fic commission for @saenda
Laurent had always prided himself on his good memory, his ability to absorb and retain information, on being prepared for every situation, on keeping a cool head under pressure. They were some of his greatest strengths.
Right now, none of them were working.
Right now all Laurent could think was that Damen was lying in front of him, hovering somewhere just shy of consciousness. Laurent was acutely aware of the sound of Damen’s breathing – ragged, shallow, wet, each one dragging in and out of him – of Damen’s blood, warm and wet and staining his hands, dying both their clothes bright red that was slowly drying to brown.
And if Laurent had ever learned anything about how to treat wounds like this, he’d forgotten.
“Come on,” he muttered, pressing his hands a little harder against the gash in Damen’s side. That much he could remember; apply pressure, slow the bleeding. “Come on, wake up. You’re the soldier, tell me how to help you.” Damen was no physician, but surely he knew how to patch up a wound long enough to get to one. Surely that was a thing most soldiers learned to do.
If it wasn’t, Laurent was making a change to the training regimen the moment they returned home.
He refused to allow his brain to add an ‘if’ to that thought.