- Chapter 9 -

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"Curly, I got your girlfriend," Tim says as he slams the door behind us. I jump slightly and he appears next to me, pointing down the hall. He tosses his jacket onto the back of a couch.

"Down the hallway, last room on the right." I nod and walk down the hall, seeing one closed door, a bathroom at the end of the hall, and an open door. There's a curly-haired girl on a pink bedspread. She must be Angela.

I flash her a quick smile and go to the directed bedroom. The door is cracked and I see an empty bed. Is he sure Curly is in here?

I open the door, wincing when it creaks slightly. When I open it all the way, I see another bed behind the door. On that bed is a Curly that looks drugged out of his goddamn mind. He's sweating and he has his head resting on his arm behind his head. He doesn't even open his eyes.

"What do ya want, Tim?"

I close the door to a crack again and sit on the foot of the bed, putting my hand on his leg.

"You don't look so good, Curls." He opens his eyes and smirks at me.

"I always look good, princess." I sigh and shake my head. "What're you dong here?" I shake my head. 

"I was worried about you."

"And how'd you know where to find me?" What am I supposed to tell him? I can't just say I got jumped, he'll kill them.

"Well I knew where you live, but Tim found me on the way and brought me."

"Tim caught you? He wouldn't just pick you up and bring you," Curly argues. "He doesn't just pick anyone up."

"Some socs was messing with me and he saw 'em, alright. That what you wanna hear?"

"What?" He shouts, sitting up fast. "I'm gonna kill them."

"Curly, lie down," I demand, putting my hands on his shoulders. He's angry, I can tell. His eyes are practically glowing and I can see him shaking. "I'm fine, you're sick. How you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Let go of me. I'm gonna kill those bastards." Curly stands up and stumbles slightly. He turns to me and his face softens briefly.

"Your face," he mutters, sitting next to me again.

"Is it bad?" I whisper, flinching as he cups my cheek. He shifts his angles as if it'll disappear in the right lighting. Tears form in my eyes.

"Where else?" I gently run my finger up and down my side, still flinching at the slightest touch. The more I think about it, the more it hurts. Curly lifts the side of my shirt and I whimper. He drops in, breathing heavily himself.

"They-They took your jacket. I'm-m sorry," I murmur. "I couldn't do anything." Curly shakes his head.

"I don't give a damn, that never should have happened. I'm sorry." I curl my lips in and nod. I can't cry. I know Curly doesn't care, but I just can't. I can't stand crying.

"Hey, I love you, okay. I'm gonna go deal with it, alright. You stay here." He stands up and briskly walks out of the room as if he's not only half-dressed. He closes the door behind him before I can even reach it.

"Curly, you're sick," I call behind him. He grabs a jacket from the cabinet in the hallway and slides it on. "Curly, get back here right now." My voice shook along with the rest of me. Curly actually stopped. He stopped and he turned to me.

"Please go back to bed." Curls shakes his head slowly, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows.

"I'm sorry, but I'm taking care of this."

And he did. It took nearly 2 hours for him to come back. I was almost ready to leave, but Curly really didn't look too good. He looked even sicker than before. I rush to him at the door and grab his arm, taking him straight back to his bed. In his hand was a jacket, another one draped over his shoulders.

"God damn it," I mumble, throwing both jackets onto the other bed. I tuck the blanket around him, huffing. "I told you to stay at home, you idiot. You're sick." I hear laughter both from behind me and in front of me. Tim flops down on the other bed. He tosses the jackets to the ground and I pick them up, putting them next to Curly's legs.

"And I'm gonna get you sick too," Curly laughs. I roll my eyes and smirk at Curly. "I don't get sick, kid," Tim retorts. He covers his face with a shirt and smirks. Tim actually sort of reminds me of Curly, beyond just looks. 

"You wanna test that? I suggest not," I laugh, continuing to tuck Curly in tightly.

"Trying to kill me, are you?" He chuckles. "Yeah, and it clearly ain't working," I retort with a smile. "You shouldn't have gone out there."

"Biological warfare," Tim says.

"Very funny," I retort.

"Well they ain't gonna mess with you anymore, " Curly says, sitting up. "I knocked their damn teeth in."

"Yeah, well I hope you had fun," I say, "because you scared the hell outta me. Do you want me to make you some dinner?"

I make some soup for Curly, Angela, and Tim. Knocking softly on Angela's door, I offer her food. She looks up from her magazine and nods. I hand it to her and flash a quick smile, taking some to Curly and Tim too.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I say, kissing his head. "I'll do your work, don't worry about it."

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