“You realize these bandages are completely screwed up? Your back is a bloody mess….and I’m being literal.”
An aggravated sigh, that of which cued a yawn to follow after as a mess of bandages sat beside them.
His hair was a long brown, it’s length straight and blurring the vision of one of his green eyes as it fell toward his face. Delicately steady hands pushed against a back of damaged and bright pink skin. It seemed as if something had set it off, the parts that had only scabbed open again and bleeding free. These steady hands belong to a man who seemed less than awake, body covered in nothing but a pair of underwear, as if he’d been abruptly awoken. Bare feet pressed into the carpet below, the other male began to release rather abrupt curses as pressure was applied.
“Shit man! I know you have to do that, but can you be fucking gentle!?”
A head of blonde sat backwards in a chair, arms leaning onto what would’ve been the backrest, wearing nothing but pants to cover him.
“Hey! Don’t complain at me! You’re the idiot who jumped out of his window! You’re not even healed up, and you go off to be stupid. You’re lucky I’m even willing to do this for you.”
The two bickered, though, it was idle, and, despite how angry it should’ve sounded, the brunette seemed only somewhat tired. It was obvious the two had some relation, what with their facial expressions and widened noses, though, the two were surprisingly different in body shape. The brunette seemed much more formed, lacking the height the other had but making up for it in his toned shape, six hard edges formed into his stomach and his arms seeming well used. The other was more skin and bone, though, he had a height advantage, the difference a noticeable but not huge one. He was a mess of dirty blonde on the top of his head, pieces of leaves stuck within the length of his hair. His hair fell to the side of his head, though, his eyes paid no attention, giving off a distance gaze, staring off into nothing.
By the time the brunette had gone to remove his hands, the major and open scabs had closed themselves, the harsh, irritated pink it had before lessening to a bright pink.
Rubbing hands on the bandages, he wiped free blood, lightly attempting to dab up the blood that had freed itself from his wounds.
“They’re closed, but I can’t mend skin or anything like that, so hold still. Not like you’re going very far after jumping out of a damn window…”
It was more of a murmur, the way he stood making the ring that had been looped through a chain jump, hitting his bare chest as he walked toward the kitchen.
James remained as told, seeming much less focused than he might normally be, though, he still snapped to attention as he heard his brother speak again.
“So…. why’d you try to commit window suicide anyways?”
James shrugged his shoulders, smirking in his brother’s direction.
“I don’t know…just felt like it, you know. Had to see. If you ever need your hair windblown, I know how you can do it.”
After saying this, he seemed to focus on the ring around his brothers’ neck.
The metal was a silvery-white (Most likely something like Palladium), the head of the ring larger than the bottom, it’s top a sharp contrast of black beneath the engraved crest of what appeared to be a shield, surrounded on both sides by something like thorns, dressed in the same silvery-white, the inside of the shield multiple cuts of straight lines running down it, it’s center dressed with a stone of a pure white, small and placed firmly within. Beneath the shield and dress of thorns, engraved within a header the word Castell. Ripple patterns ran from the head of the ring, running down to connect at its bottom and repeat.
“Still holding onto that?”
James kept any certain emotion from reaching his voice, head turning to the side as he awaited an answer.
“Don’t see where else it’s supposed to go. You never complained about the money. Where’s yours?”
The brunette seemed somewhat saddened as he spoke, the tone of which did not reflect in James.
“Trash, probably.”
A deadpan reply, simply as that as his arms began to numb sitting on the chair.
“Guess no one said you had to wear it…”
A sigh, stepping forward with new bandaging and multiple other ointments.
“Your clear enough to shower. Should do that first.”
Drake point halfheartedly towards the hallway, and James, who instantly took the cue, had left his chair and headed towards the shower.
“Never did answer my question.”
Sleeping on his stomach was uncomfortable. Not just uncomfortable, but somewhat hard on the already developed discomfort that sat firm. Somehow, he’d managed, messy blonde hair sticking somewhat to the pillow as he raised his head, half open eyes staring out towards the setting sky through a peek in his window. He’d known when he’d gone to sleep, but, despite this, what little bit of rest he had managed to achieve didn’t seem to matter, hands the first thing to push him up from his spot as he began to worm his way free, tired eyes blinking, consciously attempting to not roll out like he would normally. He found his way, slipping out from under the covers and coming to an awkward stand, slim body tightly wrapped with fresh-looking bandages. The first pain he’d noticed happened when he’d pressed his feet onto the floor, the aching pain in his legs a dull side effect of yesterdays actions, and the pain made it somewhat hard to stand. He found his way though, ignoring it and walking towards the closest. He slid the door open, digging through it almost as if he’d planned out what he would do the moment he’d awoken., ignoring the dull creak of the wooden floor (And the full hamper within his closet), he grabbed a white tank top, slipping it slowly over his body, making an effort to avoid touching anything with the shirt through the barrier covering his back.
Pants came next, and, by the the time he’d gone to slip them on, his eyes had adjusted, and he’d kicked himself free from the sleep holding him, buttoning his pants.
It was only as he rubbed deodorant under his arms that he raised his hand, eyes catching the lack of a bracelet on his wrists. Quickly applying what he needed, he ran toward the window, peeking from the blinds at the dim and darkening sky outside. Tossing the deodorant on his bed, he left the messy sheets behind him as he ran from his room.
He’d forgotten about Amnesia until he’d seen his bracelet missing…. how funny that that’d worked for him instead.
Too lazy to go for socks, he grabbed for a pair of his sandals, slipping them on by the door leading outside, and, closing his eyes, he seemed in thought.
Where had she been…where had she been. He’d marked it but couldn’t remember. Screw it! Grabbing a key, he locked the door behind him as he went into a sprint.
He felt urgent for some reason, as if the fact that she hadn’t already come to see him seemed to bring about sudden fear. He’d had to do his best to convince himself that he was being stupid as he hit the outside
March 25th, 2018 at 08:54am
