41. Choice

This is a different kind of cold. Not just a chill. It’s a bone-deep, numbing cold that creeps through his entire body, leaving his skin clammy and his senses dulled. The kind of cold that makes him question whether bones can actually go numb, a sensation that feels more like a heavy, damp fog than a sharp sting.
The logical part of his brain insists that at this time of night, the temperature usually hovers around twenty-three to twenty-six degrees. Even when the blistering sun sets in Thailand, the heat only eases slightly. He should be warm, maybe even sweating, but instead, he’s shivering uncontrollably.
Jet forces his eyes open. The world around him is a blur. Oppressive silence presses in, making his head buzz and his ears ring. The grit beneath his cheek is like shards of glass against his skin, every tiny grain digging in, making his face prickle with a mix of sweat and dirt. He can taste the saltiness of it on his lips, mingled with something metallic.
The ground under him is wet. Not with rain—there’s no moisture in the air, no fresh scent of rainfall. The wetness is something else, something sticky that soaks through his clothes.
Get up, Jet.
He rolls onto his knees, muscles screaming in protest, stiff and uncooperative. A searing pain stabs through his side, tearing a gasp from his throat. The sound is rough, desperate, turning into a wet cough that rattles his chest, each tormenting convulsion forcing his body to curl in on itself. A coppery taste fills his mouth, thick and unmistakable. He spits, and a dark stain splatters the ground. Blood. His.
Nail’s face flickers in his mind, the empty handle of a box cutter dangling from one hand. Jet’s own hand instinctively moves to his side, where the pain radiates outwards in waves. He can feel the blade, a jagged foreign object tearing at his insides, buried too deep to pull out himself. The silk of his shirt clings to him like a second skin, heavy and slick with blood. The fabric pulls against the wound with every movement, aggravating the pain.
You ruined the shirt Luca gave you, idiot.
The absurdity of the thought jolts him. A bitter laugh bubbles up, only to die in his throat, choked off by another wave of pain. His legs shake uncontrollably beneath him, but he forces them to move. Each step is an agonizing effort, every muscle in his body protesting. He clamps his right arm tight against his side, trying to hold himself together. His left hand reaches out, searching for something to steady himself with.
The ground beneath him is unsteady, as if the earth itself is shifting, swaying under his feet. His vision swims, and he can barely make out the shapes around him. But then his hand connects with something solid.
Wall. There’s a wall. Follow the wall, Jet.
The rough texture of the concrete is a welcome anchor, something real to hold onto. He presses his forehead against the cool surface, trying to catch his breath, each inhale a ragged, painful rasp.
He takes another step, his fingers scraping against the rough surface. The pain flares up again—blinding agony that makes him want to collapse. Jet digs his teeth into his bottom lip, forcing his body upright. The wall is his lifeline, guiding him forward, even as every part of him screams to stop, to rest.
Follow it. Just follow it.
◼️◼️◼️◼️
“Do you feel better now?” Mali glances sideways at Kai as they make their way down the street. It’s the first time in a while either of them have stayed up this late--other than to study--and Kai is grateful he didn’t have to sort through his feelings alone.
“Yeah, a little bit.” Kai smiles at her. Hearing Mali’s explanation of how she had mended her relationship with Jet has made him feel just a little better. Consuming all that porridge had helped too.
Mali slings an arm around him. “Good. Then I’ll walk you back to your dorm and we can both go home and get some much needed sleep.”
Kai nods. He doesn’t actually feel tired, but going back to his dorm and at least lying down is probably a good idea, given everything else that happened tonight. His brain isn’t turning cartwheels anymore, so he’ll most likely fall asleep whether he wants to or not.
Mali was right: Jet was a good listener, and Kai needed to stop second guessing himself. All Kai had to do was wait for his older brother to cool down, then try and explain himself again. If Mali understood, then so would Jet.
Kai’s phone buzzes and he answers the call without even looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”
“You should be thanking me.” The voice on the other end is low, but unmistakable.
Kai grips the phone hard as fingers of ice trace down his spine. “Nail?”
“I said, you should thank me,” Nail repeats. “You took too long to choose, so I made the choice for you. You’re welcome.”
“Nail, what did you do?” Kai doesn’t even bother to keep his voice from rising. Ahead of him, Mali turns and gives him a confused look. “Nail! Answer me!”
“Check outside your dorm. Jet’s there.” Nail hangs up without another word.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit!
Kai picks up the pace, ignoring Mali’s questions as he sprints down the street. His heart pounds in time with his feet as he tries to make sense of what that phone call could possibly mean. There's a bench just to the left of the dorm’s entrance. At this time of night, it should be unoccupied. But it isn’t. There’s someone slumped there, clearly visible under the bright lights surrounding the dorm. His clothes are disheveled, his body sagging against the bench as if he’s barely holding on.
“Jet!” Kai darts forward, grabbing his older brother by the shoulders to hold him upright. “What—”
“Get the hell off me.” Jet’s voice is strained. “Don’t want to see you.”
“And yet you’re outside my dorm.” Kai tries to snark, but can’t keep the trepidation out of his voice.
Mali drops down on Jet’s other side. “You sound funny. Are you drunk?”
“Is that what it looks like?” Jet lifts his head with visible effort so that he can look Kai in the eye. There’s no color at all in his face. “I got your message. ”
“Huh?” Kai blinks at his older brother.
“The Shark...” Jet grasps Kai’s shirt, fingers sliding against the fabric as they try to maintain their hold. “And Nail. Gave me your message.”
Apprehension courses through Kai as he shakes Jet’s hands off. “What’s wrong with you?”
“A lot.” Jet groans as he slumps against the back of the bench. “Call Kit. Need to see him. Then go ’way.”
Kai’s brow furrows. “You don’t want me to call Luca?”
Jet shakes his head, almost losing his balance. “Just Kit.”
In the light spilling out through the glass doors of the dorm lobby, Kai can see Jet’s right arm is pressed just a little too tightly into his side. There’s something odd about the color of Jet’s shirt. Kai could have sworn it was a lighter shade than it is now.
“Jet.” Kai swallows against the lump building in his throat. “Is that your blood?”
“It won’t stop,” Jet mumbles. “I can’t—”
He would have fallen off the bench if Mali and Kai hadn’t caught him. Now that Jet’s arm is limply hanging, they can see the dark stain spreading from under his shirt, the blood soaking into the bench beneath him.
“Call Kit,” Mali moves Jet so that he’s lying instead of sitting, then presses both hands over that red, sticky mess. “Do it, Kai. Right now!”
Kai’s nod is wooden, his movements robotic. It’s hard to get Jet’s phone out of his pocket, so Kai pulls out his own. The call is picked up on the ninth ring.
“It’s three a.m., jackass.” Zone’s voice is slurred with sleep. Maybe it doesn’t always take an earthquake to wake his best friend up.
“Jet’s here,” The words tumble out of Kai’s mouth. “Jet’s here and there’s a lot of blood.”
“If you finally offed your brother,” Zone yawns. “I’m not going to help you dispose of the body--”
“This is not a joke, Zone!” Kai fights to keep his voice from shaking. “Jet’s here, and he told me to call Kit, but I don’t have his number, just yours. He won’t stop shaking and he won’t stop bleeding, and you need to come out and help me cause I don’t know what the hell to do!”
Silence.
Kai’s fingers tighten around the phone. “Zone?”
“Where are you?” Zone’s voice sounds totally different now. “Kai, tell me where you are.”
“I—I’m outside the dorm.” Kai swallows and takes another shaky breath. “You need to call Kit—”
“You said Jet’s with you?” It’s not Zone's voice who interrupts him, but Kit’s. Zone must be staying at Kit’s condo tonight.
“Yes,” Kai is finding it very hard to breathe, much less think. “Yes, he’s with me. There’s a lot of blood—”
“Kai,” Kit’s voice is level, almost too calm. “Take a breath.”
Kai sucks in air, but chokes on it. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No. We’re closer.” There’s a rattle of car keys on Kit’s end of the line. Scrambling and shuffling sounds. “Stay with Jet. Don’t move him and try to keep the bleeding under control. Don’t do anything else, understand?”
“Yes,” Kai starts to shake. “Um, when are you going to be here?”
“Give us ten minutes. Hang up the phone and take care of Jet til we get there.” Kit hangs up before Kai can say anything else.
“Kai,” Mali reaches out and tugs him down next to her, guiding his hands toward the rapidly expanding red stain on Jet’s side. Her eyes are dark with worry, but her voice is level and calm. “I need you to press down. Right on top of my hands. He’s out cold; you won’t hurt him anymore than he already is.”
Kai lowers his hands on top of Mali’s and they both press hard against Jet’s side. Jet jerks once, feebly. His skin is like ice beneath Kai’s fingers. The shallowness of the breaths coming between those pale lips is a sound that makes Kai’s heart stutter.
My fault. This is my fault.
Both the seat of the bench and their hands match the color of Jet’s ruined shirt, and the grass beneath the bench is sodden by the time Kit’s car pulls up to the dorm. Zone is with him, and both are stone-faced when they see Jet.
“Kai!” Zone drops down next to his friend, putting his hands over Kai’s already bloody ones, applying more pressure to the gash in Jet’s side. “Are you ok?”
“It’s not my blood.” Kai can barely get the words out. “It’s all Jet’s.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.” Kit’s voice is tight with suppressed emotion.
“We found him out here, but we don’t know how long he’s been like this. He said something about Chalam before he passed out,” Mali’s voice is still steadier than it should be under the circumstances. “And Nail.”
“It was Nail,” Kai emphasizes. “Nail made my choice for me.”
Something flickers across Kit’s eyes, but his face doesn’t change. “You’re going to explain what that means, but not now.”
Kai nods. “I’ll explain whatever you want.”
Kit picks Jet up, careful not to jostle him too much. “Get in the car. Zone, can you call the hospital so they know we’re coming?”
“Yeah, of course,” Zone is already on his phone. “I’ll text Em, too. She’s probably back at work by now. I heard her tell Talay she was only taking part of the night off so she could celebrate with us.”
Kai still can’t move. “What about Mali? She should come too. If Jet—”
“Jet’s going to be fine,” Mali gently pulls Kai to his feet, sounding as though she’s trying to convince herself as well. “Kai, look at me. Everything will be fine. Go to the hospital with Kit and Zone. I’ll meet you there, ok?”
Jet is put in the back of the car, with his head on Kai’s lap. Zone and Kit exchange worried looks, but say nothing.
As Kit starts driving, Kai puts a hand to his brother’s face. If anything, Jet’s temperature seems to have dropped. “Why won’t he stop shaking?”
“Talk to him,” Kit keeps his eyes on the road ahead. “Say anything you like, but don’t stop talking to him until we get to the hospital.”
A month ago, Kai would have rolled his eyes and felt like a total idiot for doing what Kit asked. This time though, looking down at his unconscious older brother, Kai’s eyes start to burn and he doesn't know what to say first.
“Jet.”
I’m so sorry. I don’t hate you anymore.
“Jet.”
I need you. I want my older brother back.
Tears fall onto Jet’s colorless face. Kai’s arms tighten around his older brother’s body. It’s like holding a corpse. Kai won’t let go. If he stays close, then Jet will stop shaking. Jet will get warm. Jet will open his eyes. He has to. He has to.
“Don’t die, ok? Jet…” Kai’s voice breaks as he says his brother’s name. “Can you wake up, please?”