<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">It had been a while since he'd seen Kais. He hadn't known what he was expecting after he'd as good as told him that he didn't <i>need </i>him. He shouldn't have been so crass. Just because he didn't need him, didn't mean he didn't want him. It was nothing of the sort. He just had a poor time showing how much he liked someone being around. This time, he had no one to blame but himself. His absence made Isaiah itchy for some sort of contact, and there were moments where he was tempted to call Dylan. He'd have him back if Isaiah went crawling to him. He wasn't sure he was ready to stomach the sort of supplicating that would require, and he'd gone out and found trouble instead.<br/>
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Or did it find him? Isaiah couldn't be sure.<br/>
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He would have eaten his shoe if it meant he could take back the words he'd spoken to Kais. He <i>needed</i> him now, and on some subconscious level, he knew he was the only person who could get him out of this mess. He recalled him saying that he could call on him if he wasn't busy. Isaiah had never asked <i>how</i> to do that. He had no way of knowing how to let Kais know he was in some deep shit, and that this was far removed from his capabilities. A gunshot wound, something so mundane for a human, certainly was probably nothing for a being like him.<br/>
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All he could do now was try to get out of the line of fire and crawl with his hand holding the arm of the couch, to get behind it.<br/>
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“Abn aleahirat!” he heard Kamil shout, though had no way of telling what he was saying. He could hear the familiar sound of his gun firing back though. He knew it was Kamil's because it wasn't the first time he'd heard him shoot at someone. He was firing in rapid succession, anger driving him, and Isaiah knew he'd have to stop and reload. He should have been taking cover like he was, but Kamil was bold, and he was furious. This was presumptuous, and Isaiah had no doubts it would have consequences. Unfortunately for Isaiah, they wouldn't matter because he imagined he'd be dead.<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Son of a bitch!</div>
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His heart was pounding away, and likely the cocaine in his system would make him bleed out even faster. He rested his forehead against the back of the couch, slumping against it, frowning. Kamil had come around the corner, bleeding as well. He was shouting something to him, shaking Isaiah. Isaiah wasn't processing the words. Kamil was wounded too, he did notice.<br/>
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Someone else was there, too though, and it took much too long for it to dawn on him that it was Kais. His vision was starting to fail him, but while he didn't understand what Kamil was saying, Kais' words seemed too familiar to him.<br/>
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“Kais, I'm going to die,” he spoke, his words soft. Then he snorted, cracking something akin to a smile. “Isn't that ironic?”<br/>
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There was nothing to smile about when next, the gunman came around to point the gun directly at Kais. Isaiah reached for him, though what that attempt was going to accomplish, he wasn't sure. Of course, he remembered how <i>mundane</i> a bullet was, for a Gregori. Time went still, and Isaiah was sure it was simply his soul trying to part from his body, at least until he saw their attacker be turned to ash. That was the last thing he remembered, fully, anyway. At least until Kais was there again, taking him away from the mess he was sure he'd brought on himself.<br/>
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When he next opened his eyes, he was back in his apartment. His heart was pounding again, panicked once more as he recalled those last few moments before he slipped from consciousness. His hand went to his thigh, but the only thing there was phantom pain, because Kais had healed him.<br/>
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“Kais,” he spoke, and his voice sounded desperate. Frightened and needy. It wasn't anything like his usual sure, sarcastic tenor.<br/>
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“Kais, are you crying?” Isaiah asked, reaching up to touch his face. It did nothing to ease his panic, worried that something had failed. Of course, he felt whole, but that could only be his imagination playing tricks on him. Suddenly Isaiah needed to be out of those soiled clothing. He shot up, gripping Kais' shirt tightly to steady himself.<br/>
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“Please, Kais. I need out of these clothes. Or I'm going to..”<br/>
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Thinking it was enough to make it happen. Isaiah leaned over the edge of the bed and wretched, spilling the contents of his stomach, meaning he vomited primarily whiskey. His body shook, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Healed or not, it had still been a traumatic experience, and things had happened too fast. It was all difficult to process. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and fumbled with the button on his jeans, wondering what he would find when he inspected the inside of his thigh, where he'd been shot.<br/>
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At the same time, he couldn't keep his hands off Kais either long enough to rid himself of the bloody clothing by himself. Obviously quite shaken, Kais served as a form of comfort that he was too upset to go without. He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding miserable.<br/>
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“Please don't say I told you so, Kais.” Isaiah requested. “I'll deserve it if you do, but not right now, at least?” He was trying to joke again, to laugh, but all that resulted was him breaking down, tears starting to cloud his vision, and he felt like a scared little boy all over again. He didn't have it in him to be strong in that moment.<br/>
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"I need you right now. <i>I'm sorry.</i>"</span></span>