Chapter One: Helping Taylor

Chris was dead. Marbles was dead. Teddy was dead. Taylor had been shot twice. Matty was in shock; he hardly felt as if he were living in the real world; it was like he was in a blur. His friends were gone; forever out of his life. Forever out of their parents lives and all because of him. If only he'd never asked them to help him retrieve that bag of money. If only he'd never been so desperate for his father's approval. The guilt was hard to bear. And not only did his friends die, but he'd shot and killed a man for the first time in his life. Teddy, his uncle, the man who'd been there for him while his pop was in jail. It didn't fill him with as much guilt as it could have, though; it was because of Teddy that his friends were shot, it was because of Teddy that Taylor was shot. And the gray-haired man had even tried to kill him, his own nephew. The only reason the memories of Teddy hurt Matty was because he had betrayed him. And though Teddy got what he deserved, Matty still didn't like the fact that he'd killed somebody. As much as he had tried to deny it, he wasn't the type that could easily kill a man, as if it meant nothing.

Bag of his father's money in hand, Matty helped his wounded friend Taylor into the jeep, then got into the driver's seat. He was still for a while as he processed what had happened; as he tried to compose himself. It was hard just to think; just to turn on the ignition, start and drive the car. His stomach turned and his heart ached. All he knew was that he wasn't doing anything for his father, anymore; he was giving up on trying to be what Benny "Chains" wanted him to be. As time passed and he thought more clearly, Matty was reminded of Taylor and what he'd done; he couldn't believe that the guy had risked his life for him. Matty knew Taylor had to care a lot to have done that; more than anyone had ever cared.

He turned his head toward his friend, checking on him.

"Taylor... how you holdin' up...?" he asked, voice soft; he spoke in a monotone, somewhat stoic after the incident.

When Matty spoke, Taylor's eyes opened, as if he'd been awoken.

"The bullet in my arm... it's still there... I gotta get it out," Taylor said.

"What? Shit, Taylor, we need to get you to the hospital," Matty replied.

"No... Go to the store... Get fishing line... A needle," Taylor said.

Matty looked at Taylor, brows creased, then nodded. He pulled up to the nearest store, hurried inside and got fishing line, needles, gauze, tape, disinfectant and pain killers. By the time he returned to the jeep and sat down, he realized Taylor had taken the bullet out of his arm; his shirt and jacket were off, there was blood running down his chest and arm, blood on his fingers. He was pale and breathing deeply, sitting still in his seat, as if he were too weak to even move. Matty's stomach turned. He touched Taylor's arm.

"Taylor...?" Matty said, cautiously, to see if he was still conscious. Taylor opened his eyes and turned toward Matty, lids heavy.

"Let me do this, alright...?" said Matty tenderly, brows creased, a frown on his face. He wasn't going to have Taylor do it when he could hardly keep his eyes open. Taylor lowered his hand and let it rest on his lap. He relaxed, appreciative, and let his head lean back against the head rest.

"Here..." Matty said, handing Taylor two pain killers and a bottle of water. Taylor took them, swallowed them with the water as Matty opened the pack of small gauze, using some to wipe the blood off Taylor. He then opened the disinfectant and, knowing it was going to burn, looked at Taylor with pity before spilling it on the wound on Taylor's arm. Taylor tensed and began to breathe deeply but he was quiet, otherwise. The guy was beyond courageous, Matty thought, as he spilled it on the other wound on Taylor's shoulder.

"What were you thinkin', huh...?" Matty softly asked as he looked at Taylor, remembering how quickly Taylor had pushed him out of the way to take the bullets. Frowning, Matty looked back down at the wound on his muscular friend's arm and once Taylor's breathing settled down, he opened the kit of needles and the fishing line.

"... That fuck..." was all Taylor said, his voice low and disoriented; his eyes shut. Matty looked back up at Taylor and clenched his jaw, knowing he was referring to Teddy. He swallowed, feelings of love and passion rushing through him. He'd never felt more cared for or admired.

"I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you, man..." Matty tenderly said, appreciation in his voice. Taylor said nothing as Matty prepared to stitch his wounds.

"You ready for this...?" the black-haired man asked quietly, sympathetic. Taylor nodded, brows lowered as he looked out of the corner of his eye at the needle. The sooner the better; he couldn't just keep bleeding.

Matty had tied the fishing line to the needle properly and looked at Taylor before he began to stitch his skin back together. Taylor's brows would lower as the needle pierced his wounded flesh. Matty did it as fast as he could, not stopping for a second until both wounds were closed, then he covered each in gauze and taped it to Taylor's skin. He then slowly helped Taylor put his shirt and jacket back on, as it was cold that night.

Matty came to the conclusion that he loved Taylor. He'd always loved Taylor but the feeling had never been as strong as it was then and there. And he thought, after seeing that Taylor was willing to give up his own existence for Matty's, that Taylor had to have felt the same.

To Be Continued...