Patch Job (Incomplete)
Winter in Northern
California was different from the winters Florian had
grown up with -- never quite as cold as it got
in Bucharest, it lacked the same bite... And there wasn't
snow, either. Winter here wasn't abrasive and refreshing
-- it was wet and heavy, lingering on everything,
weighing him down and sinking deep into his bones to
create a damp cold that never fully left him, no matter
how long he'd been warm and dry...
It was mid-January
when it happened -- when Viktor stumbled into the
apartment cursing, rain-soaked and shivering, his clothes
torn and covered in blood. Usually, most of the blood
belonged to someone else. Today, it was mostly Viktor's.
Panic flooded Florian's
chest. The world narrowed down to the burst of crimson
that bloomed on Viktor's crisp white shirt, slowly
spreading across the fabric... Bleeding. Viktor was
bleeding. Viktor was hurt. And badly. Viktor
had never come back from a job hurt before --
not like this. Not in a way that made his brows furrow
and stole the warmth from his skin, leaving him sallow
and colorless.
"Fuck..."
Viktor muttered, leaning heavily against the wall
just inside the door -- which still stood open behind
him, the pale gray light of the cloudy winter sky
casting him into shadow.
Florian couldn't tell
if the beads of moisture that dripped their way down
Viktor's cheeks were rain or sweat. He hoped ot God they
weren't tears -- he didn't think he could handle seeing
Viktor cry. Especially not when he was already freaking
out from seeing him hurt like this.
"God--"
Florian jumped to his feet, rushing to help his
boyfriend into the apartment, closing and locking the
door behind him. "What happened!?"
Viktor laughed
weakly, a sound that was more of a pained cough than
an expression of mirth. "Bad luck happened."
He grumbled. His voice was thick with pain, making
Florian's chest tighten with sympathy.
"No shit! I
mean beyond that -- give me details, Christ..."
They got to the couch
and Viktor collapsed onto it, hands pressed to his side.
His shirt was torn there, revealing a jagged slash that
cut across his abdomen, just barely missing the dark,
shaky lines of an tattooed eye that marked the flesh just
above his hip bone. The wound was bleeding profusely and
now that Viktor wasn't lit from behind, Florian could see
it wasn't the only wound. Viktor's lip was split
and red marks that would no doubt deepen into purple and
black brusies were forming on his cheek and jaw... His
nose was bleeding too, but it didn't look like it was
broken.
Thank God. Florian
didn't have the faintest idea how to set a broken nose --
and they couldn't bring him to the hospital.
"What do you
need those for?" Viktor snapped -- he'd
rarely spoken quite this harshly to Florian but... It
was the pain. Florian knew that. Viktor signed.
"You don't want them, Flor. Just... grab a towel..."
Florian pressed
his lips together, looking at Viktor for a moment
that seemed to last forever, hesitating. No, he had
to be firm. "I will -- but you're going to tell
me while I patch you up. No lies, no hiding, remember?
We don't keep things from each other. We're family."
Viktor fell
against the back of the couch, wincing as he did so,
another of those weak laughs that sounded more like a
cough. He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah,
yeah -- I know, I know. You're too nosy..."
"And you're
too secretive" Florian replied, glancing
over his shoulder at Viktor as he glanced over his
shoulder at Viktor, walking into the kitchen and
grabbing a tea towel from the drawer. "Where is
your patch kit?"
He knew Viktor had to
have one -- he knew Viktor must've gotten hurt before and
he was too careful not to be prepared.
"Under the
sink."
"Great,
thank you..." Florian pulled a first aid kit
from under the sink, opening it. Inside of the
plastic case is what looks like everything
he needs to stop the bleeding...
Not that he'd ever
done this before. Florians' father may have failed at
keeping a lot of the uglier aspects of their family
business from him -- or maybe he had exposed Florian to
them on purpose, he didn't know -- but Florian's work was...
Casual. Get a few college kids buying product, make sure
money got where it needed to go, deliver things now and
again... It was never anything particularly dangerous, as
long as he didn't get caught. And he hadn't. So
Florian hadn't ever needed to patch himself -- or anyone
else -- up after a job went wrong.
Viktor did deal
with the most dangerous aspects -- enforcing Nikolai's
orders, taking care of problem customers... Making sure
Florian didn't get himself killed through some stupid
bullshit stunt like driving without his glasses...
"You have no
idea what you're doing, do you?" Viktor replied,
looking at Florian with a pained smile on his lips as
he walked back into the living room. There was a
faint sparkle in his eyes, at least. That gave
Florian a bit of hope.
"Do I ever?"
"I can think
of a few times..."
"Outside of
bed, I mean." Florian said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, let's
see -- you know what you're doing in the kitchen, on
the couch, in the men's bathroom at Alcina's--"
"I get it!"
Florian cried, laughing. "God, even bleeding out
you can't stop thinking about fucking me, can you?"
Viktor laughed
and then winced, clearly regretting it. "Not my
fault, you're the one who's always dragging me off
for something or another..." He sighed softly.
"Hand me the flask, now push down on that towel."
Florian grabbed the
steel flask from the first aid kit, handing it to Viktor,
looking at the rest of what was in the kit. He really didn't
know what he was doing. Curved needles, fishing line,
gauze, bandages, rubbing alcohol, saline solution, sharp
scissors, scalpels, super glue, topical anesthetic, duct
tape? What the fuck was he supposed to do with all
this shit?
"Okay,
Viktor I'm...you're gonna need to tell me what to do."
Florian admitted, looking back up at Viktor. He could
feel his fingers starting to shake, his chest
tightening with growing anxiety. Was he pressing too
hard? Was he going to hurt Viktor worse? Fuck, fuck,
fuck!
Viktor closed his
eyes, taking a quick drink from the flask. Florian
felt the shudder as it passed through him. "Relax,
Flor. Your hands are shaking..."
"No shit! I
don't -- I don't want to hurt you!" Florian's
voice broke. He's terrified. He didn't want
to admit just how scared this situation made him...
Seeing Viktor hurt was terrifying.
"Florian --
look at me." Viktor's voice was calm and steady,
even if it was rough and pained. He wasn't afraid,
even hurt. He wasn't afraid Florian was going to hurt
him.
Florian looked up,
eyes still wide. "What?"
"I trust you.
You can't possibly fuck this worse than I did the
first time. Relax, I'll tell you what to do..."
Viktor's expression was nearly as calm as his voice,
though Florian could see the sweat and rain still
beading on his face, he could see the pain in Viktor's
eyes, the way his brow furrowed -- the way the color
was still draining away.
Florian nodded.
"Okay..."
"Good. Lift
up the towel, check if it's still bleeding..."
Florian just barely
lifted the towel, folding it back so he could look at the
wound... It didn't seem to be oozing anymore but... He
was pretty sure the cut went deep. The edges
were uneven, too. That was bad, wasn't it?
"I think it
stopped... Now what?"
"Saline
solution. Just...squirt it into the cut, needs...cleaned
out." Viktor's voice wasn't as strong as it was
earlier -- Florian couldn't tell if it was the pain
or if it was blood loss. Hopefully, it was the first.
Florian managed to
get the wound cleaned without much difficulty and getting
the area numbed was... Easy enough. Just apply the
lidocaine. Florian didn't want to know how Viktor got
hold of the hospital grade shit -- stolen it? Bought it
from someone who stole it? It didn't matter. He was just
stalling. The next step made Florian want to cry.
"You need to
trim the edges of the cut, Flor." Viktor said.
"Sterilize the scissors first then..."
Florian stared at
Viktor in disbelief. "What? How does making it bigger
help!?"
Viktor grimaced.
"Clean edges...close better."
Florian pressed
his lips together in a tight line. "I don't..."
No. No, he couldn't.
He couldn't freak out, he couldn't give up. Viktor needed
him. He needed Florian to help him. Florian needed
to keep it together.
Even with the numbing,
every snip seemed to cause Viktor's brows to tighten, his
body tensing. Florian hated it, he hated every second
of it. He was afraid of taking too much, afraid of
leaving a wound that couldn't possibly close...
Stitching the wound
closed was next and at least this Florian
thought he could do -- it wouldn't be pretty. The
scar would probably be thick and ugly but... It would be
closed, right?
Viktor reached
out, gently touching Florian's cheek. "You're
doing...fine. Now, you wanted details, right?"
Florian nodded,
still keeping his eyes focused on the stitches he was
making -- on the needle...slipping into the skin and
slipping back out, pulling the wound together. At
least it wasn't too wide. "Yeah, yeah, what...what
happened?"
"Turns out
that some new...players are in town." Viktor
started -- his voice sounded particularly strained
right now. Is it that he doesn't want to talk? is it
the pain? Maybe Florian should stop thinking so much
about everything and just... Listen. Focus.
"What do you
mean?"
"Your father
wanted me to do some recruitment. Recon. Something of
that nature -- talk to a few people down south, in
Romero Hills. Some fucking American biker gang. Got
surprised when a few of their enemies showed
up, decided to make an example of everyone in the
fucking bar."
Florian winced.
"Are you fucking kidding? What the hell?"
"No idea.
Anyway,
|