The Bleeding Stranger (kirishima tooru x male oc)

Holy Shit He's Bleeding Out (3)

Content warning: A lot of medical talk, and a lot of blood talk

Yatoma

July 23, 2012

Tokyo

8:11 pm

Yatoma scurried around his apartment rather panickily, trying to muster as much calm as he could. This was really not what he wanted from his night, but that's what he got from his conscience forcing him to do the right thing. He should've let the man wander off after he told Yatoma he wouldn't go to the hospital. In most situations, even professional ones, they allowed people to deny medical aid, at least in America. They hadn't gotten to that part yet in his textbook. Which also reminded Yatoma that he'd lied about being a professional EMS, but one step at a time.

He glanced back, as the man continued to waiver in the doorway, still looking unsure. He was posted up against the door jam, using his good arm to hold himself up. He was getting paler, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead. He was huffing, like he was exhausted by just standing. Yatoma really hoped he'd come inside eventually, because every moment that he stood there was another moment that blood steadily dripped from his wound. Yatoma really wanted to help this man, but he was incredibly worried he'd kill himself at this rate of stubbornness.

However, some God had apparently been listening, as eventually the man stumbled into Yatoma's home, deciding that the small crumbling apartment wasn't a trap. Still when he went behind the stranger to close the door, his eyes hardened and he snapped.

"Don't."

Yatoma sighed, and knew it'd make the place cold as hell, but he was willing to compromise, "Alright. Sit on the couch, I set a sheet down."

The bleeding man did as he was told, and Yatoma laid out a workspace for himself on the table he'd dragged over to the couch. His patient sank into the couch with a slight whimper, which Yatoma didn't acknowledge verbally, though he did shoot a look at the man, a very pointed Aren't you glad I'm helping?

He glared back, but didn't respond.

"Alright," Yatoma kneeled in front of him, "We're going to have to get this off first," He motioned to the shirt, "Are you alright if I cut it off? It's going to hurt like a bitch if we try to get it off the normal way."

It would also be completely unsanitary and might make the injury worse, but he left that point out.

The man nodded and held his arm out. Yatoma took a pair of scissors he'd put into boiling water and cut it up the middle from the tear that was already there, before completely removing it from the shoulder. Yatoma had to peel it off, the sleeve all but caked onto his arm from the blood.

The gash fully exposed, Yatoma couldn't help but grimace at the sight. It started at the man's forearm, spreading up to the bottom of his upper arm, getting especially deep at the elbow, like someone had tried to slash his face but he had blocked it. It was jagged and, in anyone else's case, would be extremely painful. It made Yatoma more concerned that he hadn't known his pain level, but he was trying to remain calm so the man wouldn't see him panic.

"Alright. Let's do this quickly so you can rest ok?"

The man said nothing, his eyes not even focused on Yatoma anymore, now gazing off. Still, Yatoma continued to speak.

"My name is Yatoma," He started, his speech becoming clearly practiced, "Everything I'm about to do I'll explain to you as I do it. This is not going to feel good, and I'm sorry about that. Let me know if it gets too painful, and I'll stop alright?"

That wasn't totally true, however it was true that this was going to hurt like a motherfucker. Yatoma hoped that high pain tolerance would stick around a little longer.