You're Known //DNF\\

Why Care?

((TW and CW: Blood, Wounds, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Self Harm))

Clay ran up to George who laid, pale and fainted on the tiled floor of the bathroom. Blood was rushing from his arm still; it was slower than before, but Clay didn't know this. His first thought was to see if George was awake at all. After saying his name, a couple of times and getting no response, he brought George up into a sitting position, leaning him against the wall. He then searched the room for a towel, which was easily found hanging on the towel rack.

He spent the next ten minutes, keeping pressure on George's wounds. He knew how to take care of things like this from back when he was in George's shoes. He kept the brunette's arm up and the towel wrapped around tightly. Once George was situated, he focused on himself. He needed to be relaxed for when George did wake up. He couldn't be having a panic attack or freaking out on him. So, the time he spent taking care of George's deep cuts, he also spent taking in deep breaths.

After what felt like forever to Clay, George's wounds now stopped bleeding. He was able to remove the towel and clean the cuts as well as he could, using the alcohol wipes and a clean damp cloth. Afterwards, he wrapped George's arm with gauss he found in a closet near the bathroom.

Clay found himself having small flashbacks to when he had to clean his own wounds on his legs. As much as he wanted to push the old thoughts away, they hit him like a tidal wave.

He remembered the sting as tears ran down his face and onto legs. He remembered the guilt afterwards, as he cleaned himself up and cleaned whatever had blood on it. He could only feel empathy towards George.

((TW over))

Once George was all taken care of health wise, his arm fully bandaged and cleaned up, he picked up the faint, limp, body bridal style and carefully brought him into his own room. There he laid George down in his bed, bringing the covers up and over his shoulders. When looking at the peaceful boy who slept, Clay could only feel guilty.

I shouldn't have gone to the bathroom. I should have kept him closer. I could have been faster.

He also had many questions. He knew better than to bombard George with them though, remembering how that never helped him. He kept them silently in his head. He would ask them when George was ready, but right now he was too fragile.

What could I have done to be better? Why didn't he come and get me? What did Clarance do?

((CW: Mentions Blood a lot))

To try and get things off his head, he decided to clean up the bathroom for George. He quickly found all the cleaning supplies he would need to clean the blood off the floor and to wash the bloodied towels. He spent a good eighteen minutes, scrubbing and doing laundry, finally letting out a sigh as he went down the stairs with a plastic bag of gross sponges and towelettes which he then threw out in the garbage bins outside.

((CW over))

When he came back inside, he was terribly hungry, even though the time was 4:48pm and he normally wouldn't eat dinner until around 6:30pm, hunger pushed through. He went into the nice kitchen and began to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich.

———————————————

George shot up from his bed. All he remembered was the pain and fear he was in, he thought he was in the same situation. His breathing was quick as he panicked, looking around at his surroundings. He was quick to notice that he was in his room and no longer on the bloodied floor of the bathroom across the hall. His breathing slowed slightly but not enough to say he was calm.