Never in his life had he been so glad to see Hartley on the ground. And yes, that may have seemed like a weird thing to be glad of but last time he came here, he was on the roof and the roof was not somewhere James liked to be. He really didn't need to have to climb all the way up there and likely, you know, die when the world began to spin and everything got further away and the air got thin and-- yeah, heights scared him.
He didn't know what to say to Hartley but he kind of needed him. He needed someone and that asshole Axel wasn't answering his phone. Stupid asshole, making him go to Hartley.
"Hartley?" He kept his tone as neutral as he could and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, not just because it was cold, he needed to keep something hidden. "I need your help."
"What? Why?" It was a good question. James wasn't like him. He made friends easily. Everyone liked him. In that sense, he might be the opposite of him. Hartley watched him curiously, not even thinking about how upset he was with him and how their last conversation had ended. "What's the matter?"
He had just been sitting here, listening to what he could hear through the window. The music was faint, but he had good ears. Hartley stood up now though, his focus on James.
Oh God, he was giving him that look like he was an idiot for coming to talk to him and that instantly put up James's guard. He took a step back and frowned, if he'd been in a better position, he would have left just to keep his very fragile pride in check but he wasn't in a good place right now and he needed someone smart, someone he trusted. He sucked in a breath and then looked Hartley, meeting his eyes.
"I kind of -- maybe fucked up a little. I need you to fix something." He sighed and pulled back his coat reluctantly, showing Hartley the blood stained shirt underneath, it was sticking to his side and the blood was slowly starting to get onto his jeans too. "Don't freak." Well, fair caution, he wasn't freaking. Mostly just in pain and no idea where else to go. Usually Axel helped with this shit but the little bastard wasn't here. "Do you have a place we can go? Cause mine is too far away and the police are after me and dude, I can't run any more."
Hartley paled, which was not really very remarkable, given how damn pale he was all the time anyway. "You need to go to a hospital." What was he supposed to do with this? He quickly approached James, not even thinking about it as he put an arm loosely around him and carefully tried to lift his shirt. "I have a place, but James, this looks bad. I'm not a doctor, I can't fix people." He could try, he would try, but he wanted his friend to get better care than that. "What did you do?"
"Then the cops get me and it's game over. Look, I'm not scared to go but it's just gonna fuck up everything. Again. I don't need to lose a chunk of my life for no good reason." He gripped onto Hartley and smiled playfully, just wanting to do something to get him to stop looking so terrified. It wasn't right to see Hartley like this, he hated to see him so concerned. When it was lifted up, the wound oozed a little and it certainly didn't look pretty. He hissed a little and forced the smile to stay in place. "You know me. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong joke. Things went a little topsy turvy."
"You're such an idiot." Hartley pressed his lips together and let go of James' shirt, moving him along without another word. He wasn't sure what to say. He was getting used to seeing all sorts of horrifying thing, but it was still something else to see James hurt like this.
"I'm staying nearby. I have a first aid kit, I can give you stitches. But I'm not a professional, it will probably scar." Hartley had a delicate touch, but that was for machines. This was very different. He took a steadying breath. "I can take care of you. Don't worry."
"I didn't do anything bad, Hartley. Don't look at me like that." He didn't ever want Hartley to look at him like he was a bad person. He wasn't a good person but he wasn't a total asshole, he had a code and he figured everyone else did. He figured wrong. "I was kind of broke and I needed a job so I agreed to go in with these guys. Half way through the job, they found out this one kid was a rat and working for the cops. They were going to -- well, I couldn't let them do that."
They wanted to stab him, hurt the poor little bastard and James could never let that happened. That's why he got in the way of the knife. Before it could get any worse, the cops were coming and James ran for it, ran until he felt like he could pass out. He figured the closest thing he knew was the concert hall and Hartley always hung out here. "I just want to sewn up, okay? I don't care if it scars just stop me from having to go anywhere I'll get picked up by cops."
"I'm looking at you like that, because you're an idiot, not because you did something bad. Sounds like you did something right." Hartley shook his head, wishing he could just give James money, so he'd not have to do something like that any more. Unfortunately he was very broke right now. He'd think of something. He always did.
Hartley stopped by a door, unlocking it so he could usher James inside. "Ground level place, so no stairs." Everything else sucked about the place, but hey.
"Oh God, I love ground level things." James nearly wept when he heard that, laughing a little as he held onto Hartley and just let him lead him where ever he wanted. "I don't want people getting hurt. I can make plenty to live on without ever hurting anyone, I don't get why people even think they have to carry weapons. I've never had one in my life and I've always been okay."
Even now, he was a little stabbed sure but he could get it fixed and he got out alive. Why did they have to make this gig so dangerous. "You never invited me over before. I like that being stabbed is the way to snoop around your place."
"I know you don't." Hartley stopped by his door and unlocked it, then pushed it open to let them into the small and dingy room. There wasn't much of anything, really, but it was a lot better than what he could afford if he hadn't found a way to make his talents pay. He had a small fridge, a kitchenette, even the world's tiniest bathroom. There was a mattress on the floor, but mostly there was a desk full of his gadgets, tools and projects and books that he'd pretty obviously gotten in various sales. "It's not exactly worth being stabbed for. Sorry."
Hartley didn't hesitate with leading James to the mattress, letting him down carefully. "Lay down, yes? I'll take care of you."
"I don't know, it's nice. I dig it." James smiled and then pulled away from Hartley so he could drop down slowly and at his own face. He winced a little and then shrugged off his coat, tossing it aside and gently lying himself back. He tugged up his shirt and looked at the wound, it wasn't that deep and a lot of the blood now was drying. He just needed it sorted before it got any worse. Or, God forbid, infected. He so couldn't afford medical bills right now, he could barely afford food. He needed to line up some new jobs.
"I'm sorry." James looked up at Hartley and shrugged ever so slightly, not able to move his body much. "I know I shouldn't have dumped this on you but I figured you'd be nearby. I didn't know what else to do."
"That's the sort of thing you apologize for? Almost dying?" Hartley rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom, retrieving the first aid kit he had and kneeling down next to James. "Don't be an idiot. I'd not want you to be hurt. Not ever."
He pulled James' shirt up again, careful not to hurt him more. "I need to use the disinfectant. Sorry." That said, he sprayed it on, knowing that he had to do that to avoid any risk of infection. "I'll stitch you up. Just... Try to hold still. I've done stuff like this before."
"Oh God, this is gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt." James sucked in a breath and then gritted his teeth, laughing in place of crying out so he didn't upset Hartley so much. "Totally hurt. Whatever. I'm not a baby, I can take it." With a playful smile, he looked down and watched as the wound was cleaned, knowing that he just had to trust Hartley at this point. Usually he got things right, it had to work out.
"I'm bad at saying sorry. I usually have to be dying to say it, I guess. I'm not very good at saying it. I can say a billion and one words but when it comes to sorry, it just gets stuck. You know?" James caught Hartley's eyes and smiled sadly. "I usually am though. Sorry. I always fuck up."
"I don't think you spend much time being sorry. You spend a lot more time distracting yourself so you don't have to think about it." Hartley looked away so he could focus on the wound, reaching for the needle and managing to get the thread in deftly. At least he did have a delicate touch. Whether he could use that to stitch a person back up, he didn't know about that.
"Lie down, James, all right?" His voice was gentle, he just needed him to be as still as possible.
"I don't like bad feelings. When I get bad feelings, I ignore them until they go away." Which was childish and dumb but he didn't like to deal with them. When Hartley and he kissed, he felt so much love and wanting in him. And it terrified him. He had no idea what to do with the fear and so he did what he always did. He pushed him away. And he still regretted it. "Some don't. No matter how I try or how much I want to just ignore them."
He lay back but reached up one hand to idly playing with Hartley's hair as he stitched him up. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I was a dick. Can we be friends again? I miss you a lot."
"I think you don't much care for good feelings either. Nothing with depth. That's why you keep smiling at everyone and why everyone wants to be your friend." Hartley might spend a bit too much time analysing James, but at least he definitely knew him. Nobody could deny that. "Seems like it's just a different way of being lonely."
He knew a lot about that. Loneliness. Hartley started on the stitches, focusing so much he was barely aware of the hand in his hair. "No more kissing." Seemed like a simple rule.
"It's so weird sometimes. To be surrounded by all these people and be so completely alone." James laughed a little and put on that same smile, not letting Hartley's words make him at all self conscious. He was lonely and he didn't know how to truly connect, letting people in wasn't easy for James and more often than not, he just ended up regretting everything. "I like it when I'm with you. You make it all feel more alive."
And he was the idiot who fucked up what they could have had. He supposed he had to live with it now. "Of course, no kissing. You have a boyfriend now and all."
"I do have a boyfriend." And, no, he didn't want to talk about how he was apparently special to James, how he made it feel alive, any of those sentiments that made his chest oddly tight and that made him wish that James would just want him, would want him to be his and would let Hartley have him. It was a stupid thought and, hell, it almost felt like cheating. He did have a boyfriend and he was rather intent on it staying that way. "He's good to me, you know? I know I got defensive. But he is."
"I know. He's good for you and I'm happy. I will meet him one day but I swear, I'll be on my best behaviour." With a playful laugh, he looked down at Hartley's handiwork as he finished the stitch, reaching down to very carefully pull the skin to get a good look. "Now there is some fine craftmanship. Hartley, you're so fucking talented. Is there anything you can't do?" Grinning, he let his hand drop and put it in his own head, ruffling his hair. "I was very brave, Hart. Didn't cry or anything. Do I get a lolly?"
"Axel's met him. Axel likes him." Which wasn't saying much, since being a somewhat attractive guy pretty much guaranteed anyone some degree of 'liking' on Axel's part, but still. Hartley looked down at the wound and shrugged, blushing in spite of himself. "Plenty of things I can't do."
He cleared his throat and got up, heading for his kitchenette. "I don't have a lolly. I have a pop-tart." He didn't have the best diet, but whatever. "Want one?"
"Axel likes anyone who's vaguely hot. That's not much of an accomplishment." James didn't rank anything much by what Axel said, it was more how Axel acted that James took note of. Like how he was with Hartley. He could tell that unlike most he flirted with, he did really like him. It was pretty funny actually. Of course when James playfully called dibs in their hypothetical talk of one of them dating Hartley, Axel had backed off a little.
"Oooh yes! Frosted or not? Cause I want frosted. Oh! Chocolate or strawberry? I want chocolate. I'm in a chocolate mood." He loved pop tarts so much, he could eat them all day.
"True, but that means my boyfriend is vaguely hot. Who'd have thought, I can totally score." Hartley smirked and walked back to James, pop tart in his hand, just as James had ordered. He handed it over to him and knelt down on the mattress, watching him for any signs of fainting or whatever else he was supposed to look out for. He supposed something that would push up his blood sugar would be a good idea.
He leaned over James so he could move his flute case and notes to the side, giving James more space to properly lie down. "You're staying here, just so you know."
"You got game, Hart. I'll give you that." He took the pop tart and held it in his mouth for safe keeping before reaching out and grabbing a hold of Hartley's shirt, trying to tell him to lie with him with a mouthful of delicious pop tart. God he wanted to bite into it but if he did, it'd fall out of his mouth but he needed to talk to Hartley too so eating right now would impede tat. Sigh. He finally raised his hand and removed the pop tart, holding it at a safe distance.
"Lie with me. You can lie with me, can't you? I'm all injured and hurt. You have to comfort me." He patted the bed beside him before shoving the poptart back into his mouth and mumbling something around it.
"Yeah, that's me. So smooth." Not at all with a slight tendency to babble. But he supposed it could be worse. Hartley lied down next to James without even saying another word. He'd lose if he tried to argue, so he just stretched out behind him and start petting his hair, trying not to look at his face and focus too much at how James just happened to be objectively gorgeous. Not fair. So not fair.
Why did the first guy he had to really fall for have to be like... Like this?
Once the pop tart was eaten, James moved around until he was comfortable, sprawled out with his head in a good petting position. He closed his eyes and smiled softly, nuzzling against him a little. "I'm gonna pass out now, don't freak. I won't die." He let himself slip into a more relax position and yawned tiredly, not really with it. "Notte, sogni d'oro." And with that, he was out like a light.
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He didn't know what to say to Hartley but he kind of needed him. He needed someone and that asshole Axel wasn't answering his phone. Stupid asshole, making him go to Hartley.
"Hartley?" He kept his tone as neutral as he could and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, not just because it was cold, he needed to keep something hidden. "I need your help."
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He had just been sitting here, listening to what he could hear through the window. The music was faint, but he had good ears. Hartley stood up now though, his focus on James.
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"I kind of -- maybe fucked up a little. I need you to fix something." He sighed and pulled back his coat reluctantly, showing Hartley the blood stained shirt underneath, it was sticking to his side and the blood was slowly starting to get onto his jeans too. "Don't freak." Well, fair caution, he wasn't freaking. Mostly just in pain and no idea where else to go. Usually Axel helped with this shit but the little bastard wasn't here. "Do you have a place we can go? Cause mine is too far away and the police are after me and dude, I can't run any more."
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"I'm staying nearby. I have a first aid kit, I can give you stitches. But I'm not a professional, it will probably scar." Hartley had a delicate touch, but that was for machines. This was very different. He took a steadying breath. "I can take care of you. Don't worry."
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They wanted to stab him, hurt the poor little bastard and James could never let that happened. That's why he got in the way of the knife. Before it could get any worse, the cops were coming and James ran for it, ran until he felt like he could pass out. He figured the closest thing he knew was the concert hall and Hartley always hung out here. "I just want to sewn up, okay? I don't care if it scars just stop me from having to go anywhere I'll get picked up by cops."
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Hartley stopped by a door, unlocking it so he could usher James inside. "Ground level place, so no stairs." Everything else sucked about the place, but hey.
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Even now, he was a little stabbed sure but he could get it fixed and he got out alive. Why did they have to make this gig so dangerous. "You never invited me over before. I like that being stabbed is the way to snoop around your place."
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Hartley didn't hesitate with leading James to the mattress, letting him down carefully. "Lay down, yes? I'll take care of you."
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"I'm sorry." James looked up at Hartley and shrugged ever so slightly, not able to move his body much. "I know I shouldn't have dumped this on you but I figured you'd be nearby. I didn't know what else to do."
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He pulled James' shirt up again, careful not to hurt him more. "I need to use the disinfectant. Sorry." That said, he sprayed it on, knowing that he had to do that to avoid any risk of infection. "I'll stitch you up. Just... Try to hold still. I've done stuff like this before."
More or less.
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"I'm bad at saying sorry. I usually have to be dying to say it, I guess. I'm not very good at saying it. I can say a billion and one words but when it comes to sorry, it just gets stuck. You know?" James caught Hartley's eyes and smiled sadly. "I usually am though. Sorry. I always fuck up."
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"Lie down, James, all right?" His voice was gentle, he just needed him to be as still as possible.
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He lay back but reached up one hand to idly playing with Hartley's hair as he stitched him up. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I was a dick. Can we be friends again? I miss you a lot."
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He knew a lot about that. Loneliness. Hartley started on the stitches, focusing so much he was barely aware of the hand in his hair. "No more kissing." Seemed like a simple rule.
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And he was the idiot who fucked up what they could have had. He supposed he had to live with it now. "Of course, no kissing. You have a boyfriend now and all."
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He cleared his throat and got up, heading for his kitchenette. "I don't have a lolly. I have a pop-tart." He didn't have the best diet, but whatever. "Want one?"
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"Oooh yes! Frosted or not? Cause I want frosted. Oh! Chocolate or strawberry? I want chocolate. I'm in a chocolate mood." He loved pop tarts so much, he could eat them all day.
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He leaned over James so he could move his flute case and notes to the side, giving James more space to properly lie down. "You're staying here, just so you know."
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"Lie with me. You can lie with me, can't you? I'm all injured and hurt. You have to comfort me." He patted the bed beside him before shoving the poptart back into his mouth and mumbling something around it.
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Why did the first guy he had to really fall for have to be like... Like this?
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