From one proxy to another proxy [Ticcimask]

Chap. 21: Face It, You're Gorgeous

—If you ever put a single finger on him again i'm gonna blow your balls off. 

He looked at me without making a single sound. 

—Rogers...

—I'm fine... —he said getting up.

—You get up—i said to Hoodie.

He did it and the three of us walked toward the door. I was still looking and pointing at him. 

—Start the car. 

Rogers and Hoodie left the cafeteria. 

—You're not gonna shoot me, are you? 

I narrowed my eyes and put the gun down. I turned around, i'd really like to kill him but it's not a good idea doing it right now.

—I knew it, he ain't have the balls. Pussy—said with a laugh.

—You know—i looked at him—, Taylor Swift is bigger than that little shitty band of yours.

And ignorning my own threat, i shot him in the crotch.

I could hear any number of screams, hurried footsteps running after me, and the waitress crying as i left in a hurry. 

I ran to the pickup. Rogers was standing outside. When he noticed the bikers were coming after me, ready to kill me, he opened the door and got behind the wheel.  

Hoodie leaned out the car window and started shooting at them. I got in and Rogers sped off. 

—That was fun! —i said laughing while trying to catch my breath. 

—I told you not to get into trouble! —he hit me from the back seat. 

—Shit, don't fuck my good humor! I saved your asses, be grateful!  

—Thanks... —he said with his eyes on the road.

—Oh, Toby please! Don't feed his ego...

—See? You should be more like Rogers.

—Shut your self-centered mouth.

—You're so inconsiderate, Brian Thomas. 

We started an argument.

—Why do you have guns and i don't? —Rogers interrupted.

—You shouldn't have one—Hoodie answered.

—I'm not a kid...

—But you are very stupid—i said and Hoodie and i laughed.

—I hate you so much guys...

Half an hour later, we made it to the cabin.

—For a sec i thought i was going to puke—Hoodie said, clutching his stomach. 

—Those dicks.

—I'm gonna take a nap, see you in a couple days...

He walked slowly up the stairs. Boy, i don't know how he kept his lunch inside after getting punched in the stomach. 

Impressive.

Rogers's moans caught my attention. 

He was looking his face in the reflection of the TV, which was off. 

—Come here—i dragged him by the arm to the kitchen table.

I tooked him by the cheeks again.

—Hey, be careful! 

—Stop whining.

I looked at him closely.

—You need stitches.

—Need?

—Unless you want it to get infected. 

—And you can do that? —he crossed his arms.

—Any doubts?

He sat on the table sighing, that's all the permission i need... well, even if he hadn't let me suture him, i would've forced him to let me do it anyway. 

I went to my room to get the kit and came back. 

—Alright, don't move.

I stood in front of him. With my right hand on the back of his neck and the left one holding his chin, i indicated to him what position to place his head in. 

—I'm gonna clean it.

I rubbed cotton on.

He was silent, his eyes were closed but i don't need to look at them to know he was nervous.

—I know four types of stitches: over and over sutures, subcuticular, horizontal mattress ans vertical mattress—i told him to show that he was in good hands. 

—You're a professional, huh—he answered sarcastically without opening his eyes.

—Ann taught me... 

—Shut up and start sewing 

He opened his eyes for a few seconds and the looked away, clearing his throat. 

I held my laugh. 

—I'm gonna do an interrupted stitch—i brought the needle closer to his wound. 

He had a cut on his cheekbone, that motherfucker was wearing rings. 

The entire cheekbone area was red, a little swollen. 

—This is a a triangular cutting needle for skin.

—Just do it! 

—Let me know if it hurts. 

I started sewing. When i inserted the needle, he closed his eyes tightly. 

—Don't wrinkle your face.

I continued passing the needle with the thread, from the outside to the inside, Rogers was holding his moans back, pretending to be strong.

My hand was touching his face as I put in the stitches, it was burning. 

I put the things on the table and tied the knot. 

I took him by the chin again, straightening his head, checking his new wound. 

I sighed.

—That motherfucker...

—Now my face is deformed! Is this gonna leave a mark? —he pointed at his cheekbone.

Still sitting on the table with an angry look just like a child's, couldn't help being overwhelmed by his tenderness. I wanted to hit him.

—You're still the same pretty boy—i put the things in the kit back.

—Aw, Masky! —he made a silly voice, i gave him a side eye— You're falling for me, huh.

—What are you saying, get out of here before i punch you.

—You wouldn't, i'm seriously injured. 

—You'll be if you keep talking nonsense...

He gave me a huge smile, doesn't seem to understand how threats work...

—Thank you, by the way.

—That's a non-absorbable thread, i'll have to remove it in 3 or 5 days.

—Whatever you say, doc! —he got off the table. 

—Rogers.

—Yeah?

He was standing in front of me, looking at me with curiosity and waiting for me to speak.

—I'm starting to see you deformed...

—You're evil, Timothy Wright—he acted offended.

I placed my hand on his head, almost covering that curious look, which sometimes made me so angry. 

He was quiet, confused. 

—Face it, you're gorgeous.