"Why are you asking? You've never cared before." Oh, silly boy. You have no idea what I care about. But I can't say that to him. If I'm sarcastic towards him now I might never get him to open up to me. Instead I change my position so I'm fully facing him, "well I care now. So, tell me, what happened to you? You never miss dinner". Simon pulls his knees up into his chest, wraps his arms round his legs and rests his chin on the edge of his knees. He closes his eyes and takes a thoughtful breath. I let myself study him, assess the damage he's taken, try to see how much of the blood is his. He's bruised on his cheekbone, just below his left eye. His hair looks more matted now he's sitting up, I want to reach over to pull out the twigs and leaves that are twisted into it. I can't see the rest of his body, but I can see a cut on his right arm. It doesn't look too bad, more like a cut he got from dodging some claws. From what I can see, he should've been able to clean himself up with a good as new, so I don't know why he hasn't, or why Bunce hasn't. Unless Bunce wasn't with him? I look back at his face to see him watching me, at least I think he's watching me.
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FantasyWhen Basilton Grimm-Pitch's long term crush, Simon Snow, crashes into their dorm room beaten, bruised and bloodied, how can he respond? Ignore him? Help him? Does he let his feelings rule his decisions just this one time? After crashing in late at...
