desiderium | m. o'hara

twenty-three*

  Rosalina nods tiredly. She places her spoon down and pushes her half-eaten rice away. My worry heightens.

  We sit on her bed and braid coloured threads together while Rosalina tells me the plot about the current book she's reading. She picks out beads to decorate her bracelets. Her's is a mash-up of all the colours. The one I make is a simple purple and blue.

  "This one's for dad," she says quietly, and shows me a pink bracelet with daisy-shaped beads and letters spelling 'dad.' I smile in amusement at the mental image of the allegedly terrifying leader of the Spider-HQ wearing a very pretty, very girly bracelet. I have no doubt he'll love it.

  "It looks great, papita," I say. "Muy bien."

  She makes me a matching bracelet, too. I slip it on and admire it.

  "You can't take it off," she sniffles. "Ever. You have to wear it always." She holds out a pinkie. "Promise me."

  I look her in her weepy eyes and link my pinky around hers. "I promise to never take off my bracelet."

  Rosalina smiles weakly.

  The front door opens when Rosalina's having a shower and I'm clearing our very basic dinner away. I quickly place the plates into the sink and head to the entrance. Miguel's already frantically shucking his coat and kicking his shoes off.

  "Sorry, I'm sorry," he quickly apologises before I can say anything. "Dios mío, the guy just didn't want to quit."

  He turns and I gasp at the gash down his face and the black eye he's sporting. I cross the space between us and hold his chin to check the damage.

  "Jesus, Miguel," I whisper worriedly. "What'd you do to yourself?"

  He looks past me. "Is Papita okay?"

  "You're bleeding." I turn his face down to me and examine the long wound that crosses down from his temple to his jawline. "What happened?"

  "I rushed, I got sloppy," he says, and steps past me to ascend the stairs. "I'm fine."

  I grab his arm before he can leave. "You're not fine."

  He sends me an impatient look. "Y/n-"

  "Miguel," I insist. "She's okay. She's just in the shower."

  Miguel sighs. "She's really okay?"

  "She's not great, but she's stopped throwing up," I answer. My concerned eyes trace his cut, and I carefully touch the stubble just beside it. "But you look terrible. Come on, I'll patch you up."

  Apparently it's nurse day for me.

  "I swear, between you and Rosita." I sigh and push Miguel down onto a chair in the kitchen. I plant my hands on my hips and glare down at him. "You two run me ragged."

  A small, guilty smile plays on his lips. "Lo siento, amor."

  "You're lucky I adore you," I mutter, and kiss the side of his nose. I quickly step away from him to retrieve the first aid kit before his hands can get the chance to hold me prisoner against him. 

  Miguel doesn't even wince when I wipe the stinging cleaning solution down the side of his face. He holds a pack of frozen peas against his black eye and watches my face as I work. His other hand rests on my thigh.

  I'll occasionally catch his gaze and flush, before forcing myself to focus back on my task. He doesn't need to stare at me so much. Then again, wouldn't I do the same if we were swapped?