Let me take care of you for once
[[A/N: I saw this prompt on @roses-and-grimoires ‘s page, so I stole it and I’m doing it for them. TW: Angst and mention of blood]]
Bellamy looked at the state of his mentor. Blood stained what was once a rich white blouse. If the hyur was feeling anything in regards to the elezen’s condition, it didn’t show on his face. His expression was surgically neutral.
“Can you even get that off?” asked the hyur, folding his arms over his broad chest.
Idristan huffed a breath of mild annoyance as he attempted to reach back and pull the garment over his head, but no sooner than his arms raised above his shoulder was he biting back a burning stab of pain. Another gout of blood dampened and further stained the side of the shirt. “Fury…” he swore between gnashed teeth. “No. I can’t lift my bloody arms.”
“Move them, then,” said the younger of the two as he stepped forward. With one hand he fished out a butterfly knife from his pocket and flipped the handles around until the blade revealed itself. With the other hand, he took hold of the elezen’s tunic, gave him a stern look that said ‘don’t move’, and sliced it from collar to hem.
Idristan let out a small gasp as he watched the blade glide precariously close to his already gashed torso. He nearly muttered a scolding ‘careful’, but something about the bridled glare on Bellamy’s face made him opt to keep it to himself. “Well?” he asked, attempting to get a look at the once pale, now stained red flesh over his own ribs. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” was Bellamy’s response as he flipped his knife closed and shoved it back into his pocket.
“That’s new,” Idristan said, nodding his head as if to direct the hyur’s attention to the weapon.
“Is it?” Bellamy asked as he studied the wound, his gaze disappearing beneath the brim of his hat. He breathed a sigh through his nose before upturning his head towards the pale haired elezen. “Lay back. I need to work on it.”
“Been working on magicks without me?” Idristan asked, remaining in his admittedly pathetic attempt to keep seated upright.
Bellamy lifted his head just enough that his odd, aetheric eyes could be seen, narrowed to slits behind his soot black lashes. He pressed a hand into the elezen’s chest half shoving him backwards onto the medical table to the sound of a hissed and incredulous cry of pain.
“What the bloody hells was that for?” Idristan demanded, fighting the urge to grab at the throbbing wound.
“You weren’t listening,” said the midlander as he leaned down over the wound. His eyes disappeared again beneath the hat’s brim. He extended hands, calloused and worn hidden beneath equally weathered mechanic’s gloves. “And yes,” he added. “I did. Being trapped on another planet for a year left me with a bit of free time.”
Idristan wilted slightly at this new, more coarse demeanour from his once bright eyed, broad smiled apprentice. He leaned back, though, fully resting into the cold, thin padding of the table. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said after a moment. “You’ve never been one to do things in half measures.”
“Yeah, well…” Bellamy said as warmth and green light began to blossom from his palms. “Learned from the best.”
Idristan felt a tingling heat bloom in what he could now tell was a considerable gash in his ribs. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but he wouldn’t have called it a relaxing massage either. The two sat in silence for what Idristan felt like must’ve been an hour before the elezen finally spoke up. “How…are you doing, Bellamy? How is your mother? Requin? You were the one gone for a year but somehow I feel like it’s me that has lost time with you.”
Bellamy said nothing at first, focused on the task of magically suturing Idristan’s ragged flesh back together. He was silent so long that Idristan thought that maybe he’d said something or done something that angered his former apprentice or that the conversation was over before it had really started. But as Bellamy rose from his work, removing his cap and wiping the sweat from his brow, he regarded Idristan with a softened expression for the first time since he’d carried the elezen into the room. “Idristan…” said Bellamy, no longer sounding anything like the boy Idristan once knew but a grown and experienced man. “Let me take care of you for once, okay? I’m gonna bandage that up and then you need to re–lie. Down.” Bellamy interrupted Idristan’s attempt to sit with a resharpened tone which Idristan opted to not argue against. “Let me bandage you up. Then you need to get some rest so the magic can do its thing.” Bellamy walked away from the table towards one of the medical cabinets and began searching through it for the requisite supplies. “We can talk about me in the morning if you can follow directions for at least a night.”
Idristan met Bellamy’s gaze as the scion of House Blackthorn turned to him from across the room. “…alright. That a promise then?”
Bellamy turned back to his task, filling his hands with salves and bandages. “Yeah. I promise.”
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