elisebakers › · nightingale
she’s just finished ordering when he calls for her —— an omelette for him, a burger and fries for her —— and she’s not ready for the sight of him sitting on his bed, lights from his room illuminating his roughed up face better than the dim, overhead lights of the street lamps outside of the hospital. dark purple bruises dot his face, the proof that he had, in fact, gotten into a fist fight with joseph. she sees the cut that needed stitches, right on his cheekbone, followed by a few more tiny cuts on his temples, cheeks, and one massive one on his lip. evan . . . she thinks, reaching out and resting her hand against his cheek, thumb brushing gently against a patch of unharmed skin, gaze softening as she takes it all in.
her hand drops and she moves her hands to help with his jumper —— she weaves his arms through the sleeves and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the floor and then resting her hands atop his shoulders. “ did he get your shoulder too? ” she says quietly, gaze shifting from his face to the problem arm, then back to his face. no, she could have sworn he said he only got hit in the face this time. “ let me grab you a clean shirt. ” elise turns away, crossing his room to his closet.
he would have to be blind not to notice how her face changes when she gets through the door and sees him. he’s not sure if it’s shock or pity or something else but , either way , the intensity of her gaze on him makes him look away. he’s never been one to feel ashamed of his fights ⸺ in fact , he usually wore his bruises with 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚. if someone wants to speak out of turn , wants to insult him or his family or make a move on his girl , he will do what needs to be done , even more so if the other guy hits first. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 . . .
with each stroke of her eyes against his battered skin , his guilt grows. he hates that she saw him in that light , saw that 𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚, watched his unstoppable fall into the thrill of fight ⸺ that she now has to see him so vulnerable , 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 but her question wrecks him even more. she turns from him and he can only chuckle with no humour. it’s almost a scoff , really. ❛ no . . . that wasn’t him . ❜ he takes a deep breath that he follows with a sigh to collect himself. how does one bring this up gently ? ❛ that was ⸺ ❜ he pauses , counting the years it had been since. god, it feels like so long ago. ❛ four years ago , i think . ❜ he wants to stop there ( she doesn’t need to know the 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 ) but he knows she’s going to ask questions if he does. so he sighs again , squaring his shoulders to give himself a little courage. ❛ ethan and i got in a scuffle with cory , anthony and ian . they , uh ⸺ i don’t know which one , but one of them stepped on my shoulder . it’s been giving me problems since then . ❜