~~~CREATIVE SPARK~~~ (A Jack Frost x Reader)

Chapter Two

     I rush over, maybe they are still alive? Did they get hit by a car or something? As I approach, shivering from both the cold and fear as to what I'm gonna see, I see a boy. Roughly around my age, 18 maybe? His hair is bright white, his blue hoodie and supposed white T-shirt underneath are torn to shreds. A very large gash in his side is actively bleeding, contributing to the large pool of blood around him. He's extremely pale, nearly paper white from what I can see. A large contrast to the blood and clothes. His brown pants are slightly soaking up the blood as well, the crimson substance creeping up the fabric that's touching the ground. He's- barefoot? And it seems he's wrapped some kind of cord around his shins to keep his pants tighter- or maybe it's just a fashion choice. I lean forward to see if I can get a closer look at his chest, I need to see if he's even breathing or not. Who knows how long he's been out here!

     As I lean closer, his eyes shoot open, he gasps, and immediately tries to sit up. Luckily I flinch back in time, or else we would have butted heads. He groans and looks down, not even noticing me, as one hand reaches for his side, the other going to hold him up.

"No, don't move! Lay back down, I'll call an ambulance!"

      His eyes shoot to me again, a baffled yet dazed look in his eyes. His blue orbs aren't quite focused on me and I assume he's got some head trauma.

"You-you can see me? Wha-"

     He glances around, a bit more aware. He looks confused.

"Of course I can see you! I almost missed you because my street light is out. Here, let's get you out of the road before a car comes. Can you walk?"

"I, uh, I don't think so. Don't call an ambulance! They won't see me anyways, there's no point."

     My earlier statement seems to finally catch up with him as I grab him from behind. I grab under his arms and heave him up carefully as I speak, dragging him to the sidewalk in front of my house.

"What do you mean they won't see you? Of course they will! They can help you, I promise. Is it alright if I take you inside to help you until they come? It's way too cold to be out here, especially in your condition.

     He grunts in pain as I drag him, but he lets me.

"Yeah, just don't call, please."

     His eyes squeeze shut as he strains to speak, he seems desperate and tired. I rack it up to his brain subconsciously saying he can't afford an ambulance. Against my better judgment I won't call, for his sake. I don't want to rack up debt for him, or do something against his will. He's lucky my Grandma taught me some first aid, I won't be able to properly heal him but I can do enough so he doesn't bleed out. I gently set him down to the side of my door, already having struggled up the steps. I quickly search for my keys and fumble to open the door. As it swings open I grab him again, and hold the door open with my foot, then kick it closed. I carry him over to my old couch, he's light as I walk. He's probably taller than me from what I can guess, but not by much. He's pretty skinny for his height too, poor thing.

     After I set him down, I rushed over to my door to properly close and lock it, you never know who is out at this time of night. I shout a quick "I'll be right back!" as he settles on the couch, and I run to the bathroom where I keep my first aid. I grab the large box along with some towels and carry it back to the couch. I then rush to my kitchen and grab a large bowl of water and some rags. As I lug the bowl back to him, spilling some water in my rush, I see the boy is now laying down holding his side. His face is scrunched up in pain again, and it looks like he's struggling to breathe. My mind is going a million miles a minute.

"Ok," I whisper under my breath.
"I need to take your shirt and hoodie off, okay?"

     I talk a bit more confidently this time. He nods, and I immediately get to work. He sits up, and I begin to carefully peel off the blood stained hoodie. Upon closer inspection, It looks like there are veiny decals around the neck line, hood, and cuffs at the end of the sleeves, trailing up. It almost looks like frost. I can't quite tell if it's anywhere else because of the blood, but I can vaguely assume. I throw his hoodie to the side, and see the shirt underneath isn't actually a white T-shirt like I had previously thought, but a long sleeve cream colored shirt. It has a slight V- neck, and is soft to the touch. The sleeves puff a tad bit at the ends, and the cuff is fitted yet stretchy around the wrist. I quickly make work of it as well, and throw it in the direction of the hoodie. I might attempt to fix those later if I can.

     Now that I can see the damage clearly, it's not as bad as I originally thought. While the gash is large, it's not deep, and doesn't seem to have gotten near any of his organs, thank god. I lay towels under him and on the side of the couch, in a futile attempt to catch some of the blood from soaking into the old fabric. Dipping the rag I grabbed into the bowl of water, I start to clean around the cut, trying to wash off as much blood as I can. The amount of blood he lost definitely made things look worse than they actually were. Though, I can assume he was out there for quite a while, considering how much blood there actually was. He'll only need some stitches, albeit a lot of stitches, seeing as the cut is long., but just stitches nonetheless. Going from right above his hip bone to a few inches past where his ribs start, it's a completely clean cut that lays diagonally across his abdomen. That'll make my job easier, and hopefully less painful for the guy. I attempt to wash out the cut by flushing water out of it. Turning to look at him, I speak.

"This is gonna sting like a bitch, fair warning."

     I shove a spare rag in his face, and he looks confused. Sweat drops down his face, and can see his hairline is damp.

"Bite. And try not to move."

     The boy hesitantly obeys, and eyes me wearily. I lean over to pop open the first aid kit, grabbing some antiseptic and I look at him one more time as a warning. He's looking back, still wary, and I pour the antiseptic on the wound. I feel him tense up under me, his eyes scrunching up and his eyebrows furrowing. He loudly groans into the rag in pain.

"I'm sorry, I know, I know."

     I try to comfort him, speaking softly, and I finally stop pouring. I know it hurts and I don't want him to be in more pain then he has to, I've cleaned it enough. I don't even notice that I'm lowkey straddling one of his thighs until now, as I've been too focused on trying to help him. I feel him deflate under me, and I lean back over to grab another towel to clean up the mess. I don't get off him, as this makes it easier to reach his wound, but now a light blush dust my cheeks for a moment. At last I grab the medical grade thread and needle and look at him one last time. His eyes are hooded and he breathes a bit heavier than before, but his eyes still meet mine. They are a bright aqua blue, unnatural even. But they are beautiful, and if I didn't catch myself I could drown in them. If I didn't have a filter I'd even say he looks hot right now, but I immediately shake off that thought.

"Okay, I just have to stitch you up and then wrap it okay? Not much longer."

     I talk quieter than before, and I don't wait for a response as I start to sew up the wound. He flinches as the needle punctures his skin, and he's slightly tense the whole time, but he ultimately gets 'comfortable'. As comfortable as one can be when literally being sewn back together. No longer needing the 'Bite Rag', He takes it out and grips it with his left hand.

     A while later, I finally tie off the thread, and cut the extra string off with a small pair of surgical scissors I found in the first aid kit. Neither of us had talked the entire time, I was too busy trying not to mess up and I think he was too tired. It was silent, just small grunts and hard breaths from him would break the silence. I wipe some sweat off my brow, and finally stand after what felt like hours. My legs almost buckleling from sitting in an odd position for such a long time. I lightly sigh, and then grab some large bandages to wrap around his torso.

"Okay, hard part is over. Can you sit up for me?"

     He doesn't respond, but simply sits up, he looks exhausted beyond belief. I'm tired as hell, I can't imagine how he feels, He looks like he's on the verge of passing out. I try to be quick when wrapping him, passing the cloth around his torso over and over. I realize how close I had gotten to him in this process, nearly forgetting he's shirtless too. I back up after that, having finished anyways. I'm not trying to make him uncomfortable by being all up in his face, but my face still flushes with embarrassment. I look at his face and arms, seeing small cuts and scabs I didn't see before. Most will easily heal on their own, but there are a few that will need a bandaid. And there is a slightly larger scratch on his cheek that will need a small gauze pad.

"What's your name?"