"Here, I need to clean you up. This might sting a bit..."
Hurt rp Starters
WORDS CAUSE HER TO LOOK UP, MEETING HIS EYES IN THE MIRROR & FOLLOWING HIS GAZE ; SHE IS ALL SHARP ANGLES & HARSH EDGES, tightly wound muscles & RESTLESS frame, fingers painted crimson — the cause of his words. She hadn’t even realized her makeshift bandage had bled through, but now she can feel the dull ache ( it’s nowhere near what she feels everywhere else. ) When there had been nothing but charred carpet & a too fast beating heart, when the danger was finally gone, she’d mumbled some excuse to wash up & found her way to the bathroom. That’s where Steve had found her, door ajar, hands holding both sides of the sink ( as if needing something to help stay upright ), trying to breathe. Bleeding hand is cradled tightly to her chest. ❛ It’s fine. ❜ Her response is automatic, words a mantra she’s been repeating for so long ( when her dad would forget a birthday, when things at home were too much, when she’d realized her parents had never loved each other, when her mom asked her where she’d been that night, when Barb had gone missing, when she’d come out of that place, & now ) she doesn’t know how to say otherwise. Voice is raw & eyes shut at the sound of it, at the reminder of screamed words ( Steve GET OUT! — God, his face. ) They hadn’t spoken since the mess by the theater — he hadn’t come here for her, hadn’t said anything when she had been here, yet the moment he’d seen her hand, it had been as if it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what had been said or done, didn’t matter that his face looked far worse than her hand, & she hadn’t had a chance to notice it as much then but she does now, & it’s like a punch to the gut. His words had been just as soft then as they are now & something about it, about the gentleness of the words, of the care seems to slash at her walls & her carefully built up bravado in a way nothing else could. A MONSTER? She can fight. ANGER? She can deal with, she can yell louder. But this? Here he is, having seen a monster &, instead of running the other direction, even after she’d pointed a gun at him, even after he’d had the chance, he’d run back ( He’d saved them. ) Even after he had been sure they were going to be okay. Here he is. Instead of asking for an explanation, instead of worrying about himself, he’s here. Standing inside the bathroom, yet allowing her a few steps of space, worried about her.
& something within her crumbles,
sharp angles soften just the slightest as she turns to finally face him, tension consciously eased as she carefully unwinds, gingerly holding out her arm. He says need as if he has to, & she almost wants to tell him. You don’t need to, don’t have to. But she doesn’t want to ruin it.
He’d seen the monster & hadn’t ran.
Maybe she didn’t have to worry about what he saw when he looked at her like this either.
