Terms and Agreements (on hold indefinitely)

The Unplanned Arrival of a one Mr. Hot Stuff to my Freaking Bedroom

                                                                            6

He refused to talk about it for the entirety of the ride home. I kept asking him if he needed to go to the hospital, but he always said he didn't. Personally, I thought he should've, but it was his body, and I couldn't force him to do something he didn't want to.

When we arrived at my house, it was completely dark out, and the only light we had after I turned off the headlights was the tiny light above the front door.

I led the way, squinting at my keychain in the darkness, trying to figure out which key went in the front door, Flynn following silently behind me.

I fiddled with the door for a moment before at last selecting the correct key, and slid the door open. I peered around the living room before grabbing hold of Flynn's black t-shirt and dragging him along behind me and up the stairs.

I practically shoved him into my room and closed the door hurriedly behind us, turning the lock and standing with my back against it.

My parents were really strict about who I had over, especially boys, and boys weren't allowed in my room, they had to stay downstairs. So I was breaking about five house rules by doing this.

Flynn walked over to my bed and mumbled, "do you mind if I just...." And without waiting for an answer dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh.

I stepped toward him. "Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?" I asked.

He glanced at me before looking at my TV, which was paused on Legolas. "Lord of the Rings, huh?"

"It's the Hobbit, and I really wish that you'd tell me what happened to you," I said, "and I also don't really appreciate you just making yourself at home on my bed."

He grunted, still staring at the television.

"And why are you even here?" I asked, "why didn't you just go home?"

He sighed. "My sister still has my-"

"Yeah, I know, your sister has your truck," I cut in, "so why didn't you just get her to come get you? I'm beginning to doubt you even have a sister, or a truck for that matter, since neither is ever around."

"I do have a sister, and a truck," he retorted, shifting into a sitting position, his legs hanging off the bed onto the floor, a hand pressed against his side. "Now the real question is, do you have a bathroom where I can get cleaned up?"

"Yeah, through that door," I said, waving my hand toward the entrance to the bathroom. As he rose off the bed, which appeared to take some effort, I recalled that I was out of towels. "I'll be right back," I told him.

He didn't reply, and I didn't really wait for a response anyway, and left my room, directing my steps toward my parents' bathroom to get more towels.

I completed the mission quickly, and returned to my room in a very short amount of time, closing the door and locking it behind me once again.

My bathroom door was closed, and I heard the sink running. I walked up to it, and knocked.

"You don't have to knock, you know," I heard him say from inside.

I opened the door, my eyes on the towels in my hands, and said, "it's part of the Terms and Agreements that we can't enter a room that one of us is occupying without knocking first."

"I didn't know that," he replied as I placed the towels on their shelf in the small cupboard beside the shower.

"That's because you didn't bother to read the Terms and Agreements," I said, closing the cupboard door.

"You do realize that your Terms and Agreements were never actually written down for me to read, right?" Flynn said next, and that's when I turned to look at him, a comeback on the edge of my tongue.

But my less-than-spectacular retort was instantly forgotten when I gazed upon the full extent of his injuries. He had taken his shirt off, and tossed it onto the floor, and along with his bare chest and back were exposed several horrible purplish bruises, along with something just below the left side of his rib cage that looked suspiciously like a stab wound, though it was hard to tell with all the blood and because I'd never actually seen a real stab wound.

"Did somebody knife you?" I exclaimed, hurrying over to him, trying to lock eyes with him, but he turned away. "Well?"

He kept looking away from me, slowly rinsing and wringing out the rag under the tap, then rinsing and wringing it out again.

"Flynn, tell me what happened, now!" I demanded, probably sounding close to a pouting three year old, but I didn't care. Whatever had happened to him was serious. "As part of the Terms and Agreements we aren't allowed to-"

"Will you just shut up about the damned Terms and Agreements already?!" He exploded, slamming his palm down onto the marble sink.

I'll admit, I was taken aback by his sudden outburst, and I retreated a few steps. I didn't really know him or what he would do when provoked or threatened. Yeah, I didn't. So why the hell was he in my freaking bathroom? I haven't the foggiest.

I made the decision to leave, and turned back to my bedroom.

I heard Flynn exhale loudly. "Alison, wait - I...I'm sorry."

"As you should be," I replied, rotating to look at him, and he was looking over his shoulder at me, "and all will be forgiven...if you tell me what happened."

He sighed, turning back to the sink, both hands gripping the sides, "just help me first, will you?"

"Fine," I groaned, and headed over to him. "Just know that I'm the worst caregiver in history."

He chuckled, moving aside slightly to give me room at the sink.

"Look, just - just sit on the toilet or something and give me some room, okay?" I told him, and he complied, closing the lid and settling down upon it.

I hadn't a clue how to clean out stab wounds, considering that wasn't a normal occurrence in my life, so I just rinsed and wrung the rag out again before approaching Flynn.

He moved his arm so I could put the rag to the hole in his side, and I started rubbing at the dried blood just below the wound itself.

Just as I was venturing upwards, however, a knock sounded at my bedroom door, causing me to jump and drop the rag on the floor.