"Well, if you don't like it you can always go and find somewhere else to live."
Your cutting tone didn't go unnoticed. Van's eyes narrowed a little, the smirk falling quickly away but not for long. He folded his arms across his chest, fixing you wit...
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❤️🔥 Van's POV ❤️🔥
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I curse as I lurch backstage, holding my injured finger out so far in front of me that I can almost pretend the offending appendage isn't mine if I don't look at it. I can feel it though, a sharp sting which makes me screw up my face as Bondy chucks a towel in my direction and it lands draped over my outstretched hand.
"Watch it!" I cry, snatching the towel away with my other hand and slinging it over my shoulder. "Bloody cut myself haven't I?"
"Guitar strings," I groan, throwing myself down on to the nearest chair when we reach the breakout room which happens to be a large comfy sofa. I immediately sink back into the cushions, hanging my arm over the armrest. "Guess I went a little too hard on Tyrants."
"Industrial injury," Bondy chuckles. "Where there's blame there's a claim, eh? What d'ya reckon Benji? Should Van sue Squier guitars? Reckon he'll have a case?"
"What ya done?" Benji enquires, shuffling over for a closer look, grasping my hand and lifting it. All I can see is red as the blood that's pooled there starts to drip down my wrist. I feel instantly queasy and let my head tip back, screwing my eyes shut. "Think you'd better get to hospital mate. Reckon they might need to operate. You might lose that finger if you don't hurry."
"Wha..." I begin, my eyes flicking open as my head whips up. My words are cut off abruptly as I see the huge shit-eating grin on Benji's face, hear my band mates sniggering at my alarmed expression. "Ha ha... very funny," I add sarcastically. "You know full well I hate the sight of blood. Remember that time I nearly passed out when I sliced through my finger with a kitchen knife?"
"Some people just shouldn't be let loose in the kitchen!" My friend snorts.
"Bloody drama queen," Bondy chuckles. "It's no more than a scratch. You ought to man up!"
I go to retaliate but Bob's next words stop me in my tracks. "Seriously though guys, it is bleeding a fair bit. Looks quite nasty Van. You might actually need a stitch or two after all."
Nausea rises in me again at the thought of going to hospital. I'm sweating bad enough from the performance but the image that flashes up in my mind of having stitches in my finger sends another sticky wave of heat over me. I feel faint. I know I'm being a baby but I can't help it. Things like this just get to me.
"Hey... didn't you say that girl who lives next door to you was a nurse? She's here tonight isn't she?"
Benji looks to Bondy who's on his feet in a flash, backing out of the room as I immediately hoist myself up from my slouched position, grabbing the towel that's draped around my neck to rub down my sweat-drenched face. The last thing I want is Y/N in here seeing me slumped here pathetically, fussing over a cut finger.
