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It had been Lewis’s idea to take a break from the chaos of F1. A few days of camping in the mountains, away from the media, the fans, and the relentless pressure of the sport, seemed like the perfect escape.
Joining him were George, Max, and Charles. Lewis had invited Max and Charles mostly to convince George, who had balked at the idea of leaving behind luxuries like Wi-Fi and hot showers.
“Think of it as a team-building exercise,” Lewis had joked.
George had rolled his eyes but relented. He trusted Lewis implicitly, and if anyone could make sleeping in a tent sound appealing, it was him.
Max, ever the survivalist, had brought enough gear for an entire army. Charles, in contrast, showed up with a single backpack and an apologetic smile.
“It’ll be fun,” Charles had said. “Right?”
George wasn’t so sure.
The sun was starting to dip behind the jagged peaks as the group made their way down the rocky outcrop. The air was cooler now, the chill of the mountain evening creeping in. Lewis, always the steady one, led the way with his usual confidence, while Charles trailed behind with his camera, snapping photos of the breathtaking landscape.
George was feeling good, at peace for the first time in a long while. The stress of racing, the expectations, the constant pressure—all of it seemed miles away. He was laughing with Max, who was making fun of his overly cautious steps, teasing him for being the only person in the group who was afraid of falling.
“You’re going to be the death of me, George,” Max said with a grin, glancing over his shoulder. “Stop worrying about every single pebble.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry if you’d stop dragging me over these cliffs,” George shot back, but there was a lightness in his tone. For once, everything felt like it was in balance.
But then, in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t.
George’s foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel, his body pitching forward. His arms flailed, trying to grab hold of something—anything—but there was nothing. He felt his center of gravity shift, and before he could react, his body was tumbling down the rocky slope, crashing into jagged stones, his breath stolen in a scream as he hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Time seemed to stretch on forever. Everything felt like slow motion—the way the earth spun beneath him, the rush of adrenaline through his veins, and then the painful, gut-wrenching impact as his leg twisted in ways it shouldn’t.
“George!” Lewis’s voice shattered the air, full of panic.
The world around him blurred. His vision swam, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than the searing pain shooting up from his leg. He gasped for air, unable to breathe as the agony began to settle in his bones.
Lewis was beside him in seconds, dropping to his knees. The fear in his eyes was immediate, his face pale as he reached for George’s face, his hands shaking.
“George, hey, look at me.” Lewis’s voice was tight, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something more raw. “Can you hear me?”
George blinked, his vision clearing just enough to see Lewis’s face above him. His lips were moving, but the words didn’t make sense. His leg—his left leg felt like it was on fire, a sharp, jagged pain that made him clench his teeth.
“I can’t... I can’t move it, Lewis,” George choked out, his voice trembling.
Lewis’s face crumpled, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. “I know, I know. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
George’s breath was shallow, ragged. His pulse was racing, and for a moment, all he could do was focus on the pain—until a voice pierced through the fog.
“Don’t move him,” Max said, his tone stern but laced with concern. He was kneeling at George’s side, quickly assessing the situation. “It’s a break. I can see it.”
The coldness of Max’s words hit George like a slap, but Max’s eyes softened as he met George’s gaze. “We need to stabilize it. Don’t move, mate. We’ll take care of you.”
The calmness in Max’s voice should have reassured George, but all he could focus on was the way his ankle felt—broken and useless. His breath hitched, a wave of helplessness washing over him.
Charles appeared beside them, his face pale with concern as he gently cupped George’s face, his thumb brushing over George’s cheek in a soothing gesture. “Hey, hey, we’re going to get you back. Just stay with us. You’re strong, George.”
George’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but the pain shot through him, snapping him back to reality. “It hurts,” he whispered, his voice strained, barely audible.
“I know,” Lewis replied, his voice breaking. He leaned down, brushing his lips across George’s forehead, a soft, reassuring touch. His chest tightened, but he pushed the panic aside, focusing entirely on George. “You’re going to be fine. We’re going to fix this.”
George managed a small nod, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. He could feel the weight of the situation settling on him, his body unable to escape the agony, his mind racing with the overwhelming uncertainty.
Max, without missing a beat, moved into action. “Lewis, we need to get a splint on that leg right now. We can’t move him until it’s stabilized.”
Lewis nodded, his face drawn and pale. He quickly began pulling out bandages from the emergency kit that Max had insisted they bring along, his hands trembling slightly as he worked. The world felt blurry, the pain in George’s leg seeming to pulse in rhythm with the frantic pounding of his heart.
“I’m here, George,” Lewis said softly, holding George’s hand tightly in his own. “You’re not alone. I’ll never leave you. Stay with me.” His words were a promise—deep, unwavering.
George could barely focus on the words as the pain radiated through his entire being, but there was something so soothing about the way Lewis’s voice wrapped around him like a protective shield. It was hard to breathe, to think clearly, but with Lewis’s hand in his, George felt a small semblance of comfort.
The group worked together in silence, their movements quick but careful. Max expertly fashioned a splint out of nearby branches, while Charles stayed by George’s side, holding his hand, whispering words of encouragement in French.
“George, look at me,” Max said, crouching down beside him, his gaze intense. “This is going to hurt like hell. But I need you to trust me. You’ve got this, alright?”
George nodded weakly, his heart racing. “Just... please make it stop.”
Max didn’t hesitate, moving with precision as he began to set the leg, realigning it just enough to ease the pressure. George gasped, his body going rigid with pain as the bone shifted. He bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the scream that clawed at his throat.
Lewis’s voice was steady, holding George’s gaze as he whispered, “You’re doing great. We’re so close, George. Just hang on.”
With one final twist, Max finished the job, and George’s leg was secured with a makeshift splint. But George couldn’t breathe. Every breath felt like it was pulling him further into darkness. The weight of the pain, the fear, the isolation—it was all too much.
Lewis leaned down and kissed George’s forehead gently. “We’re getting you out of here, okay? You’re going to be alright. Just breathe, love.”
The world around George felt like it was spinning, and for a moment, he thought he might slip away. But then Lewis’s hand was there again, squeezing his, grounding him.
“You’re not going anywhere, George,” Lewis said fiercely, his voice unwavering, despite the fear in his eyes. “Not while I’m here.”
And in that moment, George found something to hold onto: Lewis’s promise, the warmth of his hand, the unwavering support of his friends. Even as the storm began to close in around them, George knew he wasn’t alone.
The rain came suddenly, as though the heavens had opened to punish them for their misfortune. It had been a light drizzle at first, barely noticeable, but soon it turned into a downpour, the kind that drenched you to the bone in seconds. The trail, already treacherous with the sharp rocks and loose gravel, quickly became a slick, muddy mess. Each step was a struggle, a battle between staying upright and slipping.
Max led the group, his expression grim, his pace relentless as he forged ahead, gripping the flashlight tightly in one hand. He kept glancing back to check on George, his worry evident despite his steady demeanor.
George leaned heavily on a sturdy branch he was using as a crutch, the uneven and treacherous path making it too risky for anyone to carry or support him directly—if they slipped, they could bring George down with them and worsen his injury. His face was pale but determined, each step shaky yet resolute, as he pushed forward despite the pain.
Lewis stayed close at George’s side, his hand lightly on George’s back, steadying him when he stumbled and murmuring quiet encouragement. Charles brought up the rear, his watchful eyes scanning their surroundings, his shoulders tense with both worry and readiness. Together, they moved in unison, their steps synchronized by purpose and a shared sense of urgency.
George was shivering, his body a mass of aching limbs and restless discomfort. A fever was settling in, a burning heat that made him feel like his insides were on fire. His head throbbed, and the pain in his leg was a constant reminder of how far they still had to go.
“Georgie, come on, stay with us,” Max called back to him, his voice strained but gentle. “We’re almost there, mate.”
George’s eyelids fluttered, his gaze blurry as he tried to focus on Max’s words. But his head felt heavy, the dizziness threatening to swallow him whole.
“I... I can’t,” George rasped, his voice weak. “I don’t feel... right.”
Lewis shot George a concerned look, then gently placed a hand on his forehead. His expression tightened with worry. “He’s burning up, Max. We need to get him to shelter fast.”
Max’s jaw clenched, and his grip tightened around the flashlight. “I know, alright? I know.” He glanced back over his shoulder, his brow furrowing as he looked at George. “But there’s nothing we can do right now except keep moving.”
Lewis, normally the calmest of the group, was starting to unravel. He stayed close to George, one hand hovering near his back to steady him as he struggled with the makeshift crutch.
“Stay with me, George,” Lewis urged softly, his voice tinged with worry. But with each step, George seemed to slip further away—his skin was clammy, his eyes glazed, and his breathing was shallow, almost labored.
“Max, we need to stop,” Lewis said, his voice tight with frustration. “If we don’t get him somewhere dry, he could get worse.”
Max shot him a glare, his teeth gritted. “And you think I don’t know that? We’re almost there, Lewis. If we stop, it’s only going to make things worse.”
Lewis’s heart hammered in his chest. He was already on edge, the adrenaline of the situation making everything feel like it was happening in slow motion. But Max’s words hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Don’t tell me what I know!” Lewis snapped, his voice sharp, his patience snapping. “You’re not the only one who’s scared for him!”
Max froze, his eyes flashing with anger. “I’m doing the best I can, okay? But you’re not making it any easier by second-guessing everything I do!”
Charles noticed the rising tension and immediately stepped in, positioning himself between Lewis and Max. He turned to them, his voice steady. “Both of you, stop. We don’t have time for this.” His eyes softened as he looked at George, his concern evident.
“Max, we can’t afford to push him too far. The rain is getting worse. Lewis is right—if we keep going like this, he could collapse before we even get there.”
Max’s chest rose and fell with every breath, but he bit back the retort, nodding silently. He wasn’t going to argue with Charles, not now, not when they all knew how serious it was.
“We stop for a few minutes,” Max said finally, his voice calmer but still tight. “Just to get him covered and try to bring the fever down. But then we keep moving. No more arguing.”
Lewis nodded, his jaw set, though his eyes never left George. “Fine. But we need to make it quick.”
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, each drop hammering down with relentless force. It was as if the storm itself sought to overwhelm them. The ground beneath their feet was slick and treacherous, each step threatening to send them sprawling. George stumbled again, his grip on the branch faltering.
“Alright, we need to stop,” Lewis said firmly, his voice cutting through the roar of the rain.
Max glanced back, his expression grim but nodding. He scanned the area and spotted a patch of relatively stable ground, a cluster of thick tree roots providing a semblance of footing.
“Over here,” Max directed, leading them to the spot. Charles nodded toward a nearby log, his voice steady despite the situation. “Let’s help him sit down before he hurts himself more.”
Together, they carefully guided George to the log. He sank onto it with a pained groan, his breathing labored but slowly steadying. Charles crouched beside him, one hand on George’s shoulder, his own face tight with concern.
Lewis knelt next to George, brushing wet hair from his face. “We’re almost there, love” Lewis said, his tone steady despite the chaos around them.
Max knelt in front of him, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. He called him "Georgie," a nickname he rarely used, reserved for moments of intense concern or when George needed the kind of comfort Max usually reserved for family. Max had always felt like an older brother to George, protective and unspokenly fierce when it came to his well-being. His heart clenched as he looked at George, vulnerable in a way he had never seen before.
“Georgie, look at me. Stay with me, alright? Just a little longer, mate.”
Max’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear he refused to let show. George’s eyes flickered open, barely registering Max’s words. His face was flushed with fever, his cheeks tinged pink and glistening with sweat. His lips were dry, cracked, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.
“I’m so cold,” George whispered, his voice faint, his words slurred.
“We’ve got you, Georgie,” Max said, his usual confidence replaced with a tenderness George rarely saw from him. “We’re going to get you warm and safe. Just hold on.”
Lewis suddenly let out a frustrated sigh. He stood up and paced, wiping the rain from his face as he muttered under his breath.
“Lewis, what’s wrong?” Charles asked softly, his hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not enough,” Lewis said, his voice strained.
“The rain’s not letting up, and the way he’s burning up... if we don’t get him somewhere dry, he’s not going to make it.”
Max stood up quickly, turning to Lewis. “Then we don’t stop, do we? We keep going. We can’t wait for a miracle.” His words were harsh, but the vulnerability in his eyes was clear.
Lewis looked at him, a mix of fear and anger in his gaze. “You think I’m not trying, Max? I’m not just going to sit here and watch him get worse!”
Max took a step forward, his hand resting on Lewis’s arm, his voice softer now. “Neither am I, okay? But if we don’t get moving, we’re not getting him anywhere.”
The tension was thick between them, but the urgency of the situation was undeniable. With no more words exchanged, they both turned back to George, trying their best to shield him from the relentless rain while Charles handed him a small flask of water.
“Georgie,” Max said, his voice thick with emotion. “Take a sip, mate. We’ve got to keep you awake.”
George’s hand trembled as he reached for the flask, his fingers weak. He took a sip, his throat dry and painful. His head was pounding, his eyes unfocused as he tried to look up at Max.
“I don’t think I can go any further,” George mumbled, his words barely above a whisper. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
Lewis’s heart twisted in his chest, but he forced a soft smile onto his face. He knelt down beside George and cupped his face in his hands. “Don’t apologize, George. You don’t have to do anything right now except stay with us. We’re going to get you through this. I’m not leaving you, okay?”
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The rain continued to fall, but everything around them seemed to shrink until it was just the four of them, fighting against the storm. George, still pale and feverish, gave a faint nod, his hand weakly squeezing Lewis’s.
“I’m so tired,” George whispered, his voice breaking.
Max looked at Lewis, his expression unreadable but full of concern. The tension between them was still there, but the bond of the group held strong. They would get George back. They would.
“Just a little further, Georgie,” Max murmured, his voice tight with emotion. “We’re right here with you. We’re not going anywhere.”
And as they lifted George to his feet once again, pushing through the storm, they all knew that they were bound together by something far stronger than the wilderness or the storm. It was the promise they’d made to each other—a promise that no matter how bad things got, they would get through it, together.
The rain was relentless, soaking through every layer of clothing, every inch of skin. The trail ahead of them had turned into a slippery, muddy path, each step a gamble between slipping and stumbling. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and the damp air bit at their exposed skin. It was cold, unforgiving, and the night was closing in around them.
“Max, we really need to stop,” Lewis said, his voice barely audible over the crashing sound of the rain. “He can’t keep going like this. His fever’s too high, and if we don’t find shelter soon—”
“I know, alright?” Max cut him off, his tone clipped and frustrated. “But we’re not far from the river. There has to be some kind of shelter there.”
Lewis looked at Max, his patience wearing thin. “We don’t have the luxury of time, Max. We need to think clearly. George’s health comes first.”
Max met his gaze, his jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Okay. We’ll find something. Just... stay with him. I’ll go ahead and look.”
Without waiting for a response, Max turned and disappeared into the rain, his flashlight beam cutting through the downpour as he searched for any kind of refuge. Lewis turned quickly, his eyes scanning the chaos around him. In that moment, he saw Charles, moving swiftly to George’s side. Charles helped him down carefully, guiding George to sit on a large rock, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation. George’s face was pale, his body trembling as if the cold rain had seeped into his bones.
Lewis’s heart skipped a beat as he approached them, his pulse racing. He could see how weak George was now, how his breath was shallow and strained, his eyes barely staying open. The shivering had gotten worse, his teeth chattering audibly.
“My love?” Lewis whispered, brushing the wet hair off George’s forehead. “Come on, stay with me. We’re going to get you somewhere warm. Just hold on a little longer.”
George’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might drift off, but then his hand squeezed Lewis’s weakly.
“I’m... sorry,” George murmured, his voice weak and strained.
“No, don’t apologize,” Charles said firmly, his voice cracking with emotion. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We’re not going to leave you.”
Max returned a few minutes later, his face tense, the frustration clear in his eyes. “There’s a small cave down by the river,” he said, his voice urgent. “We can’t stay out here. It’s getting worse.”
Lewis nodded, relief washing over him. “Good. Let’s go. We need to get him there, fast.”
The cave was only a few hundred meters away, but the rain had turned the ground into a slippery mess. The river’s roar was a constant backdrop, but all they could focus on was getting George somewhere dry. Finally, they reached the cave—large enough to fit all of them and their backpacks. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter. Charles and Lewis quickly set George down on a patch of relatively dry ground, still shivering violently.
“I’ll try to get a fire going,” Max said, his voice quieter now, the urgency replaced by exhaustion. He dug into his bag, pulling out the emergency fire kit he always carried on these kinds of trips. Inside were cotton balls, a fire starter, and some matches.
Max’s hands were shaking as he fumbled to prepare the fire starter, but he forced himself to focus. He knew getting warmth was their best shot at keeping George stable.
Max paused, his gaze flicking around the small shelter they'd found—a natural alcove in the rocks that protected them from the worst of the rain. His eyes landed on a few dry branches that had fallen from a nearby tree and landed inside the cave-like formation. Perfect, he thought.
He quickly moved to gather them, setting them in a small pile near the back of the shelter. His heart raced, not just from the physical exertion but from the worry that George, shivering violently on the rock, might not make it much longer if they didn’t act fast.
“Lewis, Charles, you need to keep him warm,” Max said, as he got the fire started with the cotton and branches, his breath coming in shallow, quick bursts as the weight of the situation settled deeper into his chest. “Keep him close, alright? Don’t let him move too much.”
Lewis nodded immediately, sitting beside George, his hands rubbing the boy’s arms, trying to stave off the chill. George leaned against him heavily, his head tilted back as if the simple act of staying upright was taking all his strength. The crackle of the fire soon filled the cave, and Charles pulled out the last of their food—a couple of energy bars and some dried fruit.
They hadn’t planned for today’s hike to turn into an overnight trip, so the food they had was mostly snacks, with their proper meals waiting for them back at the campsite. They had limited water too, but it was enough to keep them going for now. Lewis gave George a sip of water, but the younger man could barely keep it down.
Max’s eyes flicked to them briefly before returning to the fire, watching the flames slowly grow with relief. It wasn’t much, but it would help. George’s breathing was shallow, and the fever hadn’t broken. His skin was slick with sweat, and his eyes were barely open. He was fighting to stay conscious, but the fatigue was overwhelming.
“You’re doing great, Georgie,” Max said, his voice softer than before as he worked to start a fire. “We’ll have this fire going in no time. You just hang in there.”
"Max," Charles said softly, sitting down beside him. "We're running low on food. We need to think of a plan."
Max didn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on George. There was a tightness to his expression that Charles had learned to read all too well. "We can’t stay here long," Max finally spoke, his voice low, edged with worry. "We need to wait for the rain to stop. But what if the fever doesn’t break? If we don’t get him back to camp soon, he could..."
"He’ll be fine," Charles interrupted gently, his voice steadier than he felt. He reached over, placing a hand on Max's arm, offering a quiet reassurance. "We can handle this. We’ll keep him comfortable tonight, and then we’ll head out in the morning. Don’t worry too much, okay? Let’s just focus on getting through this."
Max let out a breath, leaning into the touch, but the weight of the situation still lingered.
Max settled down next to Charles, the two of them still slightly damp from the relentless rain. He pulled Charles close, resting his back against the cold rock and gently coaxing him to lean into him. With a soft sigh, Charles settled into his embrace, his head resting against Max’s shoulder as they both turned their attention back to George, who was still leaning on Lewis.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the rain pouring down outside, the crackling of the small fire Max had managed to start, and the quiet rhythm of their breaths. Max pressed a kiss to the top of Charles’s head, a small gesture of comfort, before wrapping his arms a little tighter around him.
"We’re okay," he murmured, though his voice was thick with exhaustion.
Charles nodded against him, his eyes fluttering closed. "We’ll be fine. Just... just need to wait it out."
Together, they huddled closer, the warmth between them offering a small shield against the cold and the uncertainty of the storm outside.
Eventually, Lewis gently laid George down on the ground, using his backpack as a makeshift headrest. He arranged all their sweaters around him, hoping the extra layers would offer some warmth and comfort, allowing George to rest a little easier. The rain continued to lash against the cave, the relentless downpour creating a constant roar that echoed through the damp walls.
The fire had died down to embers, casting flickering shadows over the cave as Max and Lewis sat by George, keeping a watchful eye on him.Charles had quietly taken a seat on the opposite side of George, a worried frown etched deeply across his face as he alternated between checking George’s condition and watching the storm outside.
"He's still burning up," Charles muttered, wiping the back of his hand over his brow. He looked helpless, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found. Lewis, kneeling beside George, pressed a cool cloth against the younger man’s forehead, his fingers shaking slightly from the anxiety. The fever hadn’t broken, and now, George's shallow, uneven breaths sent a spike of fear into Lewis’s chest. His skin was clammy, his lips dry.
“He’s getting worse,” Lewis said softly, a raw edge to his voice. “The fever... it's not responding to anything we’re doing. We need to get him out of here—”
Suddenly, George’s body jolted, a harsh gasp tearing from his lips. Charles’s eyes went wide as George’s body stiffened, his limbs twitching uncontrollably.
“Oh no,” Charles gasped, scrambling forward. “Lewis—Max! Something’s happening—”
George’s head jerked back, and he let out a strangled cry as his body seized, muscles locking in a violent tremor. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes open but unfocused, his teeth grinding in a painful, guttural way.
“No, no, no—George!” Lewis shouted, grabbing his shoulders, trying to keep him still. His voice was desperate. The helplessness in his eyes was unmistakable. Max was on his knees in an instant, his face pale with fear. He gripped George’s wrist tightly, but George didn’t respond. His body was fighting against him in a way Max had never seen before.
“Max, what do we do?” Lewis demanded, his voice cracking with panic. “This is bad. This is really bad.” Max’s face was taut with stress. He knelt beside George, his hand on the younger man’s chest, feeling the erratic thumping of his heartbeat.
"He’s having a seizure,” Max said, his voice barely audible. "We can’t let him swallow his tongue. We need to hold him steady—"
“Should we try to cool him down more?” Charles interjected, looking helpless as he scanned their surroundings.
“It’s not going to help if he keeps going like this,” Max replied urgently, grabbing the last of their water and trying to get George to swallow a few drops, though he couldn’t keep it down. “We need to wait for the seizure to stop first. Get his breathing under control.”
Lewis nodded, his voice trembling. “Just... just hold on, George. Please... don’t do this.”
The seizure continued for what felt like hours, the world outside the cave fading away as time seemed to stretch and collapse in on itself. Every muscle in George’s body locked and trembled, the pain in his face cutting through their hearts. Charles knelt by Max’s side, trying his best to help with whatever he could—holding George’s legs, repositioning him slightly.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, George’s body went still. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and a small gasp broke the stillness as he lapsed into unconsciousness. The tremors stopped. Max let out a long breath, his face white with fear, his hands still trembling as he wiped them on his pants. He reached over to feel George’s pulse, his fingertips brushing against George’s cold skin.
“His pulse is erratic,” Max murmured. “We need to get him back to camp, now. His body can’t handle this much longer.” Lewis was still clutching George’s hand, tears brimming in his eyes. “I thought I was going to lose him. I thought—”
“Hey,” Max said, his voice sharp but laced with concern. He placed a hand on Lewis’s shoulder. “We’re not losing him. Not like this. We get him back to safety. That’s what we do.” Charles leaned over, looking at George with a gentle touch to his forehead.
“He needs rest... we can’t move him until he stabilizes.”
Lewis glanced up at Max, his eyes wide with unspeakable worry. “What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He will,” Max said firmly, though there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “He’s strong. We just have to get him through tonight.” For a while, no one spoke. The rain continued to fall, the storm unrelenting, but in the quiet of the cave, there was a collective sense of dread. George’s condition was hanging by a thread.
Charles kept an eye on the fire, trying to get it going again with what little kindling they had left, but the rain had soaked the wood and made everything damp.
Max and Lewis worked together in tense silence, keeping watch over George, making sure he was still breathing steadily—each second a precious moment, each breath an act of hope. Max occasionally murmured something about his medical knowledge, but he seemed out of his depth in the face of what they were dealing with.
As the night dragged on, the cold seeped deeper into their bones. The wind howled outside the cave, and the heavy downpour made it impossible to hear anything but the violent storm. The temperature was plummeting, and George's body felt like ice under their touch.
"Max," Lewis said quietly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We can’t keep him warm enough like this. We’re running out of supplies, and if we don’t get him to shelter soon—"
"I know," Max replied, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration and fear boiling in his chest. "But we can’t do anything more in this storm. We need to wait it out. I’ll keep the fire going, and Charles—you help me with the food. Lewis, just stay with him. He needs you right now.”
Lewis nodded, biting his lip to stop it from trembling, and sat close to George, his hand never leaving his side. As George’s shallow breathing steadied, Lewis whispered soft words of encouragement, even though he wasn’t sure if George could hear him.
“My love, come on,” Lewis muttered under his breath, as he checked George’s pulse again. “Stay with us. Don’t go.”
As the haze of the seizure slowly lifted, George’s eyelids fluttered open. His head felt heavy, his body sore, but there was a faint spark of awareness in his gaze. He blinked a few times, as though trying to clear the fog from his mind.
Max, who had been kneeling beside him, was the first to notice, his hand instinctively brushing George’s damp hair from his forehead.
“Hey, hey,” Max murmured, his voice soft but urgent. “You with me?”
George let out a weak chuckle, his voice hoarse but determined. “Never thought I’d go out like that,” he joked, his lips curling into a tired smile. “But hey, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Charles couldn’t help but smile at the familiar spark in George’s eyes. “You’re damn right you are.”
Lewis, who had been sitting on the opposite side, moved closer, his hand resting on George’s shoulder. “You scared the hell out of us, love,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, though he tried to keep it light. “But it’s good to have you back.”
George’s eyes softened as he looked between Max, Charles, and Lewis. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his words slow but steady. “I’m sticking with you guys. Always.”
Max and Charles exchanged a look, both of them feeling the weight of those words more than George probably realized. And then Lewis leaned down, brushing his lips gently over George’s hand. “We’re family,” he said quietly, his voice filled with affection. “We’re not letting you go anywhere.”
Despite the exhaustion and pain, George managed another small smile, his hand gripping Lewis’s with surprising strength. “Well, guess I’m stuck with you lot then,” he teased, his voice hoarse but full of resolve. “Not that I mind.”
The three of them shared a soft laugh, the tension easing for just a moment. Despite everything, they knew they’d stick together, no matter how tough things got.
The hours ticked by slowly, with Charles and Max working together in silence while Lewis kept watch over George, who'd fallen back asleep. Every so often, they would switch off, each taking turns resting, though none of them truly slept. Exhaustion hung heavy in the air, but their minds stayed alert, always on guard, always focused on George.
The quiet of the cave felt oppressive, broken only by the sound of the rain and their hushed voices, as they did their best to stay vigilant, not daring to let their guard down completely.
Then, as if to answer their prayers, while the sun was starting to peak through the trees, the rain began to let up. The sound softened, and the wind grew quieter, though the air was still thick with moisture. It was the first sign of relief they had received all night.
Max exchanged a brief, relieved glance with Lewis. They were still far from safe, but this was the first step toward it. Charles leaned against the cave wall, finally allowing himself to relax for a moment. He wiped his brow, glancing at the two others.
“Lewis,” Charles said softly, “we’re going to get him back. We’ve got this.”
Lewis’s gaze flickered to George, who had finally stopped shivering. “We better,” he whispered. The quiet moment lasted for just a heartbeat before Max stood abruptly, his eyes scanning the path ahead. “We don’t have much time. We need to go, now.”
Lewis nodded silently, already kneeling by George, his hands carefully supporting the younger man as he gently tried to help him sit up. George’s eyelids fluttered, and he let out a small groan, his forehead damp with sweat.
"Georgie, hey, you’re gonna be alright," Max said, crouching down beside him. There was a tenderness in his voice, softer than usual, but still filled with that protective edge. "You’re tough. You’ve got this. We’re gonna get you back, I promise."
George’s eyes cracked open, and for a moment, his gaze seemed unfocused, like he was in a dream. But when his eyes found Max, a flicker of recognition passed through them. “Max…” he mumbled weakly.
Max gave him a small smile, his hand resting on George's shoulder. “Yeah, it’s me. You don’t have to say anything, just hold on a little longer. We’re almost there, alright?” George’s face scrunched in pain, but he nodded, his breath ragged. The fever hadn’t broken, and his body still felt weak from the seizure. But his friends didn’t give him a choice—they were going to get him to safety, no matter what.
“Let’s move,” Max ordered, standing up and motioning for the others to follow.
Charles and Lewis carefully helped George to his feet, though he swayed unsteadily between them. They had decided it was safer to carry him now; he was too weak to continue using the branch as a crutch. His arms draped over their shoulders, his body sagging with exhaustion as they supported him. The crutch, once essential, now lay forgotten on the cold, damp floor of the cave.
George’s unbroken leg buckled under him at first, but Lewis was quick to steady him, guiding him forward slowly, each step a laborious struggle. They moved as a unit, keeping George supported as best as they could, but the wet terrain made every step harder. The mud clung to their boots, and the cold air cut through their clothes, adding to the discomfort.
It wasn’t long before the exhaustion hit them all—Max, who had been keeping a close eye on the front, was panting, his grip tightening on the makeshift walking stick he’d found. Charles was doing his best to keep his composure, though every glance at George filled him with dread. And Lewis, despite his determination, couldn’t keep the worry from creasing his brow as he helped George inch along.
“This is taking too long,” Lewis muttered under his breath, his voice edged with frustration. "We need to hurry. We can’t stay out here in the open for much longer."
“I know,” Max said, his voice tight. "But we can’t push him too hard. Not while he’s like this."
George’s breaths grew more labored, his body trembling in the cold as fever continued to burn through him. Each step felt like an eternity, and George’s head lolled to the side as if he couldn’t keep his balance.
"Come on, my love," Lewis said, his voice a little softer. "We’re almost there. Just a little more."
The journey back felt like an uphill battle. With every step, the strain on George’s body became more apparent; his leg wobbled beneath him, sweat on his brow. Lewis held him tightly, his eyes not leaving George. If anything happened to him now… he couldn’t bear it. "My love..." he muttered, trying to mask his fear with the usual confidence he always wore, but it was failing. His voice cracked, barely audible to the others. "Please hold on."
It was late morning, after what felt like an eternity of walking, when they stumbled upon an old, abandoned ranger’s cabin, half-hidden by the trees. It was a small wooden structure, its roof sagging under the weight of the rain and neglect, but it was shelter. It was their salvation.
“There,” Lewis said, practically lifting George off the ground in one fluid motion. “We’re getting you inside.”
The group made their way inside the cabin, and the air was musty, but at least it was dry. Charles and Lewis helped George sit down on a small, old couch, and Max rushed to gather whatever supplies he could find. There was no firewood left, but there was a dusty old stove they could use. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Lewis immediately began looking for blankets, wrapping George in the warmest thing they had. He sat by him, still gripping his hand, and gazed at him with that same intensity, his worry evident in every movement.
“How are you feeling, love?” Lewis whispered, brushing a strand of hair from George’s forehead.
George’s eyes fluttered open, and his lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile. “Better... I think,” he muttered, his voice weak.
“Good,” Lewis said softly, “because you’ve got us here, and we’re not letting you go anywhere.”
Max, who had been pacing nervously by the door, finally approached them, kneeling next to George. He had his own concerns written all over his face, but his protective nature never wavered. “You’re staying with us, Georgie. We’re not going anywhere until you’re better. Got it?”
George nodded weakly, his face flushed with fever but finally looking like he might be in a little less pain. “Thanks... I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Charles, who had been quietly setting up a small area to rest, looked over his shoulder at the group and smiled faintly. “We’re a team, George. We don’t leave each other behind.”
The warmth of their presence, despite the storm still raging outside, seemed to finally give George some relief. He drifted off to sleep, exhausted and feverish but surrounded by his best friends—his family—who weren’t going to let him face anything alone.
With care, Lewis gently lay George down on the couch, slipping his arm under his shoulders to keep him steady. He curled up behind him, his body providing whatever warmth he could, his hand resting lightly on George's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. George shifted slightly, his fevered body finally finding a bit of comfort in the warmth.
Max and Charles, equally drained but determined to stay close, spread the blankets from the cabin across the floor. They settled down side by side, just a few feet away from the couch, their bodies instinctively moving toward each other for warmth. Max reached over to brush Charles' hair out of his face, their fingers lingering for a moment before they both closed their eyes, the exhaustion finally taking over.
The sound of rain continued to beat against the cave, but in that small, quiet space, the four of them, together, found the peace they so desperately needed.
The cabin felt strangely comforting as the afternoon light filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting weak beams across the dusty floor. The rain had stopped, but the air remained thick and heavy with humidity. George was still asleep, his feverish body wrapped in the thin blankets they’d found in the cabin. Lewis sat beside him, keeping a steady watch, his eyes never straying far from George’s face.
Max, on the other hand, had already gathered his things and was preparing the group for the next leg of their journey. His movements were quick and efficient, but there was a quiet unease about him, as though he was just waiting for something—anything—that would let him know George was going to be okay.
“Max,” Charles said, walking over to him with a concerned look. “I think George needs more rest. He can’t go back out there yet.”
“I know,” Max replied shortly, his voice sharp. “But we don’t have a choice. We can’t stay here forever.”
Charles shook his head, his brow furrowing in frustration. “Max, you’re not listening. He’s in no condition to walk, let alone climb over all that mud again. You need to be realistic.”
Max ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. He knew Charles was right, but he wasn’t ready to face the idea of being stuck here—stuck with his worst fear. “We can’t wait here. If we stay much longer, we’ll lose time, and it’ll only get harder to get back to camp.”
“I get that,” Charles replied softly, stepping closer. “But it’s not just about the time. It’s about George’s health. We have to give him time to heal, or else we’ll risk making things worse.”
Max’s eyes flicked back to George, still unconscious in the corner. He could feel his chest tighten, the overwhelming pressure of responsibility weighing down on him. “I don’t know how to keep him safe if I can’t even protect him now.”
Charles placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Lewis had been sitting quietly beside George, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of the younger driver’s hand. His thoughts were racing—he could see the strain in Max’s posture, hear the frustration in his voice, and he knew how much it was tearing him apart. Max was the strong one, the one who always had the answers, but even he couldn’t fix this.
As George stirred, mumbling softly in his sleep, Lewis moved closer, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead. He could feel the warmth of the fever still radiating from George’s skin. “Come on, love,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You’ve got to fight this. Please.”
George’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked up at Lewis, confusion clouding his gaze. His lips parted, but before he could speak, he winced, pressing a hand to his chest as the pain from his broken leg flared up.
“Hey, hey, don’t move,” Lewis said gently, carefully helping George sit up a little. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”
“L-Lewis,” George whispered, his voice hoarse. “How… how long have I been asleep?”
“Just a few hours,” Lewis answered, giving him a small smile. “You needed it. Rest. You’re doing fine, alright? Just take it easy.”
George tried to sit up further, but his face paled, and his body trembled. “I… I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to slow you all down.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Lewis said firmly, placing a hand on George’s shoulder. “You’re not slowing us down. We’re doing this together. All of us. So don’t you dare apologize. We’ve got you.”
George’s eyes softened, his chest tightening at Lewis’s words. He had no idea how he was going to get through this—he didn’t even know if he could make it back to camp at all—but seeing the concern on Lewis’s face, hearing Max’s gentle assurances, it made him want to fight. For them. For himself.
“Okay,” George whispered, nodding slightly. “I’ll… I’ll try.”
As George rested, the group began preparing for their next attempt at the journey. Max had managed to scrounge together a small amount of food from the rations they’d brought with them, but it wouldn’t last long. They needed to make it back to camp soon, or they would risk running out of supplies.
“Max,” Charles said, his voice soft but firm. “We need to think about this logically. We can’t just rush. He needs to rest. If we push him too far, we’ll only make things worse.”
Max’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. But we can’t keep sitting here either.”
The tension between them was palpable, but it was interrupted when George spoke up weakly from the couch. “You’re right, Charles,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not… I’m not ready to walk yet. But I’ll get there. Just… just give me a little time.”
Max looked at him, his gaze softening as he knelt down beside George. “You don’t have to rush. But we’ll get you there. Slowly. Together.”
For a brief moment, everything felt calm. The world outside the cabin was still a mess of rain and chaos, but inside, they had each other.
By midday, George managed to stand on his own, wobbling slightly as he leaned heavily on an old broomstick they had repurposed as a crutch. His injured leg throbbed with every slight movement, the pain radiating up his body and making him grimace. The fever still clung to him stubbornly, leaving his skin clammy and his strength sapped, but his determination shone through the exhaustion clouding his eyes.
The group prepared to move, their supplies strapped tightly to their backs, the weight of the past days hanging heavy over them. George gave them a weak nod, signaling he was ready. And so, with cautious steps and unyielding resolve, they began the slow and deliberate trek back down the path toward camp.
The journey was grueling. The uneven terrain was treacherous, every incline and loose patch of earth threatening to send George tumbling. His hands gripped the broomstick so tightly his knuckles whitened, but he pressed on, teeth clenched and eyes fixed on the ground ahead.
Lewis stayed glued to his side, his movements almost mirroring George’s as he hovered protectively. He kept a steady hand near George’s back, ready to catch him at the first sign of faltering. “Easy there,” Lewis murmured every so often, his voice a steadying force against George’s shaking steps. “One step at a time. You’ve got this.”
Max walked just behind them, his sharp eyes darting between George’s unsteady progress and the trail ahead. He carried most of the heavier supplies, having insisted on lightening George’s load. His protective instinct was palpable in the way he kept close, always ready to spring forward if George needed him.
Charles led the group, moving ahead with purpose. He scanned the path for obstacles, kicking away loose stones and brushing aside low-hanging branches to clear the way. Every now and then, he would glance back, his gaze meeting Lewis’ or Max’s, silently checking in on George’s condition.
The trek was slow—agonizingly so—but it was steady. Every step George took was a small victory, and the encouragement of his friends kept him moving forward, despite the sweat dripping down his face and the weariness tugging at his limbs.
“You’re doing great, Georgie,” Max said from behind, his voice softer than usual, carrying a rare gentleness. He offered a small, reassuring smile when George turned his head slightly, his glazed eyes searching for affirmation. “We’re almost there. Just a bit more.”
As the hours dragged on, the terrain gradually became more familiar. George’s breaths were shallow, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his exhaustion, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t—not with the others so close, so steadfast.
When the familiar stretch of land leading to their camp finally came into view, a wave of relief washed over them. The sight of the tents and fire pit, barely visible through the trees, felt like a lifeline after days of struggle.
George swayed on his crutch, his legs trembling violently now, but Lewis caught him before he could tip over. “We’re here,” Lewis whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Max came up beside them, his hand resting lightly on George’s shoulder. “See? Told you we’d make it,” he said, his smile widening as he looked past George to Charles, who had stopped ahead, waiting for them with a relieved expression.
The last stretch of their journey was slow, but it carried with it the warmth of shared triumph. As they stepped into the safety of camp, the tension that had weighed on them for days finally began to lift.
The camp was serene now, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the past days. The gentle flicker of firelight cast long shadows on the surrounding trees, and the sound of rustling leaves was soothing in the stillness of the night. The tents and sleeping bags felt like an oasis after days of exhaustion and uncertainty, each one a promise of rest and safety.
Max had taken charge of getting the fire started as soon as they arrived. Despite the damp conditions, he worked methodically, pulling out the emergency fire kit and piecing together a pile of dry kindling they’d collected on the way back. His hands moved with practiced precision, striking flint against steel until sparks caught and grew into a steady flame. The others had watched quietly, their weariness palpable, but the sight of the growing fire had brought a sense of relief none of them dared to voice.
George lowered himself gingerly into a chair near the fire, wincing as he adjusted his leg onto a makeshift pillow Charles had fashioned from a rolled-up jacket. The heat from the fire warmed his damp clothes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he exhaled a shaky breath of relief.
Max and Lewis moved around him with quiet efficiency. Max had already unpacked what little supplies were left, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sorted through their gear. Lewis returned with an armful of wood he’d scavenged from the forest's edge, adding it to the pile near the fire. Charles crouched next to the flames, his hands deftly adjusting the logs to keep the fire burning strong against the cool night air.
George leaned back in his chair, his body weary but his heart full. He looked at the three of them, his closest friends, his family. “Thanks, guys,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and tinged with raw emotion. “For everything. I mean it.”
Max knelt by his side, offering a reassuring smile as he placed a hand on George’s shoulder. “We’ll always be here for you, Georgie,” he said, his voice steady and full of warmth. “Always. You don’t even have to thank us.”
Charles set down the small bag he’d been rummaging through and dropped into a seat beside George. He reached out, his hand resting firmly on George’s shoulder, a gesture of comfort and solidarity. “Yeah,” Max added, his tone softer than usual. “You’re family, George. And we protect our family. No matter what.”
Before George could respond, Lewis stepped forward, crouching down in front of him so their eyes met. His gaze was soft, but his words carried a quiet intensity. “You’ve been through so much, George,” Lewis said, his hand brushing briefly over George’s knee. “But you’re still here. That’s all that matters to us. You don’t have to carry everything alone, alright? We’ve got you—always.”
George blinked rapidly, a lump forming in his throat. He felt the weight of their care, their unwavering dedication, and though he was too exhausted to put it into words, the gratitude in his eyes said everything he couldn’t.
The fire crackled softly, filling the quiet moments with a comforting rhythm. Charles sat back on his heels, satisfied with his work, and finally allowed himself to sit near Max, their shoulders brushing. Lewis pulled a blanket from one of the supplies and draped it carefully over George’s lap, tucking it around him like a protective shield as he kissed his forhead sweetly.
The rain was now a distant memory, its relentless pounding replaced by the peaceful hum of the forest. They sat together in companionable silence, the firelight dancing across their faces. The warmth of the flames and the unspoken bond between them melted away the lingering fear of the past days.
Lewis crouched by the scattered gear, his hands trembling slightly as he rummaged through their belongings. He muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling as he tossed aside a wet jacket and a dented water bottle.
“Come on, come on,” he whispered, his heart racing as his fingers brushed against something hard and rectangular. Finally, he pulled out his phone, the screen flickering dimly to life.
The battery indicator mocked him with a sliver of red—just 3% remaining.
“Please hold on,” he murmured, quickly dialing the emergency number. The line crackled as the call connected, and he wasted no time explaining their situation, the urgency in his voice evident.
When the operator assured him that a rescue team was on its way, Lewis exhaled sharply, relief washing over him like a wave. He ended the call and clutched the phone to his chest for a moment, his eyes closing briefly.
Turning back to the group, he found Max and Charles looking at him expectantly, holding each others hands. George was still sat at his chair, behind Charles, his head drooping, barely awake.
“Help is coming,” Lewis said, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “I got through. They’re sending a team, but it’ll take a while to reach us.”
Charles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his grip on Max tightening. Max gave a firm nod, his jaw set as if bracing for the wait ahead.
“We’ll be ready,” Max said, his determination unwavering.
Lewis sank down beside his boyfriend, tucking the phone away and placing a hand on George’s shoulder. “Just hold on a little longer, love. They’ll be here soon.”
Even in their exhaustion, a spark of hope reignited in all of them.
The distant sound of helicopters grew louder, and with it came a sense of relief that washed over the group. The helicopter that was dispatched had finally reached them, hovering above the clearing. As it touched down, the wind from the blades whipped up the air, sending bits of leaves and debris flying around them.
George could feel the tension in his body ease slightly. They were going to make it. He was going to be alright.
But as the helicopter landed, Lewis didn’t immediately look at them. His gaze was fixed on George, who was still resting on a camp chair, his leg elevated and wrapped in the makeshift splint. Lewis stood, hands on his hips, his eyes betraying a mixture of concern and relief that he couldn’t quite suppress.
“I think it’s about time we get you out of here, huh, love?” Lewis said, walking over to him and crouching beside his chair. His tone was light, teasing, but there was a softness to it that made George smile despite the pain.
George chuckled weakly, looking up at his boyfriend with tired eyes. “I think I’ve had enough of the great outdoors for a while. You were right, though. I’m never going camping again.”
Lewis gave him a mock hurt look. “Hey, don’t knock camping. You just need to learn to be a little tougher, that’s all.”
George rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest at Lewis’s words couldn’t be ignored. There was something undeniably comforting about having him there. It wasn’t just the physical support Lewis provided, but the emotional anchor he represented. Lewis might have been overprotective, stubborn, and sometimes a little too intense, but he always had George’s back. And that was all George needed.
As the paramedics approached, George glanced up at Max, the smile still on his face despite the exhaustion. “Thanks for not letting me die out here,” he said, his voice hoarse from both the fever and the laugh that had slipped out.
Max looked at him, his expression softening for a moment before he gave a lopsided grin. “I wasn’t going to let that happen, Georgie. Not on my watch.”
There was a beat of silence between them, and then Max placed a hand on George’s shoulder—an almost brotherly gesture. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"
George didn’t respond immediately, but the sincerity in Max’s words struck a chord deep in his chest. Despite all the teasing, despite their banter, Max had always treated him like family. Like a little brother, even when they were on the track, when Max would tease him relentlessly. But now, George saw a different side of him.
“I’m sorry,” Max said quietly, his voice low but honest. “I should have been more careful about pushing you too hard.”
“I’ll forgive you, but only if you stop calling me Georgie,” George teased, his tone lighter now, but there was no mistaking the gratitude in his eyes.
Max chuckled, ruffling George’s hair with a laugh. “Not a chance, you’re always going to be my Georgie.”
The paramedics swiftly took over, checking George’s vitals and preparing him for the trip back to the hospital. Lewis hovered nearby, not quite ready to leave George’s side.
Meanwhile, Max, standing just a few steps away, glanced at Lewis, who seemed completely absorbed in the process. The guilt that had been gnawing at Max since the argument in the rain suddenly bubbled to the surface. He had been so caught up in protecting George that he’d let his emotions get the better of him, snapping at Lewis.
Taking a deep breath, Max walked over to Lewis, who was now watching as George was lifted into the helicopter.
“Mate,” Max said softly, standing beside him.
Lewis didn’t immediately respond, his gaze still locked on George.
“I… I’m sorry for what I said,” Lewis continued. “I was frustrated, and I let it out the wrong way. You were just trying to keep George safe, and I should’ve backed you up, not fought you. I wasn’t thinking.”
Lewis glanced at him, the tension in his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “It’s alright,” he said after a pause, his voice still holding that edge of unspoken emotion. “I get it. It’s just… you know, I don’t like seeing him hurt. And I guess I took it out on you. But I understand now.”
The two stood there in silence for a moment, the sounds of the helicopter’s blades spinning above them.
“Truce?” Lewis said, offering his hand.
Max smirked but reached out, shaking his hand firmly. “Truce.”
The rotors whirred loudly overhead, whipping their hair around as they climbed aboard one by one. Charles helped Max up before pulling himself inside, his eyes scanning the clearing behind them.
“What about all our stuff?” Charles asked, glancing between the others.
Lewis waved it off with a dramatic shrug. “Forget it. Leave everything. It’s not worth dragging it all back. Especially after everything we’ve just been through.”
“Leave everything?” Max turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. “Excuse me, but we came here in *my* car, and I *need* that back. Thank you very much.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow, barely containing a laugh. “Max, I don’t think your car is technically camping gear.”
Charles chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the helicopter. “You two and your priorities.”
Despite the exhaustion etched into their faces, the lighthearted exchange lifted the heavy weight that had hung over them for days. As the helicopter began to lift off the ground, Lewis and Max exchanged a quick glance before turning their attention back to George, who was being carefully monitored by the medics.
“You two are so cute,” Charles said with a mischievous grin. “Like an old married couple.”
Max and Lewis both shot him a look at the same time, but Charles just laughed. “Honestly, you two spend more time bickering than I’ve seen in any relationship. It’s adorable.”
George, awake but still groggy from the trip, weakly laughed, hearing the teasing before he could even see the faces of his friends.
“Charles, my love, you should just keep your mouth shut,” Max said, his tone dry, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Lewis joined in, shaking his head. “I’m just glad we got through it. Let’s not make this into a soap opera.”
Charles laughed. “Well, Max, you’re lucky George is such a sweetheart. Otherwise, I’d say you were the most dramatic one here.”
George shot him a tired grin. “I think I’ve had enough drama for a lifetime, thanks.”
“You’re the one who made it dramatic, Georgie,” Max teased, winking at him. “Can’t take you anywhere.”
Despite the pain in his leg and the exhaustion from everything they had been through, George managed a chuckle. The teasing, the laughter—it was just what he needed. It reminded him that even after everything, there was still light in the world. There was still love and friendship.
Lewis gave George one last look as the helicopter started to ascend, the concern still in his eyes but now tempered with relief. “We’ll be there soon, love. Just hang in there a little longer, alright?”
George nodded weakly, a smile playing at his lips. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Lew. For everything.”
The sterile white walls of the hospital room felt like an odd contrast to the warmth that Lewis brought in. He sat next to George’s bed, holding his hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of George’s fingers as if grounding both of them in this moment. It had been a whirlwind of medical staff, frantic calls, and the chaos of the trip, but now, with George’s leg elevated and his head clearer, there was a quiet calm between them. The faint beeping of the machines in the background was the only sound.
“How are you feeling?” Lewis asked, his voice soft, his eyes scanning George’s face with a tender look.
George winced slightly, trying to shift his position, his leg still throbbing despite the pain medication. “I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he chuckled, though it sounded a bit more strained than he intended.
Lewis smiled, brushing a few strands of hair from George’s forehead. “You don’t have to be tough, you know. Just let me take care of you, alright?”
George looked at him, his heart swelling. Despite the pain, despite everything, just having Lewis there, being so incredibly present and calm, made him feel safer. “You always take care of me,” George murmured, squeezing Lewis' hand.
Lewis’ eyes softened, his voice turning more serious. “I’m not going anywhere, love. We’ll get through this, together. Just rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
There was a brief silence, and then George gave him a small smile. “I know. But seriously, if you need a break, you can go grab a coffee or something. You’ve been here for hours.”
Lewis shook his head immediately. “No way. I’m not leaving you alone. You’re stuck with me.” His smile was teasing, but it was clear he meant every word. His fingers lingered on George’s hand, their connection as strong as ever.
The door opened, and George’s doctor stepped in with a smile. “Mr. Russell, how are we feeling today?”
“Like I was lost in the mountains with a broken leg” George replied dryly, his smile weak.
The doctor chuckled, looking over George’s vitals and adjusting his leg position to make him more comfortable. As she worked, Lewis’ gaze never left George. He didn’t even seem to notice the doctor’s movements; his attention was solely focused on the man in front of him, his fingers gently running over George’s hand.
After a few more checks, the doctor gave a reassuring nod. “You’re doing well, Mr. Russell. We’ll keep you for observation for another night, but you’re on track for a full recovery.”
George nodded, relieved, but the exhaustion was starting to set in. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier.
“You hear that?” Lewis asked softly, rubbing George’s hand again. “You’re getting better.”
George smiled faintly. “Yeah. I’ll be back on my feet in no time. You’ll be stuck with me, and I’m pretty sure you’ll regret it.”
Lewis chuckled, leaning closer. “I could never regret it. You’ve got me, love. Always.”
A few hours later, the door to George’s room creaked open once more. This time, Max and Charles entered, both of them grinning despite the serious nature of the situation.
“Look who’s still alive,” Max teased as he walked in first, Charles following close behind. Both of them carried gifts—Max with a small bouquet of wildflowers, and Charles holding a bag brimming with snacks and magazines.
George let out a soft chuckle, the sound tinged with exhaustion but genuine. “Takes more than this to knock me down, Max. You should know that by now.”
Max grinned, setting the flowers on the table beside the bed. “Oh, I know. But tough or not, you’ve got a whole team keeping you in one piece. We’re not letting anything happen to you.”
Charles sat down at the edge of the bed, offering George the bag of snacks. “Got everything you need. Thought you might want a distraction, other than the hospital food.”
“Thanks, Charles,” George smiled gratefully, taking a pack of crisps and opening them. “I’ll take anything that isn’t hospital food.”
Max leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “How’s the leg?”
“It’s fine,” George answered, though the slight twitch of his face betrayed the pain he was still feeling. “I’ll live. But enough about me. How are you two holding up?”
Charles immediately perked up. “We’ve been worried about you, mate. You’re one of us. Can’t leave us hanging like this.”
Max nodded in agreement, his voice softening a little. “Yeah, you scared us there for a second, Georgie.”
George smiled weakly at the nickname. “I’ll be back on my feet soon. You don’t need to worry so much.”
Lewis, who had been quietly watching the interaction from his chair, finally spoke up. “He’s right. You don’t need to worry. George is tough.”
Max smirked at Lewis. “Yeah, but I’m the one who’s been trying to make sure he doesn’t make things worse.”
“You’re both impossible,” George groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I don’t need this much attention.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “If you think we’re done with the attention, you’ve got another thing coming. We’re taking you home tomorrow.”
“Home?” George blinked, then shot Max a look of confusion. “You guys are driving us?”
“Of course we are,” Max replied, a little too serious. “You’re not going anywhere without us.”
The next day, after George was discharged and back at his and Lewis' home, things were quieter. George was finally settling into his recovery, with his leg propped up on the couch and crutches nearby. Max had insisted on driving them home and now, despite George’s protests, he was stuck at home, under constant watch from Lewis.
Lewis had been amazing, keeping up with George’s care, even though George could see the exhaustion on his face. He wasn’t used to being so dependent on others, but it was a necessary evil.
That afternoon, Max and Charles arrived at their house to check on George. The two of them walked through the front door, both of them holding bags of snacks and some drinks. Charles grinned as he saw George lounging on the couch, looking far too comfortable for someone who’d been through such a traumatic event.
“Well, well,” Charles teased, “Look at you, Mr. Relaxed. Not even a hint of the trauma from the hospital.”
George grinned back, settling deeper into the cushions. “You have no idea how nice this couch feels after the last few days.”
Max walked over and handed George a bag of snacks, sitting down next to him. “How’s the leg feeling now?”
“It’s… alright,” George admitted. “Still sore, but it’s manageable. Just need a few more days of rest.”
Charles plopped down beside them, a smirk crossing his face. “You’re lucky, you know that?”
“Lucky? In what sense?” George asked, genuinely curious.
“Lucky you’ve got Lewis and Max here to pamper you,” Charles replied, raising an eyebrow.
Max glanced at Lewis, who had been standing off to the side, making tea. “We spoil him because he deserves it.”
“I’m not spoiled,” George huffed, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I just have good friends and a great boyfriend.”
“You’ve got them wrapped around your finger,” Charles teased, nodding at Lewis and Max. “I’m not saying anything they don’t already know.”
Lewis walked back into the room, tea in hand. He handed a cup to George, then sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. “We’ve been pretty lucky to have you, love,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of what they’d been through. “But you’ll be back to your usual self soon.”
George looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his exhaustion. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice low but sincere.
Lewis leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss against George’s forehead, his hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “We’ll get through anything, together,” Lewis said, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back, his eyes warm and steady. “Always.”
Max grinned, his tone playful. “As long as you don’t try any crazy stunts for the next few weeks, alright?”
George rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be trying anything too extreme for a while.”
The mood was light, but there was an undeniable sense of relief in the air. Despite everything that had happened, they had made it through. Together.