Never Look Back
Chapter 03
Written by Silver Vixen
The young man unlocked his door, glancing at the nervous looking young woman next to him. He smiled, shifting the package under his arm to a more comfortable position, "Look, I'm gay you've got nothing to worry about besides you need that ankle looked at and I'm a certified nurse."
She smiled in obvious relief, "You just hear way to many stories about girls being tricked."
He laughed and offered her his arm, throwing his head back as he opened his door, flinging his braid off his shoulder, "Do I look like I'd molest anyone other than annoying telemarketers and cars salesmen?"
She smiled and shook her head, "No, but I think any one would hurt those certain people."
He nodded, helping her over to his bed, putting down the package, and walking towards the bathroom with long strides. He looked in the bottom cupboard for a first aid kit. Finding one, he brought it back out into his room, walking towards Helen. Helen was looking at the picture of him and his lover. She blushed red and put it down hurriedly as he sat down on the ground near the bed.
"It's okay. I don't mind," he said, opening the kit and looking for the roller bandage. Finding it he took her foot in his hand and gently probed it for any interior swelling or bruising.
She winced, closing her eyes a minute, as he wrapped the bandage around her ankle carefully, " Do you love him?"
He looked up confused for a minute then looked at the picture by the bedside, his eyes getting a bit dreamy, "Yes, we've been together for a few years. He is kinda of a part of me."
She nodded in understanding and moved her ankle around a bit, "Much better...thanks."
He nodded with a smile, brushing a few strays bit of hair out of his face, 'No problem. You should stay off it for a couple days, elevate it when possible, and ice it ever so often."
She saluted him with a smile, "Yes sir!"
He grinned and got up off the floor gracefully, reaching out his hand to her. She rose and tested her ankle, putting a bit a pressure on it, blond hair falling over her face. She absentmindedly tucked it behind her ears, leaning on his arm for balance.
They hobbled along the hallway to her room three doors down, Helen directing him as they went, their shoes muffled by the fluffy light blue carpet. The young man let go of her arm and she pulled a card out of her pocket, swiping it down the security scanner. The door beeped and she opened it quietly, stepping inside.
She looked back out at him; "What about I meet you for breakfast tomorrow at Gabrielle's Cafe around nine? They have the best cinnamon rolls this side of Paradise and it would repay you for the help."
"Sure," the young man answered, giving her an award winning grin and sticking his hands in his pockets, starting to walk back to his room. He heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him.
He grinned, she had a story, he could feel it and it was his job to draw it out. It was his job after all; he was a writer on top of being a part time nurse.
*
A red haired boy flopped on the muddy ground, a stream of red blood flowing from his nose and mouth, his breath steaming in the cold winter wind. The other fighter, a slim braided boy of eight or so, wiped his hand across his face, warm blood staining his hand.
The braided boy whirled around in a fighting stance, glaring at the other spectators who backed off, not wanting to fight the enraged boy. Slowly the crowd dispersed and the braided boy was left alone with the downed and bleeding red haired child.
Bending down on one knee, the braided child lifted the other's head by his shirt collar, staring into the frightened boy's brown eyes.
He smirked and let go of the boy's collar, letting him scrabble to his feet, rising from the ground as well. The red haired boy ran off, glancing behind him as he ran to make sure the other boy was not following him.
As the boy disappeared, the braided boy looked down with slumped shoulders, making his way to a muddy school bag. Picking it up and dusting it off he slung it over his black priest like clothing and made his way down the road.
*
Oh I really love this style...a bit different from the more direct apporach I like. Does anybody else think Duo sounds WAAAYYYY to serious? Hum....maybe I should kill somebody to make him that way (MWAHHHH!!!! ahem...) Everybody knows I like to kill people off (maybe I'll kill Relena...^.^). Oh who knows...
Chapter 03
Written by Silver Vixen
The young man unlocked his door, glancing at the nervous looking young woman next to him. He smiled, shifting the package under his arm to a more comfortable position, "Look, I'm gay you've got nothing to worry about besides you need that ankle looked at and I'm a certified nurse."
She smiled in obvious relief, "You just hear way to many stories about girls being tricked."
He laughed and offered her his arm, throwing his head back as he opened his door, flinging his braid off his shoulder, "Do I look like I'd molest anyone other than annoying telemarketers and cars salesmen?"
She smiled and shook her head, "No, but I think any one would hurt those certain people."
He nodded, helping her over to his bed, putting down the package, and walking towards the bathroom with long strides. He looked in the bottom cupboard for a first aid kit. Finding one, he brought it back out into his room, walking towards Helen. Helen was looking at the picture of him and his lover. She blushed red and put it down hurriedly as he sat down on the ground near the bed.
"It's okay. I don't mind," he said, opening the kit and looking for the roller bandage. Finding it he took her foot in his hand and gently probed it for any interior swelling or bruising.
She winced, closing her eyes a minute, as he wrapped the bandage around her ankle carefully, " Do you love him?"
He looked up confused for a minute then looked at the picture by the bedside, his eyes getting a bit dreamy, "Yes, we've been together for a few years. He is kinda of a part of me."
She nodded in understanding and moved her ankle around a bit, "Much better...thanks."
He nodded with a smile, brushing a few strays bit of hair out of his face, 'No problem. You should stay off it for a couple days, elevate it when possible, and ice it ever so often."
She saluted him with a smile, "Yes sir!"
He grinned and got up off the floor gracefully, reaching out his hand to her. She rose and tested her ankle, putting a bit a pressure on it, blond hair falling over her face. She absentmindedly tucked it behind her ears, leaning on his arm for balance.
They hobbled along the hallway to her room three doors down, Helen directing him as they went, their shoes muffled by the fluffy light blue carpet. The young man let go of her arm and she pulled a card out of her pocket, swiping it down the security scanner. The door beeped and she opened it quietly, stepping inside.
She looked back out at him; "What about I meet you for breakfast tomorrow at Gabrielle's Cafe around nine? They have the best cinnamon rolls this side of Paradise and it would repay you for the help."
"Sure," the young man answered, giving her an award winning grin and sticking his hands in his pockets, starting to walk back to his room. He heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him.
He grinned, she had a story, he could feel it and it was his job to draw it out. It was his job after all; he was a writer on top of being a part time nurse.
*
A red haired boy flopped on the muddy ground, a stream of red blood flowing from his nose and mouth, his breath steaming in the cold winter wind. The other fighter, a slim braided boy of eight or so, wiped his hand across his face, warm blood staining his hand.
The braided boy whirled around in a fighting stance, glaring at the other spectators who backed off, not wanting to fight the enraged boy. Slowly the crowd dispersed and the braided boy was left alone with the downed and bleeding red haired child.
Bending down on one knee, the braided child lifted the other's head by his shirt collar, staring into the frightened boy's brown eyes.
He smirked and let go of the boy's collar, letting him scrabble to his feet, rising from the ground as well. The red haired boy ran off, glancing behind him as he ran to make sure the other boy was not following him.
As the boy disappeared, the braided boy looked down with slumped shoulders, making his way to a muddy school bag. Picking it up and dusting it off he slung it over his black priest like clothing and made his way down the road.
*
Oh I really love this style...a bit different from the more direct apporach I like. Does anybody else think Duo sounds WAAAYYYY to serious? Hum....maybe I should kill somebody to make him that way (MWAHHHH!!!! ahem...) Everybody knows I like to kill people off (maybe I'll kill Relena...^.^). Oh who knows...