Spot had to admit that Race had an extremely high pain tolerance. He barely made any noise while Spot was cleaning the blood from his back and arms. However, even the strongest people are bound to break at one point or another.

"Do you hafta clean it with that?" he asked, referring to the alcohol Spot was holding.

"Race, I told you this already. It's gonna get infected if we don't use the alcohol, and that's gonna be worse than just cleanin' it now, alright?"

"I know, but…"

"What?"

"I-I's scared," he whispered. "But—"

"Shh, I understand, kid. It's gonna be okay, promise." Race nodded, attempting to put on a brave face and failing miserably.

"I's sorry, Spo—"

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, and bein' scared is perfectly normal. You're gonna be okay kid, you're tough."

"I's not a kid," Race protested.

"You're younger than I am."

"Only by a few months." Race crossed his arms across his chest, and Spot sighed.

"Fine. But we can debate this later, as you still have a bunch of cuts that need to be disinfected. Lemme see your arm."

"No."

"For all you's sayin' you're not a kid, you do act like one," Spot remarked wryly.

"Spot, I's—"

"You're not fine!" Spot shouted. Race flinched. "Give me your arm. Now." Race meekly obeyed.

"Sorry," Race whispered.

"I'm sorry," Spot said. "I'm the one who yelled, I didn't mean to scare you, and you don't hafta apologize."

"You's fine," Race said. "Don't worry about it." He extended his arm again and braced himself for the sting of the alcohol. Besides, it's what I deserve, he told himself.

"No it's not!" Spot replied. Too late, Race realized that he had spoken that last sentence aloud.

"I-I didn't mean—"

"Racetrack, if you said it, you meant it, but we can discuss that later. Now calm down, it'll be over in a minute, 'kay?"

"Stop callin' me Racetrack."

"I'll call you sweetheart if you'll stay quiet for a bit so I can clean your cuts," Spot smirked.

"That's my line," Race muttered.

"Whatever happened to romance?"

Race cracked a small smile. "You win," he said. "Go ahead."

"You're gonna be okay, kid." He put a hand over Race's mouth as he opened his mouth to protest.

"Mmph." Race pouted. Spot put a splash of alcohol on a clean rag and turned Race's arm to see the cuts. Race weakly smiled, but grimaced as he felt the alcohol seep into the wounds. After a few agonizing minutes, Spot finished and wrapped bandages around Race's arm. Suddenly, there was a loud thunk thunk thunk on the door, and Crutchie stumbled in, stopping short when he saw an injured Race on the counter and Spot holding a bottle of alcohol.

"What the heck is goin' on here?" he asked without thinking. "Race, what happened?"

"I'd've assumed Jack told you," Spot said.

"Well, uh, he said Race an' Romeo got hurt and asked me to stay with Romeo, he's asleep right now, but I didn't know Race was this bad." He limped over to the other boy, taking in how beaten up he was. Race hid his arms behind his back, clearly not wanting Crutchie to see. Crutchie raised his eyebrows and gently took hold of Race's arms, silently surveying the cuts on his left arm and the bandages on his right.

"Why didn't'cha say somethin,' kid? I know you's got some bad anxiety, but I didn't—"

"Please don't worry 'bout me, Crutchie, 'm fi—" A warning look from Spot stopped him from finishing his sentence.

"You's not fine, kid. Imma stay with you two for a bit, if Spot's ok wit' that?"

Spot nodded. "Of course," he said quietly. Crutchie hopped onto the counter beside Race and took his right hand, reassuring the boy as Spot poured more alcohol on the rag and began disinfecting Race's left arm. The small room was silent for a few minutes until Crutchie spoke up again.

"You know you's allowed to cry, Race. We ain't gonna think less o' you." Race nodded, blinking furiously. He winced as the alcohol entered a particularly deep cut, and a single tear dripped down his face into his lap.

"I—" He burst into tears, burying his face in Crutchie's shoulder. "Keep g-going, S-S-Spot, I's o-okay…" he sobbed. You oughta just finish as fast as possible, Crutchie mouthed over Race's head. Spot nodded and continued cleaning the cuts on Race's arm, finishing within a couple minutes and bandaging it quickly.

"Race?" Spot asked. "Can you sit up some so I can finish please?"

"Yeah," Race whispered, tears still slowly falling down his face. Crutchie helped him sit up, and Spot began the painful process of cleaning the lashes on his back. Race was silent during the whole ordeal; however, tears streamed down his face and he made no effort to hide them. Instead, he rested his head on Crutchie's shoulder. It seemed to take hours. Finally, Spot finished and carefully pressed a clean towel to the cuts to dry them off. Race looked up.

"Are you done?" he asked. Spot sighed.

"Almost, kid," he replied. "We just have to finish cleaning your chest and then we're done, 'kay?" Race nodded reluctantly.

"Non merito il tuo aiuto," he mumbled. I don't deserve your help.

"Sai che capisco un po 'di italiano, sì?" Spot replied. "Odio vederti ferito, e quello che hai detto non è affatto vero." Crutchie's face was the definition of the word confusion. You know I understand a bit of Italian, right? I hate seeing you hurt, and what you said isn't true at all.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"Nothing," Race said immediately.

"He thinks he doesn't deserve help," Spot answered. Crutchie hopped off the counter and turned around to face Race.

"What do ya mean, ya don' deserve help?" Crutchie asked angrily. Spot had never seen Crutchie this livid, and he noticed that the boy's accent thickened when he got mad. "You's our brother, an' fam'ly helps each other. Don' ever let me hear ya say that again, ya here me?" Race could only nod.

"S-S-Sorry, Crutchie," he whispered.

"Don' be sorry, jus' don' do it again," Crutchie replied. "But I's Sorry for yellin' at'cha. He climbed back onto the counter next to Race and leaned him back against his chest. Both Crutchie and Spot noticed how much Race was shaking. Race noticed them watching and made an effort to stop shaking. Spot opened his mouth to comment, but Race cut him off with a muttered "'m ok."

He's too thin, Crutchie thought, noticing for the first time how badly Race's ribs stuck out. He made a mental note to get some kind of stew or something for both Race and Romeo, who he knew was in a similar state.

"Can I have a rag or somethin' to bite down on?" Race asked. "I don't wanna wake up Romeo." Spot nodded, handing him a clean red bandana from his pocket. He put it in his mouth and settled back against Crutchie. Spot held up the rag.

"Ready?" he asked softly. Race nodded. As the rag made contact with Race's skin, he involuntarily cried out, the cloth muffling the noise. Crutchie wrapped his arms around the trembling boy, trying to calm him down. Spot blinked furiously, and an outside observer would've noticed his eyes shining with tears.

"Please just finish," Race whispered. Spot nodded and turned to pick up the rag when he had an idea.

"What if I just pour this on it?" he asked, gesturing to the alcohol. "It'll be faster for sure." Race considered the proposal for a moment, then nodded.

"Just make it fast." He bit down on the rag again and closed his eyes.

"Alright, on three," Spot said. Crutchie took Race's hand, sensing his breathing speed up.

"You's gonna be okay," he whispered just loud enough for Race to hear.

"One… two… three." Spot poured the alcohol over Race's wounds as fast as he could, looking away. Race cried out in pain, blacking out after a few seconds. After bandaging Race's torso with Crutchie's assistance, Spot picked him up and gently laid him down in bed, pulling up the covers, then ran out the door as fast as he could. He didn't want Crutchie to see the tears flowing down his face.

Meanwhile, Crutchie sat down to wait for the two boys to wake up. However, he didn't have to wait very long.

A/N: I can't decide whether I want Spot and Race to be just friends or if I want them to be together here, so I suppose you can read it either way. I'm also very sorry that this update is weeks late, apparently I can't stick to a schedule. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon-ish but I don't want to promise anything.

Sorry for my dreadful Google Translate Italian y'all.

I also want to come up with a better title! Any suggestions? I've been looking through my music library because song titles and lyrics are where I get most titles XD

If you have an idea feel free to tell me in the comments, just include the proposed title and the song it's from. Thanks!