intruders. He does a double take when he takes in Aakir’s and mine sight. We aren’t looking all rosy. It’s easy to make out we just got out of a fight.
“We need a room.” Aakir says.
“Speak Russian?” the man replies in heavily accented Russian. Great, he doesn’t know English. With the several pains exuding from several parts of my body, I really don’t want to get into a broken Russian conversation. Aakir also hesitates, probably mentally cursing that we are not fluent in Russian language. But he tries. He speaks in broken words, occasionally motioning with his hands that we require two separate queen beds in a single room. Settling on the price, the man asks for our IDs. Aakir doubles the price and the man hands over the keys easily.
There is no lift. We have taken a room on the first floor, so I shouldn’t be very grumpy about no lift. My house is three storied. I am accustomed to climbing stairs, so I definitely have no reason to complain. Of course that is if we forget the abrasive state of my body. My body hinders my movement as I start climbing the stairs. The simple act of lifting my leg makes me realize that even my legs are hurting terribly.
Halfway through the stairs, my body sways as my vision blurs again. Aakir immediately grasps me, preventing me from falling. His face becomes lined with concern as he finally takes in my severely worn out state. He supports my weight as we walk to our room number. I don’t complain, actually feeling glad for the support. Once inside, he drops me on the bed. I lay sideways on my left side, cradling my right arm. Aakir says something about bringing Neal and something else that I fail to hear as my mind gives up and I pass out.
When I come about, it’s the clinking sound of the door lock being opened that catches my attention. I feel no aura, but can hear two people entering the room and closing the door behind. I shift slightly on the uncomfortable bed. The simple movement makes me become aware of the tormenting pains emanating from different parts of my body. My back and neck are absolutely stiff, aching when I shift. My legs feel numb and I am sure they’ll give out if I try to stand. My jaw aches when I swallow and there is stinging pain on the left side of my face.
But the worst are the aches of my right arm and head. My arm, still in the sling, is sending pulses of pain that cracks through my whole body, finally settling somewhere deep inside my brain. That is resulting into an absolutely mind ticking, painfully throbbing of all the headaches I have ever experienced in my life. Still, grimacing, I force myself to sit up, supporting most of my weight on my left side. I make sure that my right arm is exposed to minimum movement. It must have faced hellish movements during my fight and flight. It’s high time I prevent any further torture.
My eyes sting as I force them open. I move to sit on the edge of the bed, resting my left elbow on my knee, in a bent posture. I am still wearing my shoes, I notice. I rub my eyes, wishing the stinging and the headache will go away.
I look up to see Aakir approaching me. Neal is still standing beside the door, the bag swung on his shoulder. He looks appalled, concerned and angry all at once. His jaw is clenched tightly as he frowns at me.
“You look like shit. How are you feeling now?” Aakir asks. A contradictory question as to his previous statement but I decide to humor him anyways.
“It can be worse.” I tell Aakir, my voice throaty and raspy.
Somehow, my answer thoroughly displeases Neal as he angrily marches to the nearby table and even more angrily slumps the bag on it.
Aakir sits beside me, wearily eyeing Neal once before turning towards me. “Anything particularly bothering apart from your arm?” he asks.
My whole body, I want to say. But I simply rub my eyes again and sigh, “Headache.” I mumble.
“I saw a pharmacy at the turn of the alley.” Neal mutters as he showers his wrath on the zipper of the bag, “I’ll get his medicines.” He says to Aakir, ignoring me. He holds up a paper which I assume is my prescription.
He starts walking towards the door, making me frown. Is it even safe for any of us to move out here? Granted we are far off from foes, but still. I decide to voice my worry.
“I don’t think you should go alone-”
“Fuck off, Lichinsky!” Neal thunders, turning around to glare at me.
Aakir and I, startled by his yell, sit still shocked after his outburst. Neal turns around, moving out and banging the door close loudly. I cringe as the loud sound worsens my headache.
Aakir and I sit side by side in an awkward silence. I close my eyes, feeling a pulsating headache as thoughts concerning Neal flow into my mind. He is exceptionally angry. He is obviously furious that I have landed in this state, something which he had been aiming to prevent from the time we escaped our room in the hospital. He was convinced, and still must be, that if he had stayed behind then the therians wouldn’t have found him. I would have drunk the repellant and would have escaped safely, landing in an even safer cocoon.
But I falsely tricked him into escaping in my stead. It’s not that I didn’t find his theory creditable. It’s just that I didn’t want to take any chances. But that thought holds less importance to Neal when he does not want us to suffer because of him.
He has a weird way of showing concern, I realize while recalling his angry stance.
Or maybe, just maybe, he is angry that I kissed him.
In that scenario, I am not sure if he is angry that I ‘kissed’ him or because I used a kiss to make him drink the repellant.
“Whoa.” Aakir says after the awkward silence. “Trouble in paradise?”
I hesitate then nod at Aakir.
“I have never seen Neal this angry.” He says, “And I have seen Neal plenty angry in this last month. Even on our way here, he got seriously ticked off when I told him about our fight at the hospital. I just thought he is angry at the council people. But apparently you did something to piss him off.”
“I kissed him.” I reflexively blurt.
Aakir’s reaction is something that I would have loved to record if I wasn’t in such a severe state. His eyes comically widen, his jaw hanging open as he looks at me with an expression of disbelief. He starts sputtering. Something along the lines of ‘wh-what?’, ‘How?’ and ‘wh-wh-y?’ and a combination of other jumbled words. I sigh.
I ask him to calm down and start explaining what had actually conspired in the hospital. Somehow, I manage to elaborate everything through my lancinating headache. Everything, like how guilty Neal has been feeling and how inexorably he wanted me out. I focus on how stubborn Neal was being and how difficult he can be in one of his stubborn episodes.
I do not divulge about Neal’s plea. It’s highly uncharacteristic of Neal to plead to someone and I just do not want to expose that vulnerable side of him to anyone else. It’s not in my right to do so. I instead explain my own dilemma. About how Neal’s theory was making sense to me and still I did not want to take an inch of chance on it. And how in the act of desperation, I could only think of one thing that will catch Neal off guard. Enough off guard to permit me to commit the deed.
“Okay,” Aakir clears his throat once I am done narrating, “I think I get where you’re coming from…”
No, he doesn’t get where I am coming from. He is just saying that to ease my worrisome conscience.
“Stop being awkward.” I mutter to him, rubbing my eyes again, “I think….I think Neal is upset that I made him drink the repellant in my stead.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t seem happy with your state.” He agrees, “Also, he mustn’t have had problem with the ‘kiss’…much.”
“Well, I am sure he is having plenty problems over that. But that’s a side issue.”
“I don’t know. I mean, you guys were being pretty mushy back in the hospital room. So, I don’t think-”
“Seriously, Aakir?” I snap at him, “Good thing you’ve picked this topic. Next time, keep your stare to a minimum and don’t make things awkward for Neal and I. More awkward than it already is.”
“Hey, I am not the one who was holding his hand.
It was you.”
“He was holding mine.” I correct him, “And I was just explaining to him the effects of skin contact with your partner. There was nothing mushy about it. You were the one who made it awkward.”
“Effects of-w-what?”
I look at Aakir. He looks confused, a frown on his face.
“You’ve never touched Silvia?” I sigh, my question sounding like a sentence.
Aakir’s frown deepens.
“When you meet her next,” I say, “shake her hand. You’ll know what I am talking about.”
The front door decides to open in that moment. Neal enters with a paper bag in hand. He sees us, his eyes darting from Aakir to me, looking suspicious. However, he ignores us. He walks to the table and starts putting the bag there. He settles on rummaging through it and taking out the contents, which are mostly medicines.
Aakir clears his throat, heightening the already awkward atmosphere. I glare at him, but give up halfway. My headache is not very happy with me glaring at people right now.
“Alright.” Aakir says, getting up. “I am going to go back now. See what’s happening at the mansion.”
“Is that a good idea?” Neal mutters, “Somebody must have informed the council about the hospital fiasco by now.”
Neal’s reasoning makes sense. We have left five therian witnesses back at the hospital who have seen Aakir help me escape by violent measures. But somehow, I feel that Neal doesn’t want to