． ． ． the ground is swaying when he opens his eyes. ash cuts through a film of copper in his teeth, bitter and cloying, as if the upside down itself is trying to force its way down his throat; he has to bite his tongue to keep quiet, forcing down frantic breaths that could give them away. ( it was hard enough for nancy to find this hiding spot without steve screwing it up again. )
real smooth, harrington. first time on a crawl and he ends up bleeding out in some rotting version of the radio shack he and robin raid every wednesday; and of course nancy has to witness it all, because why just get hurt when you can also make it spectacularly inconvenient?
she'd be better off just leaving him here in the upside down.
but @handspike isn't like that - she doesn't give up, no matter the odds, no tolerance for bullshit when there's something to be done. while steve's busy watching the shadows shiver like his beamer on a bad spark plug, she's tearing up her outfit to make a tourniquet - and before he knows it, she's tying it tightly around his leg, just a few inches above the wound.
pain shoots up his thigh in jagged bursts. "okay, okay, shit. that's definitely tight," he hisses. he shifts himself just slightly, wincing, and notices the way her hand hovers near him, tense and frozen. she's scared for him. and he… he can’t let that happen; that wide eyed look cuts right though his goddamn chest.
"nance... hey." his blood-soaked hand fumbles for hers in the darkness, interlocking their fingers, and he meets her gaze with the bravest face he can muster while his leg is burning in a steady, cruel rhythm. "don't freak out. just look at me, alright? i'm fine - everything's gonna be fine. maybe... maybe it's not as bad as it looks."
