Page 23

Ben dropped his bloody shirt into the bathtub. It landed with a wet slap, and Levi made a face.

Ben snorted. “Levi, go back to the living room. I can handle this.”

“It’s on the outside of your arm, asshole! What the fuck are you gonna do?” Levi started twisting outrageously, miming the awkward position Ben would have to wrangle himself into to stitch up the wound. Levi grabbed the needle from the first aid kit and brandished it at him. “I can do this. Hold still.”

He shuffled over to Ben’s injured arm, color draining out of his face the closer he got to the bloody wound.

Ben caught his wrist. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” Levi squeaked. He closed his eyes, his mouth moving wordlessly. He squeezed his hands into fists. To Ben’s surprise, they actually became steadier. Levi opened his eyes and gave him a shockingly level look.

“I got all the fainting out of the way before,” Levi said, so flatly that Ben was struck with another bizarre urge to laugh.

Levi pulled his wrist from Ben’s grip. Ben tried to grab him again, and Levi swatted him away. “Dude, the worst that can happen is that I fuck it up and you get a weird scar. Do you care about having a weird scar?”

“No,” Ben admitted. “And that’s not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing that can happen is that you pass out directly on that needle and impale yourself somewhere important. Then we have two injuries and no hospital nearby.”

That was nowhere near the worst thing that could happen. But Ben didn’t want to mention the sniper in the forest, waiting to strike. Judging by the look on Levi’s wan face, he didn’t need to.

“Just hold still,” Levi said. “I’ll make it quick.”

That didn’t make Ben feel any better. But Levi took his shoulder—the only part of his arm without any blood on it—and pushed the needle through Ben’s skin. Ben’s stomach rolled at the sensation, but he didn’t look away. Mostly because he couldn’t look away from Levi. Levi was obviously struggling to keep his eyes on the wound he was stitching up, but although he was sweaty and trembling, he never faltered. He stitched one side of Ben’s bullet wound up, then told Ben to twist his arm and started on the exit wound. All the while, he kept mouthing something to himself.

“How are we doing?” Ben asked as Levi placed another wonky stitch on the exit wound.

“How are you doing?” Levi replied. Then, after another skin-crawling tug of the needle through Ben’s skin, he said, “I haven’t passed out or puked. Yay for me.”

Ben wanted to say something encouraging. But the blood loss was really hitting him now, and he had to focus on keeping his eyes open. The needle helped. He hated needles. It was bad enough when he got stitched up by a medical professional, let alone a twenty-something model who might faint at any moment. Ben was impressed he’d even lasted that long.

Levi’s mouth kept moving around his silent words. Then, as he was making the last few stitches, they turned into whispers.

“It’s okay,” Levi muttered. “It’s okay. Everything’s cool.”

Ben stiffened. Levi was saying the same shit his dad had said to him in that slaughterhouse. Was that on purpose, or was Levi just pulling random phrases out of his ass? His dad hadn’t said “everything’s cool”; that was definitely a Levi invention.

As if he read Ben’s mind, Levi swallowed noisily and let out a thin laugh. “Wow. I take it all back, I guess exposure therapy isn’t a crock of shit.”

Ben went back over their conversation while he was hunting. “When did you say that?”

“I didn’t. I thought it. Very loudly.”

Ben grunted. The slaughterhouse had stopped him reacting to blood. But he still dreamed about it, even all these years later. Those poor pigs came to him at night, blurring with dead soldiers and civilians until he couldn’t tell what meat was human and what was animal. He hated the idea that this bathroom scene would show up in Levi’s nightmares when he was Ben’s age.

“You’re doing really good,” Ben said, guilt twisting his insides. “Can’t believe how good you’re doing.”

Levi laughed stiffly, and Ben realized how that last half could’ve sounded like an insult. But before Ben could come up with something to make it better, Levi snipped the medical thread and stood with the speed of someone who didn’t know what joint pain was.

“There!” Levi croaked, throwing the bloody needle into the sink. “All done. Wait, shit, bandage. You can get the bandage, right?”

Ben nodded. He rotated his arm to examine the stitches. They were uneven, ugly, and would definitely scar, but they got the job done. He opened his mouth to thank Levi, only to notice Levi was swaying on his feet.

“Whoa,” Ben said. “You alright?”

He reached out to steady Levi. Before Ben could touch him, Levi whirled and vomited into the sink. A small amount of oatmeal came up, and then nothing. Levi dry-gagged two more times and then turned on the faucet. He washed his hands vigorously and then grabbed the toothpaste.

“Your toothpaste sucks,” Levi told him, muffled through foam as he washed his mouth out.

“Should’ve brought your fancy shit with you,” Ben replied.