{"id":4158,"date":"2020-06-08T09:34:50","date_gmt":"2020-06-08T16:34:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=4158"},"modified":"2020-06-10T09:17:57","modified_gmt":"2020-06-10T16:17:57","slug":"say-you-wont-let-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=4158","title":{"rendered":"“Say You Won\u2019t Let Go”"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Fan Fiction Written Sadie West<\/em><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Short blurb<\/em><\/strong>: When Trevor stands up Ian Gallagher, Ian barges into his apartment to find out why. He discovers Trevor bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness after a brutal attack. EMT Ian to the rescue.<\/em><\/em><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Three hours late. Three hours<\/em> without answering a call or a text.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian Gallagher checked his phone one more time as he jogged up the stairs to Trevor\u2019s apartment. Trevor would never stand him up and then go radio silent. He was too good a person for games like that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which made Ian think something was seriously wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pounded on the door. \u201cTrevor?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian knocked again, louder. The door opened, but the chain was on, and Trevor\u2019s roommate Scott poked his nose into the crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Trevor?\u201d Ian demanded. \u201cIs he in there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust go, man,\u201d Scott pleaded. \u201cThe neighbors\u2019ll call the cops if you don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrevor!\u201d Ian shouted into the gap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scott put a hand on the door to steady it. A bloody hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhose blood is that?\u201d Ian demanded, though deep down he already knew. \u201cWhy is your hand bloody?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d Scott whined, glancing anxiously behind him. \u201cGet out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Trevor? Who\u2019s bleeding?\u201d Oh, fuck it<\/em>. Ian backed up, took a breath, and shouldered the door open. The chain snapped and Scott scurried away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrevor,\u201d Ian called, heading for the man\u2019s closed bedroom door. He didn\u2019t wait for permission to enter, but whipped it open. For a worried moment, he catalogued the scene. That\u2019s what his EMT training had done for him. A bloody victim meant a crime scene, and Trevor\u2019s bedroom certainly qualified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were droplets of blood on the glossy hardwood floor, smears of red on the sheets and pillows, and curled in a fetal position amongst the messy bedclothes lay Trevor, looking improbably small and fragile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrev?\u201d Ian called more softly as he crossed the room in three long strides, his EMT training taking over completely. \u201cWhat happened? What\u2019s wrong?\u201d He bent over the bed and checked for a pulse first and an airway second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJesus,\u201d Ian swore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor\u2019s swollen and bloody face was almost unrecognizable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was one thing to see a stranger beat to hell and back while out on a call. It was something very different seeing the man he loved in such a state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He needed to do something. He needed to fix this.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor roused under Ian\u2019s touch, and he woke with a jolt. He came off the bed faster than Ian expected, knocking him back a step and then throwing a wild punch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet your hands off me,\u201d Trevor screamed. \u201cDon\u2019t touch me!\u201d One haymaker caught Ian on the jaw, and he stumbled into the dresser.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian tried once to hold Trevor by the wrists simply to keep him from hurting himself, but the moment Ian locked hands around him, Trevor went ballistic, smacking him hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian recognized what he hadn\u2019t seen before. Angry red ligature marks circling both wrists and bruising around his throat. He\u2019d been held down and with force.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor hit Ian on every spot he could reach, but soon his pleas degenerated into desperate, \u201cDon\u2019t, don\u2019t,\u201d and his punches became little more than slaps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s me,\u201d Ian said, blocking a half-hearted left hook. \u201cTrevor, it\u2019s Ian. Let me help you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor dropped his arms like two dead weights at his sides, and then he hung his head and swayed dangerously to the right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShit.\u201d Ian caught him before he fell, capturing him against his chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor\u2019s head lolled over Ian\u2019s arm, and Ian cupped the back of his skull. There was no way not to see everything they\u2019d done to Trevor. His left side was the worst\u2014swollen, pink, and still oozing blood\u2014but a deep scratch bracketed his right eye as if his face had been ground into concrete. Gently, Ian lowered him to the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without even thinking about it, Ian went through his assessment protocol. He ran his hands through Trevor\u2019s hair, sticky with blood, and then across his brow and cheekbones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo obvious fractures,\u201d he murmured, briskly checking for a broken collarbone or serious injuries to the arms. He studied the bruises ringing Trevor\u2019s wrists more closely. Definitely finger marks. Ian tilted Trevor\u2019s chin gently one way and then the other. Finger-sized marks around his throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou probably have a concussion,\u201d Ian said, his voice husky as he attempted to remain clinical. Because if he started to think too emotionally about what Trevor had been through tonight, he\u2019d lose it. Do something stupid. Something crazy<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why you\u2019re disoriented and losing consciousness,\u201d Ian remarked, shifting to continue his assessment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The front of Trevor\u2019s trousers had been torn open. One half of the broken zipper had been ripped free of most of its seam and the button at the top of the fly was missing. Ian brushed aside Trevor\u2019s shirt with the excuse of checking his abdomen for signs of trauma, but he really wanted to assess fresh bruises on Trevor\u2019s lower belly and the crest of one hipbone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re okay,\u201d Ian panted, holding on by a thread. \u201cBabe, you hear me?\u201d He scowled into Trevor\u2019s battered face. \u201cLet\u2019s get you back in bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Crouching, Ian slid an arm under Trevor\u2019s shoulders and knees, his boyfriend\u2019s limbs dangling lifelessly, and carried him to the bed. He removed the only shoe Trevor still wore and covered him with a blanket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Someone had done this. Probably someone Trevor knew. Ian bit back the rage insisting he find the perpetrators and murder them. Violently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was a task for a later date. Right now, Trevor needed him present, calm, and thinking clearly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But Ian tossed those good intentions out the window as he sent the open bedroom door a hateful scowl over his shoulder before storming out of it. He grabbed a startled Scott by the shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat the fuck happened to him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know!\u201d Scott exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBullshit. Tell me what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI swear. He came in a while ago, falling and crying. I thought he was drunk. He tried to punch me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen he comes home like that, you call me,\u201d Ian ground out, driving Scott harder against the wall. \u201cI\u2019m an EMT, dipshit. I can help. You always call me if Trevor\u2019s in trouble. If he has a runny nose. You call me first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scott squirmed. \u201cHe made me promise not to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian tossed the mousy bastard aside and then gathered a bag of frozen veggies from the freezer and a washcloth before slipping back into Trevor\u2019s bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hadn\u2019t moved an inch. Flat on his back, his face pulverized, he looked broken, and it made Ian sick inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor was the best man Ian knew. He didn\u2019t deserve this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBabe,\u201d Ian said, bending over the bed. \u201cI need you to wake up.\u201d In the case of a head injury, Ian had been trained to keep a patient awake and talking as long as possible. \u201cWake up.\u201d Using the moistened cloth, Ian gently rubbed dried and clotted blood from Trevor\u2019s left eye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor woke with a start, a full-body tremor. \u201cNo,\u201d he cried, striking out at Ian. Just as abruptly, though, Trevor curled in on himself, shielding his head with both arms and drawing his knees up until he was as small as he could make himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrevor,\u201d Ian breathed, leaning over him while simultaneously trying not to crowd him. \u201cIt\u2019s me. It\u2019s Ian. Please look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment, the muscles in Trevor\u2019s arms unclenched and he turned his face toward the sound of Ian\u2019s voice. \u201cIan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, babe.\u201d He deflated with relief. \u201cIt\u2019s me. I\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIan.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor reached for him, and Ian gathered him into his arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2014they\u2014\u201d Trevor gasped, clinging to Ian\u2019s shirt, his fingers talons. \u201cNo, they\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Ian said, kissing the top of his head and shifting on the bed to hold him even closer. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to say it,\u201d Ian assured. \u201cI know. Trevor, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He cried then, deep, wracking sobs that shook them both. The kind of crying that scared Ian. The kind of crying that could break a person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian held him through it, whispering soothing promises into his hair, massaging his back and shoulders. Slowly, Trevor\u2019s breathing evened out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey.\u201d Ian jostled him. \u201cStay awake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor wiggled his forehead deeper into the crook of Ian\u2019s neck. \u201cMmm head hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without releasing him, Ian grabbed the bag of vegetables from the bedside table and pressed it to the side of Trevor\u2019s face. He flinched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re not exactly frozen anymore,\u201d Ian said, \u201cbut the cold will help with the pain and swelling.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIan?\u201d Trevor queried, as if he wasn\u2019t sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight here, babe,\u201d Ian assured. \u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor relaxed into Ian\u2019s chest, resting his full weight against him. \u201cDon\u2019t leave me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d Ian swore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor\u2019s breathing deepened as his hands relaxed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey,\u201d Ian said, pulling Trevor further into his lap. \u201cStay awake a little longer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTired,\u201d Trevor groaned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI should call my crew,\u201d Ian lamented. \u201cYou need to be in a hospital. You could have serious head trauma.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Trevor sat ramrod straight, his hands grabbing at Ian\u2019s collar. \u201cYou can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan\u2019t what?\u201d Ian asked, massaging his biceps and then his hands. He frowned into Trevor\u2019s swollen eyes, particularly his left, and sensed Trevor wasn\u2019t looking back. \u201cCan you see me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As gently as he could, Ian opened the left eye, despite Trevor\u2019s protests, to assess the damage. He knew what a detached cornea looked like. Or a blown pupil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor\u2019s left eye was bloodshot, but appeared intact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can see you,\u201d Trevor exclaimed, fighting back. \u201cIt\u2019s blurry, but I can see, you fucker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor swatted him away and lay down again, drawing his face into his knees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKeep the veggie bag on your left side,\u201d Ian told him. \u201cIt\u2019ll help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian stood from the bed trying to figure out what to do next, how to help Trevor, how to support him. If he called the cops, they\u2019d take Trevor to the hospital and examine him, exposing him as transgender. They\u2019d want to complete a rape kit. They\u2019d mis-gender him. They\u2019d make him feel about as low and helpless as he\u2019d ever felt as a troubled teen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As an EMT, Ian\u2019s first instinct was to call for help. As a boyfriend, though, his only instinct was to protect. Boyfriend Ian won out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed beside Trevor, purposefully leaving an empty gulf of rumpled sheets between them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor slid one hand away from his face, and Ian clasped it. He wouldn\u2019t look at him, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know that DJ we like?\u201d Ian asked softly. \u201cShe\u2019s going to be at a club on Western in a couple weeks. I also heard she writes and performs her own stuff, too. Old-school country western songs. Can you believe that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor\u2019s voice emerged from under his arm small and muffled. \u201cI thought the boots she wore were ironic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian chuckled. \u201cExactly. Me, too. But apparently, she\u2019s a big fan. Though she\u2019s the first country singer I\u2019ve ever seen with gauges and a face tattoo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna need a tattoo,\u201d Trevor said, \u201cto cover up my new ground beef face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour face is gonna be fine,\u201d Ian assured. \u201cMy brother Lip gets beat to shit at least once a month. Cold compresses and a combo of acetaminophen and ibuprofen work like a charm. You\u2019ve seen Lip. Girls still dig him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIan, they\u2026\u201d Trevor\u2019s voice wobbled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian squeezed his hand. \u201cDo you know who it was?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood.\u201d Ian would find them. \u201cI\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLucky I\u2019m dating an EMT, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. Trevor had brought light and purpose into Ian\u2019s life. Trevor made Ian want to be better. \u201cI\u2019m<\/em> the lucky one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trevor scooted across the mattress and snuggled into Ian\u2019s arms. \u201cYou\u2019re full of shit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ian pulled him in close. \u201cI may be full of shit, but my love for you is not<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exhaling and settling his cheek on Ian\u2019s chest, he whispered, \u201cStay? Even if I fall asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere, tough guy,\u201d Ian promised. \u201cNot now. Not ever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thanks for reading!<\/em><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

<3 Anna & Sadie<\/em><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Like vampires, shifters, and cheap books? Join my monthly newsletter<\/a> today.<\/em> <3 Anna<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Fan Fiction Written Sadie West Short blurb: When Trevor stands up Ian Gallagher, Ian barges into his apartment to find out why. He discovers Trevor bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness after a brutal attack. EMT Ian to the rescue. Three hours late. Three hours without answering a call or a text. Ian […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"\"Say You Won\u2019t Let Go\" Fan Fiction","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[826],"tags":[869,732,870,736,871,731,828,150],"class_list":["post-4158","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fan-fiction","tag-archive-of-our-own","tag-fan-fiction","tag-gay-romance","tag-ian-gallagher","tag-m-m-romance","tag-shameless","tag-shameless-us","tag-trevor"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","views":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2Wkl2-154","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4158","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4158"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4158\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4290,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4158\/revisions\/4290"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4158"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4158"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4158"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}