joe had tried to catch him as he collapsed to the ground. Thank god he hadn't been shot anywhere fatal. Barack just wished he'd fallen into Joe's warm familiar arms instead of the cold floor.

    Where was the man of his dreams now?

    Really, when Barack said he hated gays, it wasn't true. He just wanted to be accepted. Barack's heart sunk when he thought about how Joe could never feel the same way that Barack felt about him.

    Focus, Barack, there are more important things to think about.

    Suddenly, Barack felt Joe's presence; Joe's hand grabbed his.

    "Joe," Barack said softly. "We have to get out of here."

    "I know," Joe said with a caring voice that filled Barack with strength. "We can climb out the window. How's your leg?"

    "They fixed it," he said, inching out of bed. "I think I can walk."

    "Then let's get out of here."

    A nurse suddenly opened the door to see Barack almost out of bed. "Sir! You shouldn't be up!"

    Barack ignored her and stood up on wobbly feet, Joe's hand still there to help him up. "I know," he said, flashing a grin at the nurse and kicking out the window with his good leg. Shards of glass rained on the floor and the nurse was yelling for help.

    "It's not that far down," Barack said in relief.

    "We can make it," said Joe. "Are you ready to jump?"

    Without another word, Barack and Joe jumped simultaneously out of the burst window. Barack let out a pained cry as he twisted his ankle. Joe hit his head on a tree on the way down.

"We made it," huffed Joe as he scrambled to his feet.

His determination made Barack's heart flutter. Joe is all I need in a man, he mused, before he banished the thought. He needed to focus on sneaking out right now.

Joe was a seasoned criminal — he spotted all the security cameras on the side of the building.

"Lay low," Joe hisses.

He and Barack ducked into the bushes until the security camera swiveled away from their position. Joe deemed it safe to make a run for it. He ran to hoist Barack up over the fence. Thankfully, the fence wasn't electric and had enough holes to make for an easy climb. Joe noticed, with a twist of his heart, that Barack let out a hiss of pain whenever he applied pressure to his ankle.

"GET DOWN FROM THERE!" a yell reverberated off the walls, a sound that pierced Joes heart with fear.

Joe threw himself in the fence and willed his weary limbs to carry him upwards. He tumbled off the fence on the other side and took a dash into the woods, following the retreating shape of Barack. Joe's lungs burned with exhaustion as his legs pumped faster, faster. He ran until he could no longer these the shouts behind him.

They came to a clearing. Barack immediately collapsed, but had enough strength to elevate his foot on a tree stump. "It hurts," he hissed through his teeth, and again Joe felt his heart twist and contract like he never knew it could.

"Let me help baby boy." Joe knelt down next to Barack's prone form. Somehow, he felt a pulling — like something was compelling him to touch Barack.

As if a supernatural force was pulling the strings, like a magnet pulling them together — Joe places a hand in Barack's hurt ankle.

Barack gasps. Not a pained gasp. A surprised gasp. Suddenly, he rolls his ankle, side to side, and a smile spreads across Barack's face.

"You healed me," Barack whispered. Then, something dawned on his face. He rolled his pant leg up, the one that was shot earlier that day.

Joe was the one to gasp this time.

The bullet wound was gone.