[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds.
jem held his breath tightly to his own chest, as if exhaling the way he would, would betray his stubbornness. he squared his shoulders where he was seated on the lower end of a broad stairway in camden town, staring up at will who hovered and hunkered trying to get a better view of the wound on jem's arm. he bristled lightly, and then said more helplessly :
❛❛ i'm quite alright will. must you— ❜❜ yes, he thought annoyed, and exhaled. he really must. will had propped himself down beside jem now, and was carefully maneavering his arm onto his lap. their heads nearly bumped together in the process, and he felt his annoyance double at the twist of endearment sprouting in his heart. ❛❛ i'm not fragile you know. ❜❜ this was innocently false, but that was a separate matter. jem's fury was a contained beast, it's primary witness and keeper the boy in front of him but only on darker nights than this one, when his own vision betrayed him to visions. ❛❛ you fuss as bad as a hen. what's a wound to a shadowhunter? ❜❜
