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"You're... You're bleeding."
Ben's voice was low, but not dangerous. Wary, but not biting. It wasn't like the words they'd exchange a few minutes prior, when they were ruthlessly throwing punches to shoulders and slamming fists into eyes.
His voice was tinged with cold concern. And that was weird, given that they battled it out with knuckles to noses and kicks to shins not even five minutes ago. In the middle of the school halls, nonetheless. Right after passing period.
Ben was standing over him, his fist retracted from just having been violently used, and Ricky on the ground and trying to catch his breath.
His world was blanking out. Black dots spotted his vision as the floors seemed to spin.
Ben was good at punching, plenty of bruises Ricky received in the past were from him. But he wasn't expecting that punch to knock him to the ground.
Needless to say, his eye would be a nasty shade of purple and blue for the next few days.
After a second of finding it hard to move, Ricky slowly picked himself up off the floor, his vision hazy and his body swaying as he stood on his feet. Dizziness slammed into him like a tidal wave to the shore. It was getting harder to think without feeling nauseous.
He scoffed, making a show of acting tough and wiping the blood pooling from his nose. "Yeah? Didn't notice."
When Ben gave him a critiquing look, Ricky pointed an accusing finger at him instead, "Hey, for the record, you're bleeding too."
"Yeah, very mature." Ben hissed back, wiping his blood coated chin and wincing as his touch came in contact with a cut through his lip, "Let's play the blame game like middle schoolers."
There was a beat of silence between them as Ricky studied Ben's hands, slowly bruising and covered with blood. This might've been their worst fight yet, considering that they rarely fought to the point where this much blood was covering them.
Ricky's nose was smothered in the thick red liquid, and Ben's knuckles and lips had a matching shade. In simple terms, they beat each other's asses over some stupid little thing neither of them could even recall. An argument about community service, that's how it started. And all it did was escalate from there.
During said fight, Ricky punched the brunette so hard in the jaw that Ben ended up clamping his teeth over his own lip. Needless to say, that didn't end very well, because now Ben had a split open lip and Ricky had a black eye for giving him said injury. And all they did prior was throw hands and give each other bloody noses.
They didn't look bad enough to land themselves in a hospital, but it was bad enough for the principle to give them a punishment that would put community service to shame.
For a few moments, they both kind of just... stared at each other, their breaths ragged, their vision hazy, and their limbs still shaking with adrenaline.
After a second, Ben broke the silence as he wiped his lip off his wrist. "I wouldn't be surprised if they expelled us for this." He mumbled in between long breaths, "Nice going, shitbird."
Ricky shot him a glare, his fist already raised and threatening, "Are you saying this is my fault? Do you want another bloody nose? Cause I'll give you one, jackass."
Staggering backward and leaning his weight against a locker, Ben shook his head and scratched at his blood stained hands. "Alright, seriously, we might aswell be packing our shit and finding a new school right now. This has been the... what, the third time we've physically fought this week?"
For a second, Ricky paused, limping over the locker next to him and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his legs tucked into his chest and his head in his knees.
His nose hurt. For the record, everything did. His eyes, and his chest, and his shoulder, and his knees, they all hurt. Ben was a small guy, but he could pack a mean punch if you pissed him off the wrong way. Pissing him off was more of an Olympic sport for Ricky than it was a hobby, though. He was practically asking for it every single day.
Ben was right for once. Lately, the principal was letting them off easy. For whatever reason, because he genuinely believed that they could relate to each other on some personal level. Yeah, fat chance.
This would be his final straw before he really gave them a punishment. Expulsion, if he was feeling generous. Anything even more intense than that would land Ricky directly into court, or prison, or a catholic school, or out onto the streets.
Fuck, if he got expelled, his dad would kick him out. For real this time.
"Shit, you're right."
He saw Ben nod in his peripheral vision, "I'm always right."
Another few seconds of silence went by as they dug through their thoughts. Now that the adrenaline rush was flooding away, the pain stabbing through Ricky's eye and his shoulder was enough to kill a baby hamster. Everything ached and it was getting harder to ignore the pain as the seconds went by.
He didn't know how bad his eye might've looked, but it must've been the worst punch to the face he's ever received, given the aching pain. Worse than any his dad's ever given him, and that was surprising.
Almost like he could read his mind, Ben spoke with a collected calmness, without even needing to look Ricky's way, "Your eye looks rough.”
Ricky looked up towards him, yet Ben held his gaze on the floor. Silence lingered between them before Ricky scoffed, his signature smirk shielding away the pain, "Psht—no it doesn't. I've had black eyes before, this ain't any different."
Finally, Ben turned to him, his gaze thoughtful but stern. He stared at him for a few moments before he turned and abruptly started walking. "Come on, we're leaving."
Ricky barely even registered the words as he looked up, "Wait, what?"
Ben was already a good few steps away, his hands in his pockets and his body swaying back and forth with practiced control. Ricky had to scramble onto his feet to follow him. He himself was wobbling once he stood up, but he managed to keep his pace steady as he caught up to Ben and stalked behind him, much like his shadow.
He didn't know where they were going, because passing period was definitely over and they were supposed to be in class by now. He followed behind Ben anyways, and he chose to be silent while doing so. They were both exhausted, they both ached all over, and they both had blood covering either their hands or their faces. So wherever they were going, it couldn't have been class.
Multiple times a week, they'd waltz into English right after a brawl. Bruises covering their faces and mild bloody noses were the usual. Their cat fights weren't necessarily new to Mr. Wilkins, who called it their "daily quarreling."
But this fight was a different story. The amount of blood covering them was enough for it to be genuinely concerning. It looked like they both killed a man and joined forces to dispose of the body.
As they walked, Ricky suddenly realized that he wasn't paying attention to where they were going at all, because one second they were in the school, and the second they were outside and walking into the neighborhood next to said school.
It was pretty easy to ditch class—all they had to do was watch out for hall monitors and exit out one of the back doors. It was an open campus so it wasn't difficult.
Ricky's thoughts were a daze as his gaze fell on Ben, who was navigating where they needed to go with a calmness that was admirable. He always liked that about him—even though Ben was an angry person, he remained calm under pressure or in intense situations. People were a different story, because he'd just beat the shit out of them at the drop of a dime. But in a situation like this, he was silent and quick, weaving his way around the alleyway corners and through neighborhood streets.
He just knew where he was going, no map or compass. It was intriguing. Ricky had no sense of direction whatsoever, and it was incredible to see someone who could just know where to go.
Finally, after a few long minutes of walking, Ricky recognized the path they were walking along. He'd know, because he walked down this specific street every night.
"Are we going to your house?"
Ben turned to him, an incredulous look on his face as if he were judging him thoroughly, "Where else could we be going?"
Ricky frowned, "What about school? We're supposed to be in English right now."
Ben looked at him like he was a complete moron, "That's never stopped you from skipping before."
Oh. Right.
"I guess so."
The brunette shrugged and continued walking until they finally stopped in front of a raggedy house, with a small stairwell that led to a window. Ben continued on with his thoughts, "If we went to class, we'd be sentenced to either more community service or expulsion. We've never... we've never fought this bad."
Ricky blinked, because Ben was absolutely right. He couldn't even remember the reason they started physically fighting. Sometimes, something would tick one of them off and they'd just throw a punch. It was like breathing to them, how easily they could get into a fight. It was almost muscle memory.
They took it too far this time, that wasn't a secret. Ben's lip was still covered in blood, some fresh and some dried. Ricky's nose was still stinging and flooding with blood that painted his lips and filled his mouth with the taste of copper.
"Come on then," Ben motioned for him to go up the stairs first, "You've snuck into my room plenty of times, so let's get on with it."
Ricky didn't have much to say as he did so, climbing up the stairs until he reached the window. He slammed it open and toppled through like he usually did. Once inside, he took note of how his shoulder hurt to an extent of it being a little worrying. It wasn't broken, sprained at absolute worst, but it still hurt like a bitch.
Ben followed behind him, throwing himself through the window and pushing it shut. And suddenly, he abruptly froze and tuned into his surroundings like a wild cat would've.
His head whipped to his bedroom door as the sound of a voice from downstairs echoed through the house. Ricky watched as Ben stared at the door like it had personally called him a slur.
"The fuck are you doing?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, "I'm confus—"
Ben shot his hand up and clamped it around Ricky's mouth, shushing him immediately as he said in a low voice, "Shhh! Shut the hell up! If my mom knows we're here, we're fucked."
So for just a moment, neither of them moved as Ben listened to his surroundings, his body stiff and his eyes trained onto his bedroom door. Ricky heard the faintest sound of the same voice from downstairs, definitely Ben's mother, and then no voice at all.
After a moment, a door slammed shut downstairs. The sound echoed throughout the house.
Another few seconds of complete silence passed before Ben nodded, letting out a relieved sigh, "Okay, she left. We're good."
Ricky glared at the hand still gripping his mouth, and before Ben could let go, he licked his palm to a good extent.
"Ew, what the fuck?!" Ben tore his hand away and wiped it all over Ricky's jacket, "I need soap or something, your cigarette slobber is gonna give me the plague."
"Relax," Ricky waved his hand dismissively and walked over to Ben's bed, sitting himself on the mattress and flopping down on it. Lying down had never felt so good, everything hurt so bad and he was the very definition of exhausted.
"What's the deal with your mom anyways, Brookie?" He asked, "Where is she going? How did you know she was even home or whatever?"
Ben shrugged, sifting a wobbling hand through his brown hair as he wandered around his room, "She goes out playing bingo until it's dark on Fridays. I've skipped plenty of times and came back home to know what her schedule is. We're fine to hang out here."
After a moment of sifting through drawers in his desk, Ben turned to him and studied his face thoughtfully.
Ricky stared right back at him, confusion plastered over his face.
"You're still bleeding." Ben acknowledged in a low voice, thoughtful but not rude. Ricky shot him a scowl as he wiped his nose once more, blood coating his hand and smearing over his face, "Yeah, no shit."
"Sit up." Ben instructed as he pulled a white box out of his drawer and sifted through it. Any other day, Ricky would've fought him in it. He would've told him to piss off and go to hell or to make him. But now, he was too tired to protest. Bickering landed them into a bloody mess in the first place, it was best not to push it. He sat up and winced at the ache in his eye.
Finally, Ben stalked over to him with the white box in hand, a small white tube in the other, and a look on his face to know that he was set on getting shit done. Ricky watched as he stopped in front of him, tossing the box on the bed, and screwed open the top of the tube.
"What's that?" He asked, and Ben squeezed a generous amount of product onto his fingertips as he replied, "Vitamin K cream. It speeds up the healing process for bruises. Maybe we can get this black eye to stop swelling before it kicks in with the purple."
"Why do you even own that?"
Ben gave him a look. "Where do you think I've been getting all of my black eyes from?"
Oh. Right.
A grin tinged the edge of Ricky's lips, because a part of him was kind of proud of that. Leaving behind physical marks on Ben's face, ones that he made singlehandedly was a nice thought.
And yet, a part of him felt guilty.
They fought to the point where Ben had his own medical hoard. That wasn't a pleasant thought. Hurting him to the point where he had medical stuff period wasn't a good thing to realize at all.
"You look like a sad puppy, stop making that face." Ben flicked the side of his head, and Ricky winced when the contact came within the bruise smothered over his left eye.
"I do not look like a sad puppy." He grumbled under his breath, and Ben cracked a smile as he shot back, "Yes you do, don't fight me on it. Sit still."
Ricky did, and Ben leaned over his slouched figure and applied the product along his bruised eye. Ben's hands were rough against his skin, not unkind but not gentle either. Maybe he was trying to be gentle, given that he was treating a black eye, but Ben was never such a thing. His touch was a little too forceful to the point where it hurt.
Ricky flinched back and winced as pain stung through his eye, "Jesus, you tryna kill me or what?! That shit hurts!"
"Sit still, fuck face." Ben suddenly full-on grabbed his chin and yanked him forward, his touch even more forceful as he continued rubbing the product into his skin, "You're a tough guy, you can handle a little pain."
And yet, the way Ben's touch immediately softened, like he noted that he was hurting him and he was making an effort to be more gentle, that made Ricky's face flush in a way he was not used to. In a way he shouldn't have.
Infact, he realized that not only was Ben being unusually considerate and kind to him, but they were inches away from each other. So close infact, that Ricky could count the brunette’s eyelashes, long and delicate.
He always liked Ben's eyelashes. Ben just generally looked like a girly dude. Long eyelashes, round eyes that were always dark and brooding, pink cheeks, button nose, he was a cute guy. And yet he was still a rugged little scab who was always picking fights and always winning them. It was impressive. Ben was impressive.
And he was sometimes kind of nice, too. When he wanted to be.
They were extremely close for too long. Closer than they needed to be for minutes that felt like hours. It was getting on Ricky's nerves, and not in a nice way. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole as Ben worked the ointment into his swollen skin, holding his chin up and humming under his breath like that would save either of them any embarrassment.
Ben didn't seem to notice how awkward this felt, however. Concentration was written all over his as he leaned in towards him, another product in his hands as he applied a different kind of ointment to a small cut on his jaw. Neosporin, if Ricky could see the label correctly.
He swallowed hoarsely. The air felt too tight.
They didn't say anything—neither of them had much to talk about. Ricky let the brunette work freely.
Now, Ben was focused on taking a small medical wipe from the box and scrubbing the blood off of Ricky's nose. It was still bleeding, just a bit, but he got that taken care of fairly quickly.
As Ben patched him up with unspoken kindness, Ricky took notice of the brunette’s hands.
They were starting to bruise. Not bad yet, since they only fought an hour ago, but in a few days they would be black and blue. His knuckles were split open, dots of blood and scabbed skin covering them. Ricky took note of how his hands were trembling and strained. And it left a sour taste in his mouth.
"You're shaking." He mumbled, not unkindly. Ben's gaze caught onto his as he froze, his thumb grazing Ricky's jaw as he pulled back an inch, his eyes darting to the floor as he swallowed roughly.
For a few moments, he couldn't even spit out a sentence. And then suddenly, he was stumbling over honest words in a voice that Ricky wasn't used to hearing.
"You—you were on the ground," He started with uncertainty painting his expression, his voice quiet and raw, "You wouldn't get up."
Ricky's chest tightened.
Oh.
For a second, he didn't know how to respond. Sure, he thought that Ben was still pissed off at him. Or his hands were giving him a hard time given that his knuckles were swollen.
But no, he wasn't shaking because of pain, and he wasn't shaking because of anger.
He was shaking with fear.
"I got up eventually. Didn't I?" He said after a moment, shooting him a small smile, "Right here in the flesh. I'm not going anywhere."
Ben turned back to him, his lip trembling and straining the cut that split it open, "You didn't get up fast enough. I thought I hurt you. Badly."
There was something more to it than that. Ricky could tell—he always could.
Ben was scared. And that was new.
Without thinking on it, he reached forward and grabbed Ben's wrist. Not too tightly, but just enough to be comforting.
Surprisingly, Ben didn't pull away.
"You're always so worried about me, Brookie Cookie.” Ricky managed to crack a smile, soft yet amused. Ben stared at him for a good few moments before he turned away, swallowing roughly.
"Someone's got to be."
Those words, Ricky would admit, pierced through his heart much like Cupid's arrow. Ben's thumb was still brushing his jaw, slow and carful, like he was a delicate thing who needed to be treated with caution and care.
Ben's careful words and his kind touch was enough to make Ricky's face flush an unbearable shade of pink. It was humiliating.
Turning to the medical box sitting on the bed, Ricky eyed it and then gazed back to Ben, who still had that nasty cut on his lip and blood coating his face. A bruise was swelling around his cheekbone. It wasn't a pretty sight.
Even so, Ben was still pretty, bruises or not.
"Okay, chop chop, your turn." Ricky tugged his wrist forward and onto the bed next to him, gesturing towards the medical kit that sat on the left side of him, "Someone's got to patch you up too."
Ben physically grimaced, refusing to budge from where he stood, "Right, like I'd let you get your cigarette germs all over me. Besides, I don't look as bad as you. I'll be fine."
What Ben was oblivious to was the gash cutting into his lip, bleeding and irritating the skin around it. The cut wasn't too bad, but it was still bleeding a good amount.
Ignoring his protests, Ricky yanked the other forward and threw him on the bed right next to him. "Hey!" Ben scowled as he straightened his posture and smoothed out his shirt, "You little fuck!"
Ricky ignored him, a skill he obtained over time, and he pulled the medical box into his lap and dug through it for a few moments. Eventually, he found a roll of bandages and took them out, following along with the same bottle of vitamin K cream and neosporin that Ben had used.
"Alright, Brookie, give me your hands." Ricky gestured towards Ben's bruised and bloody knuckles with a grabby motion, and the brunette hesitated before he extended them out and set them into his palm.
Again, they didn't have much to say as Ricky took a medical wipe and began scrubbing the blood off of his knuckles. Once the skin was as clear as it could get, he took the bottle of vitamin K cream and applied it to the bruised skin as gently as he could, in hopes of not hurting him. His attempt was futile, because Ben winced the whole way through as his gaze stuck to the floor.
"Am I hurting you?" Ricky blurted like an idiot, and Ben shot him a glare. "What do you think?"
"Probably." He concluded with a mocking grin, "You're a tough guy, you can handle a little pain."
That earned a reaction. Ben's gaze on him was a like a dagger piercing skin as he snapped under his breath, "Shut the fuck up."
"You first."
"I want you dead." Ben threatened with gritted teeth, and Ricky grinned back as he turned back to their hands, intertwined as he worked on rubbing the vitamin K evenly around the other's rough knuckles.
Really, treating his hands was just an excuse to touch him. If Ricky was going to be honest, that was the only reason he physically fought Ben so much. He just wanted to get his hands on him. He just wanted to be close to him.
Running his fingers along the brunette’s swelling knuckles, Ricky noticed how Ben's hands were quite scarred. Not to the point of it being concerning, but to the point where it was intriguing. Ben got into a lot of fights, that wasn't a secret. It was just... neat. How there was evidence of that. That Ben's hands told a story most people wouldn't care to tune into.
But Ricky wanted to know the whole story. From cover to cover, he wanted to know everything about Ben's life. What he liked, what he was interested in, what his hobbies were, what his favorite foods were, what his favorite time of day was, what kept him up at night, everything.
Ben intrigued him. He always had, from the moment he came stomping up to him yelling about his painting, to the moment where Ricky found out about the photo, to the moment where Ben stopped by the bench he was sleeping on and offered him a place to stay for the night.
"Thanks. For fixing my hands up for me."
Ricky looked up, blinking out of his thoughts.
Ben didn't elaborate. His gaze was focused on the floor.
"No problem, Brookie."
Another few beats of silence flooded past them before Ricky added, a grin on his face, "I know, I'm the best. You don’t have to say it out loud. Ladies ladies, one at a time."
As he took the roll of bandages and began weaving them around Ben's knuckles, the brunette shot him a nasty glare and spat with a mouthful of venom. "Woah there, tiger. Don't trip over your own ego."
"You meant to say that I'm the best and you're forever thankful for my help, right?" Ricky teased, just to get a reaction out of him.
"That's not what I said."
"Don't lie, I'm your favorite and you think I'm so great."
Ben's face was flushing darker and darker with each comeback. He rolled his eyes dramatically, "I think you're a piece of shit, that's what."
"He's lying, everyone."
Ben scoffed, "We're the only ones here, shitbird."
Tying off the bandages and retracting his hands, Ricky studied his work and tilted his head to the side, "Hows that? Feel fine?"
Studying his hands himself, Ben flipped his palms and looked them over, flexing his fingers and wincing ever so slightly. He covered his pain quickly with a bored stare, one blink could've missed it.
"Feels fine." He muttered as nonchalantly as he could. Ricky gave him a look, "Take it easy with those, they gotta heal."
Ben rolled his eyes as the other gestured towards his lip, "We gotta take care of the blood coverin' your face, too. That cut isn't lookin' great, Brookie Cookie.”
Opening his mouth to protest, and then closing his mouth right after, Ben groaned dramatically and crossed his arms instead of arguing about it. “Don’t call me that.”
He had that angry little gremlin face on like always and it was genuinely one of the cutest things Ricky had ever seen.
He mentally kicked himself for that thought. Focus.
Instead of tuning into his thoughts, he grabbed another medical wipe and gestured for Ben's face. When the brunette didn't understand the cue, Ricky took it upon himself to grab his chin and pull him forward, as gently as he could without hurting him.
He really tried not to think about how his fingers were gripped around Ben's jaw, about how their noses were almost touching as he leaned forward and brushed the medical wipe across his lips, about how pretty his green eyes glowed when the afternoon sun hit them just right through the window—
He had to control the major blushing in his face. Focus. This was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine.
Ben didn't seem too bothered by how close they were. He let Ricky wipe the buckets load of blood from his face and zoned out after a few seconds. He was thankful for that—at least Ben was in his own world. At least he wasn't paying attention.
He typically did that in awkward situations. He'd get lost in his own thoughts like they were far more interesting than real time. Ricky saw him in his thoughtful trances many times around Lola, which was odd given that they were dating and a boyfriend should tune into what his chick's saying.
Then again, he was like that around most people, so it was probably just a him thing. It certainly couldn't have been anything else.
Wiping the blood away from the cut, Ricky took note on how it didn't look as bad as it originally had. The blood made it look a whole lot worse than it actually was.
And then, he'd never admit it out loud, but he caught himself staring at Ben's lips. They were still stained with crusted blood.
What made it even worse? It was the fact that Ben noticed.
Their gazed locked awkwardly as Ricky worked at an even slower pace, his focus trying to concentrate on anything but the horrendously pretty green-eyed guy in front of him. That was always a hard task, because Ben was always his center of attention no matter the circumstance.
What made his heart pound against his chest was when Ben's gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips. For just a split second.
The air between them wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was something of the sort. It was too tense, too tight as Ben stared at him, and as Ricky wiped the blood coating his face.
Neither of them acknowledged those stolen glances, those small moments where they were just a little too close and they looked at each others lips just a few too many times. Instead, Ricky continued, his palms nearly sweating with anxiety as he took the bottle of neosporin and applied a small amount of the product onto Ben's busted lip.
That was tense. For a moment, Ricky forgot how to breathe as his thumb grazed over the brunettes's chapped lips, still covered in rusted blood and pressed into a straight line, like he was frozen in place and terrified to move.
"You need lip balm." Ricky blurted before he could even register himself speaking. That relieved a bit of the tension that lingered in the air, given that Ben snapped out of his frozen state and glared his way. "Shut up."
After a few moments of applying the ointment to the cut in his lip, Ricky caught his hands just... lingering on his face. The job was done, and yet he didn't want to let go.
He was tempted to hold Ben like that forever. If he could, he would’ve.
After a few seconds, he pried his hands away the moment they lingered just a bit too long for Ben to notice. Ricky swallowed roughly and ran a nervous hand through his messy hair, "A-anyways, so—so how's that? Fine?"
Ben sat there, frozen for a few long seconds, before he turned away sharply, his cheeks a bright red as he mumbled under his breath, "S'fine."
Ricky grinned. "Cool."
They spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. Not very awkward, but still a little tense. What was weird about it was the fact that neither of them moved away. They hung out on the edge of Ben's bed and neither of the had the gut to leave.
——
The sun had fallen asleep when their nightly ritual rolled around. They had a routine.
Usually, Ricky would climb through Ben's window at an ungodly hour, bringing nothing but the clothes on his back.
This time, however, he was already over, and Ben didn't like the idea of him going home to retrieve his clothes, so he was generous and lent him some. A simple oversized grey shirt with long, black shorts. The gesture was kind, and Ricky was grateful. Ben's clothes smelled nice, and they were comfortable and warm.
The two wordlessly climbed into bed like how they usually did. They'd argue over who got which side for a few minutes, like they always did, before settling on the sides they usually chose. Ben always took the left, and Ricky took the right. They silently came to an agreement that they'd never switch sides ever despite their bickering.
The middle belonged to whoever ended up there when they woke up. Sometimes it was one of them, sometimes it was both of them.
Ricky would never say out loud, but his favorite nights were when he woke up in the dark morning to them curled up together.
Once they were comfortable on either side of the bed, Ben turned to face him and Ricky stared right back. And they lay like that for a long, long time.
Ricky took this time to study Ben's features. It was a nightly routine at this point, it eased something deep within him and it made his eyes feel heavy.
He felt his consciousness slipping before a hand suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging on it a little too urgently.
Ricky's eyes shot open, and he was met to Ben staring at him, wide eyed with unspoken words at the tip of his tongue. He couldn't seem to spit them out, but Ricky understood what he meant without even needing to hear his voice.
Ben's eyes held that same panic that flashed back when his punch had knocked him to the ground a few hours earlier. Back when he was treating his black eye and guilt lit his eyes with a grim shade of green.
Ricky didn't really understand why Ben cared for him so much. He was tempted to ask, but he decided to drop it. He already received an answer, anyways.
'Someone's got to be.'
Instead, he gave Ben a smile—not his teasing one, not his cocky one, not his funny one, not his usual one. No, this was a real smile. One of sincerity.
"I'm okay." His voice was barely audible as his hands wrapped around the fist clenching his shirt under the covers. "You fixed me up. We're okay."
That was enough to ease the panic behind Ben's eyes.
They fell asleep that way—Ben clutching a fist full of his shirt, and Ricky's hands wrapped safely around his wrist.