Torn

𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦

⊹⊱•••《 ✮ 》•••⊰⊹

❝𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙞𝙛 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙙. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.❞

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          Ink's sense of style actually wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, after all his old outfit was practically a cluttered mess! He had actually taken time to talk through with what you thought would be comfortable and made clothes based on what you were describing. Soon enough you had both compromised on an outfit for you to wear... After you healed your wounds again.

As you sat down on a decaying chair, that's the only thing that was left in the run down house anyways, you watched as Ink examined the bottles of medicine he had found. He was concentrating hard on the labels, checking if there was anything you were allergic to in there and also triple checking the expiration date. After rounding up things that would deem helpful in your patching up process, Ink marched his way over to you and sat the stuff down onto the table next to you.

Ink smiled as you gave him your injured arm and let him carefully cut off the old bandages, you pulled your arm up to your face and examined your burn mark. The burn was healing fairly smoothly, you'd have to thank Horror for that the next time you see him. If you ever see him again, there was a small feeling in your chest that you would. Eventually.

Ink carefully grabbed your arm again and started to put ointment onto your burn, you slightly hissed at the odd feeling, causing Ink to pause and wait for you to adjust. Ink stuck his tongue out to the side in concentration as he tried to bandage your arm tightly, but not to tight to cut circulation, and neatly. You sat there and tilted your arm side to side, testing out how these bandages felt, all the while Ink was carefully cutting the bandages on your leg.

You were quick to notice Ink pausing when he saw the deep gashes on your leg, you had to take a look down as well. You sighed in a bit of frustration, the gashes were still slightly bleeding, small scabs on the corner. The previous stitches were torn and over half of them were missing. You concluded that it wasn't that bad and looked up at Ink, who had question marks in his eyes as they flashed different hues of blue.

Ink looked up at you and shook his head. "These cuts are really deep and the stitches are out. What happened that caused you to tear them?" Ink asked, now going over to the table and grabbing a needle and some thread. You visibly tensed as Ink walked over and adjusted himself over you, giving you a haste look. "If you look away it won't hurt as bad, or so I've been told." Ink said sheepishly as he threaded the string through the needle.

You could only let out grunts of pain and scratch the bottom of the chair as Ink worked the needle through your skin, fixing up your wounds. When Ink was done, you could feel ghost pains flutter across your leg, it felt almost as bad as the stitches on your tongue. You only screamed when Ink threw some cleaning substances on your cuts, trying to disinfect them before carefully bandaging them.

Ink did the same process with your feet, the stitches on those were also undone so he had to redo everything. Ink dropped your foot after he finished wrapping them and put a fuzzy sock over them, sighing at his work. Ink looked up at you and smiled. "Any other wounds that need to be handled?" He asked, you flared at the question.