NICK
I lay on the concrete beneath him, the water pooling around my ears, entirely lost.
"What?" I muttered, the blood copper in my throat. "What's so funny?"
Cyan kept laughing for a few more seconds, his shoulders shaking against mine.
Then he snapped his head back down, his eyes bright as he looked at me again. He let go of my collar, but instead of pulling away, his hand moved up to the side of my face.
His palm was wet and cold against my skin, and his thumb reached out, wiping the blood away from my split lip with a casual, matter-of-fact roughness.
He didn't look at the blood like it was an injury; it was just something that needed to be cleaned up.
When his laughter finally settled, the lethal, distant look he had been carrying through the hospital halls was completely gone.
His face looked entirely different now, softer, alive, carrying an unexpected warmth that didn't seem possible a minute ago.
