"Can I ask you something?" Ryker said, bouncing his knee as he fiddled with his fingers. He sat in the barrel chair next to Marshal, who sat on the couch as he downed a couple of painkillers. 

"You just did," Marshal shot back after letting out a quiet groan from the aftertaste of the pills. 

"Something else, idiot." 

"Go ahead," Marshal said, leaning against the back of the couch. As nervous as Ryker had previously made him, he was still pretty comfortable in his best friend's presence. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself as the painkillers slowly did their job. Although, with a wound like that, mere ibuprofen won't do much.

"Should I..." Ryker paused, wondering if the question was even worth asking. But he had to say something. "Should I be worried about you? I mean, you get hurt a lot, and you never tell me how it happens." Ryker got caught up in what he was saying, and let out more steam than he intended to. "Like, what if it's not a stab wound or a simple bruise next time? I'm worried it'll one day be worse than that. What if you get shot? I might never even know! I'd just never see you again." His passionate voice got weak with that last sentence. 

He had a point. Where would it end? It would destroy him if Marshal one day ended up dead. Marshal was never really concerned about that, though. He didn't care if he lived or died, but seeing Ryker so scared for him gave him a bit more reason to live, as gross as that felt for him. 

All Marshal could do was stare. He took in every physical indication that his friend was worried about him, and it made his stomach turn. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. His eyes moved to the floor to avoid looking at Ryker any longer. 

"I'm sorry," Ryker said. The long silence was eating him alive. He dropped back into his seat with a sigh, covering his eyes with his hand. 

"No, you're good," Marshal assured, sitting forward to get closer to Ryker. "I really just don't know what to say, man."

Ryker pulled the hair out of his face and drowsily turned his head to look at Marshal. "Just---can you answer me one thing?" 

"I'll do my best, I guess."

"What are the chances you wind up dead because of---well, wherever you're getting these wounds from?" he asked, sitting up in his chair to better view Marshal and to satisfy his tense body's urge to be upright. 

That question hit Marshal in the gut. He fidgeted with a ring on his middle finger, taking the time to find the right words to say. He didn't want to lie to Ryker, but that meant he would have to deal with more fear for Marshal's life. 

"You really don't have to worry, Rykie," Marshal assured after failing to find an answer that would satisfy Ryker. 

"Don't---" Ryker chuckled, wiping the stress from his face. "Don't call me Rykie during a serious conversation." He propped his chin onto the palm of his hand, faintly smiling at Marshal. "It's really cute." 

Ryker's words weren't what made Marshal's face turn red. It was that small smile that he never got sick of, and the loving eyes he hoped only he ever witnessed. 

Marshal cleared his throat in hopes of composing himself, so he wasn't stuck admiring Ryker until it became awkward. 

The blush soon faded from Marshal's face when Ryker continued the previous conversation. "I'm just scared, y'know?"

"Imagine how I feel," Marshal said with a chuckle, but a pang of regret hit him as soon as the words left his mouth. He was trying to get Ryker to stop worrying! He was doing a decent job until he said that. 

Ryker stayed silent, staring at Marshal until he became uncomfortable under his gaze. Ryker's snakebite piercings clinked against his teeth when he tried to speak, but no words came out. For the hundredth time tonight, he sighed. His eyes met the ceiling, watching the city lights dance on it from outside the window. 

"If I can help you at all, just...please, tell me. I won't pressure you to tell me anything you don't want, but I still want to be there for you." And with those words, Ryker stood from his seat. It was almost 1 AM, and both boys could use some sleep. 

Marshal didn't say anything. He couldn't find a proper response. But after Ryker stood before him, lifting his chin so he'd look up at the taller man, it was as if he didn't have a voice at all. 

"You gonna be okay or should I stay awake till you fall asleep?" Ryker asked. There it was. Going to unhealthy extremes to help people. As much as Marshal always disapproved of how far his friend would go to please someone, he didn't want to be alone until he was asleep. 

"I don't...want to ask that of you," Marshal said meekly, his chin still being forcefully directed upwards to meet his friend's gaze.

"I literally just offered, you dork. It doesn't make you a bad person to accept." Ryker rolled his eyes as he let go of Marshal's jaw. 

Marshal nodded. "I know, but I still feel guilty."

Ryker knelt, so he could look up at Marshal to get a better view of his eyes under that curtain of black hair. "It's no problem, I swear. I'll just hang out in your room till you fall asleep. Cool?"

Marshal nodded again, fiddling with his ring as a light smile tugged at his mouth. "Yeah, I'm cool with that. Thank you---for everything, I guess."

"Of course."

Ryker sat on the beanbag chair in the corner of Marshal's room, with his eyes on his phone. He was scrolling through memes, cracking the occasional smile at the good ones. Marshal was lying in his bed, staring at the wall. He couldn't hear Ryker, but he felt his presence as if it were a weight on his soul. 

"Hey, Ryker?" he finally broke the silence that was only painful for him. 

Ryker perked up, not knowing Marshal was awake. "Yeah, what's up?" 

Marshal didn't want to be alone, but he also didn't someone in the corner of his room at night. He'd known Ryker since sixth grade, and they were very close. But this request wasn't one of platonic intentions.

"Is it too weird to ask you to be in bed with me instead?"