Antidote by LC Lehesaho

21

"We're not going to discuss this right now, kiddo." Dad wipes a strand of hair off my face. "I don't want your excuses now, because I don't want to lose my temper when you're in this kind of condition. We will talk about this when you're better and don't think that you're getting away with this."

I swallow the lump down, knowing that I will be in neck-deep shit because of what I did. "I didn't expect I would."

"That's my girl." He leans down and kisses my forehead, and I squeeze Tiger's hand in mine. Something in the way Dad said it… I'm going to pay for this. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, we can fix it."

Like I can be fixed. I'm way past that.

Dad hates failing, and I just made a mega fail in his eyes. Never let anyone get you. His first rule. In combat, it means to use all the dirtiest tactics if necessary.

Never let anyone get you.

If he knew that I'm the one begging Tiger to hurt me… oh, dear. I would have to dig two graves.

Dad straightens up, a sad smile playing on his face, and he makes a gesture for Doc to come closer. She walks beside him, her eyes studying me, and then her gaze turns to Tiger.

"Did you give her the morphine?" she asks like I'm not even here.

"No, she didn't want it," Tiger answers, glancing at me. He knows he shouldn't have said it, and Dad's brows snap together at his words.

"Are you feeling better then?" She starts to press all kinds of buttons on the machine next to me.

"Oh, yes, much better." I lie to her without batting an eye, nodding to underline my words.

"That's great to hear." She gropes the wires on my arm. "We need to check you first thing in the morning, but I think you can go up to get some rest. Your body needs time to recover." She shoots a meaningful look to Dad, which is kind of admirable bravery. "And your own apartment will be the best place for you to take it easy. Watch some Netflix or read a good book, take a little break."

And just like that, she jumped to being some kind of fucking psychologist. No thanks.

"Yes, and I'm planning to take yoga classes too and change from drinking coffee to green tea." I let the sarcasm drip from my voice. Tiger clutches my fingers in warning but keeps his eyes on Doc.

"In fact, that wouldn't hurt." She doesn't seem even a bit bothered about my comment and just nods toward the door. "You two wait outside so I can check her over real quick."

Reluctantly I let go of his hand, and he starts for the door with Dad, who looks like he is trying his best to keep calm and not strangle me. The only thing that reveals his urge is the vein in his temple, the same one that Wolf has too. There are different stages of the vein:

1. The barely visible—just a little bit irritated.

2. The purple is starting to show like a river on a map—annoyed enough to curse.

3. Bulging out like the Alps—ready to use violence to express his opinions.

4. Bulging, and the color, and a tic in his jaw—all hell breaks loose.

It's on the Alps stage now.

"Dad, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I try to reassure him, even though he might know I'm lying my ass off, but I have to try. "Doc is right, maybe I should… you know, take it easy for a couple of days. Get my shit together."

There is no way I can get my shit together, but maybe if I convince people I can, it might actually happen.

He stops and breathes in through his nose, and his shoulders rise under the black dress shirt. I'm pretty sure that Doc and Tiger stopped breathing at that.

"Tell me one thing, Angel." His eyes drill into me. "Did you think about anyone else when you let that happen? How seeing you getting beaten up would affect them in the middle of a fight? Did you want them to die?"

I shake my head, body tense as my blood goes cold at his words. "No, I… I didn't think that far—"

He cuts me off and points at Tiger, eyes blazing. "Tiger took a bullet for you. Did he mention that?"

It feels like someone hit me with a baseball bat and stuck a blade between my ribs at the same time. I flip my eyes to Tiger, my throat tightening even though no one is touching me. "Tiger?" I don't know what I'm asking, or if I am even asking anything because Dad wouldn't lie about this, but I just can't…

Tiger runs both hands through his hair, annoyance leaking out of him, before lifting his shirt. The sight of a patch on his side, on his perfectly trimmed body, makes me sick. I feel nausea rolling up my stomach, and I have to slap a hand to my mouth to keep from puking.

Dad gives me a cold smile. "Now, dear daughter, next time you mess up, you're out. Do you understand me? Get your head together, and don't get everyone around you killed." At that, he walks out, snapping his fingers in the air for Tiger to follow.

Tiger doesn't even look at me when he leaves, and it breaks me into a million pieces. He got shot—because of me.

"Let's get you checked out, shall we?" Doc places a hand to my shoulder, and I turn my eyes to her. She doesn't smile. "He will be okay, but I mean what I said. I've been around long enough that I can say this. For your own good, take a break. Breathe. I've been patching you up since you were little, and I know that your wounds are not accidents. This—" She nods toward my face. "Wasn't an accident. Your father knows it, and he won't let it happen again."

Doc is crossing the line, and she knows it, but I'm too shocked to tell her that. Maybe she is bold because she knows that there is no way out for her. Dad won't let anyone walk out with our secrets, and she's been in this from the beginning, meaning that she holds a lot of them.

"I…" My voice cracks, like my insides. "Let's just get this over with."

Dad left and Doc examines me, and I'm not even surprised. I have never seen him that mad at any of us. Though he has every right to be, I hadn't thought about anyone else when I let that happen. How stupid can I be?

Apparently, very.

Tiger walks beside me in silence, and I don't know how to start. What to say. This time the stairs up to our flats feel like a never-ending journey and not because my body is sore and aching.

I'm glad that we don't see anyone on our way up. I can't face them yet, not after what Dad said. Shame and guilt float in my veins like poison. I feel the pain from the hits I took, but my mind tells me I need more. But like this, my face wrecked, I know Tiger would never do it for me now. He doesn't have many limits in what he is willing to do, but I know that asking him to make me hurt right now would be crossing a line.

And besides… I'm not sure if we are doing it again.

I don't know what we are.

When we stop at my door, I look down and realize that I'm wearing only a bathrobe from the medical room. It means all my stuff is down there, my keys, phone… everything.

To my surprise, Tiger pulls my keys from the pocket of his sweatpants and opens the door. Then he places a hand to the small of my back like he isn't convinced that I know what to do. Well… at this point, even something as automatic as breathing is hard for me, so he might be onto something.

I look at my hallway when Tiger turns on the lights after we step inside. The wall with my blades, guns, and multiple skull-bandanas. All in perfect order, clean and ready to serve. There are three sets of combat boots under them on the floor, all black, and tied so loose that you can just slip them on. Next to those are all my Chucks in different colors. My leather jackets on the rack—one for the job and one for free time. The black caps. My bags. Everything in order.

Everything else is in order in my life except my head.

"Are you hungry?" Tiger asks and places my keys and my phone on the side table in the bowl I have for them.

I look at the clean table, feeling the melon-sized lump in my throat. "Why didn't you tell me you got shot?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

I snap my eyes to him, anger shooting from my spine. "Doesn't matter?"

He shrugs and leans his ass on the side table, crossing his hands to his chest. "Yeah. I'm not saying that Leo didn't have a point in what he said, but for me, the most important thing was getting you out alive."

"You got shot because of me." I clench my fist at my sides, reining in my anger. I don't want to scream at him, even though I really want to scream at him because he is shrugging it off. It doesn't matter? What the actual fuck?

"I know that. You messed up and scared the shit out of me. I would crawl through Hell to get to you and take ten bullets if I have to, but none of it matters because you're here. You didn't die, and whatever I had to do to make sure of it doesn't matter," Tiger says calmly, his raspy voice soft as he speaks. "All I care about is that you're alive, baby."

His words break me into a million pieces. The guilt. The pain. His pain. He is willing to go through so much for me, and it kills me. I feel the stinging behind my lids, and then tears escape from my eyes.

"Hey, worm, don't cry, please." Tiger pushes himself up and closes the distance between us. Carefully he wraps his arms around me and presses me against his chest. His scent, smoke and leather linger inside me, making me feel like I’m home.

"I hate that you got hurt," I sob, clenching his hoodie in my fists on his chest.

"I hate that you got yourself hurt, so there's that." He smooths his hand over my back, before placing a kiss to the top of my head. "Let's go to bed, worm. You'll feel better tomorrow."

After brushing my teeth and emptying my bladder, I note from the bathroom mirror that my face has never looked so shitty. My other eye is swollen, my nose is broken, and my lower lip, which has been taking multiple hits since last week, is cut again and looks like it’s Botoxed. It's clear that I'm skipping classes for a couple of days because of this. I pull on some checkered shorts and a big Bring Me the Horizon T-shirt that I always wear to bed and walk to my bedroom.

Tiger is lying on my bed already, on top of the covers, and still wearing the black sweatpants, but at least he's taken off his hoodie, and now the black T-shirt is like a second skin on his muscled upper body. He lifts his eyes from his phone to me, and a smug smirk spreads to his face.

"You sleep in my shirt?"

I glance down, confused, until I remember that it is actually his. I'm just so used to it that I didn't even remember it anymore. "It's mine now because you left it in here."

"No, I didn't. I let you borrow it when you spilled coffee on your shirt when we were at the shooting range. You had a white T-shirt on, and with all that coffee on your chest, every guy in there had boners when they drooled over your boobs," he says matter-of-factly and then grins. "Including me."

I throw my hands in the air, glaring at him. "Jeez, Tiger, stop saying shit like that. We agreed, pause, remember?"

"Hey, I just reminded you of the facts. First and foremost, I am a gentleman. I saved you by giving my shirt to you." He pats the bed beside him. "C'mon, I wanna sleep."

"Phew, you're as far from a gentleman as anyone can be," I state while walking to the bed. My weighted blanket is heavy as I lift it up to slip under it, partly because Tiger is lying on top of it and partly because I like the weight over me when I sleep. Like those compression jackets that dogs and cats wear on New Year's Eve, so they're not scared of the fireworks.

I snuggle myself under the covers, pull them all the way up to my chin, and look at Tiger, who's still on top with his clothes on. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

He puts his phone on the side table and adjusts himself on his side of the bed, facing me. "This is me being a gentleman."

"Jesus Christ, Tiger." I huff, rolling my eyes. "Get under the covers and stop being a dork."

"I can't sleep under these with my clothes, or we’ll be drowning in sweat in a second. Your blanket belongs in the fucking north pole."

I squint at him. "Why would you sleep with your clothes on? Take them off. Or are you going commando?"

The idea makes me hot all over, but I keep my face blank. We've slept together a million times, and we've always kept it platonic so we can do it now too. We're friends for fuck's sake.

Tiger laughs, all low and rumbly, and I love the tone of it. "No, I'm not going commando." At that, he gets up, and I know I should look somewhere else, or close my eyes or something, but holy mother of fuck, I can't. When he takes his shirt off and pushes his pants down, my body bursts into flames, and the throbbing between my thighs is killing me. I don't have to touch myself to know I'm wet for him in a second.

I shouldn't be.

Reining in my thoughts, I turn to my other side, staring at the cobra painting on the wall. Which he painted for me. Dearest fuck, this was a bad idea.

Movement in the bed tells me that he is right behind me, and I know he is in the same position as me but turned toward me. My back to his chest.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

I don't even remember how to breathe.

Thirty seconds.

"Can I hold you while you sleep?" he whispers right behind me.

I know it's probably the worst idea ever, but I need it. I need him to keep me safe while I sleep. Like he has done a million times when my anxiousness has tried to overcome me.

"Yeah, I'd like that," I answer quietly.

Tiger moves closer, his hand slides over my side and pulls me against him, and I feel his hard-on pressing against my back. It makes me gulp.

"Side effect of being so close to you, don't blame me," he murmurs in my ear. "I promise, I'm just here for sleeping." And after a short pause, he adds. "For tonight."

My mind forces me to bring it up, even though I know this is probably the worst timing ever. I clear my throat. "Tiger..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry that... I had sex with Luke. At Purgatory."

He goes rigid behind me, his hand gripping around me tighter. "You sorry that I saw or that you did it?"

"Both," I whisper. "I never wanted to hurt you. I was just... I made a mistake, and I'm truly sorry."

I can feel his chest moving from his heavy breaths against my back, but Tiger is quiet for a while. "You know, baby... Even though I tried to hate you for it, I couldn't. You're my person."

My heart swells from his words. It feels like I'm home. Not only that, I'm in my own bed, but the fact that his arms are around me. "You're my person, too," I whisper back.

He relaxes, nuzzling his face into my hair. "Good. I'll keep you safe. Just let me."

I gather my spinning mind and slide my hand over his, folding my fingers with his. I know he keeps me safe, even from my own demons.

He always does.