Chapter 2

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Keith stares down at the boy below him, his eyes jumping from point to point on his figure. From his long legs to his blue swim shorts and his deeply tanned skin he takes in everything, but he forgets all those little details when he sees it. The red liquid. The blood. It's everywhere. Running down his forearm, spilling across his abdomen, staining the sand. The color blinds Keith, immobilizing him completely. Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, Keith snaps back to reality and rushes into action.

He slides swiftly down the small sand hill, ignoring the sand scraping against his skin, and kneels next to boy's unmoving form. Keith cautiously turns the boy till his back is flat against the ground, careful not to aggravate any wounds. The boy's eyes are closed, but before panic can gain a strong hold on him Keith realizes he can feel their breath against his skin.

Keith allows himself a of sigh of relief before turning his trembling fingers to pinpointing the point of injury. It's actually pretty easy to find, seeing as the boys left arm is the only limb slashed open and soaked completely in blood. Keith looks around for a second, searching for anything to wrap the wound in. When no bandages magically appear from the sand, Keith pulls his shirt over his head with a huff and wraps it around the boy's arm tightly in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But as he moves back to survey his handiwork, he can already tell it won't be enough.

The best way to go about this would be to bring him to the town doctor, but Keith was already miles from town. So, Keith quickly vetoes plan A and choses to go with plan B instead. He has a whole box of medical supplies at his cabin, and it should be just around the bend by now.

Keith bends down and carefully picks the unconscious teen up, thankful that he's surprising light, and begins a slow trot in the direction he had previously going. With every step the boy bounces in Keith's arm, each one sending a jerk of uneasiness through Keith's mind. What if he's only making it worse? What if he doesn't make it in time? What if, what if, what if!

Keith pushes these thoughts of doubt of out his mind and instead focuses on his cabin, which he is now in clear sight of. Keith makes his way cautiously up the small set of steps leading up to his door, careful not to tousle the injured boy more than necessary out of fear of worsening his wound. Keith easily pushes through his door, for he never locks it, and goes straight for the closest flat surface. Keith pauses for a second once the boy is lain out on his kitchen table. His mind blanks for a second.

What is he supposed to do now?

A sense of intelligence returns to Keith. The medical kit, he reminds himself, start with that. Keith jumps into action, moving quickly to his room and diving straight for the underneath of his bed. In one, quick motion he reaches for a small red and white kit under his bed, grabs it, and springs back to his feet before running back to the kitchen. On his way he grabs a small hand towel and soaks it in the sink before arriving at the side of the table.

He quickly gets to work unwrapping his shirt from the boy's arm and setting the ruined shirt aside. After a quick inspection it's easy to see that the wound isn't that deep, though it is very long, reaching from his palm to nearly the inside of his elbow. Armed with his wet cloth, Keith attacks the wound, carefully wiping away the blood and removing any sand that might have made its way into cut.

Once he's done Keith removes a thin needle from his kit and threads it. He holds it over the open wound, allowing himself a deep breath before carefully sewing up the cut. With each stitch Keith can slowly relax. He's got this, nothing can go wrong now. Eventually, after 45 stitches and half an hour, Keith finishes and places the dirty needle down with a sigh before cleaning up any leftover blood and sterilizing anything it had touched. Now that any immediate danger had been avoided, Keith can finally sit back for a second and breath.

Keith absentmindedly runs his hand through his hair, for he always did so when thinking, and finds himself drawn to the boys face. It's tan, which is logical seeing as the rest of his body is as well. His hair is a sandy brown and not even close to Keith's hair's own length, which he hadn't cared to cut since he had moved out here, but it seemed to fit the boy's face perfectly.

But those details seemed insignificant when Keith sees his eyes. There's only one way to describe something so beautiful, so blue; they're the ocean. Not like the ocean, they are the ocean. Layer upon layer of blue stares back at Keith, taking Keith back. Back to the water, back to days on the beach, back to shell filled nights and his father's voice. Each wave spends Keith's mind sprawling and he can't help but gasp at their depth. At their beauty.

Keith can feel himself instantly drawn to them and can't help but yearn to look into them forever. Just let himself get lost in their calm waters and never find his way out. But his bubble is quickly pooped when a voice rips open the quiet.

"You're cute and all but you're kinda all up in my space." Keith jerks upward his mind coming into to focus to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him in confusion. Wait. His eyes are open...which means he's not unconscious...which means he's....

"Awake!" Keith blurts out, biting his toung the minute the word leaves his mouth.

"What?" The boys eyebrows crinkle slightly, his eyes questioning.

"Awake. Wait, no. What I mean is that I said awake but what I really meant to say is you're awake..." Keith trials off as soon as he realizes his words are bleeding together and he's only making it more confusing.

"Okay..." the still unnamed boy replies warily. "I'm just gonna go now." Before Keith can react the boy places his hand on both sides of his hand and pushes himself up into a handstand before moving to spring into a backhand spring.

But just as he tenses, his arm seems to release that it has a giant cut going through it and it collapses under him. Just as fast as he got up, he falls even faster, and before Keith knows it there's a teenage boy moaning against his hardwood floor. (I just realized how inappropriate this sounds).

"You're an idiot," Keith states bluntly as he assists him up and to the leather couch stationed in the middle of his living room. The boy only grunts in response before swiftly collapsing on the couch. "I'm Keith," he says, breaking the silence that had built up between them, but only feels weird when the boy doesn't answer. "If you wanted to know but of course you don't want to who would want to know my name..." Keith's mumbles come to a stop when a burst laughter interrupts him.

The sound is seems to brighten the from ten fold, filling it with brilliant light. Even after it ends the room still seems brighter. The boy heaves, still chuckling, and wipes laughter induced tears from his eyes before turning to Keith. "Hey Keith." His teeth flash as he gives Keith the most dazzling smile.

"The names Lance."

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