I'll Find You / Minho

Your Arms Are My Favourite Place

Autumn's eyes squinted open, a blur of yellow, white and red coming into view. She tried to shuffle a little, but from her failed attempt she concluded she was trapped under something.

Reaching her hand up to rub her eyes, she was able to actually see what was in front of her. Her senses slowly coming to her.

The yellow was the sun coming through the open window, they hadn't closed the blinds? But Minho couldn't sleep with the blinds open? The white was the cold floor that her head was conveniently placed on; and the red, the red was blood.

She couldn't tell who's blood it was, or maybe it was a mixture of both.

Lifting her head up a tad, she saw Minho lying on top of her chest. Her heart squeezed at the sight. Tears stained his face, and dried blood occupied his right cheek.

If anyone were to walk in right now, they'd think they'd been in some brutal fight. In some aspects, they had. Finding out your best friend had tried to kill himself was one of the brutalist fights.

Autumn decided she needed to woman up. Minho had always been the one to look after her, but now that they both were wrecked, who was going to look after him? She knew she had to be the one.

She allowed herself five minutes of tears. Five minutes of accepting what had happened. Five minutes of grieving, and five minutes of mourning.

The tears came, streaming down her face in red rivers. Her chest shook and quivered, and her breathing quickened and stumbled.

When the five minutes were up, she forced the tears to end. Taking some deep breaths, she located her mind somewhere else. She thought about how much Minho needed her, and how strong she'd have to be for him.

So after some shaking breaths, she slowly propped herself up on her elbows. Reaching over and grabbing a stray pillow off the floor, she positioned it in between his head and her chest.

Sliding out from underneath him, she assessed the situation. Minho had dried blood covering his arm, little bits still coming out from what looked like a bite mark. But the blood had been smeared all over him. Up his arm, on his jeans, and on his face.

The first step had to be cleaning all the blood up. She stepped into the bathroom, picked a fresh towel off of the rack, and drenched it in water.

Coming back into the room, she began to scrub at the floor. The white towel slowly getting redder with every movement. Even though she could see the blood clogging up the towel, the floor felt as though it wasn't getting any cleaner. Wherever she turned there was just more blood.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Beginning to push through and finish the job.

When there was no blood left, she actually wept with relief. At least there wasn't a physical reminder of him anymore.

She rinsed out the cloth as best she could, over the sink, before dumping it in the laundry basket. She took one more towel to dry the floor, which also ended up in the basket.

"Ok, ok, I can do this." She wrung her hands out nervously, as she retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink. She had never been the biggest fan of blood, although she had become slightly used to it as she used to have to patch up her clumsy sister a lot.

She crouched down beside Minho, her breath shakily a little. With nervous hands she unzipped the bag, and fished around for what she thought she needed.

She pulled out the wet wipes, a massive plaster, and some cream that looked like it had seen better days.

Wiping a stray tear, she started to work on his wound. She figured it would be better if it was done when he woke up. After cleaning up the blood, she glanced at his face to check he was still sleeping.