"Your...your hand" I stammered, looking over at him with glossy eyes.
He shook his head and let out a deep breath. "I'm fine, go to sleep" he demanded, but I didn't listen.
I stepped closer to him as he shrugged off his jacket, revealing his shirt. I cringed and looked away, red being a colour I didn't like to see on clothes it didn't belong on. I looked back at Matt, and down to his hands.
"Y/N, please" he started as I moved closer. I reached for his hand but he pulled away. "You need to go back to bed" he said, trying to use a firm tone that didn't work.
"Matt-"
"Y/N, just go to sleep. Blood doesn't settle well with you"
"I just-you're...there is..." I stammered, trying to focus on what I wanted to say. All I could think about was blood.
"I'm okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep" he lowered his voice, gesturing to the bed. "I know you don't do well with blood, get in bed and relax"
I don't care.
All I care about is him.
"You're not okay. There's blood on you, your shirt and your jacket...what?" I shook my head, letting my emotional and anxious side take over.
I didn't know what happened between the charity event and now, but I do know this a sight I never thought I'd see. He isn't a violent man, blood shouldn't be all over him or on his expensive shirt.
"Y/N" he hushed me, unbuttoning his shirt. "Just go back to sleep" he said, rolling his shoulders back, allowing his shirt to fall off his arms and slipping on the floor.
He walked into the bathroom and turned the tap on. I followed, leaning on the doorframe. Matt has never come home like that. I have seen him get angry, to a point he wants to kick a wall, but he's never touched anything.
"Matt, were you attacked?"
He shook his head, wincing as the water flowed over his hands.
I stepped closer, grabbing a small towel and dabbing it with rubbing alcohol. "Matt" I sighed, urging for him to give me his hands.
He tried to resist, but I shook my head and grabbed his wrist.
"Y/N, you don't need to-" he started, but I cut him off by pecking his lips. "Thank you" he mumbled against my lips, before I pulled away and ignored my own battle with the sight of blood.
The bathroom stays quiet, neither of us speaking a word while I clean his hands.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" I asked, observing a bruise on his side and some small swelling under his eye. He shook his head and stepped around me, leaving me the bathroom.
My eyes catch a glimpse at his shirt, the red colour not settling well with me, physically and mentally as I press my hand to the edge of the drawers, leaning against it lightly.
"I warned you and you didn't listen" His voice distracted me. "You never fucking listen"
"You're a dick" I mumbled as he stepped closer to me. He reached out for me, but I shook my head. "Don't touch me" I hissed, irritant with how he spoke to me.
He rolled his eyes, pulling away from me. "Fine, be bitchy" he mumbled. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you"
"You're the one with blood all over you, and you're not in the mood to deal with me?" I crossed my arms over my chest, not sure how he's pissed off at me.
"Fucking hell" he groaned. "I told you to go to sleep and you didn't listen so here you are, fighting with me against the drawers because you're stubborn. My hands, my body, don't worry about it" he lowered his voice to a more suitable level of speaking. "Y/N, get in the damn bed or so help me; I will pick you up and put you in it myself." He remarks, his eyes darkening as he stares at me, watching as I raise a brow at him, somewhat challenging his statement.
