alexsunmners:

Thank you so much!

Alex Summers + this prompt list

It’s almost two in the morning and you’re right on the edge of sleep when a frantic knock at your door rouses you. When you answer it, it’s Alex, which in its self isn’t a surprise. He turned up at your door at absurd hours of the night with startling regularity. What is a surprise, is that the knuckles on both hands are bloodied, he has a black eye starting to come up, a split lip and a nasty looking gash on his forehead.

“Jesus-fuck, Alex. What the hell happened?”

“It-I was-” He reaches up to wipe at the blood trickling from his forehead “It’s not important. I just need your help, okay?”

You desperately want to know what happened, but he looks like he’s only conscious through virtue of willpower alone, and his pleading tone makes your heart clench, so instead of pressing any further, you gently grab his wrist, tugging him through to the bathroom.

You push him lightly down by his shoulders till he’s seated on the toilet, before turning to rummage through the cupboards for your first aid kit. Putting it by the sink, you then pull out a clean face cloth and run it under the water before lightly pressing it to his cuts, first cleaning the blood off his knuckles, then his temple, then his lip. The gash on his temple is still bleeding, turning the edges of his blonde hair a muddy red.

“Can you hold that there?” You instruct him, holding the cloth at the cut on his forehead. He nods, a little dazed, and complies, his gaze never leaving you. “I’ll be right back.” You say as you leave the bathroom. You return a few seconds later with a small ice pack. You take the bloodied cloth from him, exchanging it for the ice pack and guiding his hand to hold it against the still swelling black eye. Grabbing some anti-bacterial cream from the first aid kit, you kneel down, taking one of his hands gently in yours as you carefully clean his battered knuckles.

“I hope the other guy is worse off than you.” You remark, quietly.

“He is.” Alex’s voice is rough and low, and you look up at him, still holding one of his hands.

“If you don’t want to tell me what happened, that’s fine, but this-” You motion slightly at his injuries “this scares me. I worry about you, Alex.” He drops your gaze after a few seconds and you take the ice pack from him to clean and bandage his other hand, before grabbing a roll of gauze to bandage them with. When you finish, you rise and turn to the sink counter to grab some band aids for his forehead. Taking his face gingerly in your hands, you lean in a little as you gauge the depth of the cut, absentmindedly stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Why?” He asks suddenly, and you look down from the gash at his temple to his startlingly blue eyes which are so, so close. “Why do you worry about me?” The realization that he doesn’t feel like he’s worth worrying about is as sudden as it is heartbreaking.

“Alex, I worry because I care about you. You’re so important to me. Of course I worry.”

You finish patching him up before handing him some old sweatpants he had left at your place a while ago.

“You take my bed. You definitely need the sleep more than I do. I’ll take the couch.” You head to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and when you return to the bedroom, he’s propped up on his elbow and the sight of him in your bed makes your heart twist, just a little. You put the glass down on the bedside table and turn to leave the room when his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist.

“Stay?” His voice is impossibly small. “I don’t-I don’t want to be by myself.”

You study his face for a second.

“Okay.”