Safe Word Sunlight | Gay MxM |

1. Detour of Fate

There was no one inside when we burst through the door, the man hanging off my shoulders.

"Help..." the man muttered with his final breaths. "Mike...!"

"Mike!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Help!"

Three long seconds later, a tall man rushed out the door at the back. He stopped to stare at us and the trail of blood we were leaving behind, but he quickly gathered his composure and hurried to my aid.

"What happened?" he asked hastily as we ran through the door he'd just emerged from.

"He was attacked! That's all I know," I explained as we continued our way down a short hallway, past two doors and entering the last one at the very back.

We were suddenly standing in a hospital room.

Oh, thank the lord, I was just dreaming. That explained a lot. I never had dreams like this, but okay.

"Here!" Mike said and helped me get the injured man on one of the beds by the wall. "Stay with me, man," he muttered.

Mike quickly got rid of the torn shirt, and I stepped back in horror, gagging at the most horrific sights I'd ever witnessed, pressing my hand over my mouth. The young man's stomach was completely slashed open, but the edges were completely black, like his flesh was dying. Black lines grew out of it, spreading through his chest like veins.

"God..." I whispered behind my hand.

"How long has it been?" Mike asked the man, but he only shook his head a little. "Long? Fuck."

"What is that...?" I asked, shaking, but Mike didn't reply to me as he hurried to find something in his fridge.

No matter how nightmarish the massive wound was, I couldn't take my eyes off the man who trembled and squirmed in pain. His shivering voice as he gasped for air was unbearably hard to hear. His blue eyes landed on me. He looked so scared...

I forced myself to keep it together, and stepped next to his bed, trying not to look at his stomach. I took his hand in mine, hoping he'd find it comforting.

"You'll be fine," I told him, trying to sound reassuring.

"How bad..." he asked, and tried to look down at his body, but I stopped him.

"You'll be fine," I repeated, holding my hand on his cheek to make sure he didn't look.

Mike returned to us, holding a massive syringe with red liquid in it.

"This is going to hurt," he said when he brought the thick needle to his neck, then turned to me. "You might want to step back."

"I'll stay here," I said.

"All right..." Mike muttered and jammed the needle into the man's skin.

I'd expected an immediate reaction from the blue-eyed man, but he was still staring at me. The needle scared him even more, for some reason. I gave him a soothing smile as I watched Mike slowly push the liquid into him. But nothing happened.

"What is that?"

"Antidote. He's got dead man's blood in his system. That's why he can't heal. It will hurt like hell, though. He might rip your arm off."

None of that made any sense, but when did dreams make any sense?

"This may be too late..." Mike continued. "If it's been longer than three hours since he drank it..."

I nodded and turned my attention to the man's neck. I was sure I saw faint, red lines spreading through his body, closing in on the black ones. And when the first red met the closest black, the blue-eyed man trembled, letting out another groan of pain.