@curaetiveā I canāt find the original (was it an ask or a answered meme oops) but have a thing:Ā
A frown mars her brow and lips purse, hand reaching up to cup his cheek for half a momentās time. āI mean it, Lou booā¦ you keep showing up here all banged up and itās starting to make me worry. I can fix you. Trust me.ā Blue eyes wide with sincerity, katie takes his hand in her own, covering his bloodied knuckles with her palm.
Taking a deep breath, she lets her eyes fall shut, wincing ever so slightly as a tingly sort of warmth seems to flow between them. Looking closely would reveal her own knuckles looking worse for wear, but only for a moment. The skin knits itself back together, and when she finally lets his hand go, thereās not even a trace of his cuts and scrapes. āSee,ā Katie murmurs, āLet me help youā¦ā
He grins at her words, leaning into her touch. āDonāt worry so much, baby. Iām tougher than I look.ā Which was saying something considering his usual state of being. But then sheās taking his hand, and his skin tingles beneath hers. He watches their hands, watches his own injuries claw their way out of her own knuckles and his hand tenses under hers, trying to pull away but sheās holding onto his hand tightly.
Finally she releases him and he doesnāt look at his own hand first, he grasps hers, studying it worriedly. He knows the marks on his skin as intimately as a lover; always cataloguing his injuries, always taking stock of what hurts, what doesnāt, whatās ready to hurt again. He knows these marks, these marks are his- but theyāre not anymore? Theyāre hersā¦ or they were, moments ago. The wounds vanish and he drops her hand, taking an almost nervous step away from her, cracking his knuckles and feeling the unfamiliar sensation ofā¦ nothing. No pain, no twinges of ache, no anything.
āDonāt do that again, kate, okay?ā Flustered blue eyes meet hers, still a pace away from her, watching her warily, like he expects her to jump him and take the rest of his wounds away, the rest of the lingering aches heās given to his body since teenhood. āDonāt fix me, donāt take the pain, please.ā Thereās a desperate lilt to his voice, āYou canāt do that, okay?ā Already thereās an itch to go back to the Pit, to regain his blood and bruises, to regain that visible badge of brawling honor. What if he forgot what the pain felt like? What if he couldnāt take it again next time? What if the monster notices heās not in pain, how quickly will he lose control on himself? What happens then?
He doesnāt know. He hasnāt been uninjured since he was fifteen. Itās the only way to keep himself balanced.
