“Yeah well I don’t need your help, what are you even doing here anyways?” He bit back defensively.
“I’m here because I care believe it or not, I’m not a monster.” I replied, it was true. I knew he was hurting more than words could ever express, but a part of his words stung.
“Yeah sure, you always reserved that title for me,” he hissed as he pulled off my coat.
His body was littered with bruises, and the gunshot wound started bleeding again. I stepped forward, gripping his arm more forcefully.
“Your wound needs to be cleaned,” I sternly told him as he pulled against my hand.
“Don’t touch me,” he whispered. I hadn’t paid it any attention until his fist slammed into my jaw. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me,” he said again.
“Alright. How about you shower first? Then we’ll take care of the wound?” I offered.
He shrugged, but flipped the nozzle to the shower on and turned, stepping out of his pants.
I swallowed hard as I watched him. His body mass had dropped since the last time I’d seen him; you could tell he hadn’t been getting the best food consistently, but he was still well-built. It made me pause. I inspected his body for any other wounds, or that’s what I told myself to rationalize my prolonged gaze. He didn’t seem bothered by my looking, as if desensitized or didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which. A knot formed in my stomach. What did they do to you?
I laid out gauze and a quick suture kit on the counter. I pulled off my own T-shirt, tossing it in the corner as I washed up in the sink. I began stitching my arm up with gritted teeth. Usually, I wouldn’t stitch myself up if I didn’t have too but seeing as I sentKade and James off somewhere to do gods knows what, I was working with myself.
I’d just finished the first pass when Scott grabbed my arm, taking the needle from my hand. He stood there wrapped in a towel, still dripping with water.
“You’re going to end up with a huge scar that way,” he said.
I hadn’t even heard him get out of the shower. He probably had watched me sike myself up for it.
“How’d you learn to do this?” I asked as he took over the stitches, making a cleaner look than I would have ever managed.
“My uncle had me fight in the rings they’d run, they’d have random weapon nights and I always managed to have a few wounds,” he shrugged as he pulled the silk tying it off. “There, it won’t scar to deeply.” I turned toward the mirror; a goofy grin crossed my face.
“Thanks, now your turn.” I said, holding up a fresh kit.
“No thanks,” he said, holding up his hands.
“You can’t leave it bleeding, How about this, every time I touch you, you can hit me? Cause like it or not I’m going to stitch your wound. So keep track cause once I’m finished it’s free rein.” I offered in compromise.
He mulled that over for a few minutes before nodding, “fine.”
He stayed absolutely silent and as still as a board until I tied off the silk. I pulled his arm, looking it over for good measure, and then stood back.
The first punch landed in my side, as if he’d been planning it for a few minutes, and I doubled over as pain shot across the wound. A few seconds later his fist slammed into the opposite rib and I coughed.
Blocking the third hit, he looked at me with surprise before I popped him in the nose. Bone hit bone as rage coiled behind his eyes.
I never said I’d take the punches without returning them.
He slammed me into the wall, fists swinging as he bared his teeth at me. I didn’t block fast enough when he landed a solid punch on my left eye.
“Fuck” I cursed. My right fist landed squarely on his jaw. His head turned, and he jerked me into the mirror. Glass smashed from the mirror as the jumbled chaos continued.
At some point, I tripped over his towel and landed squarely on my back. He strangled me, punching my ribs over and over, pinning me between the top and the counter.
I thrust upwards, flipping him over as another punch landed.
Our labored breaths mingled as the fight died down.
“Fuck you!” he yelled out in frustration as I pinned his hands above his head, trying to fight me off with his legs, but we were both out of steam
I smiled down at him, a soft chuckle coming from my lips, “Well Adams, are you done?”
