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Gyro awoke in a cold sweat. He gasped for breath in the darkness around them. The fire had already gone out. He frantically looked around while his eyes were still adjusting, but they eventually landed on the faint outline of a silhouette. His shoulders slumped forward with some relief; he got up anyway and quietly tip-toed away to gather more twigs and sticks.
Once the fire got going again, Gyro sat down next to Johnny. He slept like a baby. Gyro wondered how they’d survive sometimes. Night attacks were always his biggest concern—Johnny could take care of himself during the day if they were attacked, but like this?
He brushed away some golden blond strands. The orange flames flickered, showing the red scab of a healing wound on his face. Gyro hovered his fingertips over it.
Like this, Johnny would sleep right through and probably die. Though he was quick to move, disability and all, no loud noise or commotion could wake him up.
Or so Gyro thought—he stirred as Gyro’s hand lingered over his face and blinked open his tired eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Gyro asked, keeping his voice low. Johnny rubbed his eyes and began to yawn, but caught himself before his mouth opened too wide and clamped it down. He cringed a little anyway before pushing the sleeping bag off of him.
“I guess,” he said groggily. “Why are you up anyway? The fire’s still going?”
“One question at a time, Johnny boy,” Gyro huffed. “I’m up because—well, it’s not important, but anyway, I couldn’t sleep so I started the fire.”
Johnny rolled his eyes and sat up. “Something’s obviously up, so would you mind just telling me? Neither of us are gonna sleep ‘til then anyhow.”
Gyro wanted to play it off like normal and act huffy or annoyed with the young man next to him. Instead, he took Johnny’s hand in his and placed it over his heart. “I’m scared,” he admitted. “I don’t want to lose you, Johnny.”
“Lose me…?”
Johnny’s pink cheeks were barely visible under his freckles. The yellow and orange flicks of flame helped to conceal it, too. “Yes. You—Valentine nearly killed you back there.” Gyro carefully cupped Johnny’s face, mindful of the stitches in his cheeks. His eyes burned, making him blink back what he knew were tears.
“Gyro…”
Johnny pushed the sleeping bag further down his legs and patted his thigh. Gyro moved to lay sideways with his head in Johnny’s lap, on his soft thighs with so little muscle. Johnny’s fingers in his hair were warm, untangling all the knots from thrashing around and sweating. He closed his eyes as Johnny’s forefinger traced around his ear, then his jaw, outlining each square individually. He smiled a little.
“I’ve got you, don’t I?” Gyro nodded. “And you’ve got me. I’m telling you so now.” A moment’s pause, then another nod. “Then you won’t lose me. And I won’t lose you, I won’t allow it. I’d never forgive you if you left me, y’know? So why would I do that to you?”
“I just worry,” Gyro said. “I know you’re capable, Johnny, I trust you more than anyone.”
“Then trust me completely.” Johnny inhaled to say something more, but stopped short. He swallowed and smoothed his thumb over Gyro’s cool forehead. “’Cause I—I trust you—completely.”
Gyro turned his neck to look up at Johnny. His blue eyes were softer than normal, or maybe it was the way the light from the fire reflected in them; but whatever the cause, it eased his fears. He heaved a long sigh and held Johnny’s hand, bringing it down to his lips so he could kiss those nails that could easily turn into bullets if he so wished. “Thanks, Johnny,” he said, kissing his partner’s palm.
Johnny shook his head and patted Gyro’s chest with his other hand. “Wanna sleep here tonight?”
“Can I?!” Johnny rolled his eyes at Gyro’s eagerness, scooting over as the large Italian got off his lap. They made themselves snug in his sleeping bag; Johnny held Gyro’s head close to his heart where he could hear it beating strongly.
The flames died out long after they’d fallen asleep peacefully, breathing in synchronous rhythm.