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Alan rushed into the hospital, walking quickly past the musician and straight to the reception desk. He set his hands on the counter, waiting for a nurse's attention. "My name's Alan Brandt, I'm here to see my father, Aldrich," he said, nodding once she told him where his father was. Glancing back once to Reed in a silent question for him to follow, he ran down the hall, eyes frantically searching for his father's room. Finally finding it, he hesitated before opening the room, then took a deep breath and walked in.
He immediately wished that he was just having a nightmare.
Laying on a bed was a half-asleep, heavily drugged Aldrich, an IV connected to his unbandaged hand and wavering in and out of consciousness. He looked over to the door, smiling a little at his son. "Bobojan," he breathed, watching his son walk over and sit beside him, tears in his eyes. "Why're you crying?"
"Because you're hurt, Papa," he said, using the name he'd called his father as a child. "I can't stand seeing you hurt."
He chuckled hoarsely. "I'll be fine, Alan," he tried to soothe, reaching his uninjured hand up to stroke the younger man's cheek. "Don't cry anymore. I'll be alright."
Alan shook his head, holding hand against this father's as his tears fell rapidly down his face. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I should've been there, I shouldn't have shut you out!"
Aldrich shook his head, tugging gently as he pulled Alan to his chest, hugging him lightly. "Hush, Bobojan. It's alright." His eyes, matching the man in his arms, glanced over to the door to see who was there. Who had his son brought with him?

Aldrich patted his son's back, then gently pushed him away so he could move the bed and sit upright. Once he was sitting up, more or less, he held out a hand, for the teacher to shake. "I'm Aldrich Brandt, his father. Are you trying to sleep with my son?" he asked bluntly, hard eyes on the musician.
The scrawny scientist lightly smacked Aldrich's shoulder, enough to smart, but not to harm. "Father! How could you ask such a thing?"
"I told you what all men are after, Alan. This one looks like a Shupa soutpeel." Aldrich winced as he was struck again.
"Don't call him that! Reed's a nice man." He glanced over at Reed, unable to help the tiny blush he felt warm him cheeks.
Catching it, Aldrich frowned. "Oh, so you like him?" He glared over at Reed. "Take responsibility!"
"Father!"
"What, I can't look out for you?"
"I'm a grown man, I don't need my father to babysit me and the men I'm with."
"So you're with him? I knew it!"
"Yes!" He gasped, covering his mouth. Looking up to the clock, Alan kissed Aldrich's cheek then started for the door. "Visiting hours are over, see you tomorrow, Papa, goodbye!" Grabbing Reed's arm, Alan tugged him out of the room and back into the hall, waving goodbye and shutting the door before leaning on the wall and closing his eyes. "Well, that was nightmarish," he said, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

☸ Alan Brandt ☸

"don't say that," sighed Alan, standing upright and setting his hands on his hips, trying hard to calm his rapidly beating heart. "I'm nothing like my father. He's rude, conceited, obnoxious, has absolutely no care for anyone else's feelings, and thinks that no one alive is good enough for me. You should've seen him when I was still in college." He shivered at the memory, then, in a rare case of PDA, wrapped his arms around Reed's waist and leaned his head on his chest, closing his eyes and breathing slowly in and out. "I'm glad we got it over with, though," he said, voice muffled by Reed's shirt.

☸ Alan Brandt ☸

He shook his head a little, so as to not move Reed's chin off of his head. "He got shot. That's the extent of my knowledge. Apparently, he's not saying anything about it, probably wants to get revenge on his own terms." He inhaled deeply the scent of Reed's shirt, then turned his head to exhale into the free air. "But when I find out who did this, I'm going to kill them myself." His voice, unmuffled now, was clear as a bell and steady. "Even if it means my downfall, I will get them back, and I won't miss."

☸ Alan Brandt ☸

"How do you know what I can handle?" he asked forcefully, removing his arms from Reed and pushing away from him. "What, you think you can hang out with me for a couple months, kiss me all of two times, then presume to know what I can handle? If my father can make it through two civil wars, then I can take revenge on the ones who tried to hurt him." He shook his head, taking another step back. "I'll take a cab home." Alan turned on his heel, starting down the hall and to the entrance. He didn't really want to talk to Reed anymore, much less go back to his place, eat pizza, then pass out on the couch.

☸ Alan Brandt ☸

Alan only huffed, refusing to look back at Reed. "What does it matter? You aren't going to help me no matter what I say, anyway!" He kept walking, not wanting to stay with the musician for much longer. He was beginning to really lose his temper.

ξllery Ѧdvimi



Ellery walked close behind Fredrich, feeling a bit of unrest from being inside another hospital room. He shook his head at the sight, then turned as Lock reentered the room. He looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days, his hair tangled and dark circles under his eyes adding years to his appearance. He ran a hand over his hair and face, a small patch of blonde hair attached to his face in a small, but visible shadow. "Lock, you look terrible," he said bluntly.
The blonde moved closer, wrapping his arms around Ellery and hugging the slender songwriter to his stronger body. He closed his eyes, bowing his head onto the man's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here," he murmured as Ellery hugged him back. "I'm so glad you're here, Ellery."
The brunette rubbed the younger's man's back, holding him in his arms and attempting to comfort him. It almost looked as though he were trying to comfort Daniel.