translated ♛ || a. griezmann

•cinq•

For a moment, I can feel his body tense up.

About a minute or two passes, and we just stand there in that position. My arms are wrapped gently but securely around his body, as a tear manages to slide down my cheek. I can feel my heart racing faster than it has before, as we stay frozen on the spot.

"Thank you," I whisper gently, the atmosphere growing increasingly awkward.

"But you're an idiot." I whisper into his ear.

His whole body somehow gets even more tensed, and I let go. It's as if he's frozen in place, but it's a sight that I can't bear seeing.

Then I practically explode.

I explode because never, in my whole life, has anyone gone to this extent to protect me from harrassment from other guys. Nobody has ever got themselves into a fight just for me. Gratitude washes over my whole body, consuming my mind and controlling all of my bottled up emotions.

"What did you think you were doing?!" I shout, watching as he flinches, "You could've gotten yourself thrown out of this school for that! Please don't go picking fights with those big guys again because who knows what could happen? You could've gotten killed like that!"

He looks downward, his eyebrows creased and his face looking like a sad puppy.

I then sigh, looking down as well.

"S-Sorry..." He stutters.

I bring my gaze back up to him and my heart breaks, watching his shoulders sag in disappointment, his body still doubled over in pain.

"No, I'm sorry," I sigh, "If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have gotten into this situation."

We both stand in silence for another minute before I speak up again.

"Antoine?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a first aid kit in here?"

...

"Don't move. Just lie down for now. I'll do your face first and then I'll call for someone to check on your ribs." I instruct, walking over to the first aid cabinet he pointed out.

Upon opening it, I'm surprised to see so many different kinds of ointments and bandages.

He's a football player, obviously.

I grab some of the disinfectant, as well as rubbing alcohol wipes and another antibacterial ointment. Another cabinet has tons of plasters and smaller bandages, so I decide to grab some of those too. There's a fridge in this room as well, and thankfully there just so happens to be an ice pack in the freezer.

After gathering everything, I walk over to him and set everything down on a nearby table.

"This is going to hurt," I warn, taking a small alcohol wipe.

He looks at it distastefully, but nods.

As soon as I move my hand closer to the cut on his face, I notice that it's shaking. In fact, my whole arm is trembling, either in fear of hurting him or something else that's indescribable. I look on in regret as I press the cool wipe softly against his cut, cleaning the area around it and on it.

He draws in a sharp breath and presses his lips together, wincing and closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mutter in regret, trying to make my touch as gentle as possible.