Characters: Fay, Mello When: March 25th/ after this Where: Room 502 Rating: TBD. Possible violence and swearing. Summary: Mello is injured and Fay offers what help he can
Having pulled out the first-aid kit he'd wisely stolen from Credinta a while back, Mello was sitting on the worn couch in the living room, his coat and shirt stripped off and slung over the back of the couch. He hadn't had a chance to turn on the generator yet--and clearly, nobody had been here in a few days--so the room was freezing, but he had no time to mind that now.
Mello looked up at the knock, and was about to call for Fay to come in when the other pushed inside anyway, earning himself a strict look but, surprisingly, no reprimand. Mello only pursed his lips critically, sparing him only a glance before looking back down to toss aside the blood-drenched cloth over his left arm and replace it with another, pressing hard.
"I got shot," he stated the obvious, in flawless French to match Fay's language.
An eyebrow arched for a moment as Mello spoke words he was able to understand, and while they didn't call it French where he was from the two languages were close enough that there wasn't much to distinguish them from one another.
He dropped his sheet by the door, drawing closer and frowning. "We don't have guns in my world," he said, taking a knee before the couch and tilting his head to look into Mello's eyes, make sure he wasn't in shock. He'd grown familiar enough with guns in their travels, he wasn't fond of them. Ripping tearing things. "Did it go straight through?" he asked, offering up the sake.
Mello frowned at him when he caught Fay staring into his face like that and shifted away slightly, in pain and irritable--and thus, not entirely appreciative even if the other was only making sure he was all right.
Taking the sake from him, Mello pulled away the cloth he was using to stem the bleeding and poured a bit over his wound, not too much so as not to waste it. His jaw clenched, eyes stinging and the muscles in his throat jumping from how tightly he gritted his teeth, but he made no sound of pain.
He shook his head at the question; it would take a second to get his voice back. For now, he reached for the knife on the table in front of him and poured a little of the alcohol over it as well.
Fay winced as Mello poured the stuff over his wound. Kid was made of strong stuff, but he shouldn't have to do this all by himself. He reached out his hand to lay over Mello's, the one with the knife, shaking his head, "You do that to yourself and you're going to pass out," he cautioned gently, "Let me help you. You don't have to act so strong all the time."
His other hand reached towards Mello's forehead, wanting to check his temperature before he did anything, maybe smooth back his hair so he could watch his eyes properly.
The touch to his face brought a soft hiss to Mello's lips and he pulled away, forcing out a rough, "I'm fine."
He wasn't. He'd been shot a good while ago, on his way out of the burnt remains of the village he now knew had been called Cronoss, and had dragged himself through the snow to get back. He'd lost a lot of blood, hadn't eaten properly in a few days, and was starting to shiver with the cold of the room after taking off his wet clothing.
Fay was right. He probably needed help--but Mello had always been rather terrible at admitting such a thing, stubborn to the end. Hell, it had taken him getting half blown-up to ask for Matt's help, and he was someone Mello trusted.
Fay beamed at him, withdrawing the hand. "You sound like Kurogane. Are you going to let me help you or you going to let yourself suffer because you're stubborn?" he asked calmly. He noted the shivering and hesitated a moment before writing out a spell with a finger, he owed him that much, he could't contact the witch, and had....essentially driven a wedge between he and Matt within five minutes of talking to them.
The room lit with blue writing and his fur lined coat from Celes appeared, Fay draping it over over him before he could protest. He held out his hand, waiting to see if Mello was going to give him the knife or press on himself.
Mello's eyes widened for a moment during the spell, taking a second to realize what it was, and though he had never witnessed anything of the sort, his previous conversation with Fay had at least provided him with the groundwork to realize what was going on. Mello frowned at the glowing blue writing suspiciously, but didn't have time to protest when suddenly a coat appeared, quickly covering him by the time he realized what had happened. He said nothing about it however, instead turning to stare dubiously at Fay's hand, held out for the knife.
"How much medical experience do you have?" he questioned coldly.
Fay smiled in a way which suggested he had very little. He couldn't remember healing spells, and his only real experience had come from bandaging up Sakura-chan and Syaoran-kun. "...You can do it yourself if you want," he said in a carefree manner, still smiling sweetly, "But if you pass out I'll have to finish," he warned, shrugging and beaming at him with his head tilted. His fingers curled, slowly withdrawing his hand. So stubborn. He was making him miss Kurogane.
Regarding him critically for a few moments, Mello finally gave a curt nod, flipped the knife over, and held out the hilt toward Fay. "Follow my instructions precisely," he told him in a voice that brooked no argument. He was firmly convinced he wouldn't actually pass out--he was, really, or he was trying to be-- but doing it one-handed would be difficult at best. Fay could act as his hands
( ... )
Fay nodded with a practiced calm, as though he did this sort of thing every day, examining the knife and shifting closer. The blade got close to the wound but he stopped at the last minute, looking up at him.
"Do you want something to bite down on?" he asked.
Probably a good idea, so Mello gave a curt nod, reaching over to rummage through the first-aid kit for something to bite down on. A wad of gauze should do. Stuffing it in his mouth, he looked back at Fay for him to continue.
Fay nodded, putting a hand to Mello's shoulder to make sure he kept still. He gripped the knife firmly, trying to be as quick and precise as he could be as he dug it into the wound. He ignored any noise or movements from Mello, feeling something hard beneath the tip of the knife, twisting and wedging it until he was able to get it out. The remaining sake was poured quickly over the wound and he pressed the towel to him firmly to try and stem the bleeding. The soft smile had remained on his face the whole while, lips giving a small twitch as a rivet of blood ran down along his wrist, eyes taking on a more yellow tint.
Mello leaned back, grabbed a fistful of couch material with his good hand, took a deep breath and-- shit, it felt like being slammed into with a semi, waves of pain coursing through his body. His fingers tightening on the material he held, nails scratching in and grip white-knuckled and shaking as Fay quickly pushed the tip of the knife around, digging between muscle and tendon to pry out the little piece of metal lodged inside him.
His teeth buried in the self-made gag and eyes squeezed shut, Mello did not realize he was screaming until the knife finally pulled away and he became aware that those muffled sounds filling the room were his own whimpers. But it wasn't over, and he knew that, biting down harder and forcing those whimpers down as the alcohol came next, stinging and burning, and Mello could only wonder vaguely why in the world did taking care of injuries hurt more than getting them
( ... )
Fay looked up apologetically, and tried to push the thought blood from his mind. It wasn't Kurogane's, it wouldn't do much of anything for him. It didn't do much to stem the craving though. He continued to hold the towel firmly in place, impressed that he hadn't passed out from the pain.
"You did good," he said gently, then smiled widely, "Worst is over."
Unclenching his jaw and spitting out the gag to the side, Mello only gave a weak grunt in response, leaning limply back against the couch as if barely able to sit up. Which was pretty much true, and even his stubborn pride was suffering from this ordeal because he didn't move, didn't speak for now, and simply let Fay handle it, choosing instead to just breathe. The bandages and gauze were in plain sight on the table, so there was no reason for further instructions. Unless it didn't stop bleeding soon--and this time, Mello was darkly certain he would pass out if they had to cauterize it on top of everything.
"You should be more careful when you have someone you have to come home to," he pressed in a gently chiding voice, glancing beneath the towel. The bleeding seemed to be under control, and he reached for the bandages, "Especially in a place like this."
He moved to sit beside him on the couch, placing the gauze carefully over the wound and beginning to wrap it.
Mello looked up at the knock, and was about to call for Fay to come in when the other pushed inside anyway, earning himself a strict look but, surprisingly, no reprimand. Mello only pursed his lips critically, sparing him only a glance before looking back down to toss aside the blood-drenched cloth over his left arm and replace it with another, pressing hard.
"I got shot," he stated the obvious, in flawless French to match Fay's language.
Reply
He dropped his sheet by the door, drawing closer and frowning. "We don't have guns in my world," he said, taking a knee before the couch and tilting his head to look into Mello's eyes, make sure he wasn't in shock. He'd grown familiar enough with guns in their travels, he wasn't fond of them. Ripping tearing things. "Did it go straight through?" he asked, offering up the sake.
Reply
Taking the sake from him, Mello pulled away the cloth he was using to stem the bleeding and poured a bit over his wound, not too much so as not to waste it. His jaw clenched, eyes stinging and the muscles in his throat jumping from how tightly he gritted his teeth, but he made no sound of pain.
He shook his head at the question; it would take a second to get his voice back. For now, he reached for the knife on the table in front of him and poured a little of the alcohol over it as well.
Reply
His other hand reached towards Mello's forehead, wanting to check his temperature before he did anything, maybe smooth back his hair so he could watch his eyes properly.
Reply
He wasn't. He'd been shot a good while ago, on his way out of the burnt remains of the village he now knew had been called Cronoss, and had dragged himself through the snow to get back. He'd lost a lot of blood, hadn't eaten properly in a few days, and was starting to shiver with the cold of the room after taking off his wet clothing.
Fay was right. He probably needed help--but Mello had always been rather terrible at admitting such a thing, stubborn to the end. Hell, it had taken him getting half blown-up to ask for Matt's help, and he was someone Mello trusted.
Reply
The room lit with blue writing and his fur lined coat from Celes appeared, Fay draping it over over him before he could protest. He held out his hand, waiting to see if Mello was going to give him the knife or press on himself.
Reply
"How much medical experience do you have?" he questioned coldly.
Reply
Reply
Reply
"Do you want something to bite down on?" he asked.
Reply
Reply
Reply
His teeth buried in the self-made gag and eyes squeezed shut, Mello did not realize he was screaming until the knife finally pulled away and he became aware that those muffled sounds filling the room were his own whimpers. But it wasn't over, and he knew that, biting down harder and forcing those whimpers down as the alcohol came next, stinging and burning, and Mello could only wonder vaguely why in the world did taking care of injuries hurt more than getting them ( ... )
Reply
"You did good," he said gently, then smiled widely, "Worst is over."
Reply
Reply
He moved to sit beside him on the couch, placing the gauze carefully over the wound and beginning to wrap it.
Reply
Leave a comment