𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐧.) that which chases sorrow away.
In their painful past, they were childhood sweethearts that sought comfort with each other.
Years later, the two broken souls are pulled back together by fate in an alliance that will save their...
Chapter Dedication: @authorayla, thank you for the lovely comments! Hope you enjoy this one!
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He sucked in a deep breath as she dabbed the cold, stinging wipe onto the scratch in an attempt to clean his wound.
It wasn't too big thankfully, the bullet had just scratched his skin a little too deeply but it wasn't something he needed to go to the hospital for. He hated the hassle and attention the hospital would give him. He would have to answer a lot of unnecessary questions and fill out extensive amounts of forms so he rather allowed Maria to clean him up to avoid all of that.
He didn't need stitches which he was grateful for. Maria wasn't an expert at cleaning wounds but she knew the basics of first aid. When Leonardo was a child, having the family doctor to stitch him up was a common occurrence and he hated having them every time because they would open right up not too longer afterwards.
Leonardo tensed up slightly as she gently smoothened the cold cream against his skin. It stung like hell but he was trying to keep in the pain. The scratch wasn't even that big and yet he could feel the tinges of ache throbbing all over his arm. He distracted himself with the feeling of her delicate, soft hands against his skin, her touch leaving tingles of butterflies in him. Her moisturised hands were a lot smaller than his and in stark contrast to his own. They were extremely smooth, her nails were clean, short and manicured, baby pink polish covering them. He was watchful of how her hands moved around his arm.
She wasn't saying anything because she was too focussed on the lines running in random directions on his arm above all the visible veins threatening to break out of his skin whilst cleaning the wound.
Many of them were recent. She could see the variety red stripes across his arm, some were deeper and more merlot than others, tarnishing the skin around into a berry like colour as a reaction to the cuts. Maria grimaced a little at the thought of the pain of those cuts; the carmine colour of them rubbed her in the wrong way. She could imagine how painful they would've been especially since he had done it to himself.
She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, she knew she was staring way too much at the vermeil lines but she couldn't stop herself. Maria contemplated on why he had done such a thing to himself. Once again, she could see the extent to how much he was suffering mentally.
She wanted to shout at him and question him on why he was doing that. It was clear some were recent decisions. But at the same time, she felt like wailing and comforting him, wishing she could wipe away each and every line to heal him. How helpless and distraught he must have been feeling to do such a thing to himself.
