Storm (G/T)

Damage Control

I hold the red-tinted blade out with a shaky hand, showing I'm ready to attack again, despite my fear. Maybe it is okay to be scared right now- not that I'd ever show that. He looks ready to strike. Ready to grip me from underneath the cabinet and tear me up right then and there. After a second, his face softens and he sighs, or huffs rather, through his nose, still loud as can be. Tremors send through my body.

"Please," he begins. "I just want you to be safe. My goal was never to kidnap you or hurt you. I don't want to be upset with you, but obviously it's hard to be happy when my nose is bleeding from a stab wound. I promise I won't do anything to you, please just come out." He's speaking slowly, as if I can't process his words. "I want to be your friend."

My outstretched knife doesn't move. "What do you want to do with me?"

"What?"

"Be honest. You were boiling water. What was it for? Was it for me? Did you want to boil me? Make me into a meal or just something to torture? Is that what that was?"

"Make you into a..." He looks taken aback. "I'm actually a vegetarian, and even if I weren't, I could never bring myself to harm something that reminds me of myself, and then... dine on it. The water was to have you clean yourself up after being outside for so long. It would warm you up. I added lavendrum to it to decrease stress, since I assumed you'd have some. I suppose I was right..." his eyes shift to the weapon. Silence. My arm falters, and I lower the blade. "Can you please come out? I won't hurt you."

"Tell me about yourself first. Then I might." He sighs again, pushes a ginger lock out of his eyes and begins.

"I'm Austin, I'm 17, my nose hurts and I've never seen a giant as tiny as you... if you even are one... but I've kept pets in the past and- er, not that you're a pet." My eyes squeeze into slits. "You're a person and I'll treat you as such. I just... I know how to take care of things- not that you're an object either! - but I'm sure I can take care of uh... you. What about you?"

"Alright, Austin... I'm Robin, I'm 16, and... I'm not a giant."

"It didn't come off like you were. There's something that makes you a... little different." He buries his face into his arm, chuckling away at his joke yet again. When he pops back up, his nose is bleeding again. The rubbing must've opened the wound.

"You... you're..." I trail off.

"I'm what?" he asks loudly. Well, he's never really decreased in volume.

"Touch your nose."

He does so, and once he sees the blood on his index finger, his eyes widen. "Shoot, I'm out of sticking bandages." Bandaids..? "I'll need to go to the store, but I can't leave you alone... I also can't have people see you-"

"I have bandaids." I quickly step out in front of him, and he backs up. Is it because of me or my weapon? I close it and pocket it to resolve the problem. "I can fix this." I take off my... oh. "Where's my backpack?"

"It basically fell off when you were unconscious, and I wasn't about to force it back on you." He begins to rant while I watch the spot on his nose increase in size. I can't let him keep bleeding, but he won't shut up. "I'd probably break your arms by accident or accidentally wake you up, which wouldn't be a good first impressi-"

"Sorry, but I need it right now." I have to stop the bleeding. "Just bring it to me please."

"Oh... yeah, of course." He quickly gets up and stomps (or just walks, I suppose) over to the counter where we had our first... en-counter. I smile and repress the sense of humor I've already gained from Austin. I hear a small- relatively small, "Oh no..." coming from the kitchen.

I walk out from under the cabinet. My knife is still concealed in my pocket, but I think I can stay without it for now. When he returns, his eyes snap wide open at me (definitely scaring me) and he swoops down on me, eventually choosing to lay on his stomach. I flinch aggressively, causing him to move slower. "Hello, it just occurred to me that your sticking bandages may be too small."

"I'll do my best," I reply, motioning for him to give me the bag.

"I also got your carrier but..." he quietly sets it down as he trails off, revealing a strap being ripped from the bottom seam. "It was more fragile than expected." Good God.

"It'll be okay, I'll sew it eventually, thank you." I smile half-heartedly and pull out the pack of bandaids I brought with me. "Uh..." I look at his nose. It may be a tiny prick to him, but it's still a huge gash from a stabbing in my eyes. Thirty bandaids. My eyes flash back to the box, and I get up from kneeling and walk directly in front of his face. "Stay still, and don't freak out. I can assure you this is scarier for me than it will be for you."

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. All these bandaids and yet the wound won't seem to close up. "I'm sorry for stabbing you," I apologize quietly, sticking on the ninth bandaid.

"We all get stabbed one time or another. It hurt a lot more than I expected, and still hurts, but I'll be alright. It's like getting a whole thumbtack shoved in your nozz." He smiles, crossing his eyes to get a proper look at me.

"Lovely," I reply after the thirteenth bandaid. "I'm a human, by the way." Austin's face bolts up, and he's suddenly towering over me again, but on his hands and knees.

"YOU'RE A WHAT?!" The volume makes me nearly topple over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he tries to regain composure, getting back on his stomach. "I just... that was surely a joke?"

"Have you never seen a human before?"

"They're a myth!" he exclaims, lowering his voice immediately after. "I just assumed before that you were a giant in terrible luck, or some strange fever dream on my end."

I place on the twenty-second bandaid, shaking the box a bit afterwards, as if more will appear. "Being seen as some mythical creature sounds cool, but I promise you there are billions of humans out there. I guess they just don't wander this far."

"How long were you going?" He asks, twitching his nose.

Twenty-four bandaids, I'm getting close. "I'd say about two days. A snowstorm blew over my house and I was just able to leave in time. I packed rations and safety and survival equipment. I guess it's coming in handy now."

"Are your parents alright?" he asks.

"Beats me. I lived alone. Left at 14."

"I left at 14 too." I step back and we meet eyes. "They didn't like my boyfriend, and I didn't like the judgement, so why stick around?"

Oh my God. I don't want to say why I left, so I'll make up something he can relate to. "Mine didn't like my partner either." There's a pause. Twenty-eight. I'm all out. "I think that's enough bandaids, it's patched up nicely. Just don't touch it, they could all come off."

"What's a bandaid?" he tilts his head slightly, which scares the hell out of me for a reason I can't pinpoint.

"It's a uh... a sticking bandage. That's just what we call them."

"Neat." Neat. "Thank you, by the way. It means a lot. Just don't stab me again." Austin smiles.

I smile half-heartedly in return, trying my best to not bolt back under the cabinet. "No promises."