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"Why do you keep doing this," Taylor sighed while opening the bathroom cabinets, pulling out the clear bin that contained any medical supply the boys were smart enough to buy. it was dingy and hardly resembled a first aid kit, but hey, at least it had some gauze, rubbing alcohol, and an assortment of dumb cartoon bandaids that Anthony insisted on buying. He claimed that they were "an absolute necessity", which led to the boys laughing before adding them to their shopping basket.
Bryce hopped onto the counter, proceeding to tentatively pull off his shirt, but instead of wincing and ceasing to remove the article of clothing, he smirked and pulled it off. And to answer Taylor's question, he simply shrugged his shoulders. But Bryce knew exactly why he got into all those fights, and why instead of going hostile on their asses, he held back and let the punches hit him.
"I don't know man," Bryce declared, shrugging his shoulders as Taylor grabbed a cotton pad and began dousing it using the half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol. It was somewhat empty because of the amount of times Taylors had to do this same shit repeatedly. Watch Bryce stumble through the door, a big grin on his face with blood dripping down his lip, and bruises plaguing his arms and chest. It was also half-used because Jaden got incredibly high one night and decided that the quickest way to get drunk out of his mind was to drink 98% pure alcohol. It ended badly, with the boys having to drive him to the hospital to get his stomach pumped, and being on a diet comprising of charcoal for the next few days. It's a running joke between the boys that whenever they want to have a party someone always has to ask "who's going to bring the rubbing alcohol?"
Bryce smiled as he felt his skin burning, looking down, and seeing Taylor dabbing away the blood dripping out of his cracked knuckles with the cotton ball from earlier. He let out a disappointed sigh as he watched Bryce show virtually no remorse for getting into a fistfight with some guy he went to high school with.
"Why, god damn it," Taylor mumbled beneath his breath, unwrapping the cause in a wave of frustration, his actions looking a little harsher than he intended them to.
"Woah! You don't have to go all bad cop on me, just let me have some fun. You aren't my dad!" Bryce said with a chuckle attempting to pull his hand away from Taylor, even though deep down he knew he would almost instantly miss the slight burning sensation. Bryce would never admit it to anyone, not even his best friends, but he was a masochist, meaning he got all hot and bothered from feeling pain. His breath hitched as he felt Taylor dab the rubbing alcohol on his split lip. He tried his best to hide the fact that he was actually enjoying this.
"Hey, you ok?" Taylor asked, concern present in his voice as he shifted back away from Bryce, thinking he had genuinely hurt him. But he had actually done quite the opposite, he had made him feel a certain way he could hardly describe. It was a mix of fear and arousal. A smile slowly spread to his face as he tried to keep his feelings hidden, but he ultimately failed as Taylor quickly realized that there was something wrong with Bryce.
"Why are you smiling? You're definitely the kind of person who drank lemon juice for fun as a kid," Taylor said with a smile, trying to crack a light joke to help clear the dense atmosphere surrounding them.
"Heh, yeah," Bryce said lightly, as he bit his lip, completely forgetting that he had split it during the fight and that it now tasted of alcohol. He made a disgusted face, not regretting the pain it caused but instead the disgusting taste of alcohol.
"Once again, you ok?" Taylor said with a slight laugh.
"Better than ok, I feel great," Bryce said, but it didn't come off as sarcastic or snippy, it seemed genuine and it had a very happy undertone.
"Dude, you don't seem ok," Taylor stated calmly, continuing to clean up the countless cuts on his body and bandaged them as well. He was beginning to get a little suspicious of Bryce, seeing that he was a bit too happy about getting the actual shit kicked out of him. He was normally a violent, douchy, type person, and for him to just "allow" himself to get beat the fuck up didn't seem at all like him.
"What's actually going on Bryce, you're kind of scaring me," he tried to keep his voice from wavering as he asked, Taylor was getting genuinely scared as he watched a smile wash over Bryce's face, a light laugh falling from his lips as he held back the urge to spill everything to Taylor, wanting to diminish his concerns, but he knew Taylor would probably screech in disgust before running out of the room.
"You've gone all quiet on me, out of things to laugh about?" He said whilst looking up from Bryce's arm to look him in the eyes.
"I have a pain kink," Bryce stated absent-mindedly, not focusing on Taylor, but instead staring at the chip of paint missing on the bathroom door frame. Taylor jumped back slightly, not understanding what it was or why he would tell him that.
"W-what?" He stuttered out, looking up at Bryce in confusion. His only response was muttering out the word "shit", trying to piece together some sort of apology, but he had nothing.
"That's why I get into fights," Bryce said calmly, deciding it would be better to spill everything than try to revoke his previous statement. Taylor whipped out his phone, quickly opening safari and looking up "pain kink". He was shocked to see that it pretty much meant that Bryce got turned on from getting hurt.
"I-, you-, what?" He stated confused, looking back and forth between his phone and Bryce.
"It's kind of hot though," he mumbled under his breath, looking down at the ground.
"What was that?" Bryce questioned with a smug look on his face. He knew what Taylor said, but he just wanted to hear him say it again.
"Nothing!"
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I am actually so happy, I found this buried deep in my drafts and I don't have the motivation to write right now so I present to you this afaegaegegaefef I wrote this back in may-
