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Fang woke up feeling like he was still on fire. His skin stung. His throat felt as dry as sand. He probably also ate some when he hit the ground face first. He saw the blue sky and the brunt bushes above him. It was surprisingly silent other than the breeze hitting trees. For a second Fang wondered if he was dead, but if he was then there wouldn’t be pain.
“The zombie lives,” a voice drawled.
Or Edgar’s voice. Fang glanced to the side.
Edgar’s hair was disheveled even more than usual, his bangs nearly covering both his eyes. He seemed to notice that and pushed it away.
Fang finally realized he was on his back. He tried to sit up. His muscles felt like they were melting.
“Stay down, dumbass. You got roasted by Amber and ate Penny’s pouches to the face.” Edgar leaned over him, his hand cool on his forehead. There was a cut on his brow now. Streaks of black ash painted his face like some kind of army dress up gimmick.
“What…” Fang croaked.
“Happened? We got second place,” Edgar answered, holding up a seemingly heavy pouch of power cubes. “You tanked damage for me while I made a run for it, so thanks.”
“You ditched me?”
“Yes, but we won so don’t sweat the details. Don’t move.”
Fang opened his mouth to say something but Edgar held up a large square bandage coated with sticky blue greenish gunk and plastered it over Fang’s nose. Fang pulled himself back.
“What is…?” He sneezed. “Ugh.”
The gunk smelled stingingly spicy of mint, some kind of disgusting herbs, and alcohol. He didn’t have the strength to remove it. At least Fang’s started to work again. He realized he was lying on a sleeping bag. Most of his clothes were either ripped or burnt off with bandages all over his body. His arms, legs and chest were itchy from the bandages.
“Are– are you trying to mummify me?” he murmured.
“If you keep dancing with death like today, yes.” Edgar brought out a small ceramic jar and began rubbing blue paste on the cuts, burns, and bruises that covered Fang’s upper body. This time it at least smelled better, like blossoming honeysuckle.
“It’s medicine from Pam,” Edgar explained, “Kind of a hobby of hers.”
In his daze, fang thought that Edgar’s hands were smooth and warm. “Really? I got to thank her then.”
Edgar scooped another dollop of salve and looked at the long bruise across Fang’s stomach. “You should probably do this part.”
He scraped thesalve onto Fang’s fingers and let him apply it. The gash mended. With Edgar’s help, Fang sat up slowly and took care of the glass cuts on his legs. He clicked his tongue when he realized his pants were also burnt. Inside his chest, he swore he could feel his ribs rattling. He took a deep breath and was relieved to find it wasn’t actually broken.
“The showdown game is already finished so all we need to do is cash in these power cubes later.” Edgar put a drinking straw next to Fang’s mouth. “Here, have some Gatorade.”
“I– I don’t want –”
“You will have some Gatorade,” the boy insisted.
Fang had some Gatorade. He was surprised at how thirsty he was.
As he continued to sip, Edgar reached out to grab Fang’s hand. First of all, rude to not ask, was what Fang wanted to say. But he kept silent because 1) he’s drinking and 2) he’s used to Edgar’s shenanigans. He watched as the other stared at his fingers intently.
“How’d you get cuts?”
Fang blinked stupidly. “What?”
Edgar put up Fang’s hand for him to see. It was indeed full of cuts, thin red lines all around his fingers. One of them was even bleeding. Fang took back his hand and frowned at it. He suspiciously glanced at Edgar to see if he had, for whatever reason, stolen his gloves. The boy’s raised hands said no. Fang sighed before looking back at his hand.
Seriously, where the hell did his gloves go? It was the reason why he used them in the first place, his hands easily got injured. Now he’s gonna work with his knuckles hurting for a month.
“Amber must’ve burned off your gloves then. Tragic,” Edgar commented absentmindedly. He looked through his medkit box (what is he? A support class suddenly?) to take out several bandaids. He peeled one off and opened his palm, looking at Fang expectedly. It took Fang a good second to realize Edgar was asking for his hand.
“Why are you suddenly well-versed in this?” Fang asked as Edgar cleaned the cuts with some kind of ointment.
“What are you on about?” Edgar snorted, “Before you teamed up with me, I was always getting injured. I know a thing or two.”
“Oh right.”
Fang winced when Edgar applied the bandage. The sun was starting to set down at that point. Fang wondered how long he was unconscious for. He watched as his hands were bandaged.
“You’re kind of dim when it comes to this huh?” Edgar suddenly asked.
“What?”
“It’s already the third time you got injured enough to pass out. You don’t seem to know that you’re in danger sometimes.”
It was Fang’s turn to snort. “That’s rich from the guy who jumps straight into battle at any given chance.”
“On the other hand I know how to run away afterwards.” Edgar finished putting on the last bandaid — on Fang’s ring finger. “You’d always charge back once you’re healed enough.”
‘What’s wrong about that?”
“Nothing. I just wish you’d be more careful. You’re always getting hurt.”
“And you’re complaining?”
“No. But you’re complaining about me worrying over you,” Edgar pointed out.
That made Fang pause. Huh, he thought. He looked at his bandaged hand. The patterns on the bandaid were those stars with the skull symbol. Griff or Colette must have given them to him. Despite Edgar doing horrible stuff like ditching him or leaving him stranded on a roof last week, he still isn’t that bad of a person.
Fang closed his palm to a fist. “Well, thanks for helping me out. I appreciate it, really. We better get going though,” he said.
“Before that,” Edgar held out his pinky finger, “At least promise me that you’ll be more careful.”
“With a pinky promise?” Fang asked incredulously.
“Childish I know. I told Colette that too but she always makes me do it when I promise her something,” Edgar shrugged. He still had his pinky out. Before Fang could react the usual glint in Edgar’s eyes was back. “Unless you’re too embarrassed to do it? If that’s the case, that’s cute.”
“I didn’t say anything yet!”
“No need to be shy,” Edgar grinned, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re easily embarrassed by something like this. I’m sure even if they did hear about it, they’d understand.”
See, that’s the thing Fang hates about Edgar. He’s always got that knack to piss people off. He’d make cheeky remarks on just about anything to get on people’s nerves. It made him want him to snap. But more than that, Fang was irritated that Edgar’s comment was enough to make heat rise to his face. He tried to hide it with his hand but he knew Edgar already saw it.
“Come on, what are you so hellbent over? Just link pinkies with me and be done,” Edgar coaxed.
“Yeah but-” Fang sputtered, which only made his face more flushed. Doing something like that with someone he wasn;t very close with felt weird. Almost like it was too intimate.
“This is idiotic,” Fang finally sighed, grasping Edgar’s little finger with his own. The skin is soft, probably because his scarf does all the fighting. The sun was almost down now so he smiles winningly and says through his teeth, “Let’s get it over with. I need to go back.”
Edgar leaned in close, nose almost touching Fang’s. Out of reflex Fang clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Still too embarrassed to say you’re gonna promise not to get hurt?” he asked, smiling back.
“I- I’ll…” Fang winced when he heard himself stutter. “I promise to, uh, not get hurt anymore so…”
“You need some work on saying it better.”
For whatever reason fang does not want to guess, Edgar looked skeptical about his testimony. Somehow this reminds me a lot of something… he thought, especially when he kept their hand position the same from a good minute. However Edgar looked like he finally felt pity and dropped his hand. His eyes were amused, and he desperately needed to be punched in one of them. Fang convinces himself he’s going to do it one day.
While they were on their way back, Edgar handed some of the bandaid leftovers to Fang. “Don’t forget to change them regularly. Disinfect if you need to, especially if it breaks open.”
Fang pocketed them. “Uh-huh. I’ll remember that.”
“Hey, put a bandaid on me too. Same place as you.”
“Huh?” Fang faced him. “You’re not hurt are you?”
“I see,” Edgar hummed, looking down at his ring finger. “Well then—”
He brought his finger to his mouth and started biting until he drew blood. Red stained his lips.
“What are you doing!?” Fang panicked. He grabbed Edgar’s wrist but the deed was done.
“Oh it’s fine. Just a little wound.” Edgar held out his bleeding finger. “Here, can you put a bandaid on?”
Fang felt something in his stomach drop and the back of his neck felt cold but he ignored it. From the start, there was always something weird about Edgar. In fact it was one of the things the boy himself warned about. Fang fears that he’s gotten too used to it now. With those thoughts in mind, he peeled off and wrapped a new one on Edgar.
“You don’t have to go that far, idiot. Next time don’t hurt yourself,” Fang sighed through his nose. It was nighttime then. He shivered once. “You think it’s fine to do it in front of me but if others see this, they’re going to call the ambulance on you.”
“You worry too much,” Edgar grinned. “See, we match now. Isn’t that great?”
“There’s something wrong with you. I could have just put it on you normally.”
Edgar gave Fang an unreadable look. “Well, what’s done is done.”
Warmth traveled through Fang’s body when a familiar black and white scarf was wrapped around him. He knew that it always had a life on its own but it was still pretty jarring to see it wave at him before tucking itself neatly. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow as a treat,” Edgar added.
“...You’re still a terrible person, you know that? I still haven’t forgotten you ditching me today,” Fang said, sticking his tongue out.
Edgar throws his head back and laughs handsomely, loud and almost charmingly. “Let’s just say you aren’t the first one to say that. But you are the first one to put it nicely.”