Broken and Together

Chapter Sixteen: Never Apart

    Slight content warning for brief, undetailed mention of past abuse. But prepare to die of cuteness!

    Also, I feel like the song below is just perfect for them, and suits some of the things they talk about in this chapter. Currently dying of cuteness myself ahaha.

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    Through the building, in the elevator, and all the way to Michael's house, neither he nor Charlie said much, minus her speaking a few words of comfort whenever the pain and exhaustion caused him to cry out or nearly collapse. They had only exchanged a few words before making their way towards the exit, planning what to do next. Though Charlie at first insisted he go to a hospital, he convinced her to simply take him to his house where they could check out his injuries. If they were serious, then she would take him to the emergency room, but right now, Michael was too exhausted to deal with that. And besides, how could he explained the way he got these wounds in the first place?

    "Almost there," Charlie said as they slowly walked to his front door, Michael leaning heavily against her. His breaths had increased considerably, and the pain and aching exhaustion threatened to overtake him once again.

    "Here." He retrieved the keys from his pocket, his hand trembling. With a nod, she took them, then he moved away from her and leaned against the wall while she unlocked the house. As soon as the door swung open, she gently grasped his arm and led him inside. She helped him to the couch which he sank onto, releasing a long, shuddering breath, one that hurt his chest, which he discovered had started throbbing quite a bit ever since he awoke in the springlock suit. Bruising left by Funtime Foxy, no doubt.

    "Do you have a med kit?" Charlie asked. "I can help you with your injuries."

    "No need." He waved a hand. "I can do it myself."

    "No, you absolutely cannot." She crossed her arms. "Where's the med kit?"

    He looked at her for a moment, silently processing her words. He felt rather slow to react now, as if his clogged mind had a hard time catching up to the things going on around him. "Alright," he said through a yawn. "It's in the bathroom cabinet. Should be easy to spot." She headed away, then quickly returned, med kit in hand.

    "I think I should look at your head first." She settled beside him, opening up the medical kit. "Um...lean your head forward a little." Michael did as he was told, the back of his skull throbbing as he did. He bit down on his slightly wounded lip while Charlie examined the injury. "I'm not an expert at head injuries, or injuries in general I guess," she said, "but it doesn't look too bad. Pretty big bump and a slight scratch, though. I definitely need to bandage it."

    "Alright," he said. He made no move to lift his head as she gently tended to it, thankfully using a patch-like Band-aid rather than actual bandage.

    "Look up, I should probably make sure you don't have a concussion." She pulled out the flashlight she'd used at work. He did as he was told, then she shined the light in both his eyes. "Hm." She frowned. "I think you're fine."

    "So you're done blinding me then?" He rubbed at his eyes.

    "Yes." She gave a brief chuckle. "Now, um—" her eyes trailed to his shoulder, and she winced hard— "I think your shoulder should be the next thing. Looks like it's bled a lot." She reached over and gently turned him towards her a little, glancing over the injury on his shoulder. Michael swallowed, averting his eyes. He hated the sight of blood, ever since the incident with his little brother. Blood had never made him queasy or uncomfortable before this, but now it brought back haunting memories of that terrible day.