The Before

     “Can you please stay still?” Hal asked for what seemed like the third time that day. Despite keeping his tone as even as possible, there was an edge there— his best effort to stifle a sigh. He would hate to make this seem like a problem.

     Though it wasn’t like Lamb was paying back that courtesy, as he didn’t look at all concerned with manners. Wriggling on his chair, hissing and puffing as the cotton wiped away his wound. It wasn’t anything dire, or else they would not be having this conversation

     “I’m trying,” Lamb muttered through gritted teeth. To his credit, he was. The gash on his side wasn’t lethal, but it wasn’t by any means a walk in the park. A gift, from the so-called mutants that infested their world’s surface.

     “It’s for your benefit,” Hal offered, trying to change his tactics, “The less you move, the faster I can help you.”

     “Can’t you, like, knock me out first?” He moaned, dramatic as always.

     Hal let out a chuckle, but the message was dully noted. “I’ll be more careful, “ he promised, “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

     “Not your fault,” Lamb admitted, through a toothy grin, “And it’s not that bad, it just stings a bit. I–  appreciate the help. Thank you.”

     “Of course”

     The blonde leaned back on his chair, seemingly more determined to keep the complaining to himself and let himself be taken care of. Then, for just a moment, that was that. Hal was back to focusing on his partner, making sure his movements were gentler than before, only applying pressure when he needed to clean his wound. All the while, he kept sparing glances at Lamb’s expression, trying to discern if anything was particularly hurting.

     Instead, he found himself distracted by the sight that was Lamb himself.  His forehead was a mess of blue and gold, all caked in sweat, grime, and hints of blood. Hal understood getting dirty after a scavenging mission, but the boy always managed to look like he had just been rolling around in the mud. Made him work overtime cleaning that wound, ensuring there were no infections that could burrow themselves within it. Still, that was that. How he longed for the comforts of a world gone by, where Lamb could have just enjoyed a long, relaxing, uninterrupted shower. Lots of good-smelling products, maybe some bath salts or coconut soap– anything to wash that scary reality they lived in off of his soul.

     Though the idea of Lamb smelling like scented body wash was so out of character, he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

     “Laughing at my pain?” Lamb moped with a pronounced pout.

     “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was laughing,” Hal said sheepishly, “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.”

     With a wave of his hand, Lamb sunk deeper into his chair, “Figured. …care to share what you were thinking about?”

     He had to think it over for a second, if he wanted to bring up the subject or not. It was– well, complicated, to say the least. Mostly for him than for anyone born through the new world. Still, he let out a sigh and took another second to compile all of his thoughts.

     “Just how easy it’d be to help you if we were in the, uh…”

     “Before?” Lamb suggested.

     Hal hummed in response, “Though I guess you wouldn’t have gotten hurt if we were in that ‘before’, as you put it.”

     Now it was Lamb’s turn to look pensive as if he was thoroughly mulling over that thought. Hal decided not to overthink it– he focused on the last step of his process, wrapping a clean bandage around Lamb’s torso, and hoping that would be enough to last through the night. Long, good-smelling showers were out of the question, but he would convince him to take just a quick bucket one before bed. Clean him as much as possible, and get him comfortable to rest his wound away.

     “I’m done,” he announced, once the bandage was snug and steady, “Does it still, hurt, or is it–”

     “You know,” Lamb interrupted, suddenly snapped away from his thoughts, “You’re right, but you’re wrong.”

     “... pardon?”

     “If we were in the ‘before’, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Lamb said, with a seriousness uncharacteristic of him. It was Hal’s turn to wriggle in his seat, uncomfortable with the weight of that statement. “But–”

     “Yes, well. It is something I think much of, and I deeply regret how things turned out.”

     “That’s stupid,” was Lamb’s response, throwing his head back, “And I wasn’t done. If we were in the ‘before’, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt, but I wouldn’t have met you, either.”

     “... Lamb”

     “Call me selfish,” He challenged, leaning forward on his seat to meet Hal’s gaze, face to face. That seriousness was gone as fast as it had arrived, and in its place was the usual spark that lit his resolve. Hal’s heart was beating faster, and all he could do was listen, watch, admire. Lamb continued, “But I’m glad the world went to shit. I wouldn’t have met you, otherwise.”

     Oh.

     “... you are selfish,” Hal blurted out, then burst out laughing at Lamb’s expression.

     Lamb’s face was dusted in scarlet, “I’d call it poetic or some shit!”

     After the laughing had died down, Hal finally managed, “You can be both, you know? ”

     “... oh yeah?”

     “Yeah,” he promised. If it meant being able to meet Lamb, well. Maybe Hal was selfish too.