The Best Mistake

When I stepped onto my porch, I dashed over to Nash before freezing in shock when I finally saw what he looked like. His black eye- which was pretty much healed and almost gone only a couple hours ago- was now bruising again and gross looking. He only had a little bit of blood trailing out of his nose, but there was dried up blood there as well, so I assumed it was bleeding badly before he got here. His head was leaning against the tree with his eyes closed and I couldn't tell whether or not there was blood matted in his hair or if it was just wet toward the top. "Nash," I whispered. His eyes opened- well, the black eye only opened slightly. "What happened?"

"With what?" his voice sounded pained, like it hurt him to just talk.

"The fight?" I asked.

"Oh, that," he said before chuckling dryly. "I, uh... I lost."

"Yeah, I figured out that much by now ," I snapped at him.

He let out a deep breath, before coughing furiously for a couple of seconds. "I came here, because I promised you I would, and I didn't want to break that promise," he spoke slowly. "But I will gladly leave if I'm going to have to put up with arguing and your bullshit. Seriously, Ash. I'm not in the mood."

I sighed, suddenly feeling guilty. He's in so much obvious pain, and here I am being a bitch to him. He brought it onto himself, a voice spoke in my head. He decided to go to the fight. Shaking the voice out of my head, I looked at him apologetically. "Sorry," I said. "Did you walk all the way here?" He barely nodded. "How long was it?"

He shrugged. "Maybe 20 minutes, I dunno," he said, his voice slurring with sleepiness.

"We need to get you upstairs before you pass out," I said.

"I can't make it up your window," he said. "Lemme rest here and then we'll see."

"Jeremy wakes up in four hours, you can't sleep here," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Can you walk up stairs?" He made a sound, which I decided to take as a yes. "Come on, then. Let's get you upstairs." I walked over and put my arm around his waist, hoisting him up to his feet. I groaned as he dropped all of his weight on me. "Nash you've gotta help me here."

He mumbled something that sounded like an apology and even though he was only helping a little, it still was enough for us to get up all the way upstairs and into my room. He was heading toward my bed when I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He turned around and looked at me with tired anger and annoyance. "Can you bitch at me tomorrow or something? I'm tired," he said.

"What if you have a concussion?" I asked. "You can't go to sleep."

"The fight was well over an hour ago, princess," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep."

"At least let me clean you up," I suggested.

He rolled his eyes, wincing visibly as he did so. "Can I get some damn sleep after you do?" he asked. I nodded. "Then lead the way."

I dragged him to the bathroom. "Take off your clothes," I instructed.

He gave me a weird look. "Haven't we gone over this first? You need to buy me dinner fir-"

"Shut up, your clothes have dirt and blood on them. Don't argue, please?" I said. He grunted before reaching to take his shirt off, flinching as he tried to reach up. "Here, let me help." I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slowly pulled it off his body, so he'd only move slightly when he needed to. Then he undid his pants and kicked them off, leaving him in just his boxers. Heat rushed to my face, but I ignored it as he sat on the toilet and leaned his head against the wall, eyes clothes. "Try to stay awake, okay?"

"Yup," he muttered, but I doubt he'd try too hard.

I sighed, before wetting the wash rag. This might take a while.