Black Butterfly

Chapter 3

"You winced when you said that." I pointed out. 

"Calsy." I turn to look at him, crossing my arms. I can see a growing dark stain beneath his black shirt. 

"Mason I don't give a rats ass if you think you're fine. Something's under your shirt and you're bleeding so shut up and sit down on that damn toilet so I can clean you up. We won't be able to do the project if I can't focus because there's blood dripping down your face." There was in fact blood on his face, leaking from the cut on his cheek and he reached to wipe it away. "Don't touch it." I smack his hand aside, "you might give yourself an infection with your dirty hands." 

He must have been shocked by my tone because he closed his mouth and sat down. I twisted around and grabbed the paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink and wet them in the water.

"You're going to have to take your shirt off." I said. Mason smirked and I wanted to knock it off his face. He reached to pull it up and grunted, I sighed. "Stop I'll help." I crossed over to him and bent awkwardly to remove it.

"This is not how I imagined you taking my shirt off." Mason quirked. 

"I was never in my life going to take your shirt off. Under any circumstances but these." I shot him a glare. The shirt was damp in one spot and I had to peel it from his skin. He sucked in a breath as I beheld a long gash in his side that was dripping blood. 

"Holy shit. What did you do?" I question. Masons only response was his grunt and wince. "You fucking idiot. What. Did. You. Do." 

"Can't tell you. Top secret." He whispered. 

"Fine. Whatever. Don't tell me why you're cut up and bleeding and why you almost have a full blown stab wound in your stomach. That's fine." I huff. 

"Where did you learn how to take care of injuries?" Mason asks. 

"Can't tell you. Top secret." 

He laughed and then winced again. I quickly placed a towel on the wound and Mason flinched. "You're going to have to hold it there while I take care of the rest of your face." I say, and he places his hand on top of the paper towel. 

I stand back going to wet another paper towel when I realize that I'm in a bathroom.

 With Mason Shade.

And he is without a shirt. 

He's also bleeding. 

I shake my head, there are more important things to be done now. I step over to him and wipe the cold, wet paper towel on the cut on his cheek. A hiss of a breath escapes his mouth and barely reaches my neck. When the cut is no longer bleeding I bring the towel down to the cut on his lip. 

"Press down harder." His grip had eased on the wound in his stomach and the bleeding had started to flow again. Mason did as I asked and grunted in pain, his teeth grinding.