#this lowkey wasn't that angsty i might make the next one worse

[twistyfish]

You gritted your teeth, yanking the needle through your skin and inserting it again. You were too much of a wimp for this. The view of the salmon pink gash on your calf being pulled shut by your own hand was nauseating.

But you had to keep going, before it started bleeding again. Your fingers moved swiftly, navigating the needle through flesh like an oar through water. You wiped your tears awkwardly with your jacket so they wouldn't drip onto the wound as you stitched it.

You wished you had your cauterizing tool.

You sniffled and scrubbed your eyes aggressively with the back of your hand. Shit, you were pathetic for a hunter. But it didn't matter. The hard part hadn't even begun.

How were you going to keep this from Rafayel? That bitch was so perceptive. And you had to protect him, with an injured leg.

A fist pounded against the door. "Hey! Hurry up!"

Speak of the devil.

Rafayel's voice rang out from outside the bathroom. "You constipated or something?"

"No, stupid," you yelled back. You shoved the medical kit in your drawer and and put the gauze in your backpack in case you neededto swap it out.

The moment you opened the door, you saw his face twisted into an irritated expression.

"You're so slooow," he whined. "What if I get attacked while you're crapping? Who's gonna defend me?"

"You're perfectly capable of defending yourself."

"Yeah, but I'm paying you to do it for me."

You mocked him, repeating his words in an annoying tone, after which he proceeded to kick you in the shin. You grabbed his arm and walked him out to the pier.

It was a cool day. The clouds looked like fuzzy, grey dust bunnies floating in the sky. Rafayel wasn't mad about it, though.

"It's really nice out. We should dip our toes in the water," he commented.

"You're right." You took off your shoes and waded in, letting the sea wash over your toes.

Rafayel waded in all the way up to his knees and beckoned you over.

"I'm wearing jeans," you pointed out.

"Roll 'em up," he countered. You sighed and rolled each side up one cuff length, walking in till your ankles were submerged.

"Happy?" you asked.

"No, that's barely- you know what, let me do it." And before you could stop him, he leaned over and used his long ass arms to yank your pant leg up, reopening the wound with the thick, scratchy denim. You yelped and pulled your leg away as he looked at you, flummoxed.

"What the hell is that?" He asked.

"Don't worry about it," you said through gritted teeth, brushing the spots of blood off your messy stitches.

" 'Don't worry' my ass. Those stitches are ugly. Did you do them yourself? What happened?" He sounded uncharacteristically concerned.

"I had a situation," you mumbled.

He sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's my job to protect you."

"I'm not talking about your job. I'm talking about the fact that you never let anyone in." He looked solemn. "We're friends. You can come to me when you need help. When, not if. Because everyone needs help sometimes. Even deepspace hunters."

You looked down, embarassed.

He grabbed your chin. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"I'm here for you."