Chapter Six: Take Care Of Me

I woke slowly and hazily—only to find my face planted in a soggy mess of blood-soaked carpet.

Staggering to my feet, completely unaware of the time, I knew that there was only thing I needed to do. I had to get out of here. Now.

My nose was still dripping blood and I left a trail of blood droplets all through the rooms, on my way to the door. My head hurt with intensity as I pulled the door open and found my way to the ground floor of the hotel.

Running like a madman, I bolted through the hotel doors, and out into the cool night air, which would have been refreshing if I had really noticed it.

My legs just ran. Past the great stadium where the beybattles were held, past several buildings. As far as they could take me, and yet they seemed to be on a predetermined course.

I found myself at this same bridge I had been before, where my conversation with Mathilda had been. I could run no longer. I slumped to my knees at the side of the bridge.

Watching the blood drip, drip from my nose, painting my reflection on the water an eerie red, thoughts raced through my mind.

Why don't I just jump into the water?

It won't matter. No one will care. I'll let the current carry me to a new life… in the next world.

I began to lean forward. But before I could fall…

"Miguel! What are you doing?" came a voice. I knew who the voice belonged to, but I did not turn my head.

"Hey!" he called, running up to me. I sharply twisted my head away, so he couldn't see the blood.

"Miguel… why are you out here? What are you doing so close to the edge?"

"Go away Tyson." I demanded. "Leave me be."

But he did not leave me be. Instead, he took hold of my chin and guided it toward him, wanting to see my face which I was trying to keep hidden. When he saw my bloodstained face, he jumped a bit in shock.

"Oh my god, how did this happen to you?"

"None of your business, Tyson," I said, struggling to stand again. Rising to my feet caused Tyson to really see the extent to which I had bled, my shirt revealing the scratch-wound lines that complained with my every movement.

Tyson would not be denied. "Tell me, Miguel. If someone attacked you, it's important that we all know who it is! What if they come after someone else!"

"They won't, Tyson. This wasn't a random attack."

"Then what was it?" Tyson said, eyes widening as he began to realize before I could speak.

"It was a punishment."

Tyson's eyes filled with fire. "It was Barthez."

I would have answered him, but at that moment a pain in my head caused me to feel faint once more. I began to fall forward, hoping that I would blank before I had to feel the crunch of the stone bridge against my already abused face, but instead I felt warm, strong arms catch me.

"T-tyson?" was all I could speak before I faded again.

I woke up in a bright room. My shirt was off, I could feel the air against my chest. I reached a hand up to my nose, expecting to smear my fingers with blood, but instead, I just felt skin. Touching my chest gave the same result, the wounds were still there, but someone had cleaned them.

My clouded vision cleared up then, and I saw Tyson, sitting on a chair.

"Welcome back, Miguel. You were out for a while. I cleaned you up, I hope you don't mind. I washed your shirt," he said, getting up from the chair and walking over to me.

I was lying on a bed, and by the looks of the junk all over the place, this must be Tyson's room. But how did I get here?

"How did I get back to the hotel, Tyson?"

"I carried you!" he said, flexing his muscles. "I'm stronger than I look. But that's not really important now is it. You need to tell me about Barthez. Yeah, I know you disobeyed him, but that's no reason for him to beat you like he did. Does he beat the others?"

"No," I said, half-lying. He didn't beat the others because they followed orders.

Tyson looked at me. He was wondering to say, no doubt. I was certain he'd never been in this situation before. "Hey, Miguel. Tell me. If you think that what Barthez is doing is wrong, why did you follow his orders before?"

Ah. The question I did NOT want to answer. "I just did, Tyson. We've all been conditioned to do whatever he says. And…"

"And what?"

Silence. Should I tell Tyson the truth?

Eventually, someone has to know.

"Tyson. If you thought you loved someone with all your heart… wouldn't you too do whatever they wanted? Anything to please them?"

Tyson froze. "You.. love him?"

"I don't know anymore Tyson. I don't know. All the things I've been through, how he's trained me to beyblade and made love to me and beaten me down…"

"Wait—made love to you?" Tyson echoed, looking very disturbed. "You had sex with him?"

"Yes, Tyson. Practically every night," I admitted. "Everyone's been telling me it's wrong. I wouldn't believe, because I never believed he would hurt me… It seems that he cares about his orders being followed more than he cares for me," I said, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. I was crying before Tyson could respond, the streams of tears flowing down my cheeks.

I expected Tyson to be disgusted, perhaps even throw me out. But I never expected him to lift me into a gentle hug.

"Miguel… It's alright. You can cry."

And I did, weeping into Tyson's blue hair and holding him to me like a precious lifeline. He was my only hope now. I couldn't let go… but eventually, I did.

"Tyson… I don't know what to do…"

Tyson then hopped onto the bed, sitting beside me. "Barthez should be at the same meeting Hiro's at. It's going to be a bit before they get back. Stay with me."

I snuggled against Tyson like a little child. He smiled, but I could sense anger in his eyes.

"Miguel," he said sternly. "Barthez is going to pay for doing this to you. I won't let him get away with hurting you like this."

I looked up at him. Did I want him to get revenge?

"Tyson… this is my problem—"

"No! I'm involved now, and I will put a stop to your pain! He's evil, Miguel! He can do nothing but hurt you!"

I gazed into his eyes. Finding a genuine worry for my well-being, I relaxed, and lay slackly against him.

"Miguel. I won't let him touch you again. I promise."

I was about to protest this, still hanging onto the ghost-love I had for Barthez, when I felt Tyson lean down, and kiss my cheek. I was surprised.

"That's a real kiss, Miguel. From someone who truly cares about you. Let me help you."

He sounded so inviting, and I weakly embraced him, feeling his fingers going gently through my hair.

I'd had no idea that Tyson cared about me so. But now that I knew, it made me feel better about all of this. I had somewhere to turn. All my life I had felt that I had nowhere to go. But now, I felt that I had a new home, lying pressed against Tyson. A home where I belonged.

And so I let myself doze off, enjoying the comfort of Tyson's body.

When I awakened, it was to a slight shake.

"Wake up Miguel. You need to get back to your hotel room. I don't want Barthez to get angry at you again!"

I blinked softly, Tyson's concerned face greeting me.

I wanted to stay. But even I knew that I could not.

"Tyson… What should I do?"

"Don't worry. I said I would protect you. I will. But here's your shirt," he said, handing me the blue garment. "You need to get going."

Taking the shirt, I pulled it on and rose from the bed. Tyson helped me to my feet, and we walked out into the hallway.

When we'd reached the Barthez Battalion room, we both paused.

"Thank you, Tyson. I thank you for all you've done," I said, smiling. "I really appreciate it. You pulled me back from the edge."

Tyson blushed at my seriousness. "Anything for a friend."

Standing in front of the door, we looked at eachother, neither one of us ready to part just yet.

And then, it happened. Without even thinking, we both leaned in.

Our arms twined around the other's body, and our lips met. Tyson was so warm… I could have kissed him forever. But I did not. Eventually, the kiss was broken, we released eachother, and without another word headed in opposite directions, Tyson back to his room and me into the Barthez Battalion room.

Closing the door behind me, I walked to my own door, opened it, and flopped down on my bed. Not even bothering to get under the covers, I grabbed my pillow and squeezed it.

I didn't know what I was feeling. With such a warped idea of love I didn't dare try to identify my feelings, instead favoring just labeling them as intense and engaging. I wanted to see Tyson again. Soon.

For not the first time that night, sleep washed over my body, and this time, I welcomed it happily, looking forward to my dreams, for once.