He stood in the doorway silently, holding his arm and listening to his shallow breathing, watching the blood drip from his open wounds onto the floor, thanking himself for deciding to get rid of the carpet.

The mask he wore was off his eyes and around his neck, having pulled it off so he could see better in the room.

His brown hair was wild, some of it sticking to his forehead with blood and sweat, other pieces frizzed out and tangled.

Blood dripped down from a gash on his forehead, just barely missing his eye. He had dirt on his face from hitting the ground so many times, and his eye was slightly swollen from a punch he had received earlier.

He didn't speak as he shifted nervously in the doorway, swallowing harshly and  waiting for the blonde to take note of his presence.

It wasn't long before the male in question turned his head at the kitchen table, pulling his eyes away from the laptop to look Ohm up and down, concern and fear crossing his features momentarily.

He pushed his emotions to the back of his mind, standing from the chair and sighing sadly, back to his lover, going towards the bathroom.

"I'll get the first aid kit."

Ohm nodded, dragging himself to the kitchen, setting his tired body down and keeping pressure on his arm, no doubt the worst of the wounds.

He watched the blood drip from his fingers onto the tile floor, but couldn't care less at the moment, he was busy blocking out the pain.

Bryce returned with the kit, pulling out 99% alcohol, a ton of cotton balls, a rag, and a roll of gauze, his gaze tired and worried as he looked at Ohm.

"Let me see, Ohm."

The older male let go of his arm, his eyes following the trail of blood that gushed from the bullet wound.

Bryce inhaled sharply, taking the rag and dousing it in alcohol, but first he used the pair of scissors in the kit to cut off the sleeve of Ohm's black shirt, tossing it to the side.

He looked into Ohm's uncovered hazel eyes, voice conveying his worried and apologetic feelings.

"This is gonna hurt, Ryan."

Ohm flinched at the use of his real name, but nodded nonetheless, looking down at the floor before speaking, his own voice a bit raspy from all the yelling he had done prior.

"I know."

Bryce nodded, counting down from three before pressing the rag against the bullet wound, a sigh of relief escaping him as he realized it only grazed his flesh, and wouldn't need stitches.

He watched Ohm tense up, and knew he was gritting his teeth together, because his jaw was tight and his mouth was set in a firm line.

Bryce dabbed at the wound, also cleaning the areas around it to prevent infection. He noticed Ohm's knuckles were bruised and bloody, and he couldn't help but feel bad for the fool who tried to kill him.

He knew all too well how Ohm got on the field. He became dangerous and somewhat reckless, another Delirious, if you will.

He gave no mercy to those who tried to hurt him and his friends. Hell, Bryce remembered the time he had gotten stabbed when on a deal with Ohm, and the older male had killed the man who hurt him, leaving his body for his people, only letting the others go so he could bring Bryce back to safety.

Bryce pushed the rag onto the wound, stopping the blood, hearing the sharp inhale coming from his boyfriend's mouth, letting his voice break through the air, trying to distract Ohm from the pain.

"What happened?"

Ohm glanced up momentarily, before looking out the window, eyes searching for nothing in particular as he spoke.

"Bad deal. They tried to give us half of what we paid for. Evan called them out on it, and they fired."

Bryce nodded, reaching blindly for the gauze, fingers brushing against the bandaging. He gripped it, bringing it to Ohm's bicep.

Within seconds, he pulled the rag away and was wrapping the bandage around the arm before him, making sure to keep it tight so the blood didn't start gushing again.

"Who else got hurt?"

He saw Ohm think about it for a second before he responded, his voice slightly angry, but the brunette bit back his emotions.

"Jonathan took a bullet to the leg, Tyler  got stabbed in the side, Lui was lucky to get only a few bruises from some hand to hand combat, and Evan made it out like me. Everyone else was okay."

Bryce hummed a response, to show he was listening, and he placed the clip in the gauze, stepping back to admire his work, quickly using some alcohol to clean his hands, also pouring some on a cotton ball.

"Did you get the worst of it?"

"Evan and I both got the worst of it," he paused as he felt the familiar stinging of alcohol on his forehead, where Bryce was now cleaning the cut above his eyebrow, "we were up in the front."

Bryce nodded, using some of the leftover alcohol on a clean part of the rag to clean his face, being careful to avoid his eyes. He scrubbed at the dirt and blood that was left, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of what to say.

He didn't want to anger Ohm, but he needed him to know how he felt about this whole thing, and what they could do to change the constant state of worry and supply of bandages that were always being used.

He ran the rag along the side of Ohm's face, swallowing the lump in his throat before finally speaking, voice a little bit quieter than usual.

"Maybe you should take a break from the field?"

He felt Ohm's eyes on him, and then a hand around his wrist that pulled him away from his work, making him look down into hazel eyes.

The colored orbs looked a bit sad, but also apologetic as his voice cut through the air, his hand warm and welcoming on Bryce's arm.

"You know I can't do that, Bryce."

"I know....I thought I would suggest it, anyways."

Ohm nodded, letting go of his wrist and looking down to the blood that was on their kitchen floor, taking great interest in the crimson color.

"I'm too valuable to the team to leave. They need me, now more than ever, what with all the recent police crackdowns in Los Santos."

Bryce nodded, picking up Ohm's left hand and cleaning it, making sure to get the blood and dirt out from beneath his fingernails.

He couldn't help but look at the gun over on the shelf by the door, wondering just how many people had died to the weapon, and if Ohm would endure the same type of fate.

He shook his head, pushing those worrying thoughts from his mind as he spoke.

"I know, Ohm. I just," he paused, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes for a moment, "I just don't want to see you get seriously hurt. Or worse."

He felt the hand on his cheek, and he couldn't help the sadness that washed over his entire being as Ohm's voice responded to him.

"I won't, Bryce. You know me better than that."

Bryce's free hand went up to lay over Ohm's, and he opened his eyes, worried blue orbs meeting reassuring hazel ones.

"Accidents happen. Don't you remember when I was stabbed in the stomach, and everyone thought I was gonna die?"

He nodded slowly, knowing where Bryce was going with this, and not liking it one bit.

"Well, what if that happens to you. You may be good at what you do, Ohm. But the newer ones in the gang might accidentally cause some issues. They don't really know what they're doing yet. What if you-"

Ohm stood up, looking up at Bryce and using his thumb to rub circles on the male's cheek as he interrupted him.

"You're horrible at that, you know."

The confused look on Bryce's face caused Ohm to continue, voice softer than usual.

"At using 'what if'. That's all you worry about sometimes, Bryce. And you can't do that, it'll just send you into an anxiety attack, like it usually does."

Bryce looked down at the floor, hating to admit it, but realizing Ohm was completely correct. There had been quite a few times where he would have severe anxiety attacks because he was worried about what might happen.

And every time, Ohm had to remind him that he would be fine, and that he wouldn't let anything happen to himself.

"I can't help it, Ohm. I worry about you."

Ohm smiled sadly, pulling his hand from the blonde's face and placing a soft kiss on Bryce's knuckles, watching as his boyfriend took in a few calming breaths.

"If I told you there's no need to worry, would you believe me?"

He huffed, the smile on his face slightly pained as he answered Ohm's question.

"Of course not. Look at you, Ohm," he gestured towards the brunette's bloody clothing and tattered appearance, making sure to point out his arm and the bullet wound currently inhabiting it, "you took a bullet to the arm, and you're gonna try to tell me that there's no cause for worry?"

Ohm shrugged with his good arm, fingers clenching on his wounded side, feeling a line of pain run through him, teeth gritting together to take the pain.

"It only grazed the flesh."

"It's a bullet wound, nonetheless, Ohm."

"Bryce." He sighed out, starting to turn, but stopping when a hand sat atop his left shoulder, making him face the blonde again.

Bryce held him still as he pulled out a bandaid, placing it on to the cut on his forehead, keeping quiet.

Ohm furrowed his brows, reaching up to touch the bandage, But Bryce stopped him, pulling his hand away and putting it down by his side, fingers interlocking with the hazel eyed man's.

"Bryce, I don't need a bandaid for the cut on my forehead."

"You do."

"I don't. It's small and-"

"I don't want you bleeding on our new pillows."

Surprise crossed Ohm's features, expecting some lecture on how he should cover it so it doesn't get infected, but instead he got a "don't ruin the bed" talk.

That makes sense," Ohm paused, looking to Bryce and then out the window, a little bit of paranoia in his mind, "wait. When did we get new pillows?"

Bryce chuckled, his eyes going towards the open bedroom door, black and purple pillows in his sights.

"I got them while you were out," his voice faltered for a split second as his words came out, "while you were getting hurt."

Ohm sighed at the sudden shift in attitude, finding interest in the color of his pants, eying the black material and keeping quiet for a few minutes.

Bryce looked down at him, his arms wrapping carefully around the gang member's waist, head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

Even after all he had endured, he still smelled of woods and cologne.

Ohm's eyes widened, but he relaxed against the man hugging him, his good hand snaking around Bryce's neck, head on his chest as Bryce spoke, voice nothing above a whisper.

"Promise me you won't die."

Ohm felt the hands on his back tighten on his shirt, and he felt his arm twitch at the sensation, his own voice particularly low and quiet.

"I promise to try."

He felt Bryce hold him out at arms length, the blonde staring into his eyes with concern, almost pleading with him.

"No, that's not good enough, Ryan. Promise me you won't get yourself killed," he let a tear cascade down his cheek, but he wiped it away, exhaling slowly, "please. Promise me."

Ohm looked past him for a second, eye twitching at his name and taking note of the pictures that riddled the wall, all containing him and Bryce.

He looked down, sighing, biting his lip and swallowing the lump in his throat, voice barely audible.

"I promise."

"Hm?"

He looked up at Bryce, eyes stormy as he contemplated his next moves.

Bryce watched in confusion, feeling Ohm's hand tighten on his shoulder, wincing as he realized he was gripping him hard enough to leave a bruise.

Bryce inhaled sharply, speaking into the once silent air to get Ohm to let him go.

"Ohm, you're hur-"

Ohm's lips connected with Bryce's, and Bryce gasped, his hands tightening on the brunette's waist, face turning a bit pink from the sudden contact.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the kiss, his lips warm and smooth against Ohm's, body pressed to the older male, aching for more than quiet promises and small kisses.

But, as soon as it started, it was over, and Ohm was pulling away, breathing hard, eyes cloudy with lust and voice raspy with a touch of need.

"I promise."