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“Wylan!”
The sound of that gunshot wasn’t any louder than the rest. It was all noise to Wylan at that moment: Jesper’s defensive shots were indistinguishable from enemy fire. It felt like it should have been louder, though. Like that one gunshot should have drowned out everything else, made time slow down, and encompassing silence should have followed. It should have been dramatic, he thought. But drama was always more of Jesper’s thing, anyway.
Great force knocked him flat on his back, stealing his breath.
Greyish sky peeked out from between the alley walls towering up and up, almost touching the bright canvas. It was nearing evening, but the street lamps were yet to be lit. He knew a small fire burned a dozen feet away, courtesy of his own explosion, although all he could see was sky and brick. The lines blurred, the colours blending fuzzily.
Gunfire continued, louder now, each shot vibrating the stones beneath him. Incoherent shouting, the voices emotional, angry or panicked or gleeful or maybe something else entirely. The fight raged on without him, and the ground was hard unforgiving. His palms trembled where they lay, the stone too rough on his skin, too firm, too dirty.
His chest rose and fell quickly. The air in his lungs was icy cold and uncomfortable, forcing its way back out before he could take anything from it.
A figure appeared in his sight too suddenly, varying shades of green and gold, he squinted his eyes, head turning away from the new information.
He heard his name being called, but he wasn't able to respond. Speech was an impossibly large step.
And then someone was touching him and he jolted to life.
Pain was the last sensation to register, and it was too much, too much -
And his raised hands had been enough for the touch to leave, but apparently that hadn’t been the root of his pain because his body was alight. He knew he was making sounds, could feel whines pushing against his clenched teeth, could hear agonised keening, but he couldn’t make them stop.
It hurt, it burned so brightly that he was blinded and lost control of his limbs and -
The figure moved further across his vision. Trying to catch his eyes. He flung his head in the other direction despite how unpleasant the rough stone was against his cheek, how cold.
The pain was getting worse, quickly, how could it be getting worse.
“Wylan, it’s just me.”
The words were spoken softly by his ear. His skin prickled unpleasantly at the feeling of breath, but the gentleness of the voice helped the words push through to the front of his mind. He recognised the voice.
Saints, it burned. He screwed his eyes shut and succumbed to the cry of pain poisoning his tongue. The sound was too loud to his own ears.
“I know it hurts, sweetling, but I need to help, yeah? Let’s have a look at it, come on.”
Jesper’s voice was weak. Wylan didn’t understand why. He was always the confident one.
Another wave of pain triggered him to move, hands jerking with little coordination, attempting to locate the source at his right side. Long, gentle fingers nudged his out of the way to undo the buttons of his vest and tug his shirt up.
Wylan forced his eyes to focus, the world narrowing into too-sharp lines and glaring colours. He saw red, lots of it, pooling on his stomach and dripping to the ground. There was a hole in his side. And the edges of it were angry and blistering and -
Oh.
He gritted his teeth, Jesper’s curse sending his body into an uncontrollable flinch. His coat lay open beneath him, a matching hole burned through the front, and glittering shards of glass were scattered around the remains of his pocket, dusted in white powder. Powder that was now spread across a fresh wound.
It felt like his flesh was sizzling, and that explained it. He tried to reach his top breast pocket but the movement sent fire through his torso and he whimpered, shoulders hunching with the urge to make himself smaller.
“What is it? What do you need?”
Curls were plastered to his forehead, drenched in sweat. His skin was steadily losing colour, and his vision spotted black.
“Wylan?”
His hand twitched, muscles spasming, and he bit into his lip. He hummed, the sound broken and pained, but he couldn’t form words. So he jutted his chin towards the pocket he’d been trying to reach.
Jesper understood. Because Jesper was smart and wonderful and safe and -
“This one?”
Jesper held up a vial with clear liquid. Nausea bubbled unfairly in his throat. He managed a jerky nod.
“What am I doing? What am I doing?” Jesper muttered under his breath, looking fairly sick himself.
A few moments passed as Jesper uncorked the vial. The agony was so sharp that it felt like it was making permanent residence in his bones. A cold shiver ran over him despite the heat burning in his side. He couldn’t blink away all the dark spots anymore, his head feeling light and unattached to his body.
A spike of pain sent him lurching up, breath caught in a silent scream.
And then it settled. And the burning stopped spreading. And his lungs remembered how to function.
“Did that work?”
He nodded minutely. Jesper visibly sagged on his knees.
“Saints, Wylan,” He breathed a hysterical laugh. “Only you, huh?”
He was still bleeding, still wounded, but with one fire doused he was quickly losing fight. He was exhausted. Everything felt heavy and cold.
A second figure blurred overhead and he turned sluggishly towards Jesper, unconsciously in search of sanctuary.
“Alright,” Jesper said, and then a second cry tore through Wylan’s throat as something small and metal was yanked swiftly and cleanly from his wound. “There we go, all gone.” He could feel tears on his face, dried and fresh, even though he didn’t remember shedding them.
A blur of navy fabric - Inej had been wearing navy - turned into intense pressure on the wound, and he hit his head back against the ground, biting through his lip and tasting copper.
“I know, I know,” Jesper muttered, closer now, leaning over him. A kiss was pressed to his forehead. “All done, Wylan. You did so good.”
He took that as permission to promptly pass out.
- - -
Wylan sensed three things. Just three. It was a welcome way to wake up.
One: he was no longer lying on the ground. The surface wasn’t soft enough to be a bed, not hard enough to be floorboards, so maybe a couch of some sort. His pillow was nicer, though, warmer.
Two: there was a hand resting lightly on his chest, as if monitoring every rise and fall.
Three: Jesper was speaking quietly to himself.
His body felt weirdly numb. Hazy. But better.
He blinked open his eyes, nose scrunching. It took a while to focus in the dim candlelight.
They weren’t anywhere Wylan recognised, but he wasn’t concerned about that. Because he saw Kaz, Inej and Nina, all grouped at the far side of the large room, seated on stools and looking over something spread out on a table. Safe.
Kaz glanced sideways in his direction as if sensing him, but didn’t do more than nod once before returning his attention to the task at hand.
Wylan rolled his head to look up at the ceiling, and made a breathy sound at the stiffness and dull throb down his torso that followed.
Jesper’s face came into view above him, which is when Wylan realised he was lying with his head pillowed in Jesper’s lap. There was another candle nearby, lighting up Jesper’s face from the bottom, and Wylan looked up at him with wide eyes. He was stunning, softly lit and yet so incredibly strong, and his grin when he turned his eyes downwards to catch Wylan’s gaze made Wylan’s heart skip a few beats. How he got so lucky, he’d never understand. Jesper was so talented and brave and charming and yet he looked at Wylan like he’d hung the moon and stars.
The hand previously resting on his chest moved to stroke the sharp lines of his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek, and Wylan looked away, a little shy at the sudden intimacy, but nestled into Jesper’s hand like a kitten searching for warmth.
Jesper brushed his fingers through his hair, and Wylan’s eyes fluttered closed. It took a lot of strength to open them again, to find Jesper still looking lovingly down at him.
“We’re gonna talk about how many chemicals you carry on your person, you got that?”
Wylan’s lips twitched and he nodded tiredly.
“And you’re gonna teach me your labelling system for your chemicals. And then what everything does. Maybe just teach me everything you know about chemistry, just in case. And we should -”
“Keep reading?” Wylan asked quietly, gingerly leading Jesper’s hand back to rest on his chest despite the uncomfortable pull down his injured side. Jesper threaded their fingers together loosely.
Jesper bit his cheek, looking a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know you were listening.”
“I’m listening.” Wylan promised, eyes slipping closed.
And the voice that had woken him, Jesper’s calming tones reading aloud from some decades’ old paperback he’d scavenged from the abandoned flat they were camped out in, sent him back to sleep.