[log] justin! he's punching all my blood out! [closed]

[bywolves]

Characters: Royce Melborn and Alfie Solomons
Location: House 12
Date: Day 351ish
Summary: We'll see if they both last the night, honestly.
Warnings: violence, extra stuff will be cw'd in the subject lines.

BUILDING 12: This bizarre house, while fully intact, only consists of one very large empty room and a hatch that leads to the maintenance tunnels.

Comments

[devoutish]

[He lifts his arm, showing Royce the stitches he'd done for him.]

I'm not.

[bywolves]

[ He makes a dismissive, frustrated noise, rolling away from Alfie, just sliding down to the floor. ]

I can be useful. S'not the same.

[devoutish]

No.

[He reaches for Royce's arm, tugging.]

You did this of your own volition; of your own will. A shattered man wouldn't've cared.

[bywolves]

[ He stays where he is on the floor, too wasted to pull himself up. ]

It's not enough. [ He swallows hard. ] I don't like what I am.

[devoutish]

Of course you fucking don't.

[Alfie keeps tugging, though it's hard one-handed.]

But that doesn't mean you won't come back from it. I've seen shattered men, mate, and you're not so far gone as all that.

[bywolves]

[ He's a limp noodle. Alfie's going to have to drag him back up if he wants Royce to sit up. ]

I hhh... I hate. [ Royce mumbles, shivering. He's babbling, at this point. ] I hate me.

[devoutish]

I love you.

[He loves him enough to make use of his injured arm in trying to pull him back up.]

Come on.

[bywolves]

[ He's not drunk enough to not realize Alfie's in danger of hurting himself by pulling Royce up. Royce makes a protesting noise and tries to drag himself to a sitting position, pushing at Alfie's hands weakly. ]

Don't. [ He mumbles, dragging in an unsteady breath. ] I want - I want the wine. Give it to me.

[devoutish]

I don't want you sitting on the floor and making yourself sore, and I'm hurting my arm to get you back up here. Come on.

[He keeps tugging.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce slowly gets his hands under him, and pushes himself up, eyes focusing and unfocusing as he does. He sits with his back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. ]

Up. M'up. Don't hurt yourself. Gimme the wine.

[devoutish]

First, you look me in the eyes and tell me that it's not making you worse.

[bywolves]

[ His expression gets shitty and belligerent. ]

It's my wine. Give it.

[devoutish]

Mm, yeah, but we take care of each other, don't we. You'd be doing this if our places were switched. Now look me in the eye.

[bywolves]

[ Royce looks up at him, still belligerent. Alfie's going to see how out of it he is - he probably doesn't need much more to be on the road to blackout drunk. ]

[devoutish]

[The look Alfie gives him is halfway to heartbroken, honestly.]

Why don't you let me finish this off, mate.

[bywolves]

[ Royce makes a frustrated noise, lunging for the wine. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie fumbles, nearly dropping it.]

Royce--

[bywolves]

Just let me --

[ Royce says, angrily, breathing harsh and upset. He grabs again, clumsily knocking into Alfie - and his arm. ]

[devoutish]

[His fingers rake down the hours-old stitches, a nail catching on the thread and ripping them partway open and spilling blood. Alfie, letting out a yell of surprise and pain, drops the bottle onto the mattress, where it rolls to rest against Royce's knee.]

[bywolves]

[ Oh - oh. Fuck.

Royce startles back at the yelp, scrambling away. He nearly brains himself on the wall, losing his balance entirely, and dizzily, he falls back onto his elbow, jarring himself pretty badly. For a long moment, he stays slumped down, staring at Alfie's arm.

And then it hits, the impact of what he did, and his already harsh breathing catches horribly, his gasp wet and upset. Oh. Oh, he... ]

[devoutish]

Think I'm gonna let you--

[He clamps a hand over the wound as if that might staunch the blood, which is oozing out steadily (though thankfully much slower than when it had first been ripped open).]

Think I'm gonna let you hurt yourself. Fucking ridiculous. Fucking--

[bywolves]

[ Royce's expression is right on the edge of crumpling, breaking. He's caught - he needs to... he needs to help, but his hands are shaky and he's drunk, and he can't sew right now, he knows he can't.

He drags himself back up, trying to breathe through the nausea, and unsteadily drags his bag to him, trying to grab more of the fabric in his pack to at least wrap the wound. His breathing shakes - and if Alfie's looking, he'll see Royce's face is wet. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie will notice eventually, but not yet - he's too focused on the injury, unwrapping it with shaky hands. He starts to tug out what's left of the stitches, figuring that having it not stitched at all is better than leaving it like this.]

Something thick. Padded.

[bywolves]

Nn - no, don't -- [ Royce says, voice cracking as he reaches for Alfie's arm, trying frantically to stop him from pulling out the stitches. ] Don't, s'gonna bleed more, Alfie, don't, you need --

[devoutish]

[He pulls his arm away insistently.]

I don't want the strings hanging out like this. You can't stitch in this state, and I can't stitch one-handed. Royce - something padded. Have we got it?