by Talya Andor
"Exactly."
Once they reached St Johns Lucas circled three times without finding a spot, and pulled up to the curb in front of the store to let him off. "I'll find a spot. See you soon."
Soren sent him an air kiss and climbed out of the car.
The queasiness was back as he stood in front of the store shouldering his bag. He glanced through the window but it didn't allow him great visibility. Half the screens were pulled against the glare of the afternoon light and he couldn't see who was working behind the counter. He swallowed against the tight feeling in his throat and pushed the door open.
Tia looked up from helping a pair of customers. She gave him a little wave and he responded in kind, making his way to the back of the store.
"—fuck are you even doing here, you're not on the schedule," Aaron's angry voice made Soren freeze in his tracks.
Soren stood beside the dish sanitizer, afraid to put another toe forward. If he moved any further, he'd be in the back office area in plain view.
"You're off the schedule today." Danice's voice was firm and carrying in response.
"According to who?" Aaron went up about an octave and doubled in volume.
"This is coming from Michelle. You can stop by and talk to her about it tomorrow, but as of right now you're off the schedule."
Soren waited for a long moment, grimacing as the tense silence continued. He had to make up his mind on whether to keep going and step forward into view, or whether to retreat and wait until it blew over.
He ground his teeth. He was done retreating. It was the worst possible time to reveal himself, he knew, but he had to get clocked in and grab his apron. Being timely was more important to him than whatever shit fit Aaron was throwing.
Soren edged around the corner, trying to keep his field of vision focused on the time clock but taking in Aaron's taut shoulders to the right, and Danice's stoic face beyond him.
"Fuck!" Aaron burst out, pivoting.
Soren took another step closer to the time clock and something whistled in front of his face. He went rigid with shock as something exploded against the wall beside him.
"Soren!" Danice exclaimed.
Soren blinked, trying to process what had just happened. He looked down at the floor, frowning at shards of ceramic. Had Aaron just thrown a mug?
"Fuck," Aaron repeated in a drastically different tone. It was the first time Soren had ever heard him scared.
A bead rolled down Soren's temple over his cheek and he brushed it away. Was he sweating? He felt cold, not hot.
"Soren," Danice said, sounding troubled.
He turned and grimaced at her. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt?" He reached up to tug at his hair.
"No, you're…" She pointed.
"Shit," Aaron said. He lurched into motion, brushing past Soren and all but running out of the back area.
Soren's frown deepened. "That mug better come out of his paycheck." He lifted a hand to wipe at another bead of wetness rolling down his cheek and glanced at his fingers. They were red. "Oh, great."
"You're bleeding," Danice stated the obvious.
Soren sighed and went to grab some paper towels to staunch the blood flow.
*~*~*
"I'm going to kill him," Lucas stated. His tone was calm and matter of fact.
"You're not going to kill him," Soren disagreed.
"It's hardly an act that calls for homicide, Lucas, though I think someone's going to have to take Soren to the hospital and get him some stitches," Danice said.
Lucas bent over Soren's head again worriedly. Every paper towel they put against his cuts got soaked red with disturbing speed. "I think you're right."
"Please, no." Soren sounded pained.
"These aren't coagulating fast enough," Lucas said. He was pretty sure at least one of the gashes was too wide and they couldn't even get a clear look at the wounds thanks to the blood and Soren's hair. "What the hell did he do, take a broken bottle to your scalp?"
"Close enough. Threw a mug at the wall at top velocity. Right next to his head." Danice said.
"To be fair, he wasn't expecting me to pop out of nowhere," Soren said. He sighed. "Now I really wish I'd waited to come back there until he stormed out. Why was he so pissed?"
"No comment." Danice was as tight lipped as ever.
Lucas put a hand under Soren's arm. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital."
"Really don't want to," Soren said. He turned puppy eyes on Lucas. "There is no way my mom isn't getting involved if we end up at the emergency room."
Lucas grimaced. "Doesn't matter. We've applied pressure and bandages and you're still bleeding. Besides, doesn't that hurt like hell?"
"Stings a bunch!" Soren sounded oddly cheerful about it. He was probably still in shock.
"Get out of here." Danice made shooing motions. "Seriously, this is beyond first aid. Seek medical attention."
"Who's going to work my shift?" Soren looked more distressed about that than his wounds.
"I'll call around until I get a body. Don't worry about that!"
Now Soren turned his puppy eyes on Danice. "But I'm not fired, am I?"
"What? No." Danice laughed. "After seeing that, you're still worried? You're not fired, Soren, now go get those scalp wounds taken care of. You're a bleeder."
Soren let himself be guided up off the chair where he'd been sitting as they applied pressure and towels to the bleeding. As Lucas steered him out he muttered, "Any of my sisters could have told you that."
"They've given you scalp wounds before?"
"What? No. But Angie gave me a bloody nose and Morgan has bitten me."
"I am so glad I'm an only child."
Despite trying to keep it light, Lucas was worried for Soren and drove faster than he should have on the way to the hospital. It was close by, at least, but the parking lot was packed when they got there. He kept talking to Soren on the way, and got increasingly mono-syllabic replies that made him worry about blood loss or concussion or any number of things that he wouldn't know about or be able to put a name to.
Soren leaned on him more heavily when they got out of the car. "I'm starting to feel light-headed," he said, but didn't seem worried. "Does that mean I'm going to pass out?"
"Please don't. Please." Lucas was ready to carry him if he had to. He was more worried about the implications if Soren did pass out. He hadn't lost that much blood, had he?
The emergency room was brightly-lit and half full despite the parking lot. By the time they got through the lobby, Soren was leaning against his shoulder white as milk, eyes mostly closed. Lucas wedged him into a chair and went to explain the situation to Triage.
At the counter, a bored-looking nurse looked them over, passed over a form for Lucas to fill out on Soren's behalf, and muttered something about overdosing teenagers when he turned his back on her to keep an eye on Soren sitting bonelessly in his chair where Lucas had left him.
Once he filled out everything he could and shoved it back across the counter at the nurse, he seated himself beside Soren and took his hand. Soren rested his head on his shoulder. "I don't want to call my mom."
Lucas bit his lip. They couldn't do it by themselves.
There were gaps he'd left blank on the form. He didn't have a health record number for Soren. He didn't even know what insurance provider he had. In fact, Lucas didn't know anything he needed for Soren to get admitted to the hospital.
One-handed, he scrolled through his cell phone numbers until he reached the one he'd added most recently. He squeezed Soren's hand as the ring of the phone sounded in his ear. The formula words—it's going to be okay—hovered on his lips and he swallowed them down.
How could he promise that to himself, let alone someone else?
A woman's voice came on the line. "Hello?"
Lucas swallowed. "Hi. Is this Mrs. Wilkenson?"
"Yes." Pause. "This is…Lucas, isn't it?"
"I…yes. I'm sorry." Lucas closed his eyes. "I'm here at the hos
pital with Soren."
*~*~*
"Mom, I'm okay!" The words popped out of his mouth as soon as Claire swept aside the curtain and clapped a hand to her mouth.
Soren winced. He had an inkling of how he looked. They'd brought clippers in and parts of his hair were shaved where they'd had to get down to the scalp to clean, disinfect, and even pick out pieces of ceramic before stitching up three separate wounds.
"Oh, Soren." Claire was hushed and appalled all at once.
"I've been thinking about a haircut anyhow?" He tried to make light of it but the way her expression hardened it was immediately apparent that had been the wrong tactic. "Where's Dad?"
"At home with Ricky. Sorri, what—"
"Where's Lucas?" Soren interrupted.
Claire's eyes slid to one side of the room. "He's gone." Her mouth went tight-lipped again.
"He wouldn't just leave," Soren stated with absolute certainty. He'd asked Lucas to wait for him when the nurse had called his name. He'd never gotten stitches before and had no idea how long it was going to take. It had certainly felt like forever, but whether it had been hours or not he knew Lucas wouldn't leave without him.
"Oh, he left. I made sure of it." Claire walked into the cubicle, peering worriedly at his head. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
"Well, it wasn't Lucas! Why did you chase him off?" Claire reached out to touch his hair and he brushed her hand away.
"There was no reason for him to stay," Claire retorted. "And you're hardly going home with him after I've come to the hospital to pick you up after you've gotten how many stitches?"
Soren could tell it wasn't a rhetorical question, she actually wanted to know. "Twenty-three." It was starting to hurt, and he wanted the pain pills the nurse had promised they would prescribe him, even though she'd said rather sternly that ibuprofen ought to be enough.
Claire made a noise in her throat.
"It wasn't Lucas's fault. He wasn't even in the store when it happened," Soren pressed, guessing from the wild look in her eye that she was already making assumptions.
"Maybe he didn't inflict the cuts," Claire said obscurely.
"What?"
Before he could press her on it, the nurse came back. Claire pulled the curtain, shutting Soren into the cubicle.
He breathed hard for a moment, so angry he didn't know what to say or do. He dug his phone out and was about to turn it on before he glanced guiltily at the curtain. He wasn't supposed to use his phone in the hospital. He had a feeling his mother wasn't going to let him use it in the car, either.
Soren tried to listen through the curtain, but it sounded like the aftercare instructions the nurse had already given him. Painkillers in moderation, keep the wounds clean and dry after washing, follow up with his doctor to set an appointment for removal. The stitches wouldn't dissolve on their own.
He wondered if he was still in shock. He was able to think dispassionately about the wounds, but his mind was still shying away from thinking about how they'd been inflicted. His whole body had frozen at that shattering noise when Aaron had thrown the mug. He hadn't even known he'd been hurt at first.
He shook his head and looked up at his mother's concerned face as she pulled the curtain aside. They were going to have to talk about some important things and get them straightened out soon, but for now Soren was content to let his mother take him home and take care of him.
*~*~*
Lucas snapped up from a half doze over the steering wheel as two people walked out of the emergency room door, both with the same long, dark hair. He sucked in a breath as he got a closer look at Soren from across the parking lot. It looked like they had hacked up his hair on the left side of his head.
That should be the least of his concerns, but it was definitely a visual shock.
"Fuck," Lucas breathed, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. He'd never felt such a powerful urge toward physical violence as he did toward Aaron right then. He wasn't sure what was worse, seeing Soren shocky and white with the bright red contrast of blood on the side of his face, or watching him head out of the emergency room trying to hold himself together.
At least when Lucas had walked him in, Soren had been willing to lean on him. Shambling next to his mother he had his arms crossed tightly in front of him and was holding himself bolt upright.
Lucas rubbed at his eyes. He had waited, sick to his stomach over anticipating Claire's reaction, and she hadn't disappointed him. With a few withering words she had dispatched him, telling him curtly that he wasn't family, had no right to stay, and implied if he hadn't involved himself with Soren to begin with then nothing would have happened.
He'd almost laughed in her face at the logical fallacy, as if getting hurt at work had anything to do with him. Although Lucas could stretch that in a twisted way if he tried. Aaron never would have been so angry at Soren if he hadn't proved susceptible to Lucas's charms but not Aaron's own.
Still didn't explain why Aaron had thrown a mug at him, though. Lucas wanted explanations for that one. It was probably a good thing he didn't know where Aaron lived.
Lucas sat and stewed behind the wheel of his car until Soren got safely into the passenger seat. He remained a moment longer, chewing his knuckle, until the Wilkenson family car had pulled out of the parking lot. At last he sighed, started up his car, and headed out.
There were a lot of things he wanted to do right then. Call Soren, talk to Soren, hold him in his arms and make sure he was okay.
At the moment it was seeming conceited to think he could take care of someone else, when he could barely keep his own shit together.
Maybe Soren's mom was right. He was no good for him, the way he had been no good for any girl he'd ever dated.
*~*~*
"Straight to your room," Claire said.
"Oh my god, I got stitches, I'm not under house arrest," Soren complained.
Claire's nostrils flared. "Did you want something to eat and painkillers to go with that?"
Soren sighed and trudged for the stairs. "I'll be in my room." He wasn't going to pick a fight over the standard of care. Right then he more or less felt like being in bed anyhow, or at least reclining. His head wounds were throbbing sharply and he really wanted to apply an ice pack but the nurse had warned against that. His scalp already itched and it felt like something was seeping. Most of all he wanted to take a shower and that wasn't going to be an option until the next day. If then. He might make do with washing up out of the sink.
Angie popped out of her room when he got to the top of the stairs. "Soren, what did you—holy shit."
"Language," he chided her. She didn't even crack a smile, her wide eyes riveted to the side of her face.
"What the hell?"
"Workplace accident," he said. It was true in the strictest sense of the term. That led him on a brief tangent over whether it could be considered covered under workman's comp if he hadn't been clocked in at the time he was injured. He was sure his mother knew the answer to that.
"You look like you got into a bar fight!" Angie trailed after him on the way to his room. "Seriously, what happened?"
He paused in the doorway. "Twenty-three stitches." It seemed like the most direct answer. "Someone threw a mug at work."
"Threw it where, right at your face?" Angie peered at him from close range and made a noise that managed to sound sympathetic and disgusted at the same time.
"It was close range, yeah." Soren flinched as he relived the mug exploding next to his head.
"Sorry. You okay?"
Soren managed a smile for her. "I'll be okay, yeah. If I can get through the motherly solicitude for the next few days."
"What do you mean?"
"Soren?" Claire's voice floated up the stairwell. "I'm going to bring a tray up, all right? I want you to take it easy."
Angie cocked her head. "That's not so bad."
Soren scoffed. "You say that, but I think she tried to break me up from Lucas at the hospital, or something.
Whatever she said, it chased him off and he was going to wait for me until I checked out." He figured he was being overly dramatic, but he was still surprised and maybe a little wounded that Lucas hadn't defied her and stayed for him.
"Well, shit."
That pretty much summed up how Soren felt about it.
Eighteen
The streets in the St. Johns area were buzzing with activity by the time Lucas pulled up to a stop half a block beyond the Starbucks, but he was able to find a parking spot with no trouble. He was scheduled to work with Aaron later that day—if Aaron was even on the schedule, all things considered. If Michelle was in the store, he wanted to follow up with her on what Aaron had done the afternoon before.
Lucas kept his hands shoved in his pockets, head down. Soren should have been opening with him. Lucas would have driven him in, and probably come in early and worked on his homework in the back until it was time to clock in.
After Claire's ultimatum the night before, what happened next was up to Soren.
Lucas quickened his step, anxious. Part of him was expecting police to be there, though if anything Danice would have given a statement the night before.
The store was packed the way it was sometimes during the weekday hours. The tables were full of people in suits and college students with laptops. The big armchair in the corner was shared by a college-age pair, girl on the boy's knee, head to head as they looked over a newspaper together. There was no room for Lucas to study.
Danice was behind the cash register, and her round face turned to him, dark eyes widening. She barely paused in her transaction but tipped her head in the direction of the back room, then repeated the gesture when Lucas held back. He ducked past the crowding of customers, nodded to Pam behind the bar, and caught the swinging door to walk through it.
"Michelle's in back," Danice said, pushing her way through the door a beat later, wiping her hands on her apron. "C'mon, Lucas."
Lucas raised his brows at her over his shoulder, but walked into the furthest reaches of the back room to Michelle's office area.