Milk Chocolate

Chapter 11

Amavii

Sitting on the couch, I pulled the gauze and rubbing alcohol out of his first aid kid and set it on his now, broken coffee table. There was still two legs left so it was standing, surprisingly.

I looked up to see him smirking down at me. This man just destroyed his house, fought his long lost brother at his cousin's birthday, and he's sitting here smirking at me. What the fuck?

"Look at you being my little nurse." He laughed while leaning back on the couch. I shook my head, still not understanding how his mood changed so fast.

"Tommy...are you okay?" I asked while looking at his face. He chuckled and looked towards the fireplace in front of him.

"I'm good, mamas. Never better." He smiled while pointing at the first aid kit on the table. His hands were busted and bloody from all the broken glass and pressure put on his fists.

"You gonna finish makin me feel better?" He laughed while removing his shirt. Once off, I seen all the scars and bruises that was displayed on his body. They were everywhere. It looked like he's been mauled by bears and lions at the same time, but they were slightly unnoticeable due to his body being covered with tattoos.

I let out a gasp and without thinking, placed my hands over what looked to be a knife wound, right over his left peck. I could tell he was surprised by my action because he slightly flinched.

"What happened to you?" I asked, not directly asking about the knife wound, asking about them all in general. I was curious and worried at the same time.

"Ehhh, battle scars, mamas. Been through some shit and almost died a few times. Doesn't matter." I shook my head at his remark, growing annoyed. I could tell he was trying to deflect the attention from himself and I didn't know why he would want to in the first place. Did he not value his life at all?

Not gonna lie, hearing him talk about it so lightly disgusted me. He was so full of life and so happy at times that hearing him speak about his own death as if it didn't matter pissed me off, but I wasn't gonna show it.

I just quietly pick up the supplies and continue to tend to his hands, making sure to clean it with the alcohol to prevent and infection.

"Why you so quiet?" He tilted his head. I finished wrapping his hands up, looking up at him while cleaning up the supplies.

At first, I didn't want to answer, not in the mood for an argument with his bipolar ass, but the shit bugged me so much that I couldn't hold back.

"Why do you talk about yourself like that?" I asked, earning a confused gaze from him.

"What you mean?" He sat up and faced me, indicating that I have his undivided attention.

"Like you don't care what happens to you. Like you just don't care." I stated bitterly. This man has a whole family and friends that care about him, and he sits here and acts like he's not important.

"I don't. Never have, and that just something that comes with my job title." He shrugged while sending me a wink. I scoffed and stood to my feet.

"What about your family and friend who care about you?" What about me?

"They know how it is. You either grow old or die young. It's just somethin I accepted. You should to." He laughed while standing to his feet, looking down at me. was this guy serious?

"I'm not. I never will, and you shouldn't either. What about your future? Don't you want to build a family?" I asked while looking at him in disbelief. Surely you'd want to live for your family. Anyone would want to.