Hoodies, Batons, And A Bit Of Love

Not What She Seems

So, what did y'all think of that art of Heal thing? Sort if it was extremely disturbing; I just felt like spicing the story up. And also to give those 'gangsters' a good scare off because I didn't exactly know how to make the fight end, so that creepy scene popped into my head. Humour and horror. See ya! ~Discord11

As Nomirandy walked, he tried to wriggle his fingers. They still hung like those of a dead person's. The boy sighed and used his other hand to turn his twisted wrist back to its original position.

There was a distinct crack and suddenly he could feel his hand again. It was painful. Very painful. Nomirandy looked up to see where he was going. To get to the Cunningham's residence, he was going to have to walk past NHS. Great.

As the boy approaches nearer to the school, he spotted a familiar purple-haired figure standing near the car park with her friends. Theresa. 'She must be back from practice.'

He wanted to call out to her and those girls who looked absolutely adorable. Suddenly, something warm and wet dropped onto his pant leg. Nomirandy looked down. It was blood.

His left hand sent another wave of pain. He glanced at it quickly. One of his fingers was bleeding. Little beads of crimson liquid were dripping slowly but steadily on the ground. The small cut where it came from was tiny, by as Nomirandy peered at it carefully, he could see that his muscles were still pushing and shoving with very little movement. They couldn't settle down because his wrist was broken and that clearly upset the entire healing operation.

Nomirandy reached into his hoodie for the Nomicon to give him instructions for proper healing, but then he remembered: 'Wonk. The stupid book's with ginger head.'

Another shockwave of pain. Nomirandy watched as Theresa waved goodbye to her friends and started to walk in his direction. When she saw him, she ran towards him. He smirked.

"Hey."

"Hi Randy," said Theresa breathlessly. "Where have you been?"

Nomirandy wanted to answer, but this time, the pain was really getting to him. He reached down to feel for his hand. "Ow."

Theresa look concerned. "Is something wrong?"

Nomirandy wanted to shake his head and lie, but his hand was so painful, he felt like ramming it under his arm. "Ow!" He grabbed his wrist.

"Let me see your hand. Are you okay?" Asked Theresa gently as she held out her hand.

Nomirandy had to bite down the impulse to walk away or retort just because he wanted the pain to stop. So badly. He gingerly let him take his left wrist. Her hands were warm. Nice warm. It made the pain go away. But only very little.

"Whoa. I think your wrist is twisted. What the juice happened to you?!" She exclaimed as she examined his hand carefully.

Nomirandy shrugged. "Stuff."

Theresa gave him a weird face before taking hold of the end of her skirt. "And you have a gash in your face, you know that?"

He ignored the question, staring at Theresa as she ripped a piece of fabric from her dress. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Using this to bandage your wrist, silly."

Nomirandy drew in his breath sharply. "There's no need to. I can always go to the doctor. Besides, my hand is fine."

They both watched as another drop of blood fell onto the pavement. Theresa raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

Without further ado she pulled him to sit on a nearby bench and started to take her flask out of her bag. Nomirandy was lost for words as he watched her pour some water over the cloth. She shook it once, twice, so that it wasn't too wet. Then, she began to wrap the cloth slowly around his left wrist.

Nomirandy cringed. She shouldn't be wasting her time doing this. I was perfectly okay. Suddenly, a little voice in his head retorted, She was just being kind and you needed help. Anyway, you know she cares about you. He sighed.

The cloth was soft and warm and damp. It soothed the pain a whole lot more. Nomirandy was surprised that he felt better. Not just in terms of health. His emotions were calmer too.

The sun was setting, its rays shining through the many small gaps in Theresa's hair. The hues clashed together, but the dim light made the whole scene better.

When she was finished, Nomirandy started to pull away, but she put a firm hand in his shoulder and made him sit still while she rummaged around in her bag for tissue paper and healing cream. "Hey, what gives-" he started, rubbing his shoulder, but was interrupted by Theresa's nose right under him.

She was dabbing cream onto the cut. She, a baton twirler who was in the Monster Klub and loved chess, was trying to heal his, Nomirandy's cut, in public.

Nomirandy felt like screaming. Instead, he kept his cool, like he had always done when it came to situations like this and said sharply, "I - I don't need help. It can heal on its own."

Theresa ignored him. Nomirandy rolled his eyes and found himself feeling a feeling he shouldn't even know existed: frustration. He glared at Theresa. His eyes grew wider as she reached out a finger to stretch his cheek to examine the gash. She was so close; he could feel her slow, calm breaths on his neck. His arms relaxed from their gripped, awkward position behind him. He could just lean in and-

"Done.'