fragile bird

“That is some nasty cut. Are you okay?”

“Honestly, I feel a bit nauseous..”

“Violence is never the answer, you know.” She scolded. “Come sit down and let me take a look at that.”

“Clearly we haven’t met before,” he couldn’t help but smile a bit, wincing. “I don’t fight, I couldn’t hurt a fly, I think. I was walking out of my gallery and a couple of guys did this.”

“A towel?” Brows narrowing, the girl looked up at noticed the person before her. “Oh shit.” She began, catching sight of the blood on his forehead. “Uh.. I don’t. But let me.. uh, figure out something to help you out.”

Ethan nodded, sucking in a deep breath as he kept his hand glued to the wound on his forehead. “A tissue, anything, really..”

She knew she was being a right cunt, but she wasn’t about to leave someone bleeding in the middle of the street, especially when her flat was no more than a hundred feet away.  “C’mon, get up. let’s go get you cleaned up.” she sighed, knowing that her tight ass flatmate hated when she brought strangers home.  Or her ‘strays’ as she had once called them. “Then you can decide whether or not it’s worth goin’ to get stitched up.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, contemplating whether or not to take the help. The girl looked less than enthused, and he didn’t want to be a burden. 

“Yeah I am, but no.” She nodded. “You won’t have to talk to the cops. I mean, it’d be better if you did but I won’t force you. You’ve been through enough pain for one day.” Aleah smiled, and moved the Kleenex away. “Come with me. We need to check for a concussion.” She said, pointing to her car.

“Alright then,” he nodded with a shrug. It was a weird feeling, to be dealing with people like that at his age. When he was younger, things like this were common for him - being in foster care until he aged out didn’t exactly help - but he was almost twenty-five now. Ethan paused, hesitating because he didn’t know the woman, but she seemed harmless and what other option did he have, really? “I guess sleeping is not something I can do, yeah?” He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” Aleah said and then remembered she was a doctor. “I mean - I’m a doctor but a hospital, maybe? You might want to make sure there is no internal damage. This guy might have gotten a few knocks to your head.” It hurt Aleah’s heart when the boy had revealed the reason. “Are you serious?” She moved her hand to his back, with the other still on his forehead and rubbed it sotly. “I’m so sorry . People are jerks.”

“Doctor?” He paused, sighing. “Don’t have to talk to any police folk about this, do I? ‘M not really in the mood.” He shrugged, still too disorientated to actually feel anything besides the pain. “S’okay, just bad luck. Mostly everyone’s great, there’s always a few bad people.”

Having to face her fear of blood was making her grouchier than normal.  “Seriously mate, what do you think I am?  Nurse Practitioner Barbie that comes equipped with her own supplies bag?  I don’t fucking know!” She applied some pressure, she may have not known the symptoms of a concussion but she did know she was supposed to do that.—…Wasn’t she?

Ethan nodded, the splitting headache and the aching ribs just being half of the reason why he didn’t bother arguing. He reached up, grabbing the tissues before pulling away from her touch, taking over applying pressure. “Thanks for the help,” he sighed, waving her off. “’M fine.”

“I have a Kleenex in my bag, and some Neosporin , actually. You okay?” She moved the Kleenex to his forehead, even though she knew the boy was perfectly capable of doing it himself. “You got into a fight? Oh my gosh!” Aleah internally panicked.

“F-Fantastic,” he nodded, blinking a few times, still a bit out of it. “Wouldn’t call it a fight, more like lots of sputtering of the word ‘faggot’ and some blinding pain. Can’t believe this shit still happens.” He said, wrinkling his nose before wincing.

“Nothing wrong with liking sex,” he couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his chin. “Don’t call yourself pathetic. You’re allowed to do whatever you please.”

“Do I carry towels on my person regularly?  No.  Sorry.” She rolled her eyes, yet still looked around, a bit panicked as she wasn’t a fan of blood, despite having been a candy striper– before finding a box of tissues pulling way too many out, her hand shaking slightly as she brought them to his head.

“Stupid question, sorry.” He mumbled again, a bit disoriented as she pressed the tissues to his head. “What are the symptoms of a concussion?”

“Is waiting by your phone for a booty call pathetic?–I’m asking for a friend.”

“If you’ve got nothing else to do.. why not?” Ethan shrugged. “’M not gonna judge ya, I mean.. if someone says they haven’t been there, theyre lying.”

“Ethan!” Kenna practically squealed. “This is amazing! I’m so freaking proud of you! –God, look at it. It’s going to be fantastic.”

Ethan grinned as he looked around at the place. “Cheers, Kay.” He laughed, amused at her reaction. “You can still help me with the opening, yeah? I have lots of artists but I need buyers. Know any stuffy old white men who want to load their house up with expensive art?”

“You spent your entire life savings?”

“Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but this place did cost a pretty penny.”

“Looks good, mate. What do art galleries do, anyway?”

“Display art, promote art, sell art, host cool events. Pretty much whatever you want, really.”

“Quite de gran’ space you’ve got ‘ere,” she complimented, her eyes wandering around the room. She’d just been looking around for a place to say, but Keira always had a thing for stopping to enjoy the sights. “An artist, are ye?”

Ethan grinned sheepishly, nodding his head. “Yeah, thanks. It’s still in the beginning stages but it’s kinda cool that it’s not all on paper now.”

She gave him a light smile before handing one to him. “There you go.” At his question, the young lady paused a moment before replying. “I guess I was wandering around again – bad habit.” Taking another bite of her stroopwafel, Bo turned her head towards him. “So, what do you think?”

Ethan took it from her small hands before digging in, never having been a picky eater. And he was grateful he did, because it was delicious. “This is amazing,” he said, his words muffled as he chewed. After he swallowed, he laughed a bit. “What is it? And I’m doing the same, the weather isn’t horrible for once so we need t take advantage.”