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When tharn tried to wake up type on one fine period morning -
"tua-eng, thirak, wake up its almost two in the noon, you need to eat something"
"tua"
Seated at the edge of the bed, just next to type's head Tharn amorously called out in a voice ever so soft ,as he combed the hair of a sleeping type with his long digits. After minutes of whispering all sorts of saccharine things to type went in vain, he had nearly bent down all the way to steal a kiss from type's forehead when...
*BAM*
A heavy fisted blow from a half-conscious type landed on tharn's blameless chin, making him dizzy for few seconds.
Shit! He finally exclaimed when he instantly tasted blood in his mouth. And before type was shaken awake by the realization of what he had committed, tharn had already darted to the sink to spit out the blood that never stopped emanating out of the tongue. In fact, thanks to the tongue that arbitrated between the teeth or the injury could have been major.
Only after a few minutes of meticulously gargling with cold water and a self-ice-treatment,did the bleeding start to impede. With his thoughts fumbling incessantly ,Type stood somewhere nearby. His was face dyed with guilt and remorse. He hissed and made a face every time tharn did, imagining the exact amount of pain his partner underwent.
How could he have possibly done that in his goddamn sane senses!!?? Was the question that ate him alive. Type wasn't buying being asleep and dreaming as an excuse. He must have been crazy enough to punch tharn as an instinctive retort to the stimulus of being just so lovingly kissed by his husband.
although type had managed to get his flesh and blood out of the bed , his intellect was still snoring under the bed covers, that was the reason he was just 'watching' vulnerably , as tharn scuttle between the freezer and the sink.
After repeated attempts of slapping his mind to sanity and rationality, he first of all assed the wound, in any case he was from a certified medical background. The wound was deep, for almost a second type took pride in his IMPACTFUL strike but then was quickly was reminded of who he had punched and most importantly he would be debarred from ACTUALLY kissing tharn, type wasn't being selfish or something since fondness for kissing was not a one-party thing here. Yet to say the least type felt utterly doomed.
He headed to the bathroom cabinet and emerged out with an ointment tube from the medical aid box, it was for oral cuts and wounds. He washed and disinfected his hand before applying it on the cut, that happened to be on the roof-facing surface of the tongue.
