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day 22 whumptober prompt: bleeding through bandages | reopening wounds | “oh, that’s not good”
it was dark by the time neil stumbled to the familiar parking lot of wymack's apartment building
he wasn't ready to face andrew yet, and he couldn't deal with his teammates concern right now
back in may he hadn’t imagined he would be able to walk into a middle aged man's apartment willingly, a place he associated with safety
today had been rough enough he needed safety
wymack had proven so far that he wouldn’t hurt neil, neither physically nor... he wouldn't hurt neil
he hadn’t expected to take so long, had no actual idea what the time was but if the sun was down in the middle of summer it could be past 10 pm
every step is an agony against his side, against his back, deep in his belly
every breath burns and every inhale reminds him of the fact that he's worn his binder for too long
he can't bear the idea of taking it off right now
wymack had made neil keep the spare key, but neil lost it somewhere during the day's events, so he knocks on the door instead
wymack wrenches the door open like he wants to take it off its hinges, but a mix of surprise and concern wash out the fury on his face when he sees neil
"where the hell have you been?" he demands, looking neil up and down, pausing more than on one place. it makes neil shiver. "andrew
got back from columbia hours ago. matt called me to say you weren't with them. what the hell happened to you?"
he's looking at neil with too wide eyes, trying hard to pretend he's not worried
if neil looks at all how he feels he kind of gets why
he can't make himself answer wymack, not when he's trying to pretend today didn't happen, not when he's trying to forget everything
"can i stay here for a little while?" he settles on, despite knowing it doesn't answer anything
"shit kid what the-"
he goes to grab neil to haul him inside, but neil flinches away out of habit, everything from today too fresh in his pained psyche
he can't make himself look wymack in the eye, there's an apology in the tip of his tongue
from the corner of his eye, he sees wymack take a deep breath
"just come inside"
he follows wymack, wrapping his arms around his middle
he trips on his own two feet before he reaches the living room, having to catch himself on the wall at his side
"oh that's not good"
the words slip from his mouth before he even thinks about it but thats okay
his vision is blurry, the world around him tilting to the side and wymack is right there in front of him with the phone pressed to his ear
"neil’s back, i need your help"
no, no, knowing wymack it's probably abby on the phone, neil doesn’t need her, doesn't need anyone's help, he can deal with this on his own-
"i don't need abby"
"you're covered in fucking blood josten, i decide that you need abby"
"i can stitch myself up, i don't- she doesn't need to come"
"she says she's on her way"
neil groans, fight spilling out of him just along with his own blood
well if she's on her wait he might as well-
"can she bring me some pads?"
"you got that?" he says into the phone, and neil slowly sinks into the floor, wincing as he sits with his back against the wall, waves of pain shooting up his spine
its okay, hes okay, he can handle this, its nothing he hasn’t handled before, he can leave this behind along with the countless other times
wymack grunts, still talking with abby,"ask him when you get here"
he pauses for a second, and if neil were any more aware he'd think of his pause as worrisome, of his gaze too suspicious
but he doesn't notice either, too focused on breathing through the pain and locking the memories away
"neil"
he snaps his eyes open, putting away the memory of dark eyes and ginger head and a leering smile
wymack is looking at him
neil just hums
"abby’s asking if you've been getting the testosterone shots"
he's far too tired to understand the relevance of the question but answers yes regardless
"she says with how long you've been taking them you shouldn't be getting your period"
neil freezes, eyes wide as he stares at wymack without actually staring at him
the ghost of hands and lips on his skin threaten to overtake him, the weight on top of him is suffocating, the pain inside him ripping him in half
he can't fucking breathe
his hands are digging into his sides, tearing open the wounds he'd hastily bandaged with part of the hoodie he managed to steal
there's something too much like understanding in wymack's gaze
how did they figure it out?
his voice is a trembling whisper, "please don't"
the word burns on the way out, and it echoes in his head, the memory of it being ignored earlier that very day too many times along with "no"s and "stop"s too fresh to stop his skin from crawling
he digs his fingers deeper into his side, until he feels the blood blooming freely again
god he just wants to rest, he just wants to take a break
he's so fucking tired
"not today", he says softly
wymack's gaze softens uncharacteristically, but instead of the pity neil was expecting there's pain and grief in his eyes
"okay, abby asks how heavy the bleeding is, for the pad"
if he had any blood to spare, he'd blush, out of shame, out of rage, out of defeat
"very"
he hangs up not long after, and despite neil wanting to drown in the silence wymack doesn't let the silence drag
"do you want me to call the cops?"
that startles neil so much he almost laughs, almost
"there's no use in that"
"you could press charges"
he's reminded of when he was younger, the first time at only 13 when he'd come to mary and told her he'd been raped by an adult at his school, how angry she had been at him, how she'd called him stupid and an idiot for letting it happen, how when he'd timidly asked if he should tell the cops she'd slapped him
how he just had to suck it up and deal with it
how it was something that happened sometimes
"no"
he didn't tell her when it happened again
he didn't tell her any other time that it happened again
"he paid when i made smashed a bottle in his head"
that's too much information and nothing at all at the same time, but neil didn't even wait around long enough to see if he was alive, bleeding and hurting and with glass stuck in his side
he ran as soon as he could
to his relief, there's no judgement in wymack's face, no anger, no disgust
its enough he releases the tightness of his arms across his abdomen and he gasps involuntarily at the pain of the scratches and torn up skin and the deeper wound in his side
"come on, you're bleeding through your shirt, let's start getting you cleaned up"