The Guy With the Suitcase (Once Upon a Guy #1) (18 page)

While Pierce was grinding with the ground, he managed to give himself a boost and stood up. Another choice he regretted. The other guy who was now trying to pull Pierce on the other side and away from his possession put his hand under his coat and pulled out something silvery.
 

His insides screamed with pain and bile traveled up his throat, getting sick on the sidewalk. The guy had slashed a knife into his stomach. A quick glance on his shirt told him the blood was pouring out as fast as he felt his veins pumping.

His hands loosened up and the guy finally took hold of the suitcase. He knelt down and opened it up. “Dude, this dude is a goldmine. Look at that?” he said flashing his accomplice the pack of Pierce’s money.

Pierce made a last attempt to claim his suitcase back. They could have the money if they wanted, but he’d die before he let them take the suitcase. He grabbed the edge of it.
 

When he did, two things happened. First, the street was washed with blue and red lights before the siren even pierced everyone’s ears. Second, the thugs made a run for it, pulling the suitcase open, all its contents falling on the ground, and dragging Pierce a few more feet ahead. Seeing Pierce’s resistance, they gave up on the suitcase. Pierce heard the commotion, but everything started to go out. First the streetlights. Then the sirens. And last, all voices. Even his voice, begging whoever was coming to his rescue, to save his suitcase.

He opened his eyes just as the nurse was leaving the room. Rafe had been by Pierce’s side in the hospital, only leaving it to grab some quick bite and to use the bathroom. It hurt him too much seeing Pierce bandaged and tubed up. He couldn’t possibly step into work and do a good job. Vance had given him as many days off as he needed to look after Pierce, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

“Hey,
bruto
, good morning,” Rafe greeted him with a warm smile.

Pierce looked disoriented, eyes not yet focused. When they did, though, they fell on Rafe.

“Where am I?” His voice was hoarse and no more indistinguishable than a growl.

“In Heaven. And I’m St. Peter,” Rafe answered, getting up from his chair and taking Pierce’s head in his hands as though he was going to bless him. “Where do you think you are? The hospital, silly.”

Pierce jumped up, but folded in pain as soon as he did, withering on the bed.

“Take it slow,
chulo
. You’re still not healed you know. Do you want to pop a stitch or something?” Rafe scolded him and fixed the pillow to help Pierce set back on it.

“How—,” Pierced started but had to take frequent breaths in order to be audible. “How long have I been here?”

Rafe covered him with the blanket and flattened it on him. “Two days,” he told him.

Pierce sat up in protest, but Rafe pushed him back down, knowing he would panic.

“But…I can’t afford this, Rafe. I got to go,” he insisted, trying to ward his hands off him, but Rafe held firm.

Rafe winced and put his hand on Pierce’s heart. “
You
almost fucking
died
. You need to heal, so you’re going to stay as long as it’s needed to do just that, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself.”

Rafe wasn’t angry with Pierce. He was angry with what the thugs had done to him. And he was frustrated that Pierce could be thinking about money over his health. When the police officer picked up Pierce’s cell on the street and told him that his friend had passed out, Rafe nearly did the same. When they told him where to go, he got the first cab and rushed to Pierce’s side. He
had
almost died, but the good doctors of St. Andrew had saved him. He’d be damned if he let Pierce kill himself with his stubbornness after all Rafe had been through.

Pierce’s head dropped onto his chest and he sucked his lips, apologizing to Rafe.

Rafe threw him a threatening look to ensure his message still held true and Pierce let out a chuckle that made him cough. Rafe gave him some water.

“What happened to me?” he asked when he’d calmed down.

Rafe sat back down and told him all he had suffered through. “The knife cut through your stomach and some veins. You were hemorrhaging on the scene and when the ambulance arrived you had lost a lot of blood. They had to transfuse you with a ton of it, and the worse part was, I didn’t even know your type to help them. Then, you went through sepsis because of a bacterial infection. That was when I…we nearly lost you. But you made it through. Then of course you had a high fever for so many hours that you had to be in the ER for constant supervision. The fever, thankfully, subsided, and they brought you out last night. You’ve been sleeping ever since,” Rafe explained, realizing when he’d finished that his words had turned to sobs that he had to push through to be heard.

Pierce looked outside. “Fuck!” was all he said, and Rafe wiped his eyes quickly before Pierce turned back at him. “And you stayed here all this time? Didn’t you miss work?”

Rafe cursed at him. He couldn’t believe he was
still
thinking about work. This guy! He was all about the money. That’s what got him into trouble in the first place. If he hadn’t accepted Vance’s invitation to work in the Brooklyn bar, none of this would have happened.

“Thank you,” Pierce murmured, barely heard in Rafe’s deafening mind. He looked up to see Pierce with red eyes. “For—for being here…for me,” he said.

Rafe got up and approached the bed to give him a hug. “You, idiot. When will you realize I’d do anything for you?”

Pierce chuckled in Rafe’s chest, still embracing each other. Rafe closed his eyes. He liked this. The warmth of Pierce’s body on his. The strength of his hands around him, sizzling the skin and everything under it, wherever they touched him. The feeling of Pierce’s breath tickling his ribs. He could stay there forever if Pierce let him.

But Pierce pushed him away and jerked his head around. “Where—where is my suitcase?”

Rafe knew they’d get to that eventually. He didn’t know how to bring the news to him, so with a bit of hesitation, he pulled the suitcase out from behind the bedside table. “Uhm, all the money is gone, Pierce. And uh—,” he paused and presented the broken down suitcase.

Pierce put it on his lap and opened it. The top part fell separately from its twin. The pictures were still inside, although some were muddied up and ripped at the edges.

“They said you tried to hold on to it. And it broke apart. I’m sure you can fix it somewhere, though. It’s just the pictures. Some of them are really bad. All there, I checked, but…” Rafe trailed his voice not knowing how else to explain what had happened to Pierce’s and his grandad’s memories.

Pierce could see it for himself. One picture was faded to the point where you had to wince to make out anything. Some others were covered in dry mud. “How—how did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I think some fell in a puddle, and the guys who actually picked them up didn’t bother drying them, so they kinda faded. I don’t know, I wasn’t there,” Rafe grimaced looking at Pierce going through all the pictures. “I wish I was.”

Pierce put them down, back inside the suitcase, and took Rafe’s hands. “I don’t. They might have hurt you too if you had been there. And
I
don’t know if I could live with that.”

The door knocked before Rafe could answer and the nurse waltzed back in. “Oh, you’re up. Awesome. How are you feeling, Pierce?” she asked with a gentle smile stamped on her face.

“Like a truck ran over me,” Pierce answered and the nurse laughed.

“Well, not really. But close,” she giggled. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’ve just woken up, but we need your insurance details. Your friend here didn’t know them. We tried contacting your parents as well. We called the number on our records, but the person who replied said they didn’t know a Pierce Callahan. Is it possible that it’s a wrong number?”

“It’s the right number.” Pierce mumbled.

Rafe saw Pierce react to what the nurse had told him and he looked as if he’d been stabbed a second time. Fucking parents. They were both better without them. Rafe squeezed Pierce’s hand and he found the strength to tell the nurse he didn’t have insurance. They spent the next hour discussing the details of potential insurances and discharging him, something which Rafe objected to, but ultimately wasn’t up to him. Since Pierce was uninsured, every hour he spent in the hospital was accumulating, and since he was broke they needed him out as soon as he could stand back on his feet.

Rafe called a cab and took him back to his place. Thankfully, Wang had extended his vacation unexpectedly, so Pierce had a place to stay until then, although he’d refuse to kick his friend in the curb even if his landlord didn’t like it. Wang was a nice man, he was sure he’d understand and have no problem with Pierce staying until he could recover.

As soon as Pierce had gone back to sleep, Rafe called Vance to let him know of Pierce’s progress and to discuss the week’s shifts. Vance sounded relieved that Pierce was better. When he hang up, Rafe skimmed through Wang’s bookcase and found a recipe book. He made a list of the ingredients he needed for a Pho soup and popped to the nearest store to pick them up.

When Pierce woke up he was surprised with a nice Vietnamese dinner.
 

“Just don’t make it a habit, okay?” Pierce commented and slurped another spoonful of soup.

“Why?” Rafe asked.

“Because you’re spoiling me and you’re wasting your money,” he said.

Rafe rolled his eyes and slapped Pierce in the head. It seemed as if it was going to be his signature move with this guy. Slapping him. Maybe he’d slap some sense into him eventually.

Pierce came out of the shower groaning and grabbing his stomach where a plastic film covered his bandages and kept the stitches under them dry. It was New Year’s Eve and Rafe was working the afternoon shift, surprisingly so. Since Pierce had left the place, Rafe had gone on to doing both waiting and bartending shifts, working full-time, even after the end of the festive season. One of the waiters had quit, and Vance had decided to keep Rafe as a permanent employee since he had proven himself an amazing worker. Pierce was proud of him.
 

When he’d changed clothes and bandages he lied back down on the bed and took Wang’s laptop on his lap to resume his watching of Star Trek. That Zachary Quinto was so freaking hot, even with the pointy ears and the appalling haircut. Not that he would tell Rafe that, though. He took the chips from the shelf above the bed and snacked on them. At least the intense pain had stopped and he could actually enjoy anything other than sleep. The painkillers helped. And Quinto did too. Which was why he was watching the same film for the fifth time in a row. Chris Pine wasn’t bad either.

He heard the door and paused the film. He wasn’t sure when Wang was supposed to be back, whether today or tomorrow, but he didn’t want him to know he had possession of his laptop when he’d only seen the guy once. Rafe hadn’t even had the chance to tell him Pierce was staying over whilst recovering. He grabbed his stomach and stood, swallowing up the groan and started to open the door. It swung open and Rafe walked in, making Pierce lose his footing and fall back on the mattress.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Rafe dropped on the floor, checking on Pierce.

Pierce grimaced. “You scared the crap out of me,” he spat and Rafe laughed.

“Whatchu doing?” Rafe asked and his eyes fell on the laptop screen. “Swooning over Captain Kirk and Spock again? I told you, find someone more feasible to obsess over. They’re a lost case. Plus, I think they’re screwing each other,” Rafe said and put down a massive red glittery bag.

Pierce grinned. He had found someone more realistic to obsess over, but he couldn’t possibly tell him that. Ever since he woke up in the hospital with Rafe by his side, he thought that perhaps he had misjudged Rafe’s interest on him. Sure, they were friends, but he felt Rafe closer than a friend. He felt as if Rafe was his boyfriend. He certainly treated him as such. Rafe cooked for him and picked new books up for him and stroked his hair at night when Pierce was in pain and trying to sleep through it.
 

“What’s you got in the bag?” he asked.