#6, Darry Imagine
***I’m baaack! So, it’s been a while since I last posted an imagine. Like, several years. Looking back, my older writing is a lot more theatrical than it is now, in an excessively dramatic way. My apologies. I wrote this one recently after my extended hiatus. It’s a shorter, more fun one, so I hope it makes up for it!
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I sat perched on the living room couch, leafing through the pages of a new book. I tuned out the noise of the construction on my roof until a surprised grunt and a string of muttered expletives interrupted me from my reading. I set the book on the coffee table then rushed outside to find a rather tall, broad-shouldered worker awkwardly descending the latter propped against the wall, using only one hand as the other was clutched to his side.
“My apologies ma’am,” he said with a nod at me, seemingly ashamed at his choice of words. I waved it off.
“What happened to your hand?” you questioned directly with a glance at the red beginning to ooze from the hand, which was cradled in his other. Before waiting for a response, I gingerly reached for his arm and opened the palm. A gash ran across the side of his palm, which I presumed was from a slipped nail. It wasn’t deep, but it ran long. “Better come with me.”
Once inside, I seated him on the closed-lid toilet, then I rummaged through the open cupboard. I pulled out various boxes and bottles. “My mom is a doctor,” I explained, noticing his interested expression. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.” I rinsed the wound over the sink with some water, smeared ointment on it, then pressed a piece of gauze on the site where the bleeding was slowing. I had him keep pressure on it as I began to clean the counter.
“You’re all caught up on your tetanus boosters?” I asked. He nodded.
“Hard to work construction without them,” he replied.
I knelt before him, then pulled the gauze away, the bleeding mostly ceased. I replaced it with a clean peace, trimmed my medical tape into thin strips, and used the pieces to pull the sides of the wound together. After five were securely in place, I handed him the roll of tape and the rest of the gauze in the box I opened, instructing him to replace the strips daily for at least the next 10 days. I proceeded to hand him a couple of ibuprofen tablets, which he promptly swallowed with the glass of water I offered him.
“Thanks,” he said, grasping my hand with his good one. He held it for a moment, then let it go.
“I’m Darry, by the way.”
“(Y/N). Nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you too. I, uh…” he muttered, then hesitated. After a moment, he asked with renewed confidence, “would I be too forward if I asked you to join me for dinner on Saturday evening?”
I was taken by surprise. “I’m actually busy this Saturday,” I told him, noticing his expression fall, then added, “but Thursday works well for me.” He smiled.
“Thursday it is.”
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AN: My mom is a physician, and I recently learned that you aren’t supposed to use hydrogen peroxide or alcohol on wounds. Rinse cuts with water and soap if necessary to get any dirt or debris out, and that is typically sufficient. While hydrogen peroxide does kill germs, it kills healthy tissue too, delaying healing and worsening scarring.
