Two Months

Healing His Wounds

Now that Clay has managed to calm Floyd down, they need to focus on treating his physical wounds before moving onto the mental ones.

——

"You sang the song."

Clay looked up at Floyd's face upon hearing him speak. They had moved to one of Branch's many bathrooms (he built more of them once he rejoined society and realized he might be having other trolls over rather regularly, whether that be by invitation or intrusion) in order to get a better look at what Floyd had done to himself just a few moments ago. At the moment, they were cleaning off the little blood that had been drawn. Luckily Floyd had barely broken any skin, but angry red marks could still be seen on his slightly-too-pale grey-blue skin.

"I did. Was that okay?" Clay was worried that Floyd mentioning it meant he'd made a big mistake with picking that song. He felt a great amount of relief, however, when Floyd simply shook his head and smiled.

"It helped a lot. Thank you for that," came Floyd's quiet reply. "Although, I am still sorry for causing you so much trouble."

"I've told you not to worry about it, Floyd. You're my brother. It's what I'm supposed to do. Care for you, as well as all the others."

"Isn't taking care of all of us a job meant for John Dory?"

"Yeah, well, he's not the best role model out there, and I simply don't trust him. I, on the other hand, am an excellent role model."

Clay once again looked up at Floyd's face, hoping he'd see him smiling. And he sure did. It wasn't a huge smile, no, but it was a genuine one, and that was more than Clay could ask for at the moment.

"Yeah, right. Because 'Fun-Boy Clay' is going to teach us so much good," Floyd said, his smile turning into a small smirk.

"Oh, shut it. You know I'm right."

"Are you, though?"

"Yes. I believe I am."

For the next little bit, the two brothers bantered back and forth, almost forgetting about what had gotten them into this situation in the first place.

That reminded Clay; he needed to finish cleaning the small wounds and sticking Band-Aids on those that needed one. He picked up the rag he had been using, which he'd set down while talking with Floyd, and continued to gently wipe away whatever flecks of blood needed to be cleaned up. It took him another minute or so before he was completely satisfied with his job, and he was able to continue onto the next step.

Meanwhile, Floyd, who was seated on the counter top due to Clay insisting he sit there, started to once again get lost in thought. He started thinking about one of his worst days in captivity. So many things seemed to go wrong that day, other than the usual talent being stolen from him. Velvet had been in a pretty bad mood, and decided that the best thing to take her frustration out on would be Floyd. He could clearly recall being pulled out of the diamond bottle before Veneer could even have his say in the matter and —

"What type of Band-Aid would you like? Branch has a few options, and I want to make sure you get to pick them out seeing how you'll be the one wearing them."

Floyd blinked, having been pulled from his thoughts. He looked down and saw that Clay had three different boxes of Band-Aids in his hands. One box showed Band-Aids with little creature designs on them, one showed some with flowers, and the third had only solid colors.

"Uh...I guess I'll take some of each? How many do I even need?"

"You don't need a whole ton, but enough that you can have at least one or two from each box."

Floyd winced a bit at that. He knew he had hurt himself, but he didn't think it was bad enough to warrant that many Band-Aids. Guess he was wrong.

"By the way," Clay interrupted his thoughts once again, "are you doing alright, Floyd?" The troll in question made a slight noise of confusion, prompting Clay to clarify. "You looked kinda scared, terrified even, before I asked what Band-Aid you'd prefer."

"Oh, that. It's nothing, don't worry about it," Floyd tried to give his brother a reassuring smile, which wasn't all that convincing. But Clay dropped it, and began to apply the Band-Aids, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable. Floyd would hopefully open up about what happened at some point to someone. As long as that someone was willing to listen and help, Clay couldn't care less about who that troll was. Maybe it wouldn't even be a troll. Floyd seemed to be on okay terms with Veneer before they sent him and Velvet to jail. Or, apparently they were friends with Bergens, now. And other types of trolls.

The point is, as long as Floyd was okay with it, Clay was, too.

"Okay, I'm done."

"Oh, cool," said Floyd, who once again seemed to have gotten lost in his own mind. "Hey, it's a puffalo! I love puffalos..." He began to tear up at the small, cartoon image of the giant, furry creature. It had been forever since he'd seen one of them, and he honestly missed them more than he thought.

Taking a look at the other Band-Aids adorning his arms, Floyd saw more than just a puffalo. He could also see glowflies, as well as a couple with a variety of flowers, although he couldn't tell what flowers exactly. He'd have to ask someone about them. Poppy seemed like the type to know stuff about flowers. There was even a light green Band-Aid, and a dark pink one.

"Like the colors?" asked Clay when he saw his little brother's eyes linger on them a bit more than the others. "It's meant to be me," he pointed to the green Band-Aid before moving his finger to the other, "and you."

"You forgot about the others."

"Nope. I didn't forget about them, but this is more of a Clay and Floyd moment, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

——

So, Clay being the one to find and help Floyd out hadn't originally been the plan. I knew someone was gonna find him, I just didn't know who. Then again, I'm writing this entire thing as it comes to mind, so there hasn't been a whole ton of planning in the first place.

But I am quite happy with how it's been going.

Now here's to hoping I don't suddenly lose inspiration.