[PRP] Reports of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

[kuropeco]

The training field was never deserted except for late at night; but this was an exception, he supposed; it was pouring outside, the rain making the grass slick and hard to maneuver as Gale trekked carefully across it, trying his best not to slip and fall. He was at least dressed warmly, in a pair of faded jeans, brown leather boots, and a light blue sweater over top a long-sleeved white shirt, but it wasn't doing much good, all things considered. He'd thought he could have made it back to the little yellow house before the sky opened up, but clearly he'd been mistaken.

Jogging wouldn't have done much good either, so Gale kept up the slow but steady pace, slicking his wet hair away from his eyes and tying it back into a loose ponytail to keep it from getting in the way. Jinhai said something about tea and hot soup and blankets, all of which sounded very appealing to Gale as he walked. It wasn't much farther; the deserted training fields stretched out in front of him, half doused in shadows from the black clouds rolling overhead.

But he wasn't alone; there was a figure up ahead, blurred by the rain, with pale hair the color Gale's used to have been, except perhaps a shade or two lighter. It was difficult to tell just who it was, but whoever it was seemed to be going at an even slower pace than Gale was.

"Hey!" he shouted, attempting to be heard over the din of the rain. "Hey! You need some help?"

medigel

 

[medigel]

Somewhere in a stretch of time he had managed to roll onto his stomach and let the rain pound his back for a while like a hearty, stinging massage. Eventually Owain gently roused him—you will catch your death out here, which was ridiculous to him on so many levels—and up he went, wincing, groaning, and soaking wet.

Nevertheless he pulled his muddy hood over his head, brushed his bangs back, and shuffled onward.

Jack debated the pros and cons of going to the infirmary. On the one hand, the succor of bandages was appealing. On the other, he didn't want to see Chel and he didn't want her to see him or have any chance of either happening. Then he remembered he had bandages in his room, and that was that.

Ribs aching, he held himself with an arm and walked slowly. His jaw was starting to swell where Chris had uppercut. He was pressing the other almost completely numb hand to it when he heard someone calling out in a voice that belonged at the bottom of the list of people he wanted to be looking at, listening to, or engaging period. But his week hadn't been kind; he had a wild thought that ignoring this would just lead to something worse in compensation.

Besides, he had asked for punishment. Might as well take everything that was thrown at him like a man.

Jack didn't stop moving, but he turned his head and surveyed Gale with a tired, wary, and yet somehow still haughty look, as if he wasn't this dogged looking raggedy man but merely a tired prince caught in the rain.

"Gentry."

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

At first Gale thought he was hallucinating.

It was really the only possible explanation, because the hunched, bruised, and battered figure that turned around to look at him could not and should not have been Jack Hawthorn, because Jack Hawthorn, as far as Gale was concerned, was dead. Stormy had told him as much - had explained how she had chosen herself over the others, and that had been that. There had been no reason to doubt her, no reason to think otherwise.

Jack Hawthorn could not be standing there looking at him with hollow, dark eyes, a sleekly arrogant face, and a chip on his shoulder to rival the size of Antarctica. Jack Hawthorn could not be wearing that sort of haughty expression and speaking with that flat, unemotional tone of voice.

Jack Hawthorn was supposed to be dead.

Yet clearly he wasn't, or maybe Gale was right in that he was hallucinating; maybe the rain was causing his brain to malfunction, and for a few seconds he stood there, staring blankly at Jack as though he thought that maybe he would disappear into the fog if he looked long and hard enough.

But a minute later and Jack was still there, the rain was still falling, and something was very, very wrong here. A hot, sickening swoop of confusion, anger, frustration, and many more warring emotions flooded into Gale's stomach, into his mind, because this was not supposed to happen.

It took him another moment to respond, the rain soaking into Gale's already sodden clothing.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?"

medigel

 

[medigel]

He made a soft but indignant noise. What, so he wasn't allowed to properly exist? But then he remembered that technically he shouldn't be and gave a half smile that hurt his jaw and didn't reach his eyes. "Bloody hell," he replied simply, and then continued to limp onward.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

"I can see that."

Maybe it was because it was pouring rain and they were both drenched and half blinded by the rain; or maybe it was because Gale was still half convinced he was hallucinating, and that clearly someone had gotten to Jack already. Maybe it was because the hatred that swelled in his chest toward Jack Hawthorn had seemed to ease, just the smallest amount, since learning of his "death."

Or maybe he was just stupid. Either way, Gale sighed.

"Do you need help getting to the infirmary?" he asked quietly.

medigel

 

[medigel]

It was Jack's turn to wonder if he was hallucinating. How low had he sunk to get an offer like that from his ex's boyfriend? The one who tried choking him and had nearly been choked himself? He couldn't help but scoff. Whoever was ordaining all these little meetings for him must really be enjoying themselves.

"Not—" He suddenly stopped and doubled over, issuing a muffled noise of pain. Goddamn bruises. Goddamn ******** poison charges. Goddamn Chris kneeing and kicking him while he was down. Jack wheezed for a moment, gripping at himself.

"Not goin' there," he finished. "Don't need to. Just have t'lay down n' m'room." He limped considerably slower, cautious of agitating his injuries again.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

The hatred may have subsided a tiny bit, but it wasn't gone by any means. Memories of everything Jack had done, everything he had said were burned fiercely into his mind, and it wasn't so easy to erase them, and even less easy to forget the feel of Jack's hands around his neck - and the feel of his own hands around Jack's neck.

Gale was not about to argue with him, at least; that would not end well, and so he just stood there, watching Jack's hunched form, his pale face, the bruises that spread along his jaw. Jack Hawthorn looked, in no uncertain terms, like absolute s**t.

Silently Gale stepped forward, reached up, grasped Jack's arm, just above his elbow, and began to steer him gently but firmly in the right direction. "Fine, your room it is. Do you have the proper medical supplies to deal with it there?"

medigel

 

[medigel]

"Yeah." He had no energy to pry the shrimp off, so he accepted Gale's help but continued to smile without humor about it. More than a few times on the walk he thought about feigning another episode and crushing the guy underneath him, but the crash would just end up hurting him more than anything. Still, it wasn't not tempting.

Jack didn't say anything else until they were inside the dorm buildings. He leaned away from Gale for a moment to peel his sopping wet coat off, his red shirt clinging to him like a second skin. He shivered violently at the blast of air conditioning that greeted them as he started to wring out his clothes at the entrance.

"Good deed's done for the day, midget," he informed Gale sullenly. "My sincerest apologies I didn't bleed out, by the way. You can run along now."

His clothes were still completely soaked and he was starting to slowly freeze, so this would have to do. Slapping the coat over his shoulder, he put a hand to the wall and began to creep his way forward.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to be at about ten percent of his normal power, but Jack was unusually un-argumentative, a fact that made Gale mildly wary of whether he was stepping on a docile land mind ready to explode at any second. But maybe Jack was just too beat up to attempt anything, since he hobbled along at a slow pace, rain making their hair stick wetly to their faces.

Inside it was cooler, thanks to the air conditioner, but inside it was also lighter, and the bruises on Jack's face were thrown into sharper relief from the cheesy yellow fluorescent bulbs in the dormitory hallway. Gale eyed them for a moment before he realized that Jack was attempting to walk off without him.

He almost let him do it. Almost. But then he gave a sigh, and reached out, fingers closing around the sodden jacket.

"Give me that," Gale said impatiently. "I'll hang it up. What's your room number, Hawthorn?"

medigel

 

[medigel]

Again he didn't argue and slapped the coat down into Gale's hands. "#163," he replied without stopping, his shoes squeaking against the floor. It reminded him a little of when he played basketball.

Jack clung to the wall and shivered as they made their way over. When they reached his dorm, he fumbled for the keys but paused after he stuck them in the lock. "Why're you bothering?" he had to ask, eyes narrowed in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

kuroopu

still bad internet idk

 

[kuropeco]

He nearly dropped the coat, not out of surprise, but because it had been in the rain for the past who-knew-how-long and weighed a ton. Gale draped it over one arm and followed Jack down the hall, careful to watch as Jack moved, wondering if he was going to fall flat on his face just out of sheer exhaustion (which, he had to admit, would have been kind of funny).

Gale frowned a little, a wary expression on his face. The answer to that question was still a little muddled inside of his head, and there were still a thousand other possibilities for things, but he kept his mouth deliberately shut.

"Not because I suddenly had a magical change of heart and think you're this great bloody person, that's for sure," said Gale flatly. "You look pathetic, get your a** inside so I can check on those injuries of yours."

medigel

 

[medigel]

Jack had a very strong urge to kick the kid and wished his body didn't protest so much at just the thought. Suffering Chris' words was one thing, but this ******** punk didn't earn the right to talk to him like that. For a moment his eyes flashed into a familiar glare, but then it dulled back to a glower. He unlocked the door without a word and entered.

He hated the idea of letting Gale into his room, but he hated the idea of getting bandaged in the infirmary right now even more. He could barely lift one of his arms without jolts of pain running through it, too, which would seriously impede the recovery process if he couldn't get all affected areas tended to. It left him no choice but to seethe and swallow the bitter pill.

Tossing the keys on the empty top of his desk, Jack indicated the bottom drawer with his foot. "First aid kit down there. Should have a full roll of runic bandages and bandaids."

He opened the closet and snatched a towel, laid it out over the desk chair, and then slowly eased himself into the seat with a wince. His shirt was stubborn, but even with only one fully useable arm Jack managed to get it off and let it hang over the back of the chair. Bruises were along his jaw and ribs, some yellow and a few areas already turning darker. For the most part those were the only major injuries to tend to as Chris's attacks had tended to be with blunt force; there were very few cuts to sorry about, nothing that required stitching.

He was freezing but held himself stiffly, refusing to show weakness. He still looked pale and sleepless under the lights, though.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Jack commented offhandedly, a hint of disdain in his tone.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

Gale had absolutely zero desire to spend much time in Jack's room, all things considered (if he got stuck there, for whatever reason, it would be a disaster), and he gave the sterile-clean place a cursory glance before following where the other had indicated and kneeling down in front of the desk, tugging open the drawer. He pulled out the first aid kit and then shut the drawer again, getting back to his feet.

By this time, Jack had seated himself in the chair, his shirt half off, and there were mottled bruises that were forming along his ribcage, at least from what Gale could see. An ugly yellowish-purple, they marred the pale skin of his torso and part of his face, blending into his jawline. Whoever had done this to Jack had known what they were doing; the injuries looked vaguely sickening, but not life-threatening, at least (or maybe that was just disappointing). There were a few specks of blood, some tiny cuts, but nothing immensely serious, which was fortunate, if Jack didn't want to go to the infirmary.

"I've been a full hunter since I was sixteen," said Gale, looking down at the first aid kit he'd just set down on the bed to open, already pulling out a few packets of alcohol wipes, some bandages, a roll of medical tape, and some gauze. "Of course I know what I'm doing."

Picking up the alcohol wipes first, Gale knelt back down beside Jack's chair (trying to ignore the annoyance that Jack's height was making things extremely difficult. He ripped open the first of the patches, said lightly, "This'll probably sting bit, just so you know"

He shook his head and pressed the alcohol wipes against Jack's side.

"Friendly sort of spar, was it?"

medigel

 

[medigel]

"Show off."

He clenched his teeth and braced for the pain, but he still hissed as the alcohol was dabbed on. "Easy, easy, Jesus. Yeah, it was a spar with one've my old friends: None've Your Business. Just do your job, Gentry, then get out. I e got enough s**t in my plate."

Or broken plate as it were.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

Gale ignored this, and went about his business wiping down Jack's side. "Whatever you say," he said airily, tossing the crumpled wipes into the trash can and reaching for the ace bandages, unraveling it a bit before frowning slightly. "Are any of your ribs broken?" he asked, pressing his fingers very lightly against Jack's side.

He straightened a little and said, "Lean forward slightly so I can get this around your back."

medigel