[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.

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[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?

[bywolves]

I have... I have socks. [ Royce slurs, trying to hold his hand over the wound clumsily to stop it from bleeding instead. ] And... and the rest of the fabric, I can fold it, or...

[devoutish]

Not the socks.

[Those are too valuable for bandages.]

We'll fold the fabric, then.

[His arm throbs, and he presses his hand down harder, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce goes very quiet, though his breath shakes harshly as he starts deliberately and slowly folding the purple fabric. He has to do this right. He's using all of his concentration. Hand bloody, Royce wraps the folded fabric around the wound, eyes down on his work. He's trying very, very hard not to let his hands tremble. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie watches, quiet until he's done.]

Don't have more wine, mate.

[bywolves]

Okay.

[ His voice is small. A bit of wetness drips down onto the fabric as Royce wraps Alfie's arm, and when he's finished, he sits back, eyes still on the floor, hair a mess and in his face. ]

[devoutish]

[Good. Good answer.

Alfie grabs the bottle and takes a long swig, because he kind of needs it right now. Then he sets it aside and pushes some of that hair back from Royce's face.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce doesn't look up. But Alfie will see pretty clearly that Royce is crying, tears sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't move, just stays exactly where he is - though he sways just a little. ]

[devoutish]

[Luckily Alfie's uninjured arm is facing him, so he's able to wrap it around his shoulders, tugging him closer.]

[bywolves]

Don't.

[ His voice is hoarse and wet. He doesn't pull away, though. ] Don't comfort me.

[devoutish]

Shut up.

[He sags against Royce.]

You've done a very stupid thing. That doesn't mean I want you here with me any less.

[bywolves]

[ He swallows hard, trembling. ]

I just wanted to sleep. [ He hiccups. ] Now I'm - m'sitting here. Crying. For no - no gods-damned reason. Drunk. Spineless. Would've - never, wouldn't've... I just wanted t'sleep.

[devoutish]

Yeah. I know.

[He noses against Royce's cheek.]

Those sleeping pills - are they safe to take with alcohol? Not gonna make you bleed into your brain and all?

[bywolves]

Dunno. [ Royce mumbles. Another hiccup. ] I dunno. M'not a... thing.

[ And the hiccups get consistent. ] M'sorry. I'm really sorry.

[devoutish]

I'm sorry you can't sleep.

[He murmurs quietly.]

[bywolves]

Just gimme... gimme a day. [ Hiccup. ] S'all I'll want to do.

[devoutish]

We're not going anywhere today. Not tomorrow, either.

[bywolves]

S'the problem. That's what it is.

[devoutish]

Staying put? That's the problem?

[bywolves]

No. [ Royce pulls his knees to his chest, putting his cheek against them and closing his eyes. ] No. Me. I'm the problem.