Thread: Amnesia (Nico x Hahvoc)

RE Amnesia Alright- Hold on, almost there- Oliver huffed. It was a relatively short walk from the woods around the side of the house to the front door, but it felt like the length of a marathon with the weight of another on his legs. He couldn't afford a tumble, if the man was hurt badly, it might be already too late. Being situated along the edge of the city of Bethel, his house was in a area that was made up of cheep housing, relatively for the young working class. The nearest hospital was farther away than he would have liked. Oliver tried to recall his health class, and the lessons about emergency aid. Throwing open the front door with relief, he helped the man shuffled the last few steps towards his couch, lowering him as gently as possible onto it- which ultimately failed, as the stranger was heavy- bigger than him by quite a bit of muscle mass. Oliver had already untangled himself, rushing to the kitchen and calling back over his shoulder, Just stay there, try not to move! I'm going to try to stop your bleeding. He needed to stop the bleeding first, then call an ambulance, otherwise the stranger might die from blood loss before the medics could arrive. He rushed back with scissors and bandages, a long strip of a towel for a tourniquet, as well as a dampened one. Kneeling in front of the man, Oliver set to work cleaning away the blood on the man's hand's and arms first- where it looked like the most blood had accumulated. It smeared away, sticky, as he brushed it over the man's skin, mumbling to himself, Don't worry, I'll find it. But he didn't. Past the dried blood was old scars... but no gaping wounds. He frowned, then hastily scrubbed away at the other arm. The same. What? Oliver muttered, staring at the bloodied towel in his hand and the scarred, but whole arms before him. Where.. did all the blood come from..? He glanced up at blue eyes, searching them, when reality hit. It's not his. He should run. He should really just fucking book it right now... Instead, Oliver raised a shaking towel up to the bloodied face, wiping away the smears of caked blood. His chest tightened like a vice as he finally recognized the features revealed from under the gore. There was a gash on the man's forehead that oozed blood, trickling down to his chin. A deep purple bruise peeked out from the left side of the man's head, the rest of it hidden by his hairline. Oliver pressed the towel against the bleeding wound, eyes flicking to the door, trying to contain himself. Should he run? Or try to knock him out? Maybe stab him with the scissors- No! Fuck, this is SO messed up! He'd come to kill him hadn't he? Lowell Kerrigan. Somehow, he'd found him. Oliver bit his lip, glancing back up after his breathing had slowed. He really needed to get a hold on his panic attacks. That wasn't easy considering his worst nightmare had just come true. He felt like lead, rooted in the spot. Easy prey. Yet, there was something strange about this whole scenario. Kerrigan hadn't spoken yet. No annoying nicknames, no haughty jibes to rile him. Nothing. He recognized the face, but the eyes... There was something different about his eyes. Wide, almost like they didn't recognize him. If anything, he didn't look anything like the man he had known three years ago, Lowell looked... lost. Oliver cleared his throat, grabbing a bandage. You won't need stitches, He said quietly, cutting two large bandages to size and sticking them over the head wound. His hands shook more than he'd like. Fuck. Now Lowell would know he was afraid of him. But who wouldn't be? He was going to die tonight wasn't he... Strangely, the thought calmed him enough to speak, at least without meeting the other's eyes. Mr. Kerrigan, I'm- I just want- I.. He stumbled over the words, putting his hands back in his lap. I'm sorry- The words just spilled out. He hadn't been expecting them himself, Oliver shut his mouth in surprise. He was about to die at the hands of a lunatic, and he was apologizing ? Years of guilt came flooding back as he sat on his heels, warring with himself. He clenched his fists in his lap, wishing he was anywhere, anyone else.