aaroncantfixit

[aaroncantfixit]

"We're going to need to work on you apologizing all the time.", Aaron points out when he gently moves her to turn around, closing his eyes as he does. It takes him a moment to find the zipper, and he keeps his eyes closed as he pulls it down. "Eyes are closed.", he points out, softly, "I'd offer to get in with you, but I'm not sure you want what's on my scrubs in your water." He has the bathroom mapped out in his mind, and gently helps her get in, once she's undressed.

The intimacy doesn't reach him as much as he wished it would. There's no pitter-patter in his heart, no nervousness, but Freyja feels like more than just a stranger. Like more than just a friend. She's something secondary, something weird he cant quite put into words. She's home.

"I can help you with your hair, if you're fine with me opening my eyes.", Aaron offers, "Or I can just sit here and talk about how I like when you cook for me. How I like when you clean my apartment, even if you don't have to, just because you know it takes some pressure of my shoulders. I hate that you think you're worth less than you really are. I hate that your magic troubles you." Aaron rubs his hands over his face, not opening his eyes yes, "I hate that you think you're not worth my love."

Freyja wished she believed him. Wished that she had the confidence that he did when it came to the magic that they were born with. But she didn't. She truly felt like her magic was bad and that she, in turn, was bad because of it. "Not right now." She agreed, trying her best to reign in her tears.

"You're not a trophy." She whispered, as if he need reassurance. She never believed that. Not once. Freyja had thought that he was nice to look at, of course, but not a trophy. And she'd done her best to be her genuine self when she had met him and his parents. Her parents hadn't been concerned but Freyja was trying hard, at that gathering, to not reveal just how out of control her magic was. "I'm sorry." Another whisper. I'm sorry if you feel like I lied to you. I'm sorry I'm not strong. I'm sorry I'm emotional all the time.

She squealed when he lifted her into his arms. Without thinking, Freyja sank into him, pressing her cheek against his chest. He was so warm and all she wanted was to continue to be held by him. "Okay." She agreed. "Yeah, um... just... I... I actually need help taking off my dress." She admitted, her cheeks flaring with heat. "But just unzipping it. Then you can turn around and once I get in the bath..." His words weren't lost on her and suddenly, she realized just how intimate it was about to be between them. "Sit with your back against the tub?" Her hand was wound in his shirt again and she really didn't want to let go of him. She'd much rather him just get in the tub with her, clothes and all.

"Or you could..." Freyja's breath was coming in soft pants now, her head tilting back and her eyes lifting to look up at his face. "You could..." His lips. His lips were so close and if she just lifted her face... "Help me with my hair?"

[aaroncantfixit]

"Would you write about my body being mush after my parents hire a hitman on me?", Aaron questions, "I think their close. I can see my father's eye twitch every time he talks to me, and my mother has been sighing a lot. Perhaps it has something to do with me not, what did they say? Report to my duty and give them grandbabies?" The surgeon now rubs his face with both of his hands, before looking back at the nurse and winking in her direction, in hopes of getting her to stop luring around at the window. It works, and she disappears after gifting them a giggle.

"As if my parents would ever admit that shit is forced. They go around telling everyone how they're so happy I found the perfect wife, as if they didn't set me up for an insane amount of meetings with families I've never been interested in. The woman I chose was the nicest, least insane option. She acts like a real human being, and not like a fucking puppet." Aaron groans, "She's actually nice, and deserves someone good. Not some fucking arrangement."

There are holes in his memory and he hasn't got answers to any of his burning questions. He's been scouring the internet for any peculiar medical admissions and stalking the rival tabloids for anything he may need to pursue.

The hospital is near the top of the list of places to check out.

And Tomás is a great listener (he has to be, to get things right). But Aaron's unpacking a lot straight off the bat. He doesn't remember Bear being so forthcoming; he's also often partnered with a drink in hand and the backdrop of a Floridian club in Priestley's memory. Bear meaning business is a different vibe altogether.

"There's drama in choosing the nurse," Tomás answers, like it's the diplomatic choice; the one with the better story. "And she's hot." He swigs his coffee, "But I'm not writing about your body being mush on the interstate, either."

He's picking the parts in the story that sit as facts, anticipating the multitude of questions that he wants to ask immediately afterwards. "—Also, your parents better not go off talking to mine about this arrangement, it's disconcerting." And he doesn't want them getting ideas that interfere with his research (though really, he's sure they haven't got the time with his sister taking it all up).

[aaroncantfixit]

"It's not a nightmare. She's in the pit.", Aaron mimics, "Take her out!" His last word cuts through the room like a knife. Deafening. Loud. As if not only Aaron yells it, but fifty other Aarons at the same time, too. "This is not about us, it merely is. This is only about you. You say you don't care, and then you do stupid shit like this." The surgeon doesn't want to interfere -- he wants Riven to free her himself. And when he does, he darts around.

He's greeted by earth, and he knows he can't reach her. Hears the way she breathes, barely moves. Straightening his back, Aaron turns back to Riven. "Leave this apartment, after giving me back my keys. I never want you to come back. What you've done, is unforgivable to me. You don't just get to walk around the world and throw people into your pit, or your nightmares, just because you yourself are too stupid to take what you could. Just because you're too scared." Aaron steps closer -- and clear in his eyes is not only anger and hate, but sadness, too.

"Just ask yourself, who's going to love you now, Riven. Who's left?"

@rivenvictors

It all happened quicker, than he expected — the gust of wind, his back slammed against the drywall, pinned like wet laundry and a pair of eyes he'd seen flash in every light immaginable. They've faught before, when they were children mostly — about silly things like the last bite of a sandwich, forgetting to call back or ruining his favourite shirt. Over the years, arguments became less and less, but the focus shifted to bigger things — like matters of the heart.

Riven's eyes stared with the same intensity — although if his gaze lingered long enough, he'd be able to notice the pain, the hurt from a decision made perhaps on a whim, perhaps not worth mentioning to his best friend, because of it's little significance. He could only hope.

Warm fingers wrapped around Aaron's wrists, tugging them right off the fabric of his clothes. "It's not a nightmare. She's in the pit." words meant to bring relief. There was significant difference between the two, as Aaron was already aware. A nightmare would have her mad and screaming, while the pit was vast, utter darkness where Riven granted others mercy and some quiet time to think what they've done to piss him off.

His brows creased so very slowly, as each word drummed inside his ears. The painful realization that their friendship had become something entirely else for Aaron settling in. The kiss was easy to avoid — he'd blame it on their closeness, on an innocent infatuation with the idea that a best friend could be a soulmate in more ways than one. It was cliché — a hallmark postcard. Riven would fuck it up. He was already fucking it up, when there was barely anything to fuck up. Their friendship hanging on by a thread, over what?

Did it all mean so very little?

Aaron's words were like arrows piercing through his pride — bleeding out into more doubt. "You're making this about something it is not." a beat, "Throwing out our friendship over what? The fact that you want something I can't give you?" Riven's eyes softened, hurt now painfully evident within blue hues. Then his head bowed slightly in defeat. "I can't give you more, than I've already given you."

The magic bond between them was strong enough for Aaron to intervine, if he wished. But this was Riven's doing and the woman — his prisoner. A vague, slight wave of his hand released her from the pit. Giving her back the light and color of her surroundings.

@freyjaxcarter

[aaroncantfixit]

( @rivenvictors x @freyjaxcarter -- Aaron's apartment late, in the evening )

[ Riven: ] You just wanted someone who'd stick around. [ Aaron: ] Fuck you, seriously. You have no idea what you're talking about. You seriously have no idea. [Riven: ] Your wife's fine. Jacket's on the kitchen counter. I'll see you around.

The door bursts open the moment Aaron receives the message. He's still in a pair of dark red scrubs, slightly dirty with something that looks like blood on the pants, and wrinkled from hours in the OR. Aaron's first glance goes in Freyja's direction, and in the next, he has Riven pressed against the wall, hard and swiftly, fists bunching up the fabric as he glares at him. "Are you out of your mind? You find out I'm engaged and figure the best thing is to throw her into one of your nightmares?" Aaron puts more pressure on his collarbones.

In his eyes, is more than just anger. There's pain, and hatred, and hidden away, locked behind doors, love. Aaron feels his heart crack as he says his next words, "Foolish of me to think I could ever love someone like you. So fucking selfish. You toy with me, and when I move on and find someone else, suddenly I'm good enough. Why wasn't I good enough when I wanted you? Did that make it too real?" Aaron lets go of him, takes a step back, "You know my family, and you still think I had a choice? I had a say? Do you not remember what they can hold against me?" Aaron shakes his head, then turns in Freyja's direction, moves closer to her, carefully, "Let her go. Let her fucking go."

@rivenvictors

[aaroncantfixit]

[aaroncantfixit]

"It's not a curse, Freyja. At least not in my eyes. I'm not scared. I know you are. We'll work on it. But not right now." Sometimes, when Aaron looks at her, he thinks of a deer scared in the headlights. What he wants to help her become is a confident woman, that stands in the headlights without fear, and walks away with powerful struts once the lights come too close. Or a woman that just blows the fucking car up, or whatever she wants to do.

"I chose you.", Aaron whispers back, softly, "I had options. Many. I've been introduced to so many women, you won't believe it. You were nice. You didn't throw yourself onto me like I was some glorious trophy. You seemed like you wanted your peace, and not someone who just uses you for whatever they want. I told my parents yes the moment you left the room." He cups her face with his hands, "When our families are around, when we're in public, I pretend. This is real. All of this is real." Aaron considers it, kissing her, but neither of them are in the right mind, so he just carefully lifts her off the ground and carries her to the bathroom -- like she's air.

"I'd like to stay, for your safety.", Aaron explains, "I'll just sit down and turn around.", then, beat, "Unless you want my help. I don't want to push... your boundaries, or... It's not that I don't... find you attractive. I really, really do. But I wouldn't... view you like that. Not right now, if you need my help."

Fresh tears bubble at the corners of her eyes at his question and she wants to simultaneously pull away from him when his hands cup her face, and lean into it. She's desperate for him to touch her and in the end, she gives in, leaning her head to the right and pushing into one of his hands. "It's not fair." She cried. "I don't-- I don't want it. I want it to stop. I--" She'd never told anyone that. That she didn't want her magic. That if given the chance, she'd get rid of it all together.

Freyja also had never revealed to someone just how much she hated herself.

"I'm not-- you didn't choose me." Not really. And she hadn't chosen him but... but that didn't mean she didn't want to. As much as she still felt love for her ex -- one she had ran away from over a decade prior -- she wanted to try with someone else. She wanted to feel... something for someone. She'd been alone for so long and for her, it was nice that her parents helped her in that aspect with the arrangement. "That is what I am." Freyja found herself whispering. "I-- we pretend. And it's..." Confusing. And his words only confuse her more. Maybe it's because she was just bitten and drained of blood. Maybe it was because he had his hands on her and she was partially distracted. I want you to want me. Freyja wanted to tell him. I don't want you to feel like you have to try. She wanted it to be... easy. But none of this was easy.

"Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want him to sleep on the couch. And the thought of him helping her change and shower... she was already overwhelmed just thinking about it. But the vibrations had subsided, finally. "I don't think I can walk right now."

[aaroncantfixit]

( @tomaspriestley -- the hospital late, close to midnight )

"It was either getting on your nerves or fucking the cute blonde nurse that's sitting by the window.", Aaron greets Tomás in his usual, charming demeanor. He's sitting on one of the plastic chairs spread out in front of the hospital's coffee shop, and is focused smoking a cigarette -- which he usually doesn't, and which's smell he'll have to shower off before going back home to Freyja. "I'm engaged now, so I thought the first option would be better for my reputation. Not that I care about my reputation, but. You get the memo."

Aaron rarely ever rambles, and that he does makes clear how stressed he is. His shoulders are tensed, his brows are furrowed, and he's out in the cold without a jacket, only in his dark blue scrubs. "Not like, engaged out of love. Something my parents set up to fuck me over even more. And before you ask, no, I couldn't have said no. I thought about saying a very clear no by just throwing myself on the interstate, but at the end of the day, she's not that bad. Really sweet, actually."

Beat. "Sorry. I'm shutting up now. What's up?"

[aaroncantfixit]

Aaron's favorite question when around Riven dares to slip over his tongue and out of his mouth. The shift was rough, spend some time with me? But today, he retorts to something else. Today, his lips are tight-knit together, his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks nothing but distressed. "You know, I actually had a pretty rough shift today. I should be going home." There's another jab waiting -- there's someone waiting for me, after all. His fiancé. Aaron hates thinking about how he'd rather have it be Riven, waiting -- hates to think about things like that when Freyja is so nice, so sweet, so helpful.

Aaron actually hates thinking in general.

He doesn't leave immediately, though -- instead he sticks around for some more explanations of the mermaid sex, that he really, could care less about. The nurse he always rants to about his love life will be delighted to hear, but Aaron really, really isn't right now.

"Just burn it.", the surgeon shrugs, before his phone goes off, and he sighs, picking it out of his pocket with his one empty hand. "Bear?", he announces himself, and loud rambling can be heard from the other line, "I'm not on call, and I'm not in on the case. Check with Carter if you can give ACEs. You could try ARBs. You know what, just ask Carter. Bye." Aaron hangs up, stuffs the phone back into his pocket and downs the rest of his coffee. "I haven't slept in 48 hours. Sorry."

He was used to the banter, they've set a nice, little rhythm — Aaron's endless yapping, and Riven nodding his head, pretending he was listening. He was used to the jabs, and the tantrums, and the ocassional flirting (he had foolishly told himself it was all in good measure), yet he wasn't prepared for that prick to his skin, the drawing of blood — like he had plucked out a rose, and suffered the consequences of selfishly stealing its beauty for himself alone.

Eyes averted, Riven took a moment to find his words. "Not a writer." he reminded him. "Just a book editor." meaning he crossed over stupid nonsense in red and added question marks to words that didn't even make sense, leaving papers always covered in too much crimson and not enough actual good writing.

Mouth found the rim of his cup. A decent excuse to shut him up long enough for Aaron to drop the subject of — whatever that was the other night.

Then The Dark Mermaid Rises suddenly served a better purpose than he'd even imagined it would. Better than getting used as a roll of toilet paper. "Nothing — It's work." hardly nothing, but no one in their right mind would consider this actual work. The heel of his palm dug into his eyes, to rub the sleep out of them, or perhaps if he pushed a little harder, blind himself so he'd never have to read any of this ever again. "It's mermaid sex, A." a beat, "It's disturbing, but people are into it. It's the new Twilight."

[aaroncantfixit]

"You've killed people?", Aaron asks back, slowly coming down to one knee in front of her. Too late, he realizes, that it does resemble the proposal she's never got, when he reaches for her face, gently cups it with his hands, and uses his thumbs to wipe her tears away. "I'm not saying your magic is gentle. I'm not saying it's easy. Freyja, I've killed with my powers, too." Once, and it was an accident. But it has a grip on his bones, his life, his thoughts.

Be nice or be mean. Aaron swallowed the lump in his throat, shook his head. "Why does it matter? Freyja, because you're not just some pretty doll that hangs on my arm when I need you to. Because you're my fiancé. Because I'm trying to be your future husband, a good future husband, and not a husband you dread and hate and try to get rid off. And I'm not just doing that because it's convenient, I'm doing that because you're you. Listen, I'm--" Aaron stumbles over words, which he's never done before, partially because he just doesn't talk much. "I'm trying. I'm seriously trying. And I'm not going to ditch you like a puppy I don't want, sedated and alone. I'm not 'dealing with you'. This is a relationship, arranged or not."

A beat passes, before Aaron keeps talking, "I'm going to help you shower, after you drink some water. Then I'm going to help you change, and then I'm going to stay, in your bed, awake, so I know you're okay. If you want that. If you want me to leave you alone, I'm going to stay in the living room, sleep on the couch and make sure you're okay, still. I'm not going to leave."

"It--it wasn't his fault, Aaron. It turned into... a vampire, he--" Freyja wasn't sure how to tell him what had happened. She wished that somehow, their magic would allow them to go into each other's minds to see. For her to show him instead of tell him. "A hunter was killed in front of us and then... it was practically a blood bath. Total chaos. Malcolm... it's not his fault." Freyja insisted again, her whole body shaking as she told him. She wasn't sure if it was from her own anxiety, the vibrations underneath their feet, or the fact that she was freezing.

At his comment about her magic, she let out a chocked sob and pushed her fist into his chest. "How dare you say that?" She was too tired to push him away. And as upset she was about what he said, she still wanted him close to her. "My magic, it's not-- it's not gentle! I've hurt people. I've k--" She stopped herself, realizing what she was about to say. Freyja couldn't. She couldn't.

She opened her mouth to curse at him, only for a whine to come out as she felt his hand on the back of her head. She hated him. She hated this. Hated that her body wanted him even while he was being mean. Hated that he was being mean, and then being nice. It confused her. "Be nice or be mean. Just-- just pick one." She insisted and tried to pull away. Then, dizziness hit her and she squeezed her eyes closed.

Did she want him to stay? Yes. But was that what she really wanted? Freyja wasn't sure. She didn't know. "What does it matter what I want?" She found herself asking. She never, really, got what she wanted. And the older she became, the less she asked for things. The more she just went with what other people seemed to want from her.

"Just... give me a sedative and then you can leave." She whispered. Because why would he want to stay with her, when all of this was just an arrangement? "You don't have to... deal with this." With me.

[aaroncantfixit]

"You can ask me not to be mad, but that doesn't erase my feelings. I am mad. I'm not mad at you, I'm at that idiot vampire. It's not your fault for not properly protecting yourself. If he can't control himself, then he shouldn't go to events this big." Aaron doesn't look at her when he stands up to wash his hands, he only does when he comes back to put a bandage on.

"Maybe if you allowed yourself to use your power, it wouldn't just break out when you're emotional." His eyes find hers, and Aaron reaches in his back pocket to give her a tissue from the packet he always carries around. The forehead is against his chest before he can take it, and the taller man blinks in surprise, looking down at her hair. He likes it -- it's color, and the softness of it, but maybe now's the wrong moment to think about it like that.

"First time getting bit by a vampire, hm?" His fingers find the back of her head after he's pushed the tissue back into his back pocket, "You need to drink a lot of water to help your body recover faster. He took quite more than he should have."

Aaron's back is stiff, and so are his head pats. "Do you want me to stay in bed with you tonight?"

"I'm sorry." A choked sob escaped her lips as she forced herself to release his shirt. She didn't want to. She really didn't. All Freyja wants is to be closer to him. To have him closer to her. And she's never felt it this strongly before. "I just... I want--" Her hand moves to his arm, just below his sleeve. Her fingers press against his warm skin, completely ignoring the fact that he's trying to help her with an injury.

She flinched back into the chair as he began cursing. It was clear that he was upset. Maybe even angry. "No." Freyja shook her head back and forth, over and over again. "No, no. It's not his fault. I didn't protect myself. I haven't--" Well, she hadn't been protecting herself because she hadn't thought she needed to. "Please, I asked you to not be mad." She was crying now -- tears sliding down her cheeks as she gripped his upper arm. "Please don't be mad."

At the pinch, she flinched again and then sucked in a sharp breath as the needle slid into her skin. "You didn't say..." But her words were lost as she felt the vibrations underneath them. "No. No, no, no. Shhhhh." She was shushing herself. Her magic. Not in danger. I'm not in danger. She chants it to herself, over and over again as her fiance finishes with the stitches.

"I don't know." She whispered as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his chest. She needed to try to ground herself. To get her magic to stop. "Please, just... I can't--." But then she was closer to him again, inhaling his scent. And while it helped dull out her magic, it did not help the way she wanted him to keep touching her.

[aaroncantfixit]

Aaron flinched at the mention of growing a tail, seemingly tortured by multiple spontaneous thoughts. "Maybe.", Aaron replied, still holding the coffee out for him to take, "Get a heart attack, too, possibly. I could squeeze in some poison?" A beat passes, and Aaron decides to say a jab out loud, one he's been keeping safe in the back of his head for a good while now. "Maybe you should write a book. Possibly about hot doctors. Could include lots of sex. Or running away from those two things."

The brunette takes his coffee, takes a big sip and burns his tongue, throat, and every other organ of his digestive body tract -- or at least that's what it feels like when some of the coffee spills back out of his mouth, and onto his scrubs.

Hot doctors. Ha ha, very funny, Aaron. Maybe slip on a banana peel next.

"What is this?", he asks, then, to distract from his misery, before taking the stack of papers out of his hands, eyebrows immediately furrowing as he skipped over a few sentences, "His tail went where?"

Pen in his mouth, Riven focused bloodshot eyes on the newest wattpad bullshit. His name flying over his head, like he was Bob or Steven, or — Chalakon the dark prince of the Merfolk. No. No. What the hell was that even supposed to mean? Romance for mermaids — and then a rather long description of a passionate, tail flapping love making. He looked for something sharp to gouge his eyeballs with.

Who the fuck wrote this? He flipped the manuscript of twenty whole pages in search for the twelve year old genius. Worst part was that he couldn't avoid editing this any longer. It had been sitting on his nightstand for over a month already.

Then Aaron like his own personal assistant missing the cue that there was no kissing allowed in the office, brought him ammunition against that fight with The Dark Mermaid Rises. Their eyes met. "Why?" pen dangled from his parted mouth, "What did ya do to this one, A? Am I gonna grow a tail?" he could laugh, if it wasn't so fucking disturbing.

"Sorry — “ he blinked, as if to refocus his vision. “I've been reading too much of this."

[aaroncantfixit]

( @lcblanc -- the museum late, at night)

No matter how exhausting his days get, the pressure falls right off his shoulders when he crosses the doorstep into the museum, and finds himself greeted by a gorgeous selection of art he has always come to appreciate. He knows Narcisse is there -- he can hear the way she walks and moves when he enhances the noises he hears for his eyes only.

It's a nice agreement, in his opinion, and with some months down the road, Aaron likes to label their agreement more than just that -- a friendship of sorts. Strange if you look at it from the outside, perfectly comfortable from his point of view.

"This one is new.", Aaron murmurs into the room, making his voice travel right to her ear, perfectly clear. "It's very... orange.", is his first comment about the newest artwork, "Are we in a mood for fall?"

[aaroncantfixit]

( @tenderrage-remi -- a forest late, at night )

Aaron gets their call when he finishes an emergency surgery -- some kid from out of town, with the typical appendicitis. An injured wolf, with injuries nobody would like to explain -- not too bad, but also not good enough for the regular emergency room.

He prepares all his stuff after texting Remi where to take them, and one of the wolf pediatric nurses stays by his side in case it's bed. She's a sweet girl, Aaron's figured, blonde and short, good at helping him keep his secrets.

It's not the first time he's helped a wolf in need, but helping Remi is close to being one of his comfort tasks. He enjoys their presence, and doesn't mind helping them -- as long as he can. Big bodies are similar to kids, but sometimes, Aaron finds himself clueless. "Has to be bad if they need help.", the nurse remarks as she prepares a wet cloth, "No? I'm outside, watching if someone comes this way." Aaron nods, and then waits, staring at the wall. Bad, is not good.

[aaroncantfixit]

"Stop." Aaron needs a moment to ground himself after she clings onto him like that, like she wants him. Which is entirely new. He's played his role well, but not in private -- not when they're all alone, and have barely even shared a bed.

His head snaps up at the mention of Malcolm, and Aaron chokes out a bitter laugh when she starts claiming it's her fault. "It's not your fucking fault he went batshit and bit you, Freyja. Stop taking the blame for things that are not your fault. How could it be your fault? I don't see a purposeful cut in your skin that lured him into biting you. I only see the bite marks. And that means that fucker lost control."

Aaron turns to search for his work bag, pulling out a syringe, drawing up a shot of numbing medication, distracting her from the pain by pinching her other wrist gently as he inserts the needle. "It won't.", Aaron denies when he tosses the syringe and gently cleans the wound with disinfectant, just to pull out a needle. He waits a few moments before starting his stitches -- his work is clean, and when he finishes up, merely a minute has passed. "Where is Malcolm now?"

The sound of his voice when he says her name makes her whine; her fingers clawing at his scrub shirt as she fell further into him. He felt warm and all she wanted was more of that feeling. More of his voice. More of his skin on hers. "Aaron..." Freyja practically whimpered as he tugged her towards the kitchen and lowered her into a chair.

She could hear him, but Freyja couldn't quite make sense of his words. All her mind was on was his touch. His scent. His voice. But then she feels something wet against her skin, brushing up against the holes in her wrist and she sucks in a sharp breath. "Yes. Hm... yes." Freyja nodded but it felt like she was doing it in slow motion. "Malcolm... but he-- I don't think he meant it." Her bottom lip puckered out as she realized what might happen. "Wait-- don't be mad. Please don't be mad. I was... he--" Freyja shook her head back and forth. "It was my fault." It was a lie. A lie that Freyja had convinced herself of while walking home.

"Whatever you think. I trust you." She whispered. "Will it hurt?"

[aaroncantfixit]

( @rivenvictors -- a cafe late, in the evening)

Aaron is still in scrubs when he hits the cafe on his way back home from another day full of long, exhausting surgeries. Three extra hours leave him exhausted, and even though his tan grew over the summer, his skin looks pale against the dark blue scrubs. "...for Riven.", the barista calls out, and as lost in thought as he is, Aaron nods and reaches for it, immediately takes a sip and pulls a face. "God.", the surgeon mutters, holding the cup away from his face to inspect the name, and what reveals itself is something he hasn't expected. A name he's ran away from throughout the last two months, solely because of one, panicked moment.

He's allowed himself one slip up, two glasses of whiskey in, feeling entirely sober during a kiss he wishes he could take back. But he can't. And so he stands there, slightly dumbfounded, at a lack for words.

"This is yours.", he blurts seconds later, holding the cup in his direction before turning around to grab the drink he's originally ordered, "Sorry. I can get you a new one, if you'd like." His words are held tight and slightly sharper than intended -- pushing him at distance, when all he wants to do is pull him close.

[aaroncantfixit]

"Freyja." Suddenly, every noice around them disappears, like it does when he notices she gets overwhelmed. It's just quiet, then -- only his voice breaking through, slightly enhanced and brought right to her ears. He moves her to the kitchen, draws out a chair and slowly pushed her to sit on it.

"You lost too much blood.", Aaron informs her, "You're really pale." There's more he notices, but he doesn't point that out as he crouches next to her with a wet cloth he's grabbed from the counter, carefully cleaning the blood from her arm, "Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember who bit you?" Not that Aaron deems himself a vampire hater, no, one of his best friends is one, and he does enjoy a vampire high occasionally. But this doesn't look like fun. And Aaron isn't exactly happy about this, either.

"Can I clean this? Are you okay with that?", he asks when he's finished rubbing the blood up, "Can I give you some stitches? It would be for the better."

Freyja hadn't heard him come in -- too busy staring down at the bite on her wrist. The blood that was on her hands and on her arm. She wasn't sure if it was hers or not... but did it matter? It was there. Caked onto her skin and mostly dry.

"Hm?" Her head was swimming -- her mind somewhere else entirely. And when she turns to see Aaron, her cheeks automatically flush. "You're home." A wide smile. A pause. "I'm... I'm home." She then realizes as she feels him grab her and then practically drag her inside. His touch is warm and she can't help but lean into him as they enter.

"Fine. I'm fine." She insisted as she placed a hand on his chest. "See who it was?" She blinked slowly before glancing up at him. "What?" Her mind, again, was elsewhere. On his features. His hair. His lips. His voice."I walked?"

[aaroncantfixit]

( @freyjaxcarter -- their apartment late, closer to the morning than the evening )

When Aaron opens the door, he's at a lack for words. She looks normal at first. Pretty, in the way it doesn't blind you the second you see her, but in a way that makes you wish you noticed every aspect about her earlier. He likes her eyes, the softness of them and the color; her hair; the significant curve of her upper lip. Aaron can't fix it, their situation. But he's trying one thing: to love her.

Covered in blood is a new look, and Aaron doesn't think he likes it. "Freyja, what the fuck." He's still in scrubs, opened water bottle in one and the doorknob in the other hand. The surgeon snaps into doctor mode seconds later, drops the water bottle somewhere and lets go of the door to carefully place his hands on her waist.

He recognizes the injury easily -- "Fucking vampires.", he mutters, "Are you okay? Did you see who it was?" Dragging her inside, slowly, Aaron closes the door through a push of his elbow, "How did you get here?“