Schatzi

15

Peter ran into town, taking almost the exact same route Eli had taken about 40 minutes before. He passed by the collapsed synagogue, eyes skimming over the crowd outside, searching for Eli.

He wasn't there.

He pushed through, stepping on people's toes in his panic. He ignored their indignant helps and kept running, not caring about literally anything else in that moment except finding Eli.

It was dangerous enough for him to be out by himself at night, but tonight, when the SS were clearly up to something, it was the worst night he could possibly have run away.

"Eli!" He screamed, his voice echoing around the houses. "Eli, please!" His voice cracked. He ignored the looks he got from passers by, instead running up to them, expression wild.

"Hi, have you seen my boy-. My friend," he hurried, gesturing frantically. "He's about 5'7, crazy curly hair to about his shoulders? Long brown coat? Jewish, So he's got the star," he said, pointing to the breast pocket of his coat. With every description of Eli's appearance, tainted with a question of if they'd seen him, he got more desperate. They shook their heads and brushed him off. He approached more people. Same exact response.

"Lord help me," He mumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he walked, too exhausted to run. Defeated.

And then he saw him. His heart sank.

He was dead oh god he was dead, just lying there in the street in front of a burning building no no no no he was too late he was too late...

He swallowed the lump in his throat and sprinted over, skidding to his knees, his pants ripping there as he fell to Eli's side.

"Peter?"

Peter's eyes snapped to Eli's face. It was so quiet, so weak, but he'd definitely said it. He wasn't dead. He was looking at him now with teary eyes, looking as though he didn't truly believe he was there.

"Holy fuck!" Peter exclaimed, throwing his arms around Eli and pulling him up into a seated position, hugging him like he'd never let him go again. "Fuck, darling, Schatzi, holy shit, never do that to me again," he whispered into his hair. He noticed Eli groaning and pain and the strong scent of blood coming off him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you okay?" He said, pulling away and examine his face. "What did they do to you..."

Eli shook his head silently, his eyes drifting shut. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered, voice barely audible. He was hardly breathing, blood everywhere, most worryingly from the deep gash on his forehead where he'd hit his head on the curb.

Peter's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "No, no, Schatzi, don't say that. Don't be sorry. This isn't your fault." Tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall. But he didn't let them just yet, didn't want to worry Eli more. "It's okay, it's all going to be okay." He reached out and held Eli's cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb against his skin softly.

It was his eyes. It's why he thought Eli was dead when he first saw him. Staring up at the sky. Just dead, no feeling, nothing there behind them.

He helped Eli lie back down, noticing how pale he'd become.
"It's okay. You're going to be okay," he whispered in his ear, leaning over him, stroking his hair.

Eli smiled weakly, closing his eyes and relaxing against Peter's touch.
"I love you."

"I love you too," Peter replied, his voice getting caught in his throat and when the words came out, it came out as a loud sob. He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just...I hate seeing you like this. And I'm so worried but I don't know what to do because I don't know what hospitals will accept you and I don't even know how I'd get you to one that would. If I can't even hug you, how am I going to move you..." He trailed off, looking around at their surroundings.