At first, Simon stiffened at the touch. But as Kaye’s movements grew gentler, he found himself soothed by the feeling of the pad and the other man’s fingers. It wasn’t long before his shoulders had formed an exhausted slouch and he was all but leaning into Kaye’s hand. The antiseptic stung, but enough to anchor him in the present and keep him from drifting too far. In a way, the pain of his injuries kept him sane, as pain had done for him all those years. He sighed, eyes drooping.
Kaye glanced up to look towards Simon, a half smile forming when he realized that the other man was practically drifting off as he wiped the rest of the blood away. Part of him had to admit that it was adorable, though he was trying hard to not get flustered at this proximity himself as the minutes slipped by.
"Fortunately, your nose doesn't look like it's broken. Perhaps just bruised," he mumbled, careful not to startle Simon before he pulled his fingers away from their cheek. He grabbed a few more wipes and a few, small wound closure bandaids before returning. "Where's the puncture?"
Simon forced his eyes open, shaking himself awake. “It’s— it’s right here—“ he managed, tugging aside the neckline of his shirt to expose a small part of his shoulder, where a cut was still bleeding. Stifling a yawn, he straightened his back. “I— sorry. I shouldn’t be—“
"No, no, you're tired" Kaye started, shaking his head as he spoke. "I get it. If you want to sleep, you're more than allowed to," he added gently, which was an odd characteristic to see near his usual impulsive nature. Not only, but if Simon slept, then he wouldn't feel most of the antiseptic. Kaye moved his hand towards the neckline of Simon's shirt, brushing his fingers against the skin around their puncture tentatively, checking for anything that might have gotten caught in the puncture. So far, it just seemed like it was bleeding a lot.
Warm fingers touched his bare skin, and he jerked away instinctively before registering that it was only Kaye, and he was safe. Simon slowly relaxed under his touch, shaking his head. “Can’t sleep. Won’t sleep,” he slurred, rolling his shoulders. “I’m fine.”
Kaye glanced up towards Simon, a bit startled when the other man jerked back, though he returned back towards cleaning the wound. "This might sting a bit," he murmured as he pressed a small, clean piece of gauze to apply pressure to the wound and attempt to stop the bleeding. With his limited knowledge of medicine, he guessed that he would most likely need to disinfect it and possibly add some sort of cream or antibiotic after.
And it did sting. But rather than bother Simon, it soothed him. Pain was familiar. Pain was predictable. Pain, he could trust. It was good. Being hurt was good. Because he deserved it, didn’t he? He always deserved it.
He sat there, completely still as Kaye pulled him together, hating himself for complying— but he was so exhausted. So tired. So finished. He was just.. done.
After a few moments of holding the clothe against Simon's puncture wounds, Kaye removed it and instead grabbed an antiseptic wipe. With that, he started to clean all of the blood away carefully, hoping that it wouldn't hurt Simon too much. "How are you feeling so far?" He asked, glancing up towards Simon and gauging their reaction.
“I’m fine.” The reply was automatic; he didn’t have to think about it. Your mother would be ashamed of you… for accepting help… Erik wouldn’t need this… he wouldn’t need Kaye….. Simon cut the thought off. “Thank you for… everything.”
"You helped me once, remember? Now I'm returning the favor," Kaye mumbled with a small shrug as he finished wiping up all the blood. He discarded the bloodied wipe and in turn grabbed a small tube of what seemed like an antibiotic, putting a bit on his index finger. Turning back towards Simon, he pulled their shirt away from the puncture and placed the clear cream on the two wide dots.
“You… you don’t need to repay me for anything.” Simon couldn’t bear to meet Kaye’s tawny eyes, but he made himself. He raised his head, and leveled a gaze at the other man. “But thank you. Honestly, thank you.”
"Of course," Kaye answered with a nod of his head as he glanced up towards Simon's mismatched eyes, watching them for a few fleeting moments. He looked back towards the puncture wound, putting a few pieces of gauze and a wide bandaid above the two holes. "There. It should hold for a bit, though we'll have to change the bandaids every once in a while," he added, realizing that he said we as soon as the words left his mouth. Would there ever be a we, or was it just Simon and Kaye, two separate people?
We. Kaye had said 'we'. A slip of the tongue, or had he really meant it. Was 'we' something he actually wanted to achieve. Or was he just over-reading the situation, as usual? Probably the latter.
"Thanks. Yeah," Simon replied, his voice hoarse. "Yeah. That–" He cut himself off. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't– Sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" Kaye asked concernedly, his brows drawing together as he looked up towards Simon. Had the fact that he said 'we' worried Simon? Or made him uncomfortable?
"Making you– Making you do all this." He made a vague gesture to the counter, the medical supplies, to Kaye himself. "You shouldn't have to help someone like me." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. But it was too late. "I mean–"
"Like you? What do you mean?" Kaye asked, a heavy frown crossing his features when Simon began to stammer. Someone like him…someone who was a siren or supernatural? Or did he mean it on another level?
"I meant nothing," he amended, too hastily. "Erik must have hit me a little too hard in the head, that's all." He cleared his throat, sliding off the counter. "Thanks again, Kaye."
Kaye backed up and nodded, still not saying anything as he watched Simon hop off the counter. Should he bring up the fact that he knew that the other man was supernatural? Though, he guessed that Simon most likely already knew that. Though, as he started to pack up part of the first aid kit, part of him felt like he wanted to tell Simon something…though he didn't know what it quite was.
I should go… But every exhausted muscle in Simon's body begged him to stay for just a few minutes more. Why should I? There was no answer. "I–" He spoke his mind. "I should go."
"There's– you–" Kaye started, his thoughts coming out a bit stammered before he nodded. Was he just going to let Simon leave? Injured and tired? He shrugged to himself, though he knew that he would never let someone leave in that state, especially not Simon.
"There are a few couches back here if you want to rest before you go. It would be better for your shoulder," Kaye mumbled, though his voice was still loud enough that Simon would be able to hear it.
Simon turned slightly, shoulders sagging. You're weak. The thought cut through the fog in his mind. I am. He wasn't going to argue, with both Kaye and the voice in his head. "I– I guess. Would that be okay? With the manager, I mean."
Kaye nodded quickly and motioned for Simon to sit down on the couches, before he returned the first aid kit back to one of the cabinets. A man named Smith was the manager of this bar, and he had always known them quite well…since the other man was a specific kind of supernatural; a witch. They had always been quite kind to Kaye, and the backroom was almost always open for him to use.
"I think there are a few blanket's back here. Oh-" Kaye cut himself off, a crooked grin replacing his small smile as he held a bottle up. "And whiskey," he added with a light chuckle as he tried to lift the mood, bringing a small, woolen blanket towards Simon.
(Smith from the witch rp?)
Simon tried to mirror the grin, really, he did, but all he achieved was something loosely resembling a pained grimace. "I think whiskey's the last thing I need.." At least he had still retained some of his dry humour. "But blankets– blankets would be nice."
(yeah lol)
Kaye laughed softly as he walked over towards Simon, a bottle in one hand and blankets in the other. Some could call him an alcoholic, though his drinking had actually gotten better over time…when he wasn't trying to forget as much. Once he made it to the couch, he handed the woolen clothe to the other man and sat down on the small coffee table across from them, taking a sip straight from the whiskey bottle.
(noice)
Simon took the blanket gratefully, mind still whirling through the thick fog. He approached the couch, sitting down carefully. After a moment's hesitation and a glance thrown at Kaye, he brought his legs up on the couch and lay down. His shoulders were tense, not only from pain, but the fear of letting his guard down more than he already had, but they soon relaxed under a tsunami of exhaustion. His eyes fell shut, and he barely managed to mumble out a question. "Where are you sleeping?"