Storm (G/T)

Patched Up

"They look fine, you know," I tell Austin, watching the two of us in the mirror as his hands reach toward the collage of bandaids. "Don't touch them!" I shout in response, and flinch aggressively when his hands fly back down. "They'll probably come off easier than your kind of bandaids will." I shouldn't be ordering him around, but I did waste all these bandaids on him. Let's just hope I don't get hurt while I'm here. It's wildly unlikely that I'll stay safe, but I'll just try even harder than I already planned.

Austin leans into the bathroom mirror, examining the circle of human bandaids. "Do you think it'll scar?" I don't reply. He answers himself for me. "I hope so, it'll look badass. I would explain what happened, but I would likely be called crazy."

"You'd be called crazy for being shanked in the nose." I repeat.

"By a real life human? Of course I will."

"I really didn't travel that far, how far did you go?"

"A while out of the forest, much more than usual," he explains, keeping his eyes on the mirror. It's not that much time, but his strides are wildly longer than mine. "The snow was pretty light on my end, but it'd be worse for you. I wanted to take a little walk and went out a bit far, but I can handle the cold a bit better I suppose. I saw you lying in the snow, and I would never forgive myself if I had just left you for dead." For some reason, this makes me chuckle, but I regain myself.

"You laugh now, but seeing a little tiny person with blue skin lying still made my heart skip some beats." Sure, as if I'm the one with a size issue. "I tried to listen for your pulse and found nothing, and I obviously wouldn't be able to feel it with your size. So, I just dropped you in my pocket and brought you back here, checking in on you every now and then. I had hoped you were alive, but it was quite scary to think that I was potentially carrying a tiny corpse with me for however long."

My head snaps up to him in panic. "What?"

"What?" He replies.

"I didn't think about how you brought me here. I spent that much time in a pocket without even knowing?"

"Well sure, and it was terrifying bringing you home. I was scared that if you were alive, which you clearly are, I would accidentally break something on you or you'd wake up in the pocket and get claustrophobic."

"I am claustrophobic, so we both got lucky. The situation wouldn't have been better had I found out I was in the pocket of a giant."

"I get that. After all, I am pretty scary," he jokes, turning to me. It would be funnier if it weren't true. "The gate was the only truly worrying part, I was worried that'd jolt you awake surely."

"You can jump that thing?"

"Of course I can, it's not even that tall. Well, for me," he adds on sheepishly. "Anyway, I'll leave you to yourself," he tells me, starting to turn to the door. "I'll come back in 20 minelles or so."

"Minutes?" He keeps replacing words with other words that almost make sense. Must be dialect.

"... Sure. If I open the door and you're still undressed, scream or something. Loudly. You're very quiet."

"Sounds good," I reply and he exits, leaving me to the bowl. The water is no longer warm from our episode, but it's room temperature, which works for me. Climbing over and slipping in, I have to stand up as if it's a swimming pool, the water coming up to my neck. Shadows from the dark bowl cover up my body. I don't mind that. Pinching my nose, I dive down, getting my hair wet and watching it soak into a deep black color.

The worst thing about all of this is Austin isn't a bad person. He's already done a lot for me, but I don't want him to help anymore. All I want is to leave. He can't expect me to sit comfy with him, even if he's nice to me. Being a giant, he's still able to hurt me dramatically at any second, on purpose or even unintentionally. I just can't trust him to be around me constantly, and I can't trust myself to make it out fine. I've got two bandaids and a pocket knife, and I'm expected to survive off that for however long. If all goes well, just a few hours. If all goes wrong, probably for the rest of my now short-lived life.

I stand in the bowl for a while, reflecting on all of this. To be fair, the lavender really does help a bit with my stress, but not enough to completely mellow me out. There's still a massive problem standing in the way of my actual stress relief, and that problem is dead set on keeping me hostage. I really need to find a way out of here. Maybe I can try to-

The doorknob shifts. Twenty minutes already? As he instructed, I let out a shrill screech.

"SORRY!" he exclaims through the door, making every inch of my being shake as I practically fly out of the bowl and toward the washcloth he left out for a towel. "How much more time do you need?"

"5 minutes!" I reply loudly, rolling around and wrapping myself up in the process. It makes for less of a towel and more of a long Victorian gown. About two-thirds of it make up the length of my body from my chest, where I'd wrapped it from. I feel better despite continuously tripping over myself. After drying off, I realize that these clothes can't be worn forever. I'll redress in this sweatshirt for now, but I'll need to get clothes soon, if I don't escape this hell for a while. Not that clothes for my size will be easy to find anywhere near here...

He enters the room again, very slowly. Sighing in relief at seeing me dressed, he asks, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Can you... uh..."

"Can I?"

"Can you take me out?"

"Oh, sure." He swoops in quickly with his hands and I squeak and cover my head with my hands. I really squeaked. How embarrassing. His hands pause, and retract. "I'm so sorry. How do you want to be held?"

I assess my options. Hands? No, I could get crushed. Pocket? No, claustrophobia will kick in surely. And I could get crushed. Shoulder? What if I fall? I could get crushed. On top of head? I'd definitely fall then. I could also get cr-

"I'll give you a minute to decide-"

"Just set me on the floor," I cut him off. "I can walk the length myself."