“Mmm,” Finley managed a tired hum. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to be awake. He just wanted the high to end- it wasn’t fun anymore. It hadn’t been fun from the start, actually, but now it had just gone from bad to awful. Everything hurt, and with his attempt to relax his body, the tremors started up again. He was starting to feel more nauseous, too. A soft whine escaped his lips.
Fin could tell now that the vet kneeling beside him was scared, just by her voice. Did he really look as bad as he felt? Was that even possible? He drew in a long breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tighter against his pounding headache. God, he just wanted to sleep. The shivering that wracked his body picked up a notch, and he drew his knees to his chest. Why was he so cold?
“Okay,” Fin agreed, his voice small. He felt almost childlike, with how vulnerable he was both physically and mentally. That scared him. It scared him how much he wanted to be held, to be comforted. He hadn’t seen anyone for days and only now was he realizing how deprived of touch he was, even if it was just the empty caresses that came with his frequent one night stands. What a time to be realizing this, when he was bleeding heavily and higher than a kite.
Luckily for Finley, the effects were finally beginning to wear off. It was subtle, coming in the form of a slight increase in the coherency of his thoughts. It wasn’t much but at least the edge was wearing away, a sign that he was coming down. It provided a small relief in his haze.
She was relieved when he had agreed for her to help him. Bridgette nodded her head, deciding it was best not to waste time and started to climb back to her feet. She brushed off her dress, moving to the door way before looking back at the other. “Try not to fall asleep, okay? I’ll be right back -- five minutes tops.”
Bridgette didn’t wait for a response, instead taking the opportunity to quickly head back downstairs. Upon arrival into her own apartment, the small black cat which was curious about her abrupt exit had reemerged into her sights. Shadow watched her curiously as she raced back and forth, gathering the supplies she needed to try and clean him up. Following behind her as she headed back towards the door, Bridgette quickly gave a pat on his small head before juggling her supplies back up the stairs.
She half expected him to fall asleep but was relieved when she came back and he still appeared to be coherent (or however coherent he could be considering the situation). He looked terrible, on the brink of passing out but once she would begin cleaning the cuts on his arms she could almost bet that he would be jolted awake. Especially the one cut that was particularly deep. As Bridgette settled back down next to him with her box of supplies placed neatly beside her, she didn’t say anything as she begun to fish out the cleaning alcohol and a few gauze pads. He was probably going to hate her by the time she was finished.
“I’m going to clean your cuts, okay? I’m not going to lie, it’s going to REALLY hurt,” Bridgette spoke with a small half smile as she covered a gauze pad in alcohol. Hesitantly she reached out, her soft fingers lightly touching his upper arm closest to her as she brought down the gauze pad on the deeper of the cuts. Immediately it had begun to oxidize the blood surrounding it, and she couldn’t help but cringe in thought of the pain it must’ve caused. Bridgette could only hope that maybe the drugs would help ease his suffering for now.
“ -- Sorry, you’re probably going to hate me," She mumbled quietly as she held the gauze pad in place with the palm of her hand, “Especially when I tell you that I’m going to have to stitch this cut up.”
annaxmalina
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
dededos
areudirty
ellievsbear
origamiaround
vaporwave
discoholicmusic
