Felix flinched when Ash grabbed his arm–not because it hurt, but because the contact brought him back. His eyes were wide, tear-bright, and wild with panic, but the second he saw the way Ash was swaying, how his face had gone pale and his voice was barely there, something in Felix clicked.
Be useful. Help. Now.
“Yes! Yes, I’ve got it,” he said quickly, already fumbling for his bag. His fingers shook so badly it took three tries to unzip it, and when he finally pulled the phone out–big, clunky, and covered in sticker residue from when he’d tried to make it ‘less ugly’--he nearly dropped it.
He hit the call button with his thumb and held the phone to his ear, trying to keep it steady. It was one of those big bricks–the kind that was ridiculously expensive and he’d last used it the night he met Leo, to call his neighbors–but tonight it was something that would hopefully help his friend.
“You’re okay,” Felix whispered, one arm around his shoulders to steady him. His other hand held the phone, knuckles white. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Help’s coming. Just, oh, don’t pass out.” He really could have been talking to himself at that point, too.
He glanced toward the water gun booth–at the flickering lights, the unnatural emptiness, the smell still clinging sharp in the air like burnt plastic and metal–and felt his stomach twist. “That wasn’t water,” he murmured, half to himself. What was going on?
He forced the thoughts down. He wouldn’t be good to either of them if he kept freaking out.
“You're doing so good,” Felix said, his voice trembling even as he tried to make it soothing. “Just keep breathing, Ash. I’ve got you. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
The line clicked in his ear, and Felix’s voice pitched up again as he gave the dispatcher their location, hands still tight around Ash like he could anchor him to the world through touch alone. He didn’t dare look at Ash’s arm again. He couldn’t. If he did, he was scared he’d lose what little calm he had left.
The medics arrived faster than he expected–flashes of red and white cutting through the carnival haze, all sharp motion and clipped instructions. They moved quickly, efficiently, guiding Ash toward the back of the ambulance. Felix followed without hesitation, only to be stopped by a man in uniform who raised a hand to block his path.
“Only family or designated loved ones,” the man said, firm but not unkind.
Felix stared at him, dumbfounded, as if the words physically didn’t compute. “Are you kidding?” he said, voice pitching up as the panic rose again. He gestured wildly between himself and Ash. “Look at us. We’re clearly related.” His face was comically serious, like he was trying to manifest a shared bloodline through sheer force of will.
When the man didn’t budge, Felix took a deep breath and dropped the act, his voice quiet but full of weight. “I’m not leaving him alone.”
For a second, it was a silent standoff–just the sound of carnival music drifting in the distance and Ash’s labored breathing behind them. Then, finally, the medic stepped aside with a short nod.
Felix didn’t wait for a second invitation. He clambered in after Ash.