A/N: I'm just realizing I can use this for one of my drafts-
Fuck.
Fuck.
How did he let this happen? This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be quick and easy. In and out. What went wrong?
John limped into a dark alley. He couldn't let anyone see him. Especially when he was still dressed up.
His costume, the sparkly, red, sequin dress he wore was torn up and he had bruises scattered across his exposed skin. He had long disposed of the matching mask. Anyone could come in and see him. He had to keep moving.
Looking back, okay, he probably shouldn't have gone out while his headspace was still a mess, but how did he screw up so bad? The person he was after was just supposed to be another petty criminal.
His memory started to get foggy. He tried to walk straight but his head was pounding and the ground seemed to be moving. Before he knew it, John was at someone's doorstep. Why did he come here? Was this person special? Could John trust him?
The door opened and John knew it was too late to go back. He collapsed into the person's arms mumbling, "I didn't know where else to go."
-
Alex jerked and the sharp noise coming from his front door. A knock? No, It wasn't. It was more like a thud. Of course, wanting to be careful, Alex took a kitchen knife from the rack. He placed it on the table right next to the door. Just in case. He approached the door, slowly opening it. Before he knew it, someone was in his arms, slowly going limp.
"I didn't know where else to go," they mumbled.
They didn't seem to be a threat, plus they were unconscious. Alex dragged them to his couch. Okay, a couple of bruises, ripped outfit, maybe a mugging- oh shit that was John.
Oh shit.
Holy shit.
John was the vigilante? John was his enemy? No, no, no. What was he going to do now? He couldn't tell John, he would just have him arrested. Alex felt a pang in his chest. John trusted him. With his life.
Fuck.
No, this wasn't the important thing at the moment. He needed to help John. Feelings could be taken care of after.
Alex turned to John. He started cleaning off his cuts and- oh god his wrist was broken. Alex grabbed some bandages and wrapped the limb. That would have to do for now. Next, he checked John's eyes. It was probably a long shot but by the way he was acting, he could've been drugged. Alex pulled his eyelids up slightly. Yep, okay, he was definitely on something.
It seemed like Alex had done all he could at the moment. He left John alone on the couch with a glass of water, some Advil, and a change of clothes.
Okay, now he could work on feelings.
God, what the heck was he going to do?
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