resfeber / / thoughts

is there somewhere

Here, have 900+ words of au yaviles that I couldn't be bothered to properly finish. Featuring human mess bates and too good for this world jace, per usual

Title from the Halsey song of the same name

Trigger warning for blood, gore, and very vaguely referenced sexual assault, although you wouldn't know if you haven't spoken to me about these ocs.

Nothing could have prepared Jace Yancey for when the devil himself knocked on his door that night, covered in blood and with only one shoe. No, he was not expecting a visitor that night. And the visitor was not expecting him.

"This is your house?" Bates Aviles breathed out, every syllable a struggle, words muffled by the blood bubbling out his lip. He twitched repeatedly, as if he had no control of his own limbs. He reached to grab the railing, smearing blood across the rust.

"The hell happened to you?" The older man stuttered out, the door slamming into the outside wall. He motioned for the blood-soaked boy to come inside, but it became clear he'd collapse if he moved one inch more. So when Bates didn't reply, he collected him into his arms without ceremony. The smaller was silent, the only sound his ragged breathing. The door shut behind them, sealing them into the renovated storefront.

He was faintly aware of blood soaking through his t-shirt, but all his senses were focused on the whisperer in his arms. Alive, but the injuries wouldn't be known until the blood was washed away. Swinging open the bathroom door all the way, he ever so gently placed the boy down on the white tiles. "Can you tell me what happened?" He questioned, wincing at how shaky his voice sounded.

"I was reckless," was all he said, curling up tighter in the corner. He looked so small now, not the bold student that walked Aglionby's halls.

"You gotta tell me more than that," Jace pushed, crouching down until he was eye level with Bates. "Where's the blood coming from?"

The boy coughed, blood splattering out in front of him in a red arc. "Went home with a hitman, got a little more than I bargained for."

The answer was far from what he expected, and he let his head drop into his hands in response. He had a billion replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead set to filling the clawfoot tub in what he hoped was warm enough water. "Can you get your clothes off yourself? I need to look at those injuries."

He could hear slight scuffling in the background, arms and legs unwinding. Bates hissed in pain, and Jace could hear him suck in a breath to keep from crying out. "No," he replied shortly, going limp. "Can't move enough."

After a few moments of digging around in drawers for the scissors he swore he kept there, he was back crouched on tiled floor. He cut away the tight clothes a quickly as possible, careful not to cause another scratch of harm to the boy. Dark bruises were revealed, obviously fresh, along with several shallow cuts. When the bath was full, he once again swept Bates into his arms and settled his small frame into the water. Red clouds pooled around him, making the water nearly opaque. Bates winced, but didn't protest as Jace began to clear away the grime with a washcloth retrieved from the linen closet. There was nothing sexual in the action, with how still he was it was as if he was washing a corpse.

"You still with me?" Jace questioned, unconsciously brushing a strand of hair away from the smaller's face.

"Mhm."

"Good. I'm gonna finish clearing away the blood, then we're gonna bandage you up, alright?"

"You don't have to, it's fine."

"Fine?" He reproached, quietly fierce. "You show up on my doorstep caked in blood and unable to move. You can't say you're fine!"

"Valentin did worse," was all he replied before slipping into unconsciousness, and no shouting from Jace would wake him.

-

He woke hours later, bandages covering most of his chest and two of his fingers on his left hand splinted. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that were many sizes too large, and was propped up on at least 3 pillows on a queen bed. His first instinct was to run, seeing as he had no idea where the hell he was. Then a figure appeared in the doorway, and he attempted to make himself as threatening as he could from this plush bed.

The figure kept walking closer, until it became obvious he held what seemed to be a mug of tea in his hands. "S'okay, you're alright," the figure spoke softly once he realized he was awake.

"The fuck is this?" Bates hissed, flattening himself against the pillows.

"You showed up at my doorstep covered in blood, then proceeded to pass out." Jace sat down on the side of the bed, hesitantly holding out the mug to the boy in from of him. He took the mug, sipping slowly, careful not to spill.

Scoffing, he proceeded to sip quietly, looking down the whole time. The tension in his shoulders was clear, but he knew his limits and knew those limits wouldn't allow him to run now. "Did, did I mention any names last night?" Bates asked, tentative and almost scared.

"You mentioned a Valentin, but no one other than that."

And then he dropped the tea, splashing it across the bed, mug rolling to the floor. His first instinct was to panic, and immediately moved to get up and retrieve the mug and along with it something to clean the mess. What he wasn't expecting was the shooting pain that shot from what seemed to be several stitched-up cuts covering his body.