Look After You

The Threat

     Bo's room was a long way from Ryan's.

     That was something that the assassin had to learn the hard way. He followed Kyle down so many different hallways that his head started to spin. He supposed he could understand why it was so complicated to get to him—the hospital most likely wanted to be extra careful in placing him somewhere safe—but that didn't make it any less exhausting to him. He had been dragging his IV pole along for so long that he hardly noticed whenever the wheels would run over his bare toes.

     The walk itself had been spent in silence, not that Ryan was complaining. He didn't regret shouting at Kyle—his frustration with the servant's opinion of him had been present for a while now if he was being honest with himself—but he did regret doing it when he did. If he could've changed the scenery, the situation, and the tone of his own voice, then maybe his behavior wouldn't have made him feel so shitty inside. What was done was done though, and the result was an uncomfortably tense trip that he wanted over as soon as possible.

     It had taken up nearly all of Ryan's energy, but after a while, they finally approached a door with two security guards standing in front of it. Their hunched backs straightened at the sight of Kyle, but once their eyes fell on the assassin, he noticed their jaws tighten as well. Despite the confusion that could be read on their faces a mile away, the servant didn't offer them so much as a summary of what was going on. He simply gave a quick nod to the two that parted their bodies like the red sea. Ryan followed him through the upright waves and caught one of the two guards staring at him while he waited for Kyle to open the door.

     Click. Creeeeak.

     "Right in here, Mr. Star...."

     Kyle held the door open for Ryan and his stupid IV pole (which lagged behind him after bumping into the doorknob). His feet couldn't move fast enough, his heart couldn't pound hard enough. Ryan didn't feel alive until he stood in the doorway.

     There he was.

     Just a few feet ahead of him, there he was. Sitting upright in a bed that was surrounded by machines and tubes, most of his gown-clad body underneath thin sheets. The only part of him that wasn't underneath of it was his left leg, which was propped up in a sling that was attached to a ceiling lift system. With his hands folded comfortably in his lap and his head turned towards an open window, his usually agitated and annoyed energy had become somewhat ethereal. Past his head, the sturdy branches of a tree could just barely be seen.

     Bo turned towards him. Ryan could hear the birds singing.

     The better view of his face allowed him to see the bandage. The puffy, white bandage over his right eye took up so much of his face. It failed to steal the spotlight from his lips though, the chapped ones that curved upwards at the sight of the assassin. Everything about him relaxed, from his face to his shoulders. Bo spoke, and for the first time in days, Ryan appreciated the fact that he still had a pulse.

     "Hey, motherfucker. You look like shit."

     Ryan's body moved on its own. One foot in front of the other until he was right beside Bo's bed, fist raised high above his head. He never felt all of the tension in his body burst like a firework or sharp teeth connect against his hard fest. The only way that he knew he actually punched Bo square in the jaw was because of what immediately followed the hit. Pressure overwhelmed his body, burning his tired bones and paralyzing his weak muscles. Kyle's magic encased Ryan and his IV pole, and with one sharp move of the hand, both of them were slammed into the wall on the other side of the room. The back of his head hit first, filling his vision with spots and stars that only made his migraine worse.

     He struggled to blink them all away, but when he did he gaze was immediately set on Bo. He didn't want him out of his sight for too long. He watched him bring a hand to his porcelain face, blinking as metal seeped in between his gums. A surge of pain came and went, and once the shock spread across his features faded away, he looked at his servant in the doorway.

     "Kyle, put him down."

     He hesitated, pleading with his king without saying a word. Eventually, he was worn down, and with a sigh, he gently lowered his IV pole down to the ground. Once he knew that the expensive piece of medical equipment was undamaged, he haphazardly let Ryan drop to the floor. Disoriented and weak feet touched the ground first, so it was no surprise that he ended up collapsing in a pile of heavy limbs.

     "R-Right," Kyle said quietly. "My apologies. I'll leave you two alone now...."

     Bo nodded and thanked him.

     He left without making a sound. The door clicked when it was shut behind him.

     And just like that, they were alone together. Ryan had been waiting for this moment. He was waiting for the rush of joy that he always got whenever he laid his eyes on him. He was waiting for the chance to see his chest moving and his eyes (or was it just eye now?) blinking. Anticipation and anxiety had strangled him for days and days, but now that the cause of those two things was right in front of him, all he wanted to do was punch him again. It was the only way that he could punish him for making him so stressed.

     "I'm sorry about him. H-He's going through a lot." Bo watched Ryan struggle to get back onto his feet, his injured shoulder turning the simple task into rocket science. "Are you—"

     "Shut up!"

     He did as he was told. A sinister voice rang in Ryan's head and the word 'civilian' became venom in his thoughts.

     "What kind of asshole do you think you are, huh? I was worried sick about you!  What you did was so unbelievably reckless and stupid! I can't believe you put yourself in danger like that! Thousands of people depend on you and care about you just as much as I do! Don't you know that you could've died?"

     Flashbulb memories of blood and gunshots exploded behind his eyes until they began to water. The terror that he had felt in those moments couldn't be described with words, so he decided not to try. All of his attention had to go towards trying to get off the ground anyway. Using his IV pole, he pushed all of his weight down to his feet and hoisted his body up. His legs were trembling and he couldn't understand why until he felt the tears stuck to his eyelashes finally fall. The assassin glared at his target.

     "If you ever—and I mean ever—scare me like that again, I'll kill you myself."