How long had I been unconscious? When I came to, I found myself lying in bed, back in the bunker. My brain was ringing, vibrating violently.  Just as I began to lift my head to look around the room, my vision grew blurry, and I passed out again. 

Without The Machine to help in times of medical emergency, Luke and I were at a disadvantage in healing ourselves. Any injury could become life-threatening. We lived in an environment with countless unstudied plants and animals. And we actively interacted with plenty of them. How we hadn't died from infections was nothing short of a miracle. 

But I had been hit. I was hurt in one of the worst spots possible, my head. 

Luke would never have been able to build the bunker without my help. 

I had been training to become an engineer on the space station before having been expelled. Luke, however, had been assigned to the recycling department during his stay on the station. Most of our skills translated well enough to help us on Earth. I made a shelter, a home, and he built weapons, our defenses. But fixing a head wound would have been near impossible had we done it together. If Luke had to operate alone, there were sure to be complications. 

Regardless, during my time in dreamless sleep, I was blissfully unaware of how my life teetered on a wire. All I knew was one moment, there was darkness, and the next, I awoke again. 

"I told you," Luke scolded me. 

Three days. I was unconscious for three days.

"I know," I said. 

"You should have stayed by my side," Luke argued while bringing me water. 

After taking a sip forced to my lips, I repeated, "I know."

He wouldn't let me leave the bed. But from the looks of it, Luke was preparing to leave the bunker when I woke up. Shoes, pants, belt, spear, he was completely dressed. 

"This could have been so much worse. You know I'm no good at this. Medicine, bandages," he stood at the foot of our makeshift bed, wringing the pole of his weapon with rage. 

"I know," I said again. 

"What did it? What hit you? Was it a glow rat or something?" Luke demanded an answer. 

Could I tell him? Would he even believe me? 

"A boy," I said, and suddenly his shoulders rested. 

"That's not funny," he told me before adding, "You almost died."

"I'm serious. There was another boy. He had a suit made out of a space pod," I explained. 

A shared glance was all it took before he was back up in arms, yelling, "I told you other people would be dangerous."

"He could have done worse; I think I surprised him," I said.

Luke left me and went to the door.

"What are you doing? Where are you going? " I asked while crawling out of bed to follow him

"Go back to bed," Luke brushed me away when I caught his arm. 

"What are you going to do?" I persisted and moved in front of the door. 

My boyfriend, at that moment, was terrifying. At first, he tried to move my body. When it was clear I wouldn't budge, there was a split second where I saw him nearly turn his spear on me. It was the slightest yet fastest motion. 

"I'm gonna go kill him," Luke said, backing away after we both got to one another. 

My head was booming. Having been on my feet for only a few minutes, I needed to lie back down. My eyes blinked, flickered, and when I opened them again, Luke had suddenly moved forward. He dropped his spear to catch both of my shoulders. I nearly fell, but my protector caught me.

"He hurt you. Now I have to hurt him," Luke said, guiding me back to bed.  

"Since when is that a rule?" I said, moaning with an ache behind it.

"Law of the jungle. Your mine, Preston. I love you, and this asshole hurt you. Whoever he is, he has to know not to fuck with us." 

My boyfriend tried to escape again, but I caught and held onto his hand. Would he pull away from me? It was possible. He certainly gave the handhold a look. I understood his frustration. It made more than enough since. But he wasn't hearing me. Luke was too concerned with protection to see that he was risking himself, us, and everything else.

"He has a suit of armor. You can't hurt him anyway. Stay. Don't do something stupid," I begged with my words and eyes. 

It took him a moment, but with a sigh, my boyfriend got into bed, still with his shoes on, but he soon kicked them off. 

"You're not going back out until I find this new guy," Luke told me. 

He wrapped his arms around my body, and I rested back against him with my head under his chin. The tingling pain in my head vibrated steadily enough to predict the sharp notes. Regardless, the less I moved, the less I spoke, the less I felt. 

"But," I mumbled, already beginning to fade.

"He almost killed you. There's no excuse for that."

"Don't make the first person we've met in two years our first enemy," I said. 

"He did that when he hit you."

"Luke."

He squeezed, and I couldn't tell if my head wound was making the moment strained or Luke was.

"I won't kill him, ok. I won't kill whoever this prick is, but I have to hurt him. I have to do something. So don't ask me to let this go."