Behind the Sheds.
A calm breeze drifted round the back of the cabins reaching the trainee avoiding the presence of others. Unable to ignore the fresh gash appearing to split his tanned hand into two divisions, it stroked the deep wound doing its best to aid the process of healing. Bertholdt pressed fingers against his palm testing how wide the wound could be stretched: only a few millimetres more before burgeoning crimson liquid began to flow.
Bertholdt passively inspected the depth of his gash, finding it almost reached bone. He merely watched as the blood pooled to spread across the creases on his palm before it slid down towards his wrist. Worry for infection or scarring was far from his mind thanks to his healing ability, which was fairly fast – more so than Reiner's. He was fascinated at how much blood he could lose before his body begun to focus on healing itself; hoary steam forming at the edges of flesh.
Bored with his injury Bertholdt left it to dry and heal whilst he slumped back into the shade. It was quiet in the camp, save for the distant groans of the trainees, with no one was nearby; all the trainees had been sent to either combat training or repairs on their three dimensional manoeuvre gear.
Only moments ago Bertholdt had been at the barracks in repairs before the wires had backlashed (a true fault), when he pulled on them, sending him straight to the medics. Of course, he avoided them; thinking it best he had as few check-ups as selfishly possible, he had headed to the water trough behind the cabins to hide. It was deserted and he often slid behind the back to avoid others – a perfect spot for his thoughts.
With a blue, almost clear, sky overhead Bertholdt relaxed. Resting his head on the panels behind him, he waited for time to go by. Normally he always had something to do, somewhere to be but now he was part of the training squad, training was his something to do. Many of the regimes, bar the manoeuvre gear training, were pointless to him since he had already been through so much. He sighed for his blonde friends stuck in combat practice. He could imagine Annie swiftly wiping the floor with any partner and Reiner would too – as long as he did not partner with Eren (who made him act like a benevolent fool).
A lazy half hour passed with Bertholdt staring listlessly at the moving clouds, his mind clear and almost blank, it relaxed him. He was lost in a drift of memories, dipping in and out of his sweet yet marred childhood spent with Reiner and Berik; young adolescence with two blondes; and the past weeks within the trainee camps surrounded by people. Thinking back there was hardly a time he had without Reiner and when Annie later joined their antics, she was attached to them too – in her own aloof way. It was only the past few weeks they were forced to be separated.
Time before joining the trainees had truly been the best.
Buried too deep in pleasant thoughts he twitched when someone spoke his name. He turned to see a very familiar face though his facial features were slightly shadowed as the sun shone far from them. Bertholdt smiled at the recognition of such a close friend, chuckling lightly that his reminiscing had almost coaxed the world to bring his best friend to him: Reiner Braun.
Once Reiner had received the tanned male's attention he spoke. "Armin said you were with the medics but when I got there they told me you hadn't even gone by."
"I didn't want to cause a fuss over a cut," Bertholdt sighed taking a quick glance at his right palm; his wound had fully healed into a thin scar wrapped round his hand, which itself would soon disappear. "Plus you know how we heal fast."
Bertholdt held his palm up facing Reiner displaying the healed wound. It was a mere scratch on skin; the only true tell it had been a deep wound was the amount of dried blood sitting on his tanned skin. Reiner could tell. He could tell just by the amount of dried red that Bertholdt had to have persevered through the cause of pain, albeit a lashing of wire would only have been a few seconds, it still meant Bertholdt's normal serenity would be disturbed with a contorted wince.
"I doubt it looked like a cut to them though," Reiner ungracefully knelt beside Bertholdt, shaking the thought of his friend's face from his mind.
"How long did it heal for?" Reiner took his friend's bloodied wrist to inspect the cut. Whilst Bertholdt stated the length of time, Reiner pulled his fingers back slightly to stretch the healed skin. His nose was severely close to his hand that it humorously appeared like he was sniffing the blood.
Bertholdt's passiveness towards himself dispersed as Reiner knelt up pulling Bertholdt with him. "Reiner, what are you doing?"
The blond shuffled to the trough beside them with Bertholdt following awkwardly on his knees. Reiner dipped his free hand into the lukewarm water testing the cleanliness — though it mattered very little. Disturbing the cool calm creating ripples, Reiner scooped water into his hand quickly pouring the draining water onto Bertholdt's hand. Reiner carried on as Bertholdt watched the blood dilute onto the ground. Reiner's actions had become faster and there was a fine line between him scooping and slapping the water.
"Reiner," Bertholdt attempted to pull his wrist from his grip. "Reiner, I think you've cleaned it enough. There's nothing there."
Reiner turned to Bertholdt who had been splashed on more than just his hand. Dirty white trousers were stained with diluted blood and splashed with water that made skin almost visible through cloth; Bertholdt's shirt was splashed with water, the cloth favourably hugging his skin; and all Reiner did was stare.
Reiner coughed once, departing himself from a trance, and faced Bertholdt properly with an embarrassed smile. "Uh, sorry Bertl, but I at least cleaned the blood off."
Bertholdt sighed with agreement as he rubbed his knees and thighs which had caught most of the aqueous crimson.
"Oh, I picked this up from the medics," Reiner pulled a roll of white bandages from his jacket.
Bertholdt frowned; he had no need for them, now that his palm did not even home a scar. He opened his mouth to object but Reiner interrupted him. "It's only for decoration, Bertl."
"Decoration?" Bertholdt questioned simply – words were hardly a friend of his.
"Armin wore the deepest of frowns over your injury and the medics too," Reiner began unraveling the cloth. "So it's best you at least look like you tended to yourself otherwise they'll think some miracle happened."
Bertholdt nodded. Reiner was not the brightest of the soldiers, far from it, even his name correlated with strength so Berthodlt could not help the smile. He admired Reiner's small burst of genius (an overstatement in his own eyes).
Reiner pulled Bertholdt's hand again making it flat before swathing the bandage around what used to be a bloodied mess. His skills of medical help were basic and only included wrapping a mere bandage. They had never needed to cover their injuries as they healed within minutes.
"Well..." Bertholdt stared at Reiner's poor attempt of bandaging. "Don't you think it would've been more believable if you left the blood to stain the bandages?"
There was a pause.
"Shit," Reiner cursed, pausing with the bandages.
Bertholdt chuckled as he watched his friend have a mental battle within himself. After a few seconds Reiner carried on glaring at the hand in front of him. The two sat in silence from then watching Reiner work. Though his face fumed with embarrassed stupidity his hands were gentle with Bertholdt.
Once he had finished Bertholdt held his hand towards the clouded sky, looking at it with teasing admiration. "Ahh, it looks like I've been injured."
"Yeah," Reiner nodded, watching Bertholdt smile like a child wearing a costume he had found.
"Next time, you can leave the blood to stain the bandages and then it'll look realistic," Bertholdt spoke.
Reiner frowned as he caught sight of the pink splotches still on his partner's clothes. The stains hardly looked like they had been inside the tanned boy but the nausea was still there when he imagined the state he had seen Bertholdt in; and that had only been after a wound had healed... "I'd rather you not be injured."
They fell back into silence and Bertholdt looked at his once injured palm. "I'm sorry, I..."
"Don't," Reiner shook his head.
He stood up preceding a slap on his knees. Bertholdt stood after. They stood together still within the cabin's shade – lengthened during their time behind the sheds.
"I'll bandage you if you're ever injured you know," Bertholdt smiled, caressing the bandages with his thumb.
"If someone else hasn't been swept with an urge to save my arse," They laughed – Reiner with a dominating hearty laugh and Bertholdt a simple chuckle.