Elliot Reynolds (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meonmyway2stealurgirl) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixwordstories2015-02-09 08:46 pm
meonmyway2stealurgirl) wrote in sixwordstories2015-02-09 08:46 pm
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Beaten up, bloodied knuckles. Smoking cigarette.
It isn't the first time. It isn't even as bad as the first time he had actually stumbled upon a fight. It's just that it will never matter if it's a first time or a millionth time.
The sight of Elliot's pale skin covered in bruises and spattered in blood will always stop his heart completely.
"--shit."
Clearly he'll never get more eloquent about it, either.
The sight of Elliot's pale skin covered in bruises and spattered in blood will always stop his heart completely.
"--shit."
Clearly he'll never get more eloquent about it, either.
She's seen all her boys battered. She's cleaned blood out of Edgar's hair and wound bandages around Max's arms and pressed compresses to Toby's cheek and picked glass out of Charles' hands. She's held Elliot's hand through the terrible process of pulling at the threads of what's hurt him the most in his life.
This is different.
And this has her heart too high in her throat for more than just a moment to do anything but stand incredibly still with her fingers clutching unconsciously at the collar of her own shirt while she tries, desperately, to find the words for the moment. There have to be words that will help, that will soothe, that will take this young man farther away from his own penchant for hurt.
For a long moment, nothing comes. Her voice, when she does speak, is so tight in her throat she's almost uncertain he'll hear her. "...put that out before you come inside."
This is different.
And this has her heart too high in her throat for more than just a moment to do anything but stand incredibly still with her fingers clutching unconsciously at the collar of her own shirt while she tries, desperately, to find the words for the moment. There have to be words that will help, that will soothe, that will take this young man farther away from his own penchant for hurt.
For a long moment, nothing comes. Her voice, when she does speak, is so tight in her throat she's almost uncertain he'll hear her. "...put that out before you come inside."
It isn't the first time. It's quite likely it won't be the last, either.
His boyfriend's muttered oath comes with a sigh and a drag of the cigarette-- as deep as he can manage with likely bruised ribs.
"'m fine, Ed."
His boyfriend's muttered oath comes with a sigh and a drag of the cigarette-- as deep as he can manage with likely bruised ribs.
"'m fine, Ed."
It should pang in his heart to hear the hurt in hers. It usually does, but the buzz from the nicotine and the adrenaline and the lingering hurt and anger is keeping the guilt from properly sinking in.
It takes him a moment to note she's spoken. Glancing over at her is brief, and he finds he can't meet her eyes. His nod is jerky as he lifts the cigarette to his lips again.
"'ll right."
It takes him a moment to note she's spoken. Glancing over at her is brief, and he finds he can't meet her eyes. His nod is jerky as he lifts the cigarette to his lips again.
"'ll right."
"Y' sure?"
It obviously isn't something he completely believes. It obviously isn't something that will stop the Club from tugging his sleeve over his own fingers so he can reach for Elliot's free hand and dab, with a certain roughness, at the blood. He can't help wanting to know how much actually belongs to his boyfriend.
"Don't look it."
It obviously isn't something he completely believes. It obviously isn't something that will stop the Club from tugging his sleeve over his own fingers so he can reach for Elliot's free hand and dab, with a certain roughness, at the blood. He can't help wanting to know how much actually belongs to his boyfriend.
"Don't look it."
There's something clutching tight around his heart. It's the last thing in the world she'd ever want to add to what's gripping him so tightly.
Breathing has to be an infinitely careful thing to begin to be certain she isn't.
"Don't... be long. Please."
Breathing has to be an infinitely careful thing to begin to be certain she isn't.
"Don't... be long. Please."
There's a certain stiffness to the way he allows Edgar to dab at the blood. Taking another drag will mask the slight hitch in his breath as the cleaning touches on scraped skin.
"Should see th'other guy."
"Should see th'other guy."
That does hit a little at the guilt that wants to break free. Nodding will come after a moment.
"--I won't."
"--I won't."
"I bet." There's an attempt at a laugh in the words. It's just that it tugs painfully at his heart to feel the stiffness in his boyfriend's body; to feel more than see the hitch in Elliot's entire being. "Y' need... a minute?"
Because there had to be something ritualistic about this--the fighting, the smoking, the cleaning up which would follow when he could drag Elliot somewhere properly private and safe.
Because there had to be something ritualistic about this--the fighting, the smoking, the cleaning up which would follow when he could drag Elliot somewhere properly private and safe.
"Thank you."
That, at least, she can say almost in a proper voice. Her fingers slowly begin unclenching from their spot on her collar as she turns back toward the door.
"Just-- bandages or...?"
It wouldn't be the first time she'd stitched one of her boys up, if it came to that.
That, at least, she can say almost in a proper voice. Her fingers slowly begin unclenching from their spot on her collar as she turns back toward the door.
"Just-- bandages or...?"
It wouldn't be the first time she'd stitched one of her boys up, if it came to that.
A careful breath. Then another, before he can nod. His fingers curve slightly, briefly around Edgar's before he lets go again.
"Just-- just a minute."
"Just-- just a minute."
He needs to take another drag before he can respond.
"I think so." A beat, before he adds, "Maybe ice, too."
"I think so." A beat, before he adds, "Maybe ice, too."
His own nod is entirely jerky. His entire body shudders slightly as he moves to drop down heavily next to Elliot for the moment.
"...okay."
They can take a minute. They can breathe and pretend things are entirely okay for a minute. It's just also entirely true that Edgar won't make it the entire minute without needing to reach out, to tangle his arm around Elliot's, to find a spot against the other teen's shoulder for his cheek, to reach and steal a drag of the cigarette despite the fact he can still barely take a proper pull without coughing.
"...okay."
They can take a minute. They can breathe and pretend things are entirely okay for a minute. It's just also entirely true that Edgar won't make it the entire minute without needing to reach out, to tangle his arm around Elliot's, to find a spot against the other teen's shoulder for his cheek, to reach and steal a drag of the cigarette despite the fact he can still barely take a proper pull without coughing.
"I'll be waiting."
And the door will be left open even once she leaves it. The bathroom will be paused in for longer than it takes to pull down the first aid kit.
Her breathing won't be all that much better even after she takes that moment, of course. There will still be a shake in her hands as she roots around in the freezer for peas.
And the door will be left open even once she leaves it. The bathroom will be paused in for longer than it takes to pull down the first aid kit.
Her breathing won't be all that much better even after she takes that moment, of course. There will still be a shake in her hands as she roots around in the freezer for peas.
It will take a few moments before he's able to relax into Edgar's settling. Surrending the cigarette comes more on instinct than anything else.
The sigh is soft when it escapes; is accompanied by a careful slump against the other young man. His head buries against his shoulder so the words come out in a muffled mumble.
"...I love you."
The sigh is soft when it escapes; is accompanied by a careful slump against the other young man. His head buries against his shoulder so the words come out in a muffled mumble.
"...I love you."
Maybe the shake in her hands will be less of one by the time he finally goes into the kitchen. It takes him a while to finish the cigarette. A little bit more before he can actually bear to follow after her.
Settling into the chair comes with a careful catch of his breath. It's unimportant when he has to murmur a rough, "...Sorry."
Settling into the chair comes with a careful catch of his breath. It's unimportant when he has to murmur a rough, "...Sorry."
The cigarette tastes much more like copper than usual. He's fairly certain it's the sensation of Elliot's blood beginning to fill his own mouth. That has him coughing more than his continued slow tolerance to pulling smoke into his lungs.
It's all smothered now by a pained laugh in his throat as he passes the cigarette back. His face shifts slightly to press a little more fully against the top of Elliot's head.
"God, you can't-- know how much I love you, Elliot."
It's all smothered now by a pained laugh in his throat as he passes the cigarette back. His face shifts slightly to press a little more fully against the top of Elliot's head.
"God, you can't-- know how much I love you, Elliot."
The time does help. The time is enough to keep her features very carefully in line as she brings the frozen bags in a glass bowl to set at his elbow.
It's the apology which briefly has the trembling back in her fingers.
"...for what?"
It's important to have clarity, after all.
It's the apology which briefly has the trembling back in her fingers.
"...for what?"
It's important to have clarity, after all.
His nose nudges against Edgar's shoulder as he takes the cigarette back. He has a sneaking suspicion he'll leave a smudge of blood against the fabric, but he can't bring himself to shift away.
"Prob'ly not," he admits.
He doesn't really get, after all, how it's possible to be loved quite so much.
"Prob'ly not," he admits.
He doesn't really get, after all, how it's possible to be loved quite so much.
He has to grab one of the bags to rest against his ribs with a faint wince before he's able to reply.
"'ve-- worried you."
And it makes him feel guilty, to know he has.
"'ve-- worried you."
And it makes him feel guilty, to know he has.
"Promise-- Promise you know that I do, though."
It feels oddly more important just now, with the sense of tightness in Elliot's body where they're half-tangled together; with the slick feel of blood on skin and fabric between them.
His breath comes just a little jerkily as he buries his face more into Elliot's hair. "Promise you-- know that I need you, even-- if you don't understand it."
It feels oddly more important just now, with the sense of tightness in Elliot's body where they're half-tangled together; with the slick feel of blood on skin and fabric between them.
His breath comes just a little jerkily as he buries his face more into Elliot's hair. "Promise you-- know that I need you, even-- if you don't understand it."
"Mothers worry."
That's not true of all mothers. She knows, acutely, that that's not true of all mothers. It's still what falls off her lips as she pulls sterile wipes out of the first aid kit.
"Let me see your hands."
That's not true of all mothers. She knows, acutely, that that's not true of all mothers. It's still what falls off her lips as she pulls sterile wipes out of the first aid kit.
"Let me see your hands."
"I... I do."
He thinks, anyways. He feels a little more certain when Edgar is buried this close.
"I-- promise."
He thinks, anyways. He feels a little more certain when Edgar is buried this close.
"I-- promise."
"Doesn' mean I should-- make y'worry extra."
Which he knows he has. It's what makes him so reluctant as he offers her his hands.
Which he knows he has. It's what makes him so reluctant as he offers her his hands.
It absolutely helps him breathe more easily to hear. It also helps, at least himself, to repeat it all the same.
"I love you." His brow furrows as he nuzzles closer, breath as steady as he can manage as his free arm shifts to pull more properly around the other teen's shoulders. "Come-- come home. Please. Let us-- take care of you."
"I love you." His brow furrows as he nuzzles closer, breath as steady as he can manage as his free arm shifts to pull more properly around the other teen's shoulders. "Come-- come home. Please. Let us-- take care of you."
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