another rumble.
I was sitting in my bed, waiting for my problematic boyfriend to come home, hoping he wasn't dead. But I wouldn't be surprised if he was.
Why the boys decided to show up to another one of their fights was a mystery to me, let alone the fact that they never even let me go. So here I was again, waiting for them to come back into the house, cheering and screaming about their victory. For some reason, I felt like it was taking hours and hours for them to just finish their little fistfight and get on with it. Normally it would only take about 30 minutes, but it was now 42 minutes past their promised time of return. I was beginning to wonder if I should be worried, but it wasn't until an hour later that I decided to look for them. I peeled the covers off of my body and stood up with a small groan. I was still in my day clothes, considering it was only 9:30. I grabbed the keys off of the counter and just as I was about to walk out the door, a big swamp monster trudged through it first. The door almost fell off its hinges at the big entrance of my blood-covered dirt-coated mud-soaked boyfriend.
"Oh, my lord," I said in disappointment. He had never shown up this dirty before. I stared at him for a minute while he just looked at me with tired eyes.
"What did you do?" I said again, half concerned and half impressed with his current state.
"What, do I look handsome?" He said with a small smile creeping onto his face. I sighed and shook my head while trying to hold back my own smile.He tried to sit down on the couch, but a shriek escaped my lips in protest.
"No!" he looked at me. "Do not lay a finger on anything. Not while you're that dirty. Take your shoes off and leave them by the front door. Then take yourself to the bathroom and shower until you're sparkling." I said, half-jokingly, but also very sternly.
But to my comment his eyes became more miserable, he slouched down slightly, and let out an exasperated sigh. Part of me wanted to believe he was just trying to earn my pity, but he also looked genuinely exhausted.
"Do I have to? I'm so tired," he said, throwing his head back in annoyance and whining like a baby.
"Dallas...." I warned. He still sat there with his arms crossed, refusing to take the shower that he so desperately needed. "C'mon. I'll deal with those clothes." I caved.
At this, he perked up slightly, before cringing and returning to his previously slouched state.
He took off his shoes carefully and followed me to the bathroom. He sat on the seat cover of the toilet while I started the shower and let the water heat up. I gave him a look telling him to take off those disgusting pieces of fabric that were now doused in mud, sweat, blood, and dirt. He stood up and peeled off his clothes slowly, but there was nothing sexual about it.
I stuck my hand under the faucet and told him to get in. He nodded and stepped into the steaming shower. He hissed and clenched his jaw when the water hit his back. Only then did I see all the cuts and bruises that littered his abdomens and back. My lips slightly parted in an attempt to gasp, but no sound came out. I winced at the sight and felt horrible for Dally. I tried to let him take care of himself, so I decided to start getting myself ready for bed. Whilst I was brushing my teeth I heard a pained groan from behind the curtain and peeked through the curtain to see him leaning against the shower wall, gripping his side with his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched.
I frowned at him and felt an undeniable urge to help him. He looked so helpless and like he was about to pass out from pain and exhaustion.
Before I could think about it I was pulling my clothes off as well to go join him. I pulled the curtain back and stepped in, to his pained face turning into a surprised one while looking at me. He was still leaning against the wall, but his hand dropped from his side. I gave him a small smile and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. After a minute of him sitting in surprise, he wrapped his arms around my waist and put his forehead on my shoulder. He pushed off the wall and decided to lean on me instead.
"Y/N....." he mumbled into my shoulder.
"I love you," I whispered into his hair.
I reached over his shoulder and grabbed the shampoo off the shelf and poured some in my palm. I rubbed my hands together and tangled my fingers in his hair. I started to massage his scalp as he relaxed himself onto me and his muscles loosened under my touch. As my fingers worked their way along his head, I closed my eyes and when I opened them he was looking up at me, with his puppy dog eyes. He looked grateful for the free massage, and I smiled gently. He smiled too and returned his cheek to my bare shoulder, squeezing me closer to him, if that was even possible. His hair turned soapy, but I continued to rub it. I started splashing water into the hair to let the shampoo wash down his back when the suds entered one of his fresh wounds. He flinched from the burn and held onto my waist tighter. I stuck my bottom lip out in pity for the pain he was in. I rubbed his back comfortingly, and my other hand was placed on his nape. My hands eventually traveled back to his hair, where I carefully toyed with it.
Soon enough he was completely clean, and I let go of his neck. He released my waist from his grip, and we both got out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and sat on the toilet cover again while I wrapped myself in a towel. I grabbed the first aid kit off the bathroom counter and quickly bandaged him up while he was on the brink of dozing off.
I stared at him lovingly, even when his head was dropped and his eyes were closed. I was finished, but I still stood in front of him, in between his legs. I lowered my head to his level and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which gave him a small smile and caused his eyes to open slowly.
"Ok, come on," I said softly, beckoning him to our bedroom.
He followed, and we quickly dressed ourselves. He only slid on some shorts, while I opted for one of his shirts and some shorts.
He curled up under the covers and looked at me expectedly. I crawled under the blankets with him, and he almost immediately fell asleep. I looked up at him and admired his features. He never looked so peaceful. His face was relaxed, which was unusual. I continued to stare at him, and I beamed. He really was gorgeous. I kissed his cheek, and cuddled into his bare chest, while whispering, "Goodnight, Dallas."
But before I could drift off to sleep, his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer, and he whispered "Goodnight, Y/N."
