Enemies with Benefits 2

Chapter 19: Keep the doctor away

"I'm really sorry, Steven."

"It's quiet alright, Colby."

"I don't know what came over me."

"It's understandable."

"It was like I saw red. I just saw Ezra crying."

"It was a good punch."

"I'd punched you square in the nose."

"That you did."

"Has the bleeding stopped?"

Steven stopped staring at the roof of the car to dare to take a glance at the tissues stuffed against his face. Blood was soaking through the white layers and a stray blood droplet and slipped past the tissue barrier, staining his hand and running down his forearm. It disappeared into his sleeve. His poor white shirt, freshly washed with his favourite floral scent. His vision swirled and twisted the more he stared at the blood.

"Dad, don't look at the blood!" Ezra reached over from the passenger seat to push the tissues back onto Steven's face. "You know you're bad with blood."

Steven pushed Ezra's hands away. "Enough, Ezra. You're starting to sound like me."

Ezra laughed, he kept an eye on his dad by staring at him though the rear view mirror. "If you get to whine at me for being a little lactose intolerant, then I'll bitch at you as much as I want about your fear of blood."

"Fuck do you mean a little lactose intolerant?" Colby muttered quietly. "Shit your brains out from a bit of ice cream."

Ezra turned towards him. "What was that?"

"Nothing, my darling."

Ezra gave him one last pointed look before gazing into the rear view mirror again to look at his dad. Such sweet blue eyes. Steven had spent the entire night of Ezra's birth walking up and down the hospital hallway with him in his arms. In regards to birth, it had been fairly easy, only took a few hours. Steven had spent all nine months terrified. He wasn't made to be a father—he'd always known that—but it was expected of him. Every minute of those nine months, he'd spent holding his breath, waiting for whatever monster two horrible creatures like he and his wife would inevitably make.

For nine months, it was the worst mistake Steven had ever made. Then, all of a sudden, there he was. His little Ezra.

Colby pulled up outside the hospital. Ezra got out of the car and helped his dad out as if he had a much worse injury than a possibly broken nose. The hospital looked just like the one Ezra had been born in. Although, all hospitals most likely did have the same design. The same plain walls, the same antiseptic smell, the same sound of scrubs crunching as nurses walked by. Twenty seven years ago, he walked up and down a hallway just like this with the best thing he'd ever made.

Ezra spoke to somebody at the desk. They obviously recognised him as they spoke very familiarly and Steven managed to get a private room to sit in. Colby had to stay in the car to find a better place to park, promising he'd meet up with them later.

"It's going to be fine, dad." Ezra lingered by Steven's side.

Steven sat on the hospital bed. It was much firmer than he expected. "I'm not dying, Ezra. I'm fine." He didn't mention the ache in his nose and that he was struggling to breathe regularly from the pain. Ezra looked more likely to faint than Steven did. His eyes were still watery and there was a slight tremble in his hands.

Steven placed his hand on top of Ezra's. Immediately, he regretted doing so. It was totally overstepping and why would Ezra want to hold his old man's hand. What was he thinking? Steven and Ezra have a heart to heart one time and now he thinks he can just go—