Staying Grounded [BXB]

Unreasonable Sacrifice

SEBASTIAN:

"So?" Craig asks, his head snapping up as I exit the consultation room. "What's the verdict?"

I'm pretty sure he can work it out well enough for himself, just from the look on my face. The vet's words are beating at my skull, and I can't make them stop. I also can't bear the thought of having to repeat them. Crossing the small waiting area, past the reception desk, I drop heavily onto the plastic chair beside him and shove the sheet of paper I'm crumpling into his hand.

He drops his gaze to it, scanning over it. Studies it, staying silent and staring for far longer than the list of text and figures warrant. Until, finally, "Shit, Bas," he blinks back up at me.

"Yeah."

When Ashleigh called me, even as she told me Dobby had been found, I could immediately hear in her tone that the news wasn't without a sickening twist. I anticipated the worst, and honestly, once she'd disclosed the whole of it, my relief was overwhelming. The mutt's alive; there's nothing else matters more than that. But now, all that I'm feeling is drained and utterly powerless. Because he's hurt — bad. Apparently, the last two insurance payments for him bounced. He's not covered by the farm's livestock policy, so this is wholly on me, and I've got squat.

Some absolute bastard hit Dobby with their car and didn't bother to stop. His hind legs have taken the worst damage, especially his left, although it's the deep gash along his side that's most immediately concerning. He's lost a lot of blood. The vet has already stitched him up, a charge which pushed the limit of my emergency credit card. I've been assured he's now stable, but it's not nearly enough.

Lyndsay's the one who found him. Thanks to Craig, putting the word out through Alex. She spotted a post about him on some Yoverton social media page and made contact with the poster. His collar was missing, and who knows how long he'd been there, on the roadside halfway to Totnes. The concerned passersby had refused to allow the injured and bleeding animal in their car, but they'd stayed until Craig got to them. And Ashleigh's the one who was first notified. Due to my mindless finger-pointing of blame, he couldn't bring himself to tell me directly. Yet another screw up I feel guilty for.

Craig had already got Dobby here, in with the vet, when I arrived. I tried to send him away, the crimson staining his white shirt making my head swim. He refused, and instead, stubbornly took a seat in the waiting room, where, an hour and a half later, he's holding the itemised bill for my best friend's life.

"I'm cut off," he says, slamming me thoroughly off-guard.

"You're—?"

"Totally cut off." Hunching forward, elbows propping on his knees and the paper loosely held between his thighs, he's no longer turned to me. He nods at his feet. "I just couldn't... not anymore. Not after..." His jaw ticks, lips pulling tight. "I hit Gary. Then grassed him up to the Principal. For everything. In front of our parents. I came out to them, and I stormed out on them. It's kind of a blur. And now... Now, I have no home, no money... Nothing."

"Shit, Craig."

He huffs out a bitter laugh. "Yeah."

I have so many questions; so much more needs saying. This is something worthy of my distraction. It's something well beyond any of the speculating I lost sleep to last night. I lean in beside him, nudging my foot against his. He slides me the barest glance. But before I can even begin to wonder where the hell I should start, the shock of his hand closing over mine is almost enough to have me flinching away. And he almost withdraws.

Except, I'm not about to let him do that. My palm flips under his, our fingers lacing. He's so warm, and I can feel him tense on a sharp intake of breath as I press my weight against him, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Are you okay?"