#much cleaner

         𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐋   Widows, ghosts, and lovers sit and sing in the dark, ached marrow of me    -----    𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐇 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒  that linger like a softly uttered curse.

-@safrina-shards

“I-I saw you. You looked hurt Señor Hero.” Ale murmured, coming out of her hiding spot to jog over to his side before anyone could see her. Those curious brown orbs held a determination like no other. She had vowed to help him one day. Just like he did for her.

“You are hurt aren’t you.” It wasn’t even a question anymore. The brunette frowned, her brows knitting in concern. So that was what those gun fires were. It was kinda easy to find him. Just follow the loud explosions. “Go home? Si, but I can’t leave you here like this. Please let me help.” The girl asked firmly. “Mama taught me how to do first aid once when Papi got really hurt on the job. I fixed him up good as new! I can help, promise. It’s the least I can do after you saved me.”

“Yes, you can leave me.” He wanted her to. He was a magnet for gangsters and trouble, and he didn’t want her to get caught up in another firefight. She spoke quickly and he rubbed his head. As much as he did want to tell her to get the hell out, having a rusty spike shoved through your leg was a good way to invite infection. Good thing he was up to date on his shots before he died.

“Your ma’s probably worried sick about you.” He didn’t know any spanish, much less if anything Gabe had spoken over the years was even the same dialect as hers. He wouldn’t insult the kid by trying any half-baked spanish to try to get her to move. Besides, she understood, she just didn’t want to move. He looked at the wound, considering. After a while, there’s a sigh, filtered through the mask.