Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

46.Good Dreams

"You've got to stop drinking that shit," the gray-haired doctor sighed.

His gloved hands were busy unraveling my bandages and although I was a bit groggy from the pain medication, I managed to keep my eyes open and mind alert enough to follow the doctor's conversation with Jack.

"I'll be fine, doc. Energy drinks haven't killed anyone yet." Jack winked at me and took another sip from a black can.

"When was the last time you've slept eight hours a night, eaten three meals a day?" the doctor asked with a jaded expression. His fingers prodded at the stitched up gash across my palm.

"Don't worry about me, you've got your hands full already," Jack said and that fang of his glinted in a smirk.

"I'll worry about the one footing the bill as much as I like," the doctor spoke slowly and pensively as his attention turned to my little finger.

What was left of it anyway. I studied the stub as well, and tried to move it. My palm didn't allow for too much finger curling anyway, but still — there was a strange sensation of unfulfilled expectation on the rest of my body as I formed a loose fist.

"Looking good." The doctor stepped aside and removed his latex gloves. "I'll have the nurse put a fresh bandage."

"Thanks," I uttered tongue-tied.

"And you, put your neck brace back on and go take a nap or something." The doctor yanked away Jack's energy drink and walked out of the small room through a white plastic curtain.

It swayed to the side enough for me to make out a murky corridor. Dizzy and sleepy, I turned my head and stared up at the ceiling. A thin layer of white paint covered every inch of it and coupled with the smell in the air I recognized the place we were in. The factory.

"Is this a private reserve of your makeshift hospital?" I asked unable to hold back a smile.

"The common room is full," Jack said softly and leaned, casting his shadow over me as he added, "Plus, I wanted to be able to do this."

His musky scent reached my senses and our lips met in a tender heart-wrenching kiss. My left hand raised, yet Jack pulled away before I could touch his hair and keep him in place.

"Does it hurt?" he asked and ran a fingertip along my right forearm.

I studied the stump and the crimson cut across my hand. "When I look at it, I expect it to hurt. And then I realize — it doesn't."

Silence. I didn't like how Jack remained silent so I lifted my eyes to him. His features furrowed in a grim shade and his gaze covered with a veneer of anger. I'd seen that cold and distant green stare before. Jack was not really angry. He was feeling guilty.

"This shouldn't have happened," he said in the end, confirming my fears.

"It's not your fault-"

Swoosh. The plastic curtain crumpled to the side and in came the red-haired nurse with a tray of bottles and bandages, ready to wrap my hand and to interrupt us.

"I have prepared one hell of a story to tell my students," I joked.

Jack smiled and scoffed shaking his head, "Of course you have."

The nurse worked quickly, dousing the stub and gash in antiseptic, filling the air around us with a familiar and toxic aroma.

"There was this knife and it became a sentient being, maybe even sapient. We wrestled in the kitchen while I was cooking. Quite the epic battle." I pause for theatrical effect and then ask, "Do you think they'll buy that?"