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Zack sat quietly on the Murphy kitchen counter, watching Milo procure the biggest first aid kit he had ever seen.
“You got pretty beat up this time, Zack,” Milo laughed a little. “Even more than me! That almost never happens!”
“I guess it's my lucky day,” Zack deadpanned.
Milo snorted. Zack was glad that he could say something like that and Milo wouldn't take it seriously. That had been a problem before.
They actually had been incredibly lucky, considering the circumstances. They had made it to Milo’s house with injuries minor enough to be treated at home.
They went through their usual process. After an injury, Murphy’s Law tended to ebb. They had talked to Phineas, Ferb, and Baljeet enough times for an explanation, but they had all agreed that it was a terrible idea to intentionally injure Milo to get accurate results.
After laying out a towel, and gently washing the wound, Milo pulled out the isopropyl alcohol and Zack braced himself for the worst part of the familiar process.
Milo started with his knees, which were worse off than the rest of him. They had even been wearing knee pads. To be fair, walking to the park with Diogee was kind of asking for it.
Zack hissed in pain as Milo poured the alcohol on the wounds.
“Sorry, Zack.”
Milo apologized every time, although he never needed to. Zack had tried to tell him this before, but he never listened.
Then, the petroleum jelly, which wasn’t fun either. And then a secure bandage to each knee.
Then it was on to his elbows; same process. And finally, his hands.
Milo took Zack's hand gently, looking for all the abrasions so he knew what he was working with.
And Zack couldn’t help but… stare.
They had gone through this process plenty of times; they both injured their hands quite often, more than the rest of their bodies.
But this time… it felt different.
Zack looked from his hands, to Milo’s concentrated face. His eyes, his nose, his funny little hair flip.
And then the alcohol poured on his hand broke the trance.
“Ow.”
“I know, Zack, I’m sorry.”
Zack sighed. “Stop apologizing.”
“I’m sorry.”
Milo cared too much, although he rarely showed it. It was easy to see, especially if you were around him for long enough. He cared, but he knew that very few people trusted Milo to care for their injuries. And so, he kept his distance, knowing the best he could do for the other person is call the ambulance and move far away.
Now that the pain had subsided, his attention returned to Milo. There was something about him; Melissa, who had been friends with him for 13 years now, still didn’t fully understand the guy.
He cared, yet he didn’t show it. He was sad, but he pretended not to be. He was human, yet he pretended not to be. After all, Milo still had unattended injuries, the most they had done was to stop the bleeding.
His hands were gentle and experienced as he wrapped the worst of the abrasions with gauze, and carefully found the other injuries in order to cover them with simple bandages.
He was gentle, although his skin was rough. Zack looked closer at those hands, seeing scars atop scars atop scars. It was a bumpy red mess. It was, for all intents and purposes, ugly.
Zack didn’t care. Those scars made Milo who he was. And Milo, for all intents and purposes, was the most beautiful person Zack had ever met.
“Zack?”
He shook his head, realizing that Milo was looking at him with slight concern (and amusement).
“Sorry,” Zack said, following with an uncomfortable laugh.
It was Milo’s turn to be patched up. Milo always refused to be helped until everyone else had been patched up. Always thinking of others, he is.
Zack gently slid off the countertop and Milo replaced him. Their routine continued, Zack having become just as experienced as Milo in the realm of cleaning and dressing wounds.
The knees, the elbows, and a medium sized scrape on his shoulder and his hands.
Zack continued to think about Milo’s hands, now that he was the one searching for cuts and abrasions. The injuries probably wouldn’t even scar (or if they did, it wouldn’t be very noticeable).
The right hand had a very prominent, yet old burn mark. It had been from a grilling incident. The tail ends of Milo’s third lightning scar ended at his wrist. There was a harsh line on his middle finger where a wolf had almost bitten it clean off.
Zack had been there for that one, it was not fun.
The left hand was entirely different, yet quite similar at the same time. Burns, bite marks, knife cuts, animal scratches.
Zack finished off the left hand and Milo raised it to admire his work.
“You're really good at this, you know?” he said, smiling.
“I learned from the best,” Zack said looking at Milo’s smile and knowing that it was one of his genuine smiles.
Milo met his eyes. And didn’t leave.
And so the trance began.
Zack found himself glancing toward the other boy’s mouth.
A slightly uncomfortable cough from Milo broke the trance once again.
Zack quickly put aside whatever that was.
“Wanna watch a movie?” he deflected.
“Sure!” Milo gave his signature Huge Grin. It was infectious.