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Miles staggered through the hospital corridor, barely able to follow the nurse’s directions in his exhausted state. Wright is here, he reminded himself. Just a little further and I can see him.
It seemed like he had just gotten to sleep when he was woken up by his phone ringing, Larry’s panicked voice yelling from the receiver that their mutual friend was dying in the hospital and a gorgeous angel was a devil in disguise. His heart had caught in his throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he was hanging up and calling a private jet service.
Because it couldn’t end this way. He wouldn’t allow it. Wright was too important to be just another victim.
“Edgey!” called a familiar voice from the entrance to one of the rooms.
Blinking a few times, Miles registered the two people at the entrance. Larry, who had called him last night (afternoon here, he reminded himself), and Maya Fey. Both here to visit Wright, he supposed. If Miles had only been here and not an ocean away, he would have been here since the very beginning.
“Dude, you look wiped,” his old friend remarked. “Had a rough flight or something?”
“I suppose you could say that,” Miles grumbled. Truthfully, flying never agreed with him, even though he did it so much these days for his work and research. Not that he would have been able to sleep last night anyway.
“Well, I’m sure Nick will be glad you’re here,” said Miss Fey. “I didn’t want to leave, but we do have to talk to the police about what happened.”
“Oh yeah,” Larry mumbled as he turned to leave. “Later, dude!”
And just like that, he was alone in Wright’s hospital room with only the beeping of the machines for company. Wright himself was lying in the bed wrapped in bandages and looking pale. Was he dead already? He couldn’t be. Larry or Miss Fey would have said something…
His eyes darted around frantically until he found the heart monitor, and only then could he breathe a sigh of relief.
“You’re alive,” he whispered past the lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t know if you would be…” Stepping closer to the bed, he noticed a stray lock of hair drooping over Wright’s forehead, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to brush it aside and feel his friend’s temperature. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you,” he said instead as he sat down in a nearby chair. “I’ve seen so much violence, so much death, and the thought of you as… the thought of losing you was too much to bear. I love you, Phoenix.”
He’d said that last part without thinking, but it didn’t matter. Wright was unconscious and nobody else was around to hear. Admitting to himself the truth that he had been ignoring for the last two years would change nothing.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind that the man wrapped in bandages began to stir. “M… Miles?” he croaked, slowly blinking his eyes open.
“Oh.” Miles almost wanted to excuse away what he’d just said, but he wasn’t sure how much Wright had heard. “You’re finally awake,” he said instead.
“You’re here…” Wright was barely awake, slurring his speech and gazing at him out of focus with a big, dopey smile. “‘s Maya okay?”
“She was here a moment ago, as was Larry,” Miles informed him. “They would have stayed longer, but they needed to go speak with the police. They will most likely return later.” Larry hadn’t given him many details about what happened, and at some point he would see to it that whoever had assaulted Wright got the maximum sentence, but for now, his friend was the top priority.
“Tha’s good…” Wright reached out one hand, gingerly grasping the hand Miles had unconsciously extended. “‘M glad she’s okay. And ’m glad you’re here. I really… really missed you, Miles, y’know that?”
“I know,” he said, scooting the chair closer without letting go of Wright’s hand. “I haven’t said it enough, but I’m truly sorry for disappearing the way I did last year.”
“No, like… all the time.” Wright squeezed Miles’ hand as he held it closer to himself. “I miss you all the time when we’re apart. I love you, Miles.”
Miles’ lip trembled and he felt a single tear run down his cheek. He’d spent so much time worrying about Phoenix’s condition and grappling with his own feelings that he hadn’t even thought of how the man might feel about him, much less entertain this possibility. Could he really accept…?
Before he could think twice about it, Miles leaned closer. “And I you, Phoenix,” he whispered, pressing an impulsive kiss to the corner of Phoenix’s mouth.