Ethan had been waiting at the hospital reception for more than thirty minutes. His leg wouldn't stop moving, tapping quietly against the tiled floor as he stared at the entrance doors. He'd already gone to check on Marcus twice, but each time, he was still drifting in and out of sleep. The nurses had told him it was normal, that Marcus just needed rest, but it didn't make the waiting any easier.
He sat down again, trying to calm himself, though his hands felt restless. He picked up his phone, checked it, then set it back down. There wasn't anything to look at, but he needed something to do with his hands.
After sending that message earlier, he had gotten a call back from Ryan. The voice on the other end was low and steady, though it carried a kind of tension that made Ethan's stomach twist. Ryan had asked questions. Who was he, what happened, how bad was it, where was Marcus now.
Though Ethan tried to answer everything as clearly as he could, he could still hear the panic behind that calm tone. It was the kind of control that came from practice, from being used to holding things together even when they were falling apart.
"I'm already on my way," Ryan had said before hanging up. He hadn't said goodbye or thank you, just that one sentence, and then the line went dead.
Now Ethan kept glancing toward the glass doors every few seconds, wondering how long it would take him to get here. He tried to guess what Ryan would look like, what kind of person he'd be. Marcus had never really talked about him in detail, just that he met him at a Cafe and that he's working at a restaurant, except when they went for drinks together and Ethan had asked. Now, Ethan knew how important Ryan was to Marcus.
The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic, the kind that stuck to clothes and reminded him of cold nights and too many white walls. Nurses moved back and forth, quiet but quick, their shoes making soft sounds against the floor. Somewhere down the hall, a machine beeped steadily. Ethan checked the time again. It had only been a few minutes since the last time he looked.
He felt strange and worried, but also a little awkward. What was he even supposed to say to Ryan when he arrived? 'Hey, sorry I told you something Marcus didn't want you to know?' That would sound ridiculous. But he couldn't undo it now. The message was sent, the call was made, and Ryan was already on his way. Ethan just hoped Marcus wouldn't be too upset about it.
He was still lost in that thought when the doors slid open again.
A tall man walked in, and for a moment, Ethan forgot how to breathe.
Even from across the hall, he stood out. There was something composed about him, something quiet but strong. His hair was slightly damp, maybe from the drizzle outside, and the collar of his shirt was turned down neatly.
He looked put together, like someone who always stayed like that, even in moments like this. His face had clean lines, sharp but soft at the same time, and his eyes, dark, calm, observant, scanned the room quickly. He wasn't looking around frantically or rushing in with panic written all over him. He was controlled, focused, like he was already figuring out what he needed to do.
Ethan didn't need to ask. He just knew. That was Ryan.
He stood up, raising his hand slightly so the man could see him. "Ryan?"
Ryan's gaze landed on him immediately, and he started walking over, his steps quick and firm. He didn't hesitate or slow down. He moved like someone who knew exactly where he needed to be.
Up close, he was even better looking. Not the delicate kind of pretty, but the kind that drew attention quietly without trying. There was something steady about him, something that made Ethan feel a little more grounded just by standing near him. Ethan had to look away for a second, because the thought came out of nowhere, sharp and uninvited.
Why couldn't I have ended up with someone like him last night?
Someone normal. Someone who looked like he had self-control and decency. Not the stranger who had taken advantage of him while he was too drunk to think straight.
The memory flashed in his mind for a second. The blurred image of the man beside him this morning, the sour taste of regret that followed, the way his body had ached in ways that told him things had happened that he couldn't fully remember. And then he forced it away. This wasn't the time to think about that.
Ryan was already in front of him.
"Ethan?" Ryan asked, his voice quiet but tense.
Ethan nodded quickly. "Yeah. You must be Ryan."
Ryan's eyes softened slightly, but his voice stayed low. "How is he?"
"He's been in and out of sleep," Ethan said, trying to match the man's calm tone. "The doctor said he's stable. He hit his head, but it's not too bad. They said he just needs rest. No broken bones or anything serious like that. Just bruises and a mild concussion."
Ryan nodded once, his jaw tight. He didn't ask more. He just waited, his eyes flicking briefly toward the hallway like he was ready to move as soon as Ethan gave the word.
Ethan cleared his throat. "I didn't know if I should have called you. Marcus didn't want to worry anyone, but I figured you should know. I hope that's alright."
"It's alright. Thanks for letting me know," Ryan said softly, though his tone held something heavier underneath. There was a weight to his words, like he was relieved but also frustrated, maybe even hurt that Marcus hadn't wanted him to know in the first place.
Ethan motioned toward the corridor. "He's this way."
They started walking, side by side. The hallway stretched long and quiet, the only sounds coming from the faint humming of the overhead lights and the distant wheels of a nurse's cart. Ethan explained as they moved, filling the silence with details because it felt better than saying nothing.
"It happened last night. They said he crashed into another car, but he was lucky. No broken bones, just a mild concussion and some bruises. He was awake when I came earlier, but he's been dozing off again. The doctor said that's normal, that his body just needs time to recover."
Ryan listened without interrupting. His face stayed calm, but there was tension in his eyes, a quiet kind of fear he wasn't used to showing. Ethan could see it in the way his hands stayed at his sides, a little too still, like he was forcing them not to move. In the way his shoulders were just a bit too straight, like he was holding himself together on purpose.
Ethan noticed it but said nothing. He could tell that this wasn't the kind of man who liked being read easily.
As they turned a corner, Ethan added, "Marcus doesn't know that I called you yet."
Ryan looked at him briefly. "He didn't want you to?"
"No," Ethan said. "He said he didn't want you to worry."
Ryan's mouth curved faintly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It was the kind of expression that said more than words could. Like he wasn't surprised, but it still hurt a little.
They reached the room. Ethan stopped at the door and looked back at him. "Go on."
Ryan gave a small nod. "Thank you."
Ethan opened the door gently and stepped in first. The room was softly lit, the curtain half drawn to block out the sharp afternoon light. Marcus was still there, lying on the bed. His breathing was slow and even. The faint bandage around his head looked too white against his skin. There were bruises along his arm, dark purple marks that hadn't been there before.
Marcus's eyes opened slowly, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He turned his head a little, and his gaze landed on Ryan standing just inside the doorway.
For a moment, he didn't move. His expression froze, surprise washing through it first, then something deeper. Something Ethan couldn't quite name.
Ryan stood still too, his hand still on the door handle. He didn't say anything. He just looked at Marcus, and in that look was everything he hadn't been able to say over the phone or in the hallway.
It was as if everything in the room had stopped at once.