The street was quiet again. Too quiet.
The creature lay still, Blood pooling underneath.
Eli leaned against the Hummer, one hand pressed firmly against his ribs, blood seeping through the spaces between his fingers. His breaths came shallow, controlled, the kind of breathing that tried not to jostle pain. His shirt clung wetly to his side, stained dark.
Paolo stood a few feet away, staring at the body. He couldn't stop staring. The baton he'd thrown still lay near it, useless now, harmless. His chest rose and fell too fast, like his body hadn't caught up with the fact that it was over.
He dragged his eyes to Eli. "You're bleeding."
"Not as much as it looks," Eli said, his voice low but steady.
"That's not what it looks like to me." Paolo stepped closer, almost flinching at the dark blotch spreading across Eli's shirt. "How bad?"
Eli shifted against the Hummer, wincing as he slid down just a little. "Bruised rib. Deep cut. Nothing major."
Paolo blinked at him, incredulous. "You call that nothing?"
"Compared to being dead? Yeah. Nothing."
"That's—" Paolo broke off, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You almost—Eli, that thing nearly tore you apart. And you're sitting here like it's a scraped knee."
Eli's mouth tightened. He didn't answer right away. He just kept his palm pressed to his side, eyes scanning the street like he was refusing to be pulled into Paolo's panic.
Paolo exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between a laugh and a choke. "You scare me, you know that?"
That finally made Eli glance at him. Not a smile, not even close, but something flickered in his eyes. "Good. Fear keeps you alive."
Paolo shook his head, pacing once, twice, then stopping in front of him. "You don't get it. I keep thinking—every fight, every time we hear a scream or a shadow moves—I keep thinking you're not gonna make it out. And then what? Where does that leave me?"
"You're still standing."
"Only because of you." Paolo's voice cracked hard on the words.
Eli studied him in silence. The tension in his jaw was there, the faint tremor in his hand where it pressed against his side, but his tone when he spoke was flat. Matter-of-fact.
"You distracted it."
Paolo blinked. "What?"
"You rammed it, and you threw that baton. It pulled its attention. That's all I needed. That's why I'm still breathing."
"That? That was—" Paolo shook his head, a strained laugh slipping out. "That was nothing! I was hiding, Eli. Hiding behind a car while you—while you fought that thing with your bare hands."
Eli's brows drew together, just a fraction. "And yet, you still helped."He paused, his gaze narrowing faintly. "Since when can you even drive?"
Paolo froze, then gave a half-shrug, half-grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Since just now, apparently."
For the first time, Eli almost looked like he might smirk—but it passed quickly, like a shadow.
Paolo's throat worked. He looked away, his jaw tight. He wanted to argue, but the weight in Eli's tone—calm, grounded, stubborn—dragged him down like an anchor.
"It doesn't feel like help," Paolo muttered finally.
"Doesn't matter what it feels like. It bought me seconds. Seconds matter."
Silence settled between them, heavy but not empty. Paolo dug his nails into his palms, chewing on the words like they tasted bitter.
After a long stretch, Eli shifted against the Hummer and hissed in pain. "We don't have time for this. I need to patch this up before we move."
Paolo's head whipped toward him. "You're not patching anything yourself."
"I don't have the luxury of choice."
"Yes, you do. I'll help." Paolo stepped forward before Eli could argue. His voice rose, insistent. "Just tell me what to do. Don't act like you're carrying this alone."
Eli met his eyes, steady but unreadable. He didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched, Paolo's chest tight with waiting. Finally, Eli gave the faintest nod.
"Fine. You'll help."
Something almost like relief loosened Paolo's shoulders. Almost.
Eli let out a sharp breath and leaned back against the Hummer. "We'll do it here, quick. Then we move."
Paolo crouched down beside him, already digging through their bag with clumsy urgency. His hands shook as he pulled out the antiseptic, gauze, and tape.
"Hey," Eli said softly, his voice grounding. "Slow down. You'll waste supplies if you fumble."
Paolo froze, inhaled, then nodded. "Right. Okay. Just… talk me through it."
"I will." Eli's eyes narrowed faintly. "But Paolo—don't hesitate. If I tell you something, just do it."
Paolo swallowed hard. "I can do that."
Eli's lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't smiling, but there was something—some quiet acknowledgment—that softened the edge of his expression.
For a long second, neither of them moved. The street stayed quiet, the creature's corpse still at their backs, the world holding its breath. Then Eli shifted, pulling his hand slowly away from his side. The blood glistened dark and wet in the fading light.
"Let's get it over with."
Paolo's hands hovered uselessly over the medical kit, like he was staring at puzzle pieces without a picture to guide him. Antiseptic, gauze, tape, pain relievers—all laid out on the Hummer's hood, the metallic surface catching little glints of evening light.
He glanced at Eli. "I've… never done this before."
"I figured," Eli said dryly, peeling his blood-soaked hand away from his side. He winced but kept his voice even. "But you'll manage. I'll walk you through."
Paolo crouched lower, eyes narrowing on the cut beneath Eli's ribs. The fabric of his shirt had stuck to it, torn and stained. The sight twisted his stomach. "God. That looks bad."
"It's worse for you to look at than it is for me to feel," Eli said.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It does if you stop panicking long enough to think."
Paolo shot him a look, but Eli's gaze was steady, calm, as though he was trying to tether him in place. Paolo let out a sharp breath. "Fine. Tell me what to do."
"First," Eli said, reaching for the hem of his shirt, "I need you to cut this away. The fabric's stuck. Can't bandage over it."
Paolo fumbled for the shears in the kit, then froze. "What if I… cut too close?"
"You won't," Eli said, then lifted the shirt himself, grimacing as he pulled it taut. "Slide under. Just follow the seam. Don't think about it too much."
Paolo's jaw clenched. His fingers weren't steady as he worked the shears up along the hem, slicing through sticky cloth. Each snip sounded too loud. Eli's breathing caught once when the blades tugged the fabric, but he didn't flinch otherwise.
When the shirt finally peeled away, Paolo sat back on his heels, staring. The wound ran just under the ribcage—deep, messy, but not gaping. Purple bruising already bloomed across Eli's side like spilled ink.
Paolo swallowed. "You weren't kidding about the rib."
"Bruised," Eli corrected. "Not broken. Hurts like hell, though."
"And the cut?"
"Messy, but not fatal." Eli tilted his head. "That's where you come in."
Paolo rubbed his palms against his jeans, trying to dry the sweat. "Okay. Okay, what's next?"
"Antiseptic. The brown bottle."
Paolo grabbed it, twisting the cap off. The sharp, chemical smell hit his nose. "Do I just… pour it?"
"Not like you're watering plants," Eli said. "Soak some gauze. Dab it on."
Paolo did as told, though his hand trembled. The first touch of soaked gauze to Eli's skin made him jerk.
"Shit—sorry!" Paolo pulled back instantly.
"Don't apologize," Eli gritted out. "Do it right. Infection's worse than the pain."
Paolo hesitated, then pressed again, slower this time. The antiseptic hissed against raw flesh. Eli's jaw tightened, muscles rigid, but he didn't make a sound beyond the sharp rhythm of his breathing.
Paolo bit his lip. "You're just… sitting there. Not even swearing. How?"
"Practice," Eli said through his teeth.
"That's not—practice?" Paolo blinked at him. "How many times have you patched yourself up?"
"Enough." Eli's eyes flicked to him, steady and unreadable. "Don't lose focus."
Paolo pressed the gauze again, this time more firmly. "I don't get you."
"You don't need to."
"I think I do." Paolo's voice wavered, but he pushed through. "You keep acting like none of this scares you, like pain doesn't get to you. But it has to. You're not… I don't know, made of stone."
"I never said I was," Eli said quietly. His breathing hitched again when Paolo dabbed near the edge of the wound. "I just don't let it decide for me."
The words sank in heavier than Paolo expected. His hands stilled for a second before Eli gave him a pointed look.
"Keep going. Don't waste time."
Paolo nodded, forcing himself back into motion. By the time the blood was cleaned away, his shirt was damp with sweat, and his fingers smelled sharp with antiseptic.
"Now what?" he asked, voice low.
"Gauze pads. Layer them flat. You want coverage, not bulk."
Paolo did as told, pressing the pads carefully over the wound. "Like this?"
"Tighter. Press. It has to stay firm or it'll bleed through."
Paolo pressed harder, and Eli hissed, his hand twitching against the Hummer's hood.
"Sorry."
"Don't—" Eli's voice came sharp. "Don't apologize every time I flinch. Pain means it's working."
Paolo's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He taped the gauze in place, wrapping the medical tape around Eli's torso with clumsy determination.
"Not too loose," Eli instructed.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Paolo tugged it snug, then frowned. "Too tight?"
Eli exhaled slowly. "It'll do."
They sat in silence for a beat, the kind that wasn't heavy but wasn't light either. Paolo wiped his hands on his jeans again, glancing at Eli's face. "You should take something. For the pain."
Eli hesitated, then nodded once. "Two tablets. Bottom of the kit."
Paolo found the blister pack, popped two into Eli's palm, and passed him the water bottle. He watched as Eli swallowed them dry, ignoring the water entirely.
"You're impossible," Paolo muttered.
Eli capped the bottle, setting it aside. "No. I'm still alive."
"Barely."
"Barely's enough."
Paolo stared at him, frustration and admiration knotted up tight in his chest. He wanted to argue, wanted to shake him, but the words caught.
Instead, he sat back, running a hand through his damp hair. "You're… insane, you know that?"
"Insane people don't plan their next steps," Eli said. "Speaking of—we should move. We've lingered long enough."
"You just got patched up!" Paolo protested.
"And that means I can move better than before." Eli shifted, testing the tape's hold. His face didn't show much, but his breath hitched once before evening out. "See? Already better."
Paolo groaned. "Unbelievable."
"Get used to it." Eli pushed himself upright, slow but steady. He adjusted the strap of the bag across his shoulder. "Let's go."
Paolo gathered the supplies, stuffing them back into the kit with jerky movements. He shot Eli a glare. "One of these days, your whole tough-guy act is going to get you killed."
"Maybe." Eli's lips twitched, almost—but not quite—a smile. "But not today."