🦇 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬- 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 🦇

11- Hydrogen Peroxide

This chapter probably took a while to come out because i had/have 4 tests this week. all on random fucking days and ive been so damn busy doing schoolwork, butyeah anyways enjoy-...whenever this comes out

pardon the excessive use of the word hydrogen peroxide

TW: theres a lot of gore shit this chapter

Steve:

"Munson." I warned

"No." He said, completely serious

"Yes!" 

"no" He finalized, except I wasn't giving up that easily

I pointed to his ankles, still looking at his face

I already knew they looked bad, and that wasn't even all of it. Most of him was covered by some article of clothing to hide the bloodshed of what was underneath. 

I raised a singular eyebrow, daring him to protest

he scowled, "Now Harrington, just hear me out-"

If I learned anything from Robin earlier, being stubborn proves effective.

I stood up, crossing my arms and shifting my weight onto one foot

Eddie snorted, covering his mouth with his hand

"What's so funny?" 

He opened his mouth, barely able to speak between breathy laughter, "I feel like I'm about to get fucking lectured" 

"Dude, you literally died yesterday! How are you just... joking around?" My hand motions followed my words

"Jeez, it's called humor, Harrington, ever heard of it?' He tilted his head a bit, a smile played at his lips

"You're going to be the death of me. You know that? If you yourself aren't dead by then" Both hands on my hips, I shifted my weight again, looking off to any given direction

"You're so dramatic" 

"You're the one whose being dramatic! Just let me actually clean your bat bites before they kill you!" 

"Damn, you're so eager to take care of me" He twisted a strand of hair, entirely changing the subject

I blinked blankly, "What?" After recovering from being blatantly caught off guard, I continued "You know what? Whatever, I don't care. But can I just get it over with now?" I came off a bit harsher than intended

"What ever happened to the charming Mr. Steve Harrington" He mumbled before answering louder, "Yeah, sure, just get it over with" His playful demeanor diminishing

A part of me wanted to apologize. But that would be giving up the persona I already casted out. 

With small guilt, but overpowering pride, I crouched down in front of him. 

I could faintly hear him snort another laugh, covering his mouth discretely.  

Ignoring him, I lifted one of his ankles by the heel, examining it. I could only see half of his leg, the rest covered by the partially rolled up sweatpants. 

It wasn't as bad as the more major wounds. But there were claw scratches, some small some larger. 

They were obviously infected. His legs down to his ankles were puffy, yellow and white in and surrounding the scratches. the spots that weren't nasty were swollen and pink.