Growl || Reed900 ✔️

19

"I-I've got to get b-back. Fowler's calling me up."

"You don't have to lie. It hurts me when you do that. Visit soon. I love you so much. Goodbye," and the line goes dead after she hangs up, not even giving me a chance to respond.

A load of sickness erupts in my body and I lean myself on the wall. Sobs erupt from my mouth and I cover my face with my hand. I push away from the building and punch the brick. Over and over. Not stopping until the back door opens and there was a gasp and shouts.

I was pulled into a tight hug that kept me from doing anything except stay in their arms. My hands shook as blood dripped off of them and onto the concrete.

"I-I hate myself. I do. I'm such a horrible person. Can't e-even visit my family and brother who's d-dying. Because I'm so f-fucking weak!" I scream, it being muffled by Conan's jacket.

He stayed quiet, probably not knowing what to say to my dumbass. I hurt my mom. I hurt my brother. I hurt myself. Because I'm so weak.

"You're not a horrible person, Gavin. You aren't. But come on, we need to get you cleaned up. I'll email Fowler that you had to go home because of the sickness you got from the gas. Let's get to your car."

He practically carries me around to my car and leans me on the door as he goes back inside to get my shit. I stay quiet as he comes back and wraps my still bleeding hands in his jacket and gently helps me in the car.

He starts the car, it growling as he backs out and presses onwards to my apartment building. It's a silent ride and I could feel my eyelids start to droop but I force them open.

"Rest, Gavin. I know you need it," he speaks, his voice hanging by a thread.

"It's fine," I say, my voice weak and tired. I fell asleep anyway, despite me not usually being able to fall asleep in a car.

-

I stir, feeling like my body was made up of feathers. My mind blanks before pain shoots up my arms, mostly from my knuckles.

I groan, turning my head to the right and it hitting something soft. I open my eyes after feeling my body sway a bit.

"It's okay. I'm just taking you inside," Conan responds to my groan.

"I-I can walk by myself," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Shut up, Gavin," Conan sighs, entering the house. "Let me take care of you."

"I've been taking care of myself for years."

"And you see where it's gotten you," he quickly replies, setting me down on the couch.

I stay silent, laying my head on the couch arm. He disappears into the bathroom before coming out with a medical kit.

He carefully peels off the bloody jacket, putting it in the laundry room before sitting down in front of me. He wipes off the blood with a wet towel which wakes me up fully because fuck, it hurt. I suppress most of my hisses and yells. There's no need to be a little bitch about it. Not until he pours a bit of alcohol on it.

I stand up and flail my hands around, pacing around the living room, not doing much except making it worse.

"Motherfucker!" I yell, taking in sharp breaths.

"You shouldn't have done it then. Sit down," he says, not giving any mercy in his words.

"Fucking-" I let out a big sigh, sitting down and looking down at the ground with my teeth clenched.

He finishes quickly, doing it as carefully as he could. When he cleans up, I look at my bandaged hands. So fucking stupid.

•How was this?•