In front of him his friend shifts, cocking his head to the side. Brian mentally amends that statement. If his friend hadn’t been there to scare Alex off then no amount of dodging would have mattered and he wouldn’t have the memory of Alex scurrying off like a plague rat. Something blooms in Brian’s chest, warm and soft.

That was the main difference between him and Alex. He wasn’t alone.

With his best smile Brian gestures towards the first aid kit he had shoplifted from Walmart a couple weeks ago, trying to keep his hands steady. Even if Alex hadn’t managed to get a proper hit on him he was still going to have one hell of a black eye, his world narrowing down to a slit. There was nothing for it. He’d need some help to patch himself up. In his previous life he’d been well versed in First Aid, a set of skills he hoped was similar to riding a bicycle. Doing at home surgery had far higher stakes than making scarier videos in the woods.

But it was simple really. Pour a little bit of alcohol on the wound, make sure your hands were clean, and do a little bit of simple sewing. He wasn’t picky on the stitch, had a good couple of infected wounds already, knew the nearby CVS didn’t have security cameras if worse came to worse. This wouldn’t be the first time he stole antibiotics.

His friend frowns, but then again when was he not frowning? He had Tim’s face, Tim’s perpetually knotted brows, Tim’s dark worried eyes, Tim’s perfectly tousled hair. His friend’s hair, Brian corrects himself. That’s who he was with right now.

“Do you know how to-”

Brian’s cut off by a hand fisting the front of his hoodie and pulling him forward. Grin widening, he tilts his head to the side, exposed, secure. There was no reality where this version of Tim would ever hurt him. Well. Hurt him beyond what was necessary. He lets out a yelp as half the bottle of alcohol is upended atop his head, everything else momentarily obliterated by the pain. Just because he was missing one of his eyes didn’t mean it didn’t sting to have alcohol poured all over his face

“Hey! We need some of that for your hands!”

And as Brian squints, blinking back tears, something wonderful happens. That frown turns into something almost resembling a smile, the corner of his friend’s mouth quirking ever so subtly up. Bastard. Brian was grateful he still had the capacity to see it. If he didn’t he would just accept going to hell for killing Alex because there is nothing he wanted more in the world than to see that grin again and again and again, gorge himself on the joy of it. If he wasn’t careful the hunger for it would subsume everything else.