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For Alex, America had always been a breath of fresh air. He travelled from place to place for each race, but America held a fond place in his heart. Perhaps he was biased because Logan could attend the race and watch him, and afterwards Alex could return to the hotel and cuddle with his boyfriend. Maybe he was biased. But who could blame him? It was Logan.
Though currently, he wasn't there for a race. It had come and gone, and he now had the next week off, so he could spare a couple of days with Logan and they could spend some well-deserved time together.
Today, they had decided to start with a run. Not too early because Alex was not a morning person. He had spent too long living with George, and the Brit was up as soon as the birds were singing, dragging Alex on runs in the brisk morning dawn when the rest of the world happily slept. Logan, thankfully, was the same. So mid-morning, after a lax breakfast, they chose to go through some of the nearby fields. Logan had found this place after the end of his contract was announced. A sweet secluded house surrounded by farmlands and meadows. It was a picturesque spot, an image fit for a postcard card and the fact that Logan wanted to share his little slice of paradise with Alex made his heart squeeze.
The run had started fine. Like any of the runs they had been on before. Not long after they had started, though, Logan had gone quiet. Their usual chatter fell short as he became increasingly more focused on his breathing patterns. Alex quietly slowed his pace and Logan subconsciously matched it.
It wasn't until Logan started coughing, body doubling over as he stumbled to his knees, that Alex realised something was wrong.
"Logan," Alex called, trying to get his voice past the spluttering, "Lo, do you have your inhaler? Which pocket?"
"Left," he wheezed, voice whistling.
Alex reached down to his boyfriend's shorts, but when he slipped into the pocket, he found that there was nothing. The right side was empty as well. "Logan, it's— I can't find it," he stammered.
Logan's eyes widened, coughs forcing their way out of him as he scrambled into a sitting position. His hands fumbled against his pockets, also realising nothing was there. "Shit," he croaked, panic morphed his features. He looked up at Alex. His face had reddened and his brows now furrowed in worry.
"Okay, okay," Alex stood, looked around. It had been ten minutes, and their pace was slower than usual since Logan had been slipping out of breath easily. Realistically, Alex should have seen the signs. Should have asked if Logan wanted to stop. However, there was no time for him to dwell on what he should have done; instead, he decided to do something that could be very, very stupid.
"Stay here, try and breathe— I know it's hard but I'll be back. Promise." He said before sprinting back the way they came.
He ran.
Logan's asthma had never been too bad. Alex had learnt about it once they became teammates, as the whole team needed to be aware of it in case of an emergency. He had learnt it wasn't as bad as it could be, according to Logan (though he knew his boyfriend was prone to belittling his own problems) and was assured that it only flared up once in a while. Alex discovered Logan had hay fever, and so spring was always particularly nasty. Even if most of the time he just had his inhaler as a precaution. Sometimes, when training put a little too much strain on him, he would find himself using it to steady his breathing. However, most of the time, he was okay. Spring was a different story. Pollen could trigger a flare-up up but Logan was always cautious to have his inhaler with him.
It must have slipped his mind. Or he thought he had put it in his pocket. He had been so certain when he told Alex to check the left side. Realistically, Alex should have asked before they left, too. Made sure he had it.
Fuck.
Fucling fuck.
The house came into view and Alex barreled through the front door. There it was, sat on the table in the entrance, next to the trinket dish where they left the keys. Alex picked it up, held it tight in his hands and even though his chest heaved and his stomach had started to coil, the run having pushed him much further than he had intended to push himself this morning, he shut the door and started up a sprint again.
Nausea wormed its way through him, but he shoved it down as he leapt through the tall, dry grass and past the blurred dotted trees. He could suffer after he had reached Logan. A cramp twinged the back of his calf, and Alex almost came crashing down to the ground, but he miraculously managed to stay upright. The sight of Logan, head between his legs and form trembling, was enough to give him a spurt of energy, and he thundered down the path.
He practically fell in front of Logan, opening his palm and shoving the inhaler in his boyfriend's line of sight, who instantly took the small bit of plastic and pressed it into his mouth.
Logan rapidly took in a few puffs before moving it away from his mouth. He huffed out a gasp. He repeated the motion. Alex watched on wearily, praying they didn't have to call an ambulance. If he had sprinted all that way for them to realise they should have called the services instead, he was going to start sobbing because of his own stupidity. His nerves were frayed. His body tingled with fear as he watched Logan take another inhale.
Then, all the tension came crashing down when Logan gave him a jerky thumbs-up. Not quite trusting himself to talk without breaking into a coughing fit again, but it was enough to say I'll be okay.
Alex sagged, crawled a little further away from Logan and promptly threw up his breakfast into the grass.
Logan made a panicked sound, but Alex feebly waved a hand around and hoped that conveyed I'm okay, too. He was a little preoccupied with gagging up bile to explain that the sprinting to and fro meant he had overexerted himself. Now his body was scolding him by forcing his stomach to unfurl. It had him heave up a mess of toast, eggs, and remnants of a smoothie.
Breathing through his nose, he closed his eyes and spat into the grass. Gross. Though with his stomach now empty, he felt calmer. Still exhausted, but he knew he was doing better than Logan. When Alex sat down to face his boyfriend, he noted how Logan looked dishevelled, sweaty, and his chest was still rising and falling a lot more than normal. But he was there. His breathing was slowing down little by little.
"What a run, aye?" Alex joked, and when Logan chuffed out a laugh, he felt the last bit of stress leave his body. His boyfriend was okay. They'd be okay.
"Tell me about it." Logan's voice was crackly. He frowned briefly. "I thought I had my inhaler on me."
"It was by the door. On the table. You must have left it there, thinking you had taken it with you. Next time, I'll double-check you have it."
"But it's not your responsibility—"
"Lo, I want to. I care for you, like you care for me." Alex cut in softly. "I don't see it as a hassle. Not when I get to take care of you. Not if it means you are safe, that will never be a hassle."
"Okay." Logan agreed. Alex had thought there might have been a little fight about how he was being a bit overbearing. But Logan looked knackered, and Alex couldn't imagine how scary it was for Logan, too. Alex had been terrified, and he wasn't the one who had to go through it firsthand.
"How are you feeling?" Alex asked gently.
"Shaky," he responded honestly. "But okay."
"Good." Alex stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. He wondered if he had to clean up his vomit? What were the rules about throwing up in a random field in the middle of nowhere? Well, he could think about that later. His current priority was taking Logan back home, plopping him down on the sofa, and showering him with so many kisses and compliments. He held out his hand and helped Logan up. "Let's go home."
Logan hummed. "Yeah. Home. Home sounds good."