VENDETTA || ɴ.ᴄ.ᴍ.

12. I don't ever wanna let go

song; time after time by quietdrive (cover of Cyndi Lauper's originial)
[ word count: 1348 ]

|| Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. ||

*

Cierra ushers him in the house and helps Nick up the stairs and into her bedroom.

He sits on her bed, blindly wiping the blood that drips from his mouth. Staring intensely at one spot on her carpet as he let his mind wander. Nick can vaguely hear the sound of a tap, water running. Clutters from the bathroom cabinet as Cierra looked through it next door. Her muttering a curse when she drops something. The water stops. He can hear her footsteps as she returns to the room.

"Come on," She gently grabs his wrist because his hands were way too sore. "Let's clean you up,"

She half drags him, considering he was walking slow and way too heavy for her to fully drag. With her hands on his shoulders she gently pushes him down to sit on the closed toilet seat. Cierra grabs something from a box he figured was a first aid kit, and dipped it into the sink that was filled with water.

She squeezed the cloth, excess dripping and creating short-lived ripples in the sink. "Close your eyes," She mumbles, and Nick lets them flutter closed. Her hand on his head to keep him still as he feels himself getting lost with her touch.

A hiss of pain escapes him, and he opens his eyes immediately. She's staring back at him. So close to him. One hand on the top of his head - fingers lost under his thick hair - the other was pressing a wet cloth to the cut on his eyebrow. Cierra smiles reassuringly, and continues cleaning the blood away. She blows on it gently, and presses a kiss just above it.

Nick lets his eyes close again, and his hand moves toward her hand on his head. Holding her wrist, her runs a thumb over it. And she knows he'll be okay.

"Okay, one down..." She tells him with a small smile, "How many more do you think we have left?" She joked, knowing he'd react.

"A million," he snorted sarcastically, smiling when she lets out a short loud laugh.

She grabs his chin and turns his head to the side with a frown, inspecting the deep purple mark on his jaw. "God, what happened?" Cierra asked.

He moves his face out of her grasp, gritting his teeth as she cleans the cut on his lip. "Chris just got mad," He tells her when she moves away to look through the first aid kit.

Cierra purses her lips and lets out a deep exhale through her nostrils. "What a dick," She whispers angrily. Taking a fresh cloth, she grabs his left hand and carefully presses the wet cloth to his palm. She's staring down at his hand, still frowning, and Nick smirks at her.  Cierra takes a bandage and slowly wraps his cleansed hand in it and seals it with tape. She moves to his right hand, wiping his knuckles.

"Where'd you learn to clean cuts like this?"

She stopped her movements. Moving away, placing the now bloody cloth on the side of the sink, she clears her throat. "Uh, my brother got into fights a lot in high school," God, she hates lying to him.

Cierra studies the knuckle wound thoroughly, clicking her tongue with a pout. "Did you take your pill?"

He looks away and she has her answer. "Are you tired?" She then asks, to which he shrugs. "I think you should rest," She tells him as he stands. Nick pulls her close towards him, and winces immediately but ignores it. Cierra pulls away. "What was that?"