Lucas’ body was heavy.

Heavy.

Not like his body weighs more, he thinks. It’s not like someone has a menacing grip on his throat and ankles and arms-

No, it’s more like someone grabbed a needle and stitched his body into whatever is he lying or sitting on.

Lucas doesn’t like this feeling. It’s as uncomfortable as saying, “Jamie is a really good cook” or “Jason is pretty good in Maths.”

This feeling…he knows it. It makes his body itch. It makes him believe that there is a nail digging in his throat and he’s drowning on dry land, suffocating with his head high up in the air.

Drugs. It's drugs.

Why the hell is he on drugs?!

Lucas wrestles with his eyelids, trying to open them for a fraction or an inch, just to see where the hell is he, what the hell he’s doing- or what the hell is someone doing to him.

The only thing he sees is that the room is blindingly white, so bright that he slams his eyes shut.

He knows this color. He knows this room. He knows this blindness.

His stomach fills with dread.

Hospitals. Damn it, Lucas hates hospitals.

Why is he in one? It’s not like he would willingly walk in one, or at least let anyone stick needles and threads in his body-

It’s not needles, Lucas tells himself, his eyes closed shut as he thinks. Well, it definitely is needles- he can feel something in his arm, but it’s not a thread. His brain races with possibilities.

What if he’s trapped here? What if they don’t allow him to leave? What if-

Calm down, Lucas. Calm down. He bites his tongue as he tries to do that. Calm down. You’re not thinking straight. You’re trying to get the hell out of this hospital without even thinking what the hell put you in one?

Breathe. Breathe.

Lucas breathed.

He feels like his longs don’t belong to him. Maybe there is nothing physically wrong with him; or even if there is- he doesn’t wanna think about it.

It feels more like a headache.

And then he tries to remember what happened, recalling from the back of his mind. There were people screaming. Red and blue lights. He remembers someone sitting next to him.

He remembers Ash.

He was there too, he looked kind of sad. Terrified. Horrified.

Why was he looking like that? Think, Lucas, think. But nothing comes to his mind. His brain feels empty.

It’s the drugs. It has to be the drugs. Damn it, Lucas hates hospitals.

His limbs are heavy. So what? He can lift them, he can move his arms, and he can open his eyes, he can rip this itching sensation out of his body, and he can walk out of here, can’t he?

But- again, he fails.

What’s that ‘again’? What was it that he didn’t do recently? Why was he scolding himself before? Something that he wanted to; desperately wanted to do, but he couldn’t?

The name of the memory is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know what it is.

And then- it hits.

Staying awake.

He failed to stay awake.

That’s why Ash looked so horrified- people were shouting after, and police were there too. That’s why he is in the hospital.

White and sterile and oddly familiar.

Lucas wants to vomit, but he can’t.

Because, the task of breathing hits him like a damn truck, but the pain that comes with it is odd. Like a wave crashing. Lucas is used to pain. But this- it’s more painful, vulgar.

Okay, he’ll admit it.

Maybe he cried- when he felt a fire lit in himself, as if someone grabbed his intestines and placed them against a damn hot grill, he may have cried.

Only a little, though.

It feels like something clicks. Something hits him, like when on cold nights, he’d be tucked in his bed with layers of blankets on top by someone who Lucas can’t remember, or more like, he doesn’t wanna remember.

The pain melted.

The room melted.

Lucas melted.

It’s more- yeah. It’s definitely more drugs.

Damn it, Lucas hates hospitals.

The next time Lucas stirs, things make more sense. He doesn’t have to spin his mind and force it into thinking whatever happened to him that led him to the hospital.

His mind is spinning, his lungs are burning, and he can still feel that needle in his arm. It hurts, and it’s so different from what he has felt until now. But he can breathe.

He is alive.

He tries to open his eyes, but then remembers the blinding light that’ll greet him when he does that.

So he doesn’t. Although, now that Lucas was paying attention, he felt something wet on his other arm. It felt sore too, as if someone- or something was holding it in place.

Did my arm get hurt?

He didn’t remember. And then, the pressure came again. Lucas doesn’t remember getting hurt on the arm, so why is something holding it in place? He opens his eyes.

Slowly, so that the blinding lights don’t literally blind him.

He opens his right eye once, slowly, for an inch. The room seems blurry, and it is white, but it’s not a bad sight.

He fully opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is- damn, everything is so sterile and white. The curtains, the sheets, the shirt he’s wearing. No, now that he looked at it, really looked at it, it’s actually pale green. But who cares? If Lucas thinks it’s white, then it sure as hell is.

He notices the obvious- there is an IV stuck in his arm, and it’s connected to a beeping machine that is showing his heartbeat. There are other wires too, but he doesn’t know what they do.

He feels something soft, warm, and surprisingly wet against his other arm. What the hell is on his arm?

He struggles to tilt his head, which feels far too heavy for his neck, and finally manages to glance to the side.

Oh.

It’s a person.

A mop of familiar messy, brown hair is sprawled over his arm, rising and falling steadily with deep, slow breaths. A faint, rhythmic snore escapes from whoever it is, and the wet sensation? Drool.

Drool?

Jamie.

Hell, Lucas is sure Jamie is drooling on his blanket and his arm.

Lucas tries to whisper, or at least he thinks he does. His voice is so raspy, barely more than air, that he isn’t sure if the word actually left his throat.

He blinks, his vision clearing just a bit more. Yeah, it’s definitely Jamie, his older brother.

Jamie is slouched awkwardly in a chair beside the bed, his head propped up on Lucas’s arm, his mouth slightly open. His brow is furrowed even in sleep, like he’s been worrying non-stop.

His jacket is thrown carelessly over the back of the chair, and there’s a faint red mark on his cheek where he must have pressed his face against his hand before giving up and slumping onto Lucas.

The sight is both ridiculous and painfully endearing.

Lucas stares at Jamie for a long moment, taking in every detail. The dark circles under his eyes, the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his face, the way his shoulders are hunched protectively even as he sleeps.

Jamie is here.

Lucas’s throat tightens again, and this time, it’s not because of pain or drugs or whatever else the hospital is doing to him.

Now that Lucas thinks, Jamie being here is not good at all. If he’s here then that means that he needs to tell Jamie how the hell he got stabbed in the stomach.

Yeah, Lucas is in for it.

Lucas tries to do something, anything, so he can get outta there without Jamie knowing it. So what he does is- quickly retrieve his arm, and Jamie’s head lolls to the blanket, and then curses and wakes up.

“Damn it,” Lucas hisses, while Jamie is slowly opening his eyes and looking around. And then, as a reflex, his arms instinctively go to Lucas’ arm, and shake him. He’s almost on top of Lucas, and a little movement causes Lucas to curse again.

“Lucas!” Jamie shouts. He straightens up so quickly that he almost knocks the chair over, his eyes scanning Lucas’s face like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t some kind of dream.

Lucas croaks, but nothing comes out. His voice is hoarse, barely audible, but Jamie hears it. Of course, he does. Jamie always hears him.

For a moment, Jamie just stares at him. Then, without warning, Jamie reaches out and smacks him lightly on the shoulder.

“You absolute idiot!” Jamie hisses, his voice shaking. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?! What were you thinking?!”

Lucas flinches, not because the smack hurts- but because the words do. He opens his mouth to respond, but Jamie doesn’t let him.

“No, you don’t get to talk!” Jamie continues, his voice rising slightly. “Do you know how many hours I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up?! You- I haven't even eaten anything since yesterday!”

Jamie cuts himself off, his voice breaking, and suddenly, he looks away, running a hand through his messy hair. His shoulders are trembling.

Lucas blinks.

Of course, Jamie never eats without Lucas.

And then Jamie looks back at him, his expression softening. “You’re an idiot,” he mutters, his voice quieter now. “Should I call the nurse? Do you feel pain-”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence, and is already half-way to the door. Moving quickly, he turns the doorknob.

Lucas swallows hard.

“Don’t,” Lucas manages out, “Stay, please.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Jamie froze mid-step at Lucas’s soft plea. His hand slipped from the doorknob, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned around. He walked back to the bed.

He sank down on the chair beside Lucas, his expression unreadable as he looked at his brother. Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back.

Anger, yes. But worry more than anything else.

“Idiot,” Jamie muttered under his breath again, but his voice was softer this time. He looked at Lucas like he was trying to decide whether to scold him or hug him to death.

Lucas’s lips twitched upward, just barely. “Ash… is he okay?” His voice was hoarse, scratchy, and every word made his throat ache, but he had to ask.

Jamie raised an eyebrow.

He let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Be more considerate, will you? You just got stabbed, for God’s sake.” He shot Lucas a look. “But yeah. He’s fine. He woke up this morning.”

Lucas blinked, processing the information slowly. “This morning?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. “When did I…?”

“Noon,” Jamie supplied, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been out for hours. And before you ask- No, you’re not leaving this bed any time soon.”

Lucas groaned softly, his eyes darting toward the IV line taped to his arm. The sight of it made his stomach churn. “I hate this thing,” he muttered, “When can I get discharged?”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze pinning Lucas in place. “So you can what? Go out and get yourself stabbed again?” His voice rose slightly, “Blake told me everything, Lucas. Everything. And don’t think for a second I’m okay with any of it.”

Lucas flinched, looking away. His chest tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Jamie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to compose himself. “Look,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now. “You’re staying here until the doctors say you’re okay.”

Before Lucas could respond, there was a knock at the door. It creaked open, revealing a man in a white coat holding a clipboard.

The doctor stepped in, his gaze immediately landing on Lucas. “Why didn’t anyone inform me he was awake?” he asked, his tone brisk but not unkind. “I need to check his vitals and examine the wound.”

Jamie stood up instantly, stepping aside to give the doctor space. He glanced back at Lucas. “Sorry Doc, He just woke up.”

The doctor approached the bed, setting his clipboard down on the small table nearby. “Lucas, is it?” he asked, glancing at the name on the chart. Lucas gave a small nod, his body tensing as the doctor began his examination. “Do you feel okay? Are the stitches fine?”

“Itchy, but fine.” Lucas breathed.

The doctor nodded, and began to examine.

The doctor’s hands were methodical but gentle as he checked the bandage on Lucas’s side, pressing lightly around the wound. Lucas hissed in pain.

“Still tender,” the doctor muttered, “That’s expected. The stitches are holding well, but you’ll need to stay under observation for at least a few more days.”

Lucas groaned again, his head falling back against the pillow. Jamie shot him a sharp look but didn’t say anything.

The doctor continued his examination, checking Lucas’s blood pressure, heart rate, and the IV line. “You’re stable for now,” he said finally, his tone calm. “But no strenuous activity. And absolutely no leaving the hospital until I clear you. Understood?”

Lucas gave a reluctant nod, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Fine.”

The doctor turned to Jamie, giving him a small nod. “If anything changes- fever, increased pain, or any unusual symptoms- call for me immediately.”

Jamie nodded back, “Got it.”

As the doctor left, Jamie turned back to Lucas, his arms crossed again. “You heard him,” he said, his tone firm.

Lucas rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

“You’re such an idiot,” he muttered. “Why did you do that?”

“Do…what?” Lucas asked, confused.

“You know what I’m talking about, Lucas.” Jamie snapped, his voice rising slightly, and he glared at Lucas.

“What?” Lucas questioned, his voice suspicious.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jamie exasperated, dramatically placing a hand under his chin, “Maybe I’m wondering who the hell is stupid enough to jump in front of a freaking dagger?”

Oh.

Oh, here it comes.

“Jamie, the question should be,” Lucas said, “Who the hell brings a freaking dagger to a fist fight?”

“Lucas.” Jamie’s voice was low but sharp, “You’re seriously going to stand there and act like you didn’t just scare the living daylights out of me? You were bleeding out!”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool despite the dull ache in his side. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point!” Jamie snapped, his voice rising. He dragged a hand through his hair, “You don’t get to joke about this. You-” He pointed a finger at Lucas. “You threw yourself in front of a dagger, Lucas. A dagger. Do you even hear yourself?”

Lucas shrugged, “It’s not like I planned it. It just… happened.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “Happened? It just happened? What does that even mean?”

“It means that I jumped.”

“You think this is funny?”

“Honestly, a little,” Lucas admitted, though his voice softened as he glanced away. “I mean… it’s over now, right? I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Jamie repeated. “You’re fine? Lucas, do you even realize what could’ve happened? What would I have done if you died then, huh?”

Lucas avoided his brother’s gaze, suddenly feeling like a kid caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“What would you have done if I’d gotten stabbed?” Lucas asked quietly.

Jamie’s expression softened slightly. “What do you think I would’ve done, Lucas? I would’ve stepped in front of it myself.”

“Exactly!” Lucas shot back, “You would’ve done the same thing! So why are you mad at me for doing what you would’ve done?”

“Because it’s different!” Jamie barked, “You’re not supposed to do that. You’re not-” He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he clenched his fists.

“I’m not what?” Lucas pressed.

Jamie let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. “You’re not- Forget it! I quit, okay? You always scare the hell out of me!”

The room fell silent.

“You still love me, right? You’re not going to ground me, will you?”

“Unfortunately, yes. For both questions. You’re grounded for an entire month.”

“No….! Please, big brother, don’t! I beg of you!” Lucas smirked, and joked around. Jamie’s mood faltered too, and he appeared to be relaxed, if only a little.

And then, a voice came through, cutting through, loud and…yeah, just loud.

Definitely, a loudspeaker.

“Seriously, can these guys act more responsible? I feel like my ears are gonna bleed out from this loudness-”

“LIGHTENING LUCAS!!!”

The front door slammed open with an audible bang, and none other than Jason stormed in, his face a mixture of fury and exasperation. His entrance was so abrupt that Jamie actually jumped, startled.

“Alright, that’s my cue,” Jamie said quickly, already making a break for the door. “I’m leaving him in your capable hands, Jason. He’s all yours. I’ll bring back food-”

Huh, Jamie knows Jason?! When did they meet?!

“Jamie, don’t abandon me!” Lucas called after him, but Jamie was already gone, his laughter echoing.

Jason stalked toward the chair, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, glaring down at Lucas with the kind of intensity that could make grown men squirm.

Lucas groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Jason, my worthy sidekick, please don’t be mad. I only did what was necessary!”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to get mad at you quickly. But first- explain. In detail. Right now.”

Lucas peeked out from behind his hands, and he sheepishly grinned. “I did what was necessary, you know. Some might say it was reckless, but I call it innovative-”

“Lucas,” Jason growled, his tone low and threatening.

“Fine, fine!” Lucas sighed dramatically, “It was necessary to me, okay? I had to make a quick judgement on how close the distance between the dagger and Ash was, and it was really close. But if I sprinted, I could’ve made there in three seconds, so-”

Jason leaned closer, cutting him off. “What? You and Ash nearly got killed, and none of you even told me?! You bunked school yesterday for that reason, am I right?!”

Lucas blinked, his face the picture of wide-eyed innocence. “Is this about your ego, Jason? Because honestly, I think you’re more upset that I didn’t ask for your help.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment before muttering, “Oh, I am going to kill you.”

“Please don’t. Jamie already grounded me for a month; I’m suffering enough as it is.”

“You’re not suffering yet,” Jason said ominously. “But you will be.”

Lucas groaned, “Fine. Get it out of your system. But could you at least lower your voice? My ears are still recovering from the loudspeaker entrance.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. But he didn’t yell again. Instead, he plopped down on the chair, “Lightning Lucas,” Jason said, shaking his head. “One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

Lucas grinned up at him. “I don’t think so.”

It was after maybe one hour, that the door was knocked again.

Lucas smirked, looking toward Jason. "See that, Jason? Listen closely. This is how a cool guy knocks. Unlike the chaos you just unleashed earlier."

Jason snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, is that right? Enlighten me, oh wise one. What’s the exact science of a ‘cool guy’ knock?”

Lucas grinned. “Three firm, even taps. No more, no less. Just enough to let everyone know you’ve arrived. Then you swing the door open like you own the place. It’s an art, really. Not everyone can pull it off.”

Jason rolled his eyes, muttering, "You’ve officially lost it."

Before Lucas could reply, the door creaked open. His smug expression faltered immediately as Ash walked in, looking mildly confused by the scene unfolding before him.

Jason froze for a moment, his face unreadable- until a loud, hysterical laugh escaped him.

“That’s your ‘cool guy dynamic entry’?!” Jason slapped his knee as he laughed uncontrollably. “Lucas, your theories are trash! Ash just stumbled in like he forgot where he was going!”

Lucas groaned, slumping back onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh. “Forget everything I just said, Jason,” he muttered. “I feel like throwing up. He’s not cool. Not even a little. It’s actually painful to witness.”

Ash blinked, standing frozen in the doorway, completely bewildered. His brows knitted together as he glanced between the two of them. “What…what the hell is going on here?”

Jason tried to answer but was too busy howling with laughter.

Ash sighed, stepping inside fully and closing the door behind him. “You two are insane,” he said flatly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason smirked, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter subsided. “That’s what they all say.”

Lucas rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t come in here and ruin my impeccable theories about life.”

Ash just stared at him, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Jason grinned. “Don’t worry, buddy. Neither do I.”

The room fell into a brief silence. Ash crossed his arms, “You look like crap, by the way.”

Lucas raised a brow, “And you too. Looking at you makes me wanna puke.”

Ash rolled his eyes but said nothing, shaking his head as he finally sat in the chair Jason had vacated.

“Now, I want to listen to Asher’s part of the story. C’mon, Asher, my dude! Start ranting about everything that happened!”

Ash looked bewildered. “Um…Actually, can we talk about something else? You already know what happened. So, why ask again?”

“Aww~ You don’t wanna talk about it? It’s sensitive, huh?”

Ash looked at him, and then snapped. “No, I’ll tell you everything that happened. Right now.”

“Can anyone bring me a bag of popcorn? I feel like Imma gonna enjoy this piece more.” Jason grinned, and leaned closer.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Ash muttered, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed.

“Start anywhere,” Jason said, clearly enjoying himself. “I mean, I don’t care if it’s tragic, comedic, or just plain awkward- spill it, Asher!”

Lucas rolled his eyes from where he lay on the bed. He didn’t say anything, though, just watched as Ash wrestled with whether or not he should entertain Jason’s antics.

“Fine,” Ash snapped finally. “But I’m not going into detail. You already know most of it.”

Ash sighed deeply and started recounting the events in a robotic tone, skipping over most of the emotional bits. Jason nodded along dramatically, occasionally throwing in comments like “No way!” or “WHAT?!” until Lucas eventually groaned and threw a pillow in Jason’s direction.

“Go get some juice or something,” Lucas said, his voice strained. “I feel damn thirsty.”

Jason snorted but stood up. “Fine, I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t continue without me, got that?!” he called out as he left, shutting the door behind him before Lucas could throw something at him.

The room fell silent again. Ash stayed seated in the chair, staring at Lucas as the other boy shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

After what felt like an eternity, Ash finally broke the silence.

“Why did you come in front of me?” His voice was low, making Lucas glance at him.

Lucas blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ash said, leaning forward slightly. “Why did you come in front of me? You didn’t have to. No one asked you to.”

Lucas hesitated.

“Isn’t that what protecting someone means?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Ash’s jaw tightened. He remembered telling Lucas something like…

.

.

Protection isn’t about revenge.

Protecting someone doesn’t always mean being some kind of hero. Have you ever seen a father, or even a stranger, standing in front of someone else, shielding them? Or maybe holding a kid’s hand real tight while crossing the street so they don’t have to feel scared?

That’s what protecting means.

.

.

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to be protected.”

Lucas smiled. “I didn’t exactly plan it, either. I didn’t have a reason for it either. My legs just…moved on their own. Trust me, it just happened.”

“You make trusting you so damn hard.”

“Did it scare you?”

“...It did.”

The room fell into silence.

Lucas tilted his head slightly, “What now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?” Ash asked, his tone sharper than intended.

“I mean,” Lucas said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his eyes, “whatever happens next. Blake might come for us again, or maybe his lackeys will. So, I’ll deal with them.”

Ash stared at him for a moment, then scoffed quietly, shaking his head. “If you mean ‘us,’ then okay.”

Lucas blinked, clearly taken aback. “Us?”

“Yes, us, you dumbhead,” Ash said, his voice softer now. “If it involves me, then I’m in. Got it?”

Lucas let out a quiet laugh.

“Everything will be okay. I hope, at least. But you gotta trust me, there’s no other way. If I say you’re in trouble, then it means, you turn back and leave.”

Ash raised a brow, “Why, you own me or something?”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t own you. Someone has to keep you in check, you reckless idiot. Besides, I want it because…After all…”

Ash raised an eyebrow, as he looked at Lucas to finish.

“We’re friends, aren’t we, Ash?”

Ash looked taken aback, and then, he smiled with the bottom of his heart.

“But still…Don’t expect me to be okay with what you did.”

“That’s totally fine. Because I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”