11. Friday Night Week Four (pt2.)

Someone was going to die. Painfully.

Who the hell was knocking obnoxiously loud on the door when I was asleep?

Annoyed, I jolted upright and then I remembered I was at Eli's and the knocking was someone at the front door, who the fuck? I rubbed my eyes and got up of the sofa, trying to stretch out the kinks that accompanied falling asleep on a hard-ass sofa.

The knocking continued so I stomped over to the door and yanked it open impatiently, "what?!"

"'Bout fucking time."

"Holy shit, Eli, what-" I trailed off as I pulled the door open wider and stood in front of him. Unconsciously, my hand reached up to brush his soft hair off his forehead and my eyes scanned over the bruises and cuts on his face, he flinched back from my touch and my hand fall to my side lamely. Can't lie and say that didn't hurt.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"So it doesn't feel like someone hit you with a baseball bat...repeatedly."

He gave me a dry look and grunted pushing his way into the house — okay then don't mind me. I rolled my eyes at his back and shut the door softly behind him.

"Where are the kids?"

"All asleep," I told him, he still had his back to me so I called out to him softly, "Eli? Please look at me."

He did nothing for a moment and I worried he had just died, fully stood up in front of me, but he slowly turned back around and in the light of the house, I was able to fully assess the damage. This time when I reached up to move his hair and trail my fingers over his injuries, he didn't flinch away, if anything he leaned into my touch.

"Oh, Eli," I whispered softly.

His face was a blank canvas but his eyes were molten heat, burning holes into my head as he stared at me. My hand fell and instead I grabbed his large palm in my much smaller one before gently dragging him into the lounge where I gently pushed him down onto one of the sofas.

His head nodded in the direction of a cabinet when I asked him where the first aid box was so I went and grabbed it before making my way back over to him and opening the kit out beside him on the sofa.

No words were spoken as I knelt on my knees before him and reached for his bloody hands to clean them up, he didn't even flinch as I wiped them with an alcohol wipe. My heart ached as I thought of how he likely didn't flinch because he was so used to this but he never usually had anyone to do this part for him. At that moment I made a promise to myself that I would help him after all of his fights from now on, call me crazy but it was something I felt like I had to do.

It was a strange thought when he was so battered and bruised but I couldn't help but admire the tattoos admonishing his hands. I was unable to admire them properly but I noted that both hands had letters inked across his fingers and the backs of both hands had some form of tree or branch on them.

No movement was made, there was only the intensity of his stare. It wasn't until I stood to reach over him and start cleaning his face up that he opened his legs and pulled me between them, his hands resting on my waist and his neck craned upwards towards me.

The simple yet immense action made me freeze for a moment, my mind reeling as I stared into his gorgeous eyes. I barely knew this boy and yet this was the closest (I don't mean physically) I had ever felt with someone after such a short period of time.

He said nothing about the change in position and I guess I made no move to stop him. So the cleaning and soothing of his cuts and bruises continued, all the ones I could see anyway; stubborn bastard refused to take his shirt off to let me properly help him.

When I was done my hand brushed the hair of his forehead again, "you need some hair gel to get this out of your eyes."

"Mmm," was the only reply I received as he moved his hands from my waist to fully pull me into his strong arms. He leaned forward and let his forehead drop onto my stomach as he just sat there, with me in-between his legs, his arms wrapped around me in a vice grip and his steady breath tickling the strip of skin that was visible between my trousers and top. My cheeks brightened with redness as my blood rushed through my veins but then I raised my hands and ran them through his hair causing him to let out a low groan.

Time fell away as I stood there, playing with the hair on the back of his head and at the nape of his neck and him just holding me, breathing. Eventually, he fell asleep, sat up and leaning on my stomach. Unwittingly, I unwrapped myself from his arms and lay him down on the couch with great struggle before throwing a blanket over him. Even asleep he likes to make my life difficult.

Eli was supposed to drive me home but I didn't have the heart to wake him up. I checked the time, 12 pm, Noah would still be up. I phoned him and he said he'd be here in twenty minutes. When he arrived, he scooped up Ty from one of the other sofas and then went to take him to the car before stopping in the lounge door and looking back at me.

"I'll be there in a minute," I whispered to him. He nodded, his eyes flickering to a sleeping Eli on the couch before striding back out to the car.

I leant down and kissed Eli on the forehead, "Goodnight, Boxer Boy."

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Edited ✅

This chapter warmed my heart and I absolutely loved writing it so I hope people enjoy reading it.