A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.

This is a continuation of chapter 56

Third Person POV

After Krist administered a new application of tincture of arnica on Gunnapat's injured ankle and after he wrapped it with an ace wrap, he informed Gun that by the following day it should have healed completely and he could take off the wrap and be able to walk around without any further problem.

"But if you feel any more discomfort, feel free to come back here and I will re-examine your ankle," Krist said as a parting advice.

"Thank you, nurse," Gunnapat said, standing on one foot while placing a little bit of weight on the other foot. As soon as Gunnapat stood up from his chair, he could no longer feel the floor under his feet. Mark had lifted him in his arms and was now carrying him out of the cubicle and into the reception area!

"Stop, Mark!" Gun protested.

"It's P'Mark," Mark corrected him as he continued to carry Gunnapat out of the nurses' area, "show some respect to an older person."

"I don't know about that," Gun said with some uncertainty, "but I would like for you to put me down."

"And limp all the way to your cabin?" Mark challenged him, "I don't think so."

Mark briefly set Gunnapat down just to press the service button for an elevator and then lifted him again to bring him inside the elevator.

"You don't even know where my cabin is," Gunnapat grumbled.

"My dear big baby, you are forgetting that I have been to your cabin once before to deliver your wallet and I have the number memorized in my head, okay?"

Gunnapat started to have a nagging feeling that he was going to face some trouble with this young man. He sounded too aggressive and too bossy. He was presumptuous as well, making him address him as P'Mark when he didn't even know how old he was.

Mark was right, though, about knowing where his cabin was located. In no time, they stopped in front of his cabin door and Mark set him down carefully and held out his hand to Gunnapat.

"Oh, you're asking me to pay you for carrying me to my cabin?" Gunnapat asked, already sliding his wallet out of his pocket.

Gunnapat received a painful flick on his forehead.

"I'm waiting for you to give me your key so I can unlock your door for you," Mark said with some impatience.

"You don't have to do that for me!" Gunnapat protested, "it's my ankle that's injured, not my hands or wrists!"

Mark let out a heavy sigh, "Stop trying to be independent and just give me your key already."

Gunnapat shook his head, a frown appearing on his face, but obediently handed Mark the key to his door.

Mark inserted the key into the keyhole and turned the doorknob and pushed it open. Then before Gun could protest, he lifted Gun in his arms once more and carried him inside, setting him down gently on his bed.

"Thank you..." Gun was starting to say but Mark had already turned around and closed the door of his cabin and locked it.

Gun stared at Mark wide eyed, his mouth slightly opened in frightened surprise as Mark slowly walked back towards him, a slightly wicked smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"What the hell, Mark..." Gun muttered, slowly inching farther away on his bed, towards the wall.

"It's P'Mark, why is it so hard for you to address me with some respect," Mark said as he climbed onto the bed, making Gun lie down against the soft large pillow.

"Show me your ID," Gun challenged Mark, to distract him from whatever he was thinking of doing to him.

Mark climbed back out of the bed to fish his wallet out of his tight fitting jeans. He pulled out his ID and handed it to Gun.

"Hahaha!" Gun laughed out loud, returning Mark's ID to him, "I'm sorry, Mark, I got bad news for you."

Mark frowned, waiting for Gun to tell him the bad news.

"You better start addressing me as P'Gun because I happen to be three years older than you," said Gun with a triumphant look on his face.

"That can't be," Mark was shaking his head in disbelief, "show me your ID."

"You have already seen it when you came to deliver my wallet!" Gun protested.

"I forgot to look at your birth date," Mark informed him.

"Very well," Gun said, showing his ID to Mark.

Mark was both displeased and disappointed but Mark told himself that he was not going to let a mere three years get in the way of him dating Gun, this big beautiful baby who was his for the taking right now.

"Mark, please," Gun was talking to him in a serious tone, "I do want to be your friend but friendship requires trust and respect. If you force yourself on me, how can I look on you as a friend."

Mark studied Gun long and hard before speaking.

"I want to be more than just a friend to you," he said.

"Before we can be more than just friends, we have to start out as friends, does that make sense to you?" Gun asked, almost in a pleading tone.

Mark sighed. He knew that he needed to be patient. He knew that he had to bide his time with Gun.

"Very well," Mark said, looking not too happy, "have we at least exchanged contact numbers?"

"I don't think so," Gun replied, "here, take my phone and key in your number into it and then I'll call you so my number can be registered into yours."

"Thanks," Mark said, taking Gun's phone and quickly putting in his number and handing the phone back to Gun.

In a few seconds Mark's phone started to ring.

"Thanks," Mark said once more, "but if you don't mind, I'm not going to call you P'. I have already made up my mind that you will be my baby."

With those words, Mark made his way towards the door.

Gun could only shake his head at Mark's utter lack of disregard for their age difference.

Mark turned back to face Gun, his hand already on the doorknob but not turning it yet.

"Would you like me to come back and help you to get to the dining hall for dinner?"

"No, thanks, Mark, I believe I can manage to get there by myself."

"Stop being such a stubborn brat and let me make life easier for you by bringing you there, Gunnapat!"

"Mark! First of all, you were giving me a choice by asking if I would like for you to come back and help me to get to the dining hall. Second of all, don't call me a stubborn brat just because I turned down your offer to help me."

"Okay, okay, fine, you are not a stubborn brat. Just please, why is it so hard for you to accept a little bit of help from me? It's no big deal for me to come back and carry you to......"

"You are NOT carrying me to the dining hall!" Gun interrupted Mark, horrified at the thought of all diners' curious eyes on them as they went inside the dining hall with him in Mark's arms.

"Alright, alright, you can just hold on to my arm while I support you by holding your waist, how about that?" Mark finally gave in to Gun.

"That's about acceptable to me, thank you, Mark," Gun said, although there was a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.

"Call me when you're ready for me to pick you up, okay?" Mark waited for Gun to say "okay, thanks, Mark" before leaving Gun's cabin and shutting the door after him.

Gun lay back on his pillow, wondering how the hell did he get entangled with someone like Mark.

P'Godt was so much more gentle with him, not aggressive at all and P'Godt never assumed things, he always asked him first before doing anything for him.

He wondered if P'Godt was single and if he could pursue a close friendship with him, or maybe more than just friendship?

Gun let out a sigh before closing his eyes for a brief nap. He hoped that by tomorrow, as the nurse Krist had predicted, his ankle would have healed completely and he would be able to run away as fast as he could, far away from Mark and into P'Godt's comforting and protective arms.