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if i ever stop reblogging this assume I am dead







hard lesson


How many times did he spend patching up his little brother after a spar? How many times did he have to bury his guilt in making the little man bleed under empty, hollow thoughts of ‘he should have known better’?

He hoisted his bleeding brother over his shoulder and carried him down the stairs, Cal and their swords in his other hand.

How many times did he want to scream and destroy everything in the apartment because of his own fucking carelessness? It wasn’t like Dave would purposefully lunge into that attack. He should have been faster. He usually was. He was unnaturally fast, after all.

He put Dave down when they came to the bathroom and he tossed the swords down, flicking the lightswitch on. “Don’t move. You’ll only open the wound more.” He pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink and grabbed the antiseptic, the needle, and the medical thread. The good shit. The stuff that dissolved after the wound knit up, and fell out on its own when it wasn’t necessary anymore. He pulled his belt out of its loops and held it out to Dave, and grumbled to bite down on it - this shit hurt, it always did. Dave took a deep, shivered breath and clamped his jaw down onto the thick leather while Bro rinsed the wound with the antiseptic. Bro then dabbed the excess damp off with a gauze pad and started to work.

He was an expert at sewing - his hands were steady and swift, and his stitches held fast and stayed in. He’d learned to sew himself up first, and knew what it took to keep the wounds from scarring overmuch. He used what he knew to sew his smuppets and patch up clothes, and here he was using his deft fingers and speed to patch up his little brother, the kid he swore he’d protect. The kid he vowed never to harm.

“Don’t tell me I should have been careful,” Dave grumbled over the leather in between his teeth. “I know you want to, just. Don’t.”

“Nah, little dude, I don’t want to,” he replied gravely as he finished the last stitch. “I never want to tell you that.” He took a clean gauze pad and put it over the wound, taping it there with white medical tape. “I’d rather cut my own arm off than have to tell you you’re not good enough.”

and still, this is one of my favourite pices of art ever.

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