petals ● jander ☑

8) Trust Me

"N-no.." He coughed one last time before looking at the jacket. That's a lot of thorns, petals, and blood just in some coughs. "I'll be okay."

"Shut up. You're not okay, Zander." I growled, glaring straight into his eyes. "Stop lying to yourself. I don't want people to get hurt."

"Fine." He looked away. "Uh, do I clean your jacket?"

"I can clean it myself. You can just give it back." I said. "But if you want to help, you can just wash away the stuff there."

"Okay." He did what I said.

I quickly ran outside to my locker and grabbed some bandages. I also grabbed other stuff just in case. Then I went back with a bunch of them. Zander all ready got the jacket cleaned, kind of.

"Uh. I tried to put soap." He muttered. "I know it doesn't work but it smells bad." I raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly.

"You... Smelled it?" I asked. He blushed.

"Shut up. I just used your jacket as a tissue, I had to know." He explained. I chuckled.

"It's odd, but I guess it's okay?" I said, unsure. "Can you wash your hand first?"

"But didn't I do it when I wash your jacket?" Zander asked. I sighed.

"Just do what I say or get an infection." I threatened. He sighed and eventually washed his hands.

"Agh..." He groaned.

"Oh yeah, it hurts. Sorry I didn't say anything." I said. He gave a small glare but looked away quickly.

"Is it done? How many seconds?" Zander asked.

"Just sing happy birthday twice." I shrugged. He shook his head, closing the tap.

"We are not in that year again." He sighed. I nodded.

"Had to make sure." I said, smiling.

RING!

"That's the bell..." Zander muttered, looking worried.

"Have you ever skipped class?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Of course not! My parents would get mad at me for it!" He explained. I rolled my eyes. "Wait, are you suggesting that we should just skip class?"

"It'll be fine." I reassured.

"It's not!"

"God, if you run out of this room just because of class, I will knock you out and clean these cuts myself." I threatened him once again.

"Just make it quick!" He sighed.

"You used soap, right?" I questioned him. He shook his head. "Use soap."

"No! It hurts!" He complained. I gave him a bored expression.

"Stop being a baby about things and do it." I ordered. This guy is going to be hard to work with. "If not, I will wash your hands for you."

"Fine fine." The pianist rolled his eyes. He did use soap but had to hiss and hesitate many times, which is normal. "There, done."

"Um.. Can you give me your hand?" I asked.

"Do I have to rip it off?" He asked. I imagined it vividly and groaned in disgust.

"No!" I shouted.

"I'm joking. Why would I do that?" He asked, showing his palm. Luckily, it stopped bleeding. I tried to pull his hand so I can get a closer look but he jumped back.