#lss6

Trust, she trusts you, she trusts you to be helpful, his brain repeats happily, sticking onto the word and keeping it like a prayer. He nods, hoping she can’t tell how the comment makes him glow with pride. At least, he would hope he was being subtle, if his stupid tail didn’t start wagging simply at the word trust. His face burns. He tucks his head down and gets to work to distract from the way all of his blood is rushing to colour his cheeks. There’s a task at hand, and it isn’t the way his heart leapt when she said something that proves the pack part of his brain victorious.

He’s working. He can work. He gets lost in the blood and flesh of it all, cleaning and disinfecting, fixing the tangle of skin. There are shreds hanging down–it's the messiest type of cuts, but they’re still not that deep. The muscle underneath is visible, through the swamp of red, and fortunately not in tatters. Hannah’s just laying silently, her jaw clenched and sweat pouring down her face. Minute’s never seen someone stay so quiet, so still. He's never seen her bite at her lip so hard she bleeds.

“You’re real cute,” She says, out of nowhere. Minute pauses. His hands are soaked in red. It’s the first time they’ve been sitting close enough to touch, and he’s coloured with her ichor. Hannah smiles at him like they’re somewhere simpler where being close isn’t an open invitation for death to follow. She’s so pretty that for a second, Minute thinks he might be able to forget where they are. He could pretend he could trust her without it being a gun to the back of his head, bullets breathing down his neck. He wonders if it would be worth it to just let her, if the seconds of bliss would be worth her killing him.

“Do you–have you lost too much blood?” He stutters, his elbow knocking into where her knees have folded up, bruises facing up to the ceiling. She seems stable. Her breathing has steadied out, her brow has relaxed, her skin isn’t lined with goosebumps. When he reaches for her hand, it isn’t trembling, it’s not slick with sweat.

Hannah shrugs, still smiling. Minute notices she still has sharp canines, despite not having any wolf in her. He wonders if all fairies have such sharp teeth. He wonders if he closed the distance if Hannah would kiss him back. His knee is against her hip, and his elbow is still resting barely a hair away from her skin. He starts to massage her palm, just to feel the blood flow, to memorize the tendons and bone beneath the muscles and calluses. ....

minute is a wolf slowly recognizing chungpire as his pack and hannah is attempting to hide her injury .. cue bloody minrose feelings realization! :P