You Just Love To Hate Me || Ricky 'Horror' Olson (EDITING)

Chapter 24: I'm The Darkest Night That's Way Too Cold

Song for this chapter: Deepest Cut - Get Scared

Vamp's POV

"Alright Mr. Olson just sign here and then you can go," The doctor said as Ricky signed himself out of the hospital. "Don't forget take one of your pills every six hours, they're strong so they could make you disorientated and confused and you may be forgetful and clumsy, but that should wear off after an hour or so then you'll crash for about fifteen minutes and won't remember what you did, so take it easy okay."

"I will thank you," Ricky smiled, still weak and croaky, but a lot stronger than yesterday.

"And try to keep the sexual activities to a minimum for the next few weeks," He said to both of us. I felt Chris tense up next to me and neither Ricky and I would look at him. Ricky didn't seem bothered by the comment, but I on the other hand was blushing furiously.

Ricky finished signing the papers and was officially discharged. Chris and I left the room so he could change, but he ended up calling me back in to help him, something I'll have to do quite frequently since he can't bend over without risking tearing his stitches.

I made him step into his jeans then pulled them up slowly, running my hands all the way around his hips and smirking as he quivered and goosebumps raised prior to where my hands had been. I ran my hands up his torso, carefully avoiding his wounds and tattoo, and sat them on his shoulder. "So beautiful," I whispered. I lifted his arms above his head and pulled his shirt over his head and fit it carefully over his stomach so it wouldn't hurt him in any way. No one brought him any spare clothes (it was the least of our concerns) so I spent last night trying to clean the blood from it. As the blood stain sat right over his wound I had to choke back tears and ignore it. I have to be strong. I made him sit down and helped him pull on his socks and shoes then laced them up and tucked them into the sides.

"Could you um.." Ricky stammered. I gave him a warm smile and he shook his head. "Could you do my hair and makeup?" He blushed.

"Do you have any of it on you," I giggled.

He nodded and dug into his pocket, bringing out felt-tip eyeliner, a bottle of white foundation and a comb. I sat down across from him on the bed and leaned my elbows on my knees. I put a blob of foundation on the back of my hand and covered his forehead, cheeks, eyelids, nose, above his lip and finally his chin in the porcelain liquid so he was soon pale as a ghost. I put on extra to hide his bruises so I had to hear him complain about it being stiff.

I then put one hand carefully under his chin to keep his face steady and told him to close his eyes. I carefully got the tip of the eyeliner pen and swept it along his eyelids slowly, making sure it was perfectly even and resisting the urge to wing it out like I do with mine. I repeated the process on his other eye and then told him to open them so I could look. I smiled at how they mirrored each other then did under his eyes and his waterline so he had thick black circles encasing his blue eyes like a frame.

I got his comb and brushed his greasy hair so that it fell neatly onto his shoulders and gave him a precise middle parting. I then took my black beanie off of my own head and placed it on top of his, positioning it just right and grinning to myself at how perfect I made him look. It's been like dressing up a perfect little doll.

"You look cute when you concentrate," Ricky giggled, but his face quickly contorted in pain as he placed his hands on his stomach.

"When did the doctor last give you medicine?" I asked.

"About six hours ago," He groaned.

I grabbed the pill bottle and emptied one into my hand. I handed it to him then picked up the conveniently placed water bottle beside the bed up and handed it to him and he quickly placed the pill in his mouth and washed it down with the water.