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gwiyeounsonyeon · 4 months

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May Writing Challenge Day 20,21,22!

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Male Reader Summary: Chris gets a booboo and reader gives him a band-aid Words: 816/200 Warnings: blood? Notes: I cant tell you how many times I rewrote this, I wanted to try to write in a different style but when I tried nothing sounded right or it all sounded too dramatic and poetic.

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The store is deserted when Chris walks in, a few lights in the back had been turned off, the absence of the clerk behind the counter. The atmosphere was haunting and after the shit Chris went through not three hours earlier, he was caught off guard. Too caught up in his head he doesn't realize he’s hovering by the entrance until he hears a rustle coming from a door off to the side behind the counter. Chris’ hand reflexively moves to his hip only to remember last second that he’d left his gun in the car. But before he can overreact any further, you emerge from the door holding a broom and dustpan.

Upon seeing Chris you look surprised, “Uh, hey…” You fumble, not expecting to have a customer this late but you’re quick to recollect yourself, you set the dustpan on the floor and lean the broom against the wall. “Anything I can help you with?” You look a little intimidated and Chris almost feels bad but he snaps himself out of it with a shake of his head. “No, I'm fine.” – “You sure?” The rate at which you respond catches Chris a little off guard, “– It’s just… I mean…” You trail off like you’re struggling for words and point to your forehead, “You’re bleeding, dude.” Cris raises his brows, the sting reminds him of the cut on his forehead. Shit, he’d completely forgotten. He raises his hand to feel up his forehead and sure enough, there's blood when he pulls his hand back.

It's not as bad as it was earlier but it seems to be enough to have you, a complete stranger, looking worried. “Wait right there.” He has a feeling he knows what you’re going to do but you don’t give him time to object. You head back through the door you came out of, Chris stands there for a couple seconds feeling like a moron before proceeding down the aisle to the wall of freezers to get what he came here for. He’s gotten his items and came back to the counter just as you walk back out of the door, of what Chris assumes to be a break room, carrying a first aid kit. He opens his mouth to object but you fix him with a glare that shuts him up.

“Come here, i’ll fix it for you so you don’t kill yourself on the drive home.” You walk around the counter, stopping next to him to set the first aid kit on the counter. Chris’ eyes stay glued on your hands as you sort through the box and pull out the things you need. He’s never actually paid that much attention to you, always in a hurry to get home. Your hands actually look quite nice and when you touch him, your fingers carefully prodding at his jaw to get Chris to face you fully, he notes pleasantly that your hands are as soft as they look. You’re not quick at patching his wound, you’re actually quite clumsy.

Your hands shaky and unsteady as you pat the alcohol wipe around the area, sponging up blood and cleaning the cut. It stings but Chris is too focused on you, your hands, your eyes, your warmth. Your eyes are deep and dark, pooling with worry and concern as you take in the weathered look of his face. A small part of him has the wherewithal to try to feel self-conscious but the majority cant find it in him to care. You look almost as bad as him, worry lines on your forehead, dark bags under your eyes, anxiously chewed on lips.

Your eyes fall to his once you've stuck a bandaid onto him and for a moment Chris swears he feels a spark in his gut, almost like butterflies when the two of you realize how close your faces actually are. But he doesn't get any time to ponder what that could mean as you turn away from him and hurry to clean your mess. You dump the used cloth and the wrappers into the trash as you walk around the counter and set the first aid kit to the side so you can ring him up. You’re quiet throughout the process and when you finish you quietly recite his total, not once during this do you look up at him. A part of him feels a little upset but that's overshadowed quickly by how amusing it is to see you scurry around like that.

Chris takes it easy on you and pays without a fuss, he takes his things and heads out to his car as you close up the store behind him. He waits long enough to see the lights go out and when he looks down at his receipt to total the money he’s spent, down at the bottom in a hurried scrawl he reads out your number.

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fantaorange · 3 months

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