You blinked a few times before picking up your phone. Shuffling— "Feels like my nose is broken." There we go, "'n I— fuck, I'm gonna need stitches." You ended the call with a heavy sigh, rising from your bed to get dressed.

Whenever James got in a fight, he'd always call you. The sole occasions he didn’t were when he showed up unannounced at your doorstep. Which.. was often. The drive back to your place was quiet. Aside from the sporadic, strained humming, he attempted to match the tunes on the radio. Songs he didn't genuinely enjoy, he just wanted to break the stillness.

"What?" A subtle grin started to form on his lips, but it faded swiftly as his lip split further. "It's not that bad, mate, give me a break," he sighed, reclining against the sink. His blue eyes wandered over your features as you tended to his wounds, and he parted his lips to speak again, only to close them when he noticed the expression you had fixed on him.

He exhaled heavily once more, offering a lazy nod for you to bring the cigarette back to his lips. His gaze fixed on you as you cleaned his cuts. He didn’t like this nah, not one bit, but he weren't about to say it. He was used to the silent treatment during nights like these. 'N not a lot of things pissed him off. Okay, fine — most things did. But this?

This actually got under his skin.

He reached his limit, letting out a groan; as soon as you brought the cigarette back to his lips, he moved and grabbed your wrist. He held it there, just for a moment. "S'not like I wanted to call you, yeah? Just... didn't know where else to go."