The Lock To His Key

57. Wounds 🩸🩹❌

(Astoria's Pov)
Both Riddles are the same.
They say things without thinking and get aggressive.

I know I instigated, but she punched me, and pushed me against the stone wall.

And yes, the argument with Mattheo wasn't Isabella's fault, but sometimes you just have to do things for someone you really care about.

I forgave both Isabella and Draco for the cheating situation, she should be able to
atleast try apologizing.

God I have to fix my face. My nose is bleeding, and I don't have tissues with me.

Mattheo's outside, so I can quickly go into our dorm and clean up.

I apparated in and jumped.
Mattheo was back.

I didn't want him to see me like this, because then he's gonna ask. His relationship with Isabellas already messed up, I don't wanna make it worse.

I looked away, and headed to the washroom.
I felt his hand on my shoulder and froze.

When did he even follow me, he's like a ninja.
"Turn around."

"I really need to pee." I said.
"Turn around." He said sternly.

I turned around, and he stared at my face.
His expression didn't change, he stayed completely neutral.

"Who did this?" He asked monotonously.
"I was walking back from talking to you, and I tripped."

"A trip gave you a bloody nose? Don't lie to me."

"I don't have to tell you." I said.
"Answer before I find out myself." He said.

"You won't tell me what happened with your father, why should I tell you what happened?"

"Sit on the bed." He said.
I sat down.

He dug in his suitcase, pulling out a first aid kit.

"Why do you have that in your bag?" I asked.
"Used it a lot."

"Got hurt often?" I asked.
"It wasn't me who needed it."

He grabbed tissues, and held it against my nose.
"You need to pinch it. It puts pressure on your blood vessels which will stop the blood flow."

I held my nose, and he wiped my cut with a tissue. He held my jaw and sighed.

"You have an open wound which means it could get infected."

His voice lacked expression, but at least he showed he cared.

"Hold something tightly." He said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because this is gonna hurt." He said.

He pulled out an alcohol wipe.

I looked around, and my eyes focused on his free hand. I grabbed it.

I forgot the way his hand felt.
The way his big hand protected mine.

I interlocked our fingers, and held him tightly.
He didn't hold it back.

He swiped the wipe over my cut and winced.
The stinging got so much worse, and my hand gripped his tighter.

I leaned my face into his shoulder, and moaned into his shirt.

He held my jaw, and lifted my face back up.
"I'm gonna tape this patch on you. A bandaid won't soak the blood properly."

He put this small absorbent patch on my face.

He then grabbed my hand that was pinching my nose, and threw the tissue in the garbage.