Chapter Four #3
Instead, Sebastian shifted and reached for the back of his shirt. He lifted it over his head, wincing as the fabric stuck to the wound. As it came free, he muttered something under his breath. Marcos caught the sound of it, quick and low, not English.
“?au quá.”
Once the shirt was over his head, Sebastian tossed it on top of his jacket and kept his eyes on his lap, avoiding looking back at Marcos.
Marcos noticed and wondered why. They had seen each other shirtless in the locker room before, and in nothing but towels. This shouldn’t have been different.
Marcos let the thought pass him and focused on the small gash on Sebastian’s chest.
It was longer than he’d expected but shallow, sitting across the lower left side. Thin blood welled along the line and slipped toward his ribs. A few tiny fragments caught the light where the cut opened, clear and sharp.
Glass.
“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” Marcos asked, leaning in a little further and reaching his hand toward it.
Sebastian grabbed Marcos’ wrist before there was contact. “I already told you.”
“I can see glass in there.” Marcos wriggled out of Sebastian’s grip and brought his hand closer, but stopped short. “Did someone hit you with a bottle?”
Sebastian’s mouth closed, letting silence answer before saying, “I can fix this up myself. Don’t worry—”
“Shut up.” Marcos pulled back, gave Sebastian one more look, then swiftly got up and went to the sink to wash his hands.
Marcos could hear Sebastian shifting, hear a low breath cut short, hear the faint movement of fabric as he probably tried to check the wound himself and made it hurt worse.
Marcos shut off the tap, dried his hands on a clean towel hanging beside the sink, then returned to the coffee table, picking up the tweezers. He shuffled closer to Sebastian, suddenly worrying about how he smelled after his run.
Sebastian watched the tweezers.
Marcos saw it and lowered his voice without deciding to. “It doesn’t look deep.”
Sebastian nodded, and Marcos focused on the wound.
His free hand rested carefully on Sebastian’s chest, fingers spread above the cut to hold the skin steady. Sebastian went still under him.
Marcos brought the tweezers close and picked out the first tiny shard of glass.
Sebastian’s breath sharpened through his teeth, but he didn’t pull away.
Marcos placed the shard on a coaster beside him and went back for the next.
The glass was smaller than he’d thought from a distance, caught in the surface of the cut more than buried deep.
Sebastian breathed through it. Some breaths were controlled.
Others broke at the edges. A few carried words Marcos couldn’t understand, low and fast enough that they disappeared before he could separate them.
Vietnamese again, he guessed. It came out when the tweezers caught a smaller piece near the middle of the wound.
Marcos continued. His hand shifted across Sebastian’s chest to get a better angle. Under his palm, Sebastian’s skin was warm and his muscles tight.
When he was satisfied he’d cleared the visible pieces, Marcos set the tweezers down and leaned back slightly to check the cut from a different angle. The bleeding had slowed.
Marcos reached for an alcohol wipe and tore the packet open and touched the wipe to the edge of the wound.
Sebastian’s entire body jerked. A sharper burst of Vietnamese slipped out, and his hand caught Marcos’ wrist before he seemed to realise he’d moved. Marcos stopped.
They both looked at his hand.
Sebastian let go. “Sorry.”
The apology landed awkwardly between them. Mainly because it was the first time either of them had said it to the other.
Marcos waited another second, then cleaned the wound properly.
When Marcos was happy with his work, he grabbed a small bandage and leaned even closer to Sebastian, leaning in to make sure he was applying it properly. He peeled the backing off the bandage carefully, lined it up, and smoothed it over the cut.
He was close enough now that he could feel Sebastian’s breath against his cheek. The faint scent of alcohol was still there.
Marcos kept his eyes on the bandage. His fingers ran over its edges, pressing softly to make sure it held.
Sebastian’s breathing changed under Marcos’ hand. The rise and fall under his hand had gone shallower. Marcos tilted his head up to check Sebastian’s face.
Sebastian was already watching him. His eyes were still and focused, locked onto Marcos with none of the usual challenge sitting in them. The bruising should have been the first thing Marcos noticed. Instead, he noticed the attention.
All of it aimed at him.
Sebastian’s face held something Marcos couldn’t place. It sat in the set of his mouth and the way his gaze didn’t move. A single thought seemed to have taken all of him, and Marcos didn’t understand what it was.
The apartment stayed quiet around them.
Marcos’ hand remained on Sebastian’s chest, fingers resting over the bandage. The space between them had narrowed while Marcos wasn’t paying attention.
Sebastian’s eyes dipped. Then he leaned forward, and before Marcos had a chance to register what was happening, Sebastian’s lips met his.