𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 [𝟏𝟖+]

027: worst nightmare

A/N: put your seatbelts on 'cause it's about to be a long and rough ride. No but seriously, this is my longest chapter so far (⁠*⁠﹏⁠*)

[warning: mentions of blood and injury]

———

Noah slowly approaches me, an unreadable expression painting his face. I find myself frozen and unable to move my limbs. When he stops right in front of me, I gulp audibly, my breathing picking up just the slightest.

"Sarah said there's a first aid kit in here," he says.

I blink up at him several times and it takes a while for me to register his words.

"What?" I say, after finally finding my voice. "What happened?"

Noah raises his right hand in front of my face and my head jerks back a little out of reflex. When my eyes land on his palm, my jaw drops. My eyes widen and I cover my mouth with my hand as I see a long cut running across the length of Noah's palm that was seeping blood.

"Shit. Uh, yeah, it's here in..."

My brain stops working momentarily and I wince at the sight of his wound. I ask him to sit on the bed while I retrieved the first aid kit.

Reentering Sarah's bathroom, I look for the small kit I knew is kept inside the small cabinet under the sink. Taking out the box with shaky hands, I turn around to go back to Noah. But instead, I find him standing a few feet behind me, waiting.

"Why'd you get in here?" I ask in surprise. "Nevermind. Just, uh, stand—"

"Hey, relax." Noah interrupts me. "It doesn't hurt much." He walks closer and leans against the counter behind me. I turn around and step in front of him, placing the first aid kit on the countertop.

"I can wrap it myself if it's too much for you," Noah suggests, while I take out cotton and bandage from the box. Taking a piece of cotton gauze, he applies pressure over his cut till the bleeding stops completely.

"No, of course not. How would you manage to wrap it on your own?" I wet a ball of cotton with antiseptic liquid.

Noah extends his hand towards me without another word. Holding it gently, I clean his cut carefully and look up at his face to see if it hurts him. But he just looks down at me with the same unreadable expression.

My stomach twists at the black stare in his eyes. Unable to bear the palpable tension anymore, I end up asking him, "How did this happen?"

But I don't get any response. Maybe he hasn't sobered up yet.

His silence stretches and I still don't get a response from Noah even after I had neatly wrapped his wound. I pack the things aside and keep the kit back at its original place. I move around him and wash my hands in the sink.

"Well, all done." I smile up at him and wipe my hands on a towel. This time, Noah seems to take notice of my words and looks down at his bandaged palm.

"Thanks," he mutters.

"It's no problem. We should head back, then." I point my right thumb over my shoulder, while grabbing my phone in my left hand.

Noah suddenly holds my arm with his unharmed hand and I raise an eyebrow at him in question, my heart starting to beat faster than normal.

"I like you, Amy."

Okay, he is still pretty much drunk. I can smell the faintest hint of alcohol in his breath. And I hope that me helping him clean up doesn't make him think I like him back. I would have done it for anyone.