Blink wouldn’t meet your eyes. The bloodied boy wouldn’t even look up from the floor as you roughly cleaned the gash on his thigh. He bit back a whine of pain as you prodded the wound a little too roughly to be an accident

He hurt all over. He was a fucking idiot. It was a stupid fight, a stupid move, a stupid risk. He could practically hear the the thoughts you were thinking. He knew he messed up. He really did

he let out a soft yelp as you pressed against a bruise, accidentally or not he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t bring himself to meet you gaze, which he knew was on him. He knew you weren’t happy.

after all, this was about a bi-weekly occurrence

[thanks for the request!!!!]