nonsumtimere
{ x }
{ Confusion. His shoulder ached. His head ached. Felt like it was on fire, burning, pounding, soon to explode. Something wet trickling near his ear. Hands shaking, damp, weak. Lights, a whitewashed world, too bright, sounds, too far for comfort, make it stop. A shaky breath, and he moved, or rather felt movement. Sat up, head pounding, pounding, pounding away. What happened? He heard something whistling, heavy, large, a shout of warning, then he was gone. A voice. His? Words distant, odd, barely sensible to his muddled mind. }
“ Do I look okay? ”
“Hey, hey,” Cecil soothed, quickly trying to support Carlos’ head as gently as he can. He should probably be having him lie back down--he didn’t know the extent of his injuries, and Carlos had been standing so close. Cecil had a few cuts and scrapes himself, but he hadn’t been knocked unconscious. He wasn’t the one dazed and (slightly) bloody.
Cecil tried to smile, or look less concerned than he was. It didn’t work; the best he could manage was a small, shaky smile. “You, uhm,” he swallowed, and resisted the urge to pull Carlos closer. “You look like you’re going to be really sore. But that’s--that’s okay, because you’re going to be all right.”
