For two weeks Harrison had had his right hand clasped in a splint from taking a rather nasty fall from his skateboard. The night he had come home from the park with his jeans ripped on the knees and his hand clutched to his chest you hadn't wasted a second to start taking the piss out of him at the clear picture of him eating shit at the skatepark but when he let out a pained groan after trying to take his jacket off your laughter died down and worry settled on the pit of your stomach.
His hand turned out to be badly sprained and well, the next couple of weeks had been spent in him trying to navigate his days with his non-dominant hand and with the initial panic of your roommate hurting himself gone you resumed the lighthearted piss-taking. Although he laughed with you at the jokes you made you could see how it really bugged him that he wasn't as useful and agile with his right hand being in mandatory rest. "Told you, H. Whatever you have trouble with I can give you a hand." You reminded him waving both your hands in front of you in a somewhat mocking manner.
"Yeah, heard you the first time." He grumbled while struggling to button up his dress shirt. "Damn it." The blonde cursed under his breath when his fingers seemed to not be working properly. That was enough for you to put your cup of tea down on the breakfast bar to walk up to him taking over the task he was growing frustrated with. He sighed defeated, letting his hands drop to his sides allowing you to close his shirt for him.
"Really, Harrison. I don't mind helping you out." The reassurance prompted Harrison to nod in understanding, running his fingers through his hair clearly irked by his situation. As if after you repeating it ninety-nine times before hadn't sunk into his brain until the hundredth. "There you go, all done." You patted his chest a couple of times then stepped back away from him to grab your mug again watching him leave the flat in a hurry after thanking you. You had been joking about what happened to him but you really felt bad for him, Harrison was a very active and independent guy who rarely asked for help and now that he was close to useless at doing simple tasks you could see how much it troubled him.
In the evening when he returned home he headed directly to the bathroom barely uttering a greeting back when you welcomed him, the sound of the running water splashing around let you know he was running a bath, you sighed at the fact that he had beaten you to run one for yourself though you were still busy making dinner for the both of you you didn't duel much on it. About thirty minutes had passed since he went in for his bath and you figured it'll be enough time for him to be about done with it to come out and eat, hence you walking up to the end of the hallway to knock on the door to make him aware that the food was ready.
However, the noise of water splashing a bit too aggressively accompanied by Harrison's angry cursing made you believe something was wrong. With not much time to think you tried for the door and found it unlocked, swinging it open swiftly. "Are you okay!?" You asked in a panic, eyes wide when you saw the walls dripping and the floor flooded with soapy water. "Are you hurt?" You insisted, daring to step inside the room, bare feet coming in contact with the wet ground making comical splashing sounds.
"Yeah-no. I just..." He frantically tried to gather the few bubbles that floated on the scarcely-filled tub, bringing them closer to his body to cover himself a little.
"You just what, H?" Your voice still held concern and he noticed, finally looking up at you with seemingly pleading eyes. "You need help with your back or what is it?"
"No, y/n." He huffed, brushing his wet hair back with his splinted hand wincing a little with the action. "This time you really can't help me, alright? Just, let me get dressed."
"Harrison, I told you I don't mind help—" You started but was soon cut by the blonde's voice rising above his usual level.
"I need a wank! That's what I need. And my fucking left hand ain't cutting it anymore." Harrison blurted out a bit worked up, breathing heavily with cheeks burning hot showing in a bright crimson colour that stood out against his milky skin. Your mouth closed immediately after he acknowledged his problem, a warmth crept up your neck settling comfortably on the apples of your cheeks as your fingers toyed aimlessly with the hem of your oversized bed t-shirt. He wasn't looking at you anymore, he had thrown his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his eyes with his injured hand while the other was under the water.
