Arnold felt blood trickle down his skin and had no idea where it was coming from.
His glasses were broken. Lying on the ground somewhere in the courtyard where he was cornered.
He raised two shaky fingers to his face, tracing them over the trail of warm blood, trying to pinpoint the area of injury.
He stopped at his temple, wincing in pain.
"I think one of them was wearing a ring."
Zach cursed, picking up the pace as he tried to open the stupid, stubborn first aid kit.
"I'm okay," Arnold said. "You interrupted before things got too far."
"Sheer luck," Zach hissed. Then he made a little triumphant sound when he finally managed to rip open the lid of the kit.
His hand instantly reached for the bottle of alcohol and he used it to dab a bit of the liquid onto a cotton pad.
He winced, as if he was the one caught in a fight and not Arnold. "This is going to sting."
"Do you have to do it?"
"Your wound could get infected if I don't."
"I know, but..."
Zach looked away as he set the bottle aside. "You can hold my hand. If you want."
Arnold registered the flutter in his chest and hated himself more than he already did.
He hated himself even more when he found his hand stretching our for Zach's empty one.
Zach's fingers were warm, and he gave Arnold's a little squeeze.
"I'm just going to..."
Arnold held his breath and nodded.
Zach pressed the cotton pad onto Arnold's skin, eliciting a hiss.
Arnold wanted to pull away, but Zach's hand let go from his own, using it to hold his face in place.
His thumb brushed away the trail of blood, which was already drying.
Zach cleaned the wound and a few other cuts and scratches, before covering them up if needed.
Zach's eyes were staring.
Arnold didn't blame him.
He'd taken his shirt off as soon as he'd stepped into his dorm room. Something, he suspected it was one of his ribs, was bruised. His skin looked pale, but that only made the bruises on his stomach stand out more and Zach couldn't bare it anymore, he hated it. He hated how it looked, how the blues on his skin blended perfectly with the purples. How it almost looked like someone purposely painted on his skin, mixing the colors together expertly.
He tore himself away from Arnold's body, his face twisted in pent up rage as he reached for a bucket of ice.
He wrapped a few ice cubes in Arnold's discarded shirt, and pressed the bundle against his bruises.
"Hold it there," he said.
"Zach-" Arnold's heart was pounding.
"For as long as you can. At least until you don't feel as much pain every time you breathe. I'm guessing they bruised one of your ribs. I know you hate visiting the infirmary, but they went too far this time. Icing it should numb the pain for the time being."
Arnold's only sign of comprehension was a simple nod.
"Did they hurt you anywhere else?"
"No."
Arnold clenched his teeth as he struggled, but finally managed to stand up.
"I'll get you a clean shirt."
Zach drifted off towards the cupboards and grabbed the first shirt he could find.
He handed it to Arnold.
Then grabbed it back and helped him put it on.
"I can do it myself."
"You'll only end up in more pain."
"I'm not two years old".
Zach ignored him, finally sliding the last sleeve over Arnold's arm.
"Let me do the buttons at least."
Zach gave no response as he adjusted Arnold's collar and buttoned his shirt all the way to the bottom.
"You don't have to tuck it in this time," he muttered.
Arnold took a step back. "Thanks."
"I'm coming with you."
Arnold wanted to argue but he was so tired of it. Of parting his lips and moving his tongue when none of Zach's responses would ever be what he wanted to hear.
He said nothing as Zach pulled the door open and locked it behind the two of them.
He said nothing as they passed the empty corridors in silence, as he felt Zach's presence so close to him that it burned, as he noticed how Zach continued walking beside him with stiff shoulders and an empty look on his face.
The nurse wasn't too happy to see Arnold.
She never was, considering that no matter how much she tried, she could never get Arnold to open up about how he received his injuries.
Nevertheless, she sat him down on an empty bed and got to work while Zach stood watching at a distance.
When it was all over, and the nurse strictly instructed Arnold to get some rest, she pulled Zach aside.
"This has to stop," she murmured to him, turning her back on Arnold while she scribbled things on a clipboard.
"I know."
The nurse shook her head. "I should be reporting this to the headmaster. This is his third time in here this month alone."
"He'd hate that. He'd hate us."
"So be it. For his protection."
"You don't understand. If he hates us, who will he turn to? We've all he's got."
The nurse was silent. "You're all he's got."
Zach didn't want to listen to her anymore.
She sighed. "Have you been reading the books I've given you?"
"All of them."
"Good. I'm worried he won't always agree to visit me when he's hurt. Or they might not bring in a replacement when I'm off campus."
"I understand."
He whispered a quick thank you, and walked away from her and towards Arnold.
"What did she say?"
Zach liked seeing Arnold without his glasses, then he could see all of him. Every inch of his face, his eyes without a screen in the way, the curve of his nose.
He liked how his hair now fell over his eyes, and how Arnold tried blinking them away.
Zach smiled, brushing the strands of hair back from Arnold's line of vision.
"You're going to be okay. Like always."
"What else did she say?"
"Nothing you'd like to hear."
Arnold made a face before quickly covering it up.
It made Zach want to smile again, seeing his friend try to hide something but failing at it because Zach knew him that well.
"Do I have to stay the night?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Will you stay with me?"
"You're not dying, Ar."
Arnold's face flushed with color, and he quickly looked away. "I know, I know. Sorry. I don't know why I asked."
Zach gave a chuckle. "I think I can stay."
Arnold relaxed, but his face was still red and he refused to make eye contact again. "Okay. You don't have to-"
"I know I don't."
The nurse knew what Zach was going to ask before he uttered a single word from his question, and she set up the bed beside Arnold's quietly.
She turned away as Zach helped Arnold into a spare pair of pajamas, careful not to stare too hard as Arnold dropped his pants.
To start a conversation or to wait for them to start a conversation? Hmm.
Thanks for reading :D