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"Who the fuck is ringing the doorbell at this time of the nig- Gary?"
Roy stood in his doorway, pyjama clad and bed headed, staring in disbelief at one Gary Neville stood on his porch.
The kid looked tired, bags under his eyes, his thin face even thinner than usual, baggy clothes hanging off his frame. But what really concerned Roy was the gash on the side of his cheek, blood crystallised on his young skin.
"Come in," Roy said gruffly, pulling Gary in by the arm and closing the door gently behind him. He guided his teammate over to the couch, the new fancy one that Theresa had picked out only a month ago.
He sat next to him, shifting his body so that he could get a better look at Gary. The kid was a mess, if Roy was being honest, but there was something else underneath it all, a look of despair so deep in Gary's eyes that should definately not be there at his age.
"Kid," Roy began, cautiously placing a hand on Gary's shoulder, cursing himself as he flinched. "What happened to you?"
Gary looked at him, his eyes blown wide, his body slightly shaking. Roy hadn't even noticed that he was wet from the rain, clothes soaked, hair stuck up in awkward angle from the rain.
"Wait," Roy said, getting up. "I'll get you a change of clothes, give me one second, yeah?"
At Gary's nod, Roy rushed to his bedroom, sifting through his closet.
"Roy?" Theresa murmured from the bed. "What's going on, love? Who was at the door?"
"Nothing, go back to sleep, love," Roy rushed out, grabbing a warm long sleeved sleep shirt and some fluffy sweatpants. "It's just Gaz, don't worry."
Theresa made a noise of confusion. "What's he doing here so late?"
"I don't know," Roy admitted, finally turning to face her. From the time he had entered the room, Theresa had sat up against the bed frame, with the light on the nightstand switched on, a concerned look on her face. "He's in pretty bad shape, bleeding and all that."
Theresa's eyes widened, the sleep seeming to leave her almost immediately. She got out of bed, smoothing out her nightgown, before walking out of the bedroom to the living room.
"This woman," Roy muttered fondly to himself, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and following her path.
Upon entering the living room, Roy say Theresa sat next to Gary, the kid still shivering as she gently held his hand.
"You're safe now, dear," she said sweetly, running her fingers over his knuckles. "She can't do anything to you anymore, we won't let her get to you."
Roy raised an eyebrow at his wife's words. He didn't know who she was, but nevertheless he walked to the couch, passing Gary the clothes and towel, and guiding him to the guest bathroom.
"Take a warm shower and get dressed," he instructed him teammate. "We'll talk after you get out, yeah?"
Gary nodded silently, closing the door behind him. There was a moment of silence, before Roy heard the lock click. He sighed, walking back to where Theresa had turned the kettle on.
"Poor kid," she lamented, pulling three teacups out of the cupboard. "You know he walked all the way here from his place, right?"
"He what?" Roy choked out, gaping at her. She nodded sadly, picking up teaspoons from the drawers.
"His girlfriend was mad at him for staying late at training, yelled at him and knocked him around a bit."
Roy recalled the gash on Gary's cheek, one that look deep and nasty. "No chance she went after him with a knife?"
Theresa sighed. "If you're talking about the cut on his cheek, it was from a ring she was wearing."
Roy knew exactly which one it was, a beautiful expensive diamond that Gary had bought her on their fourth anniversary.
Truth be told, Roy had never liked Gary's girlfriend, and he knew a few of their friends shared his sentiment. She was sweet and kind in front of cameras, but had a deeply malicious side. Gary already had no self-esteem, and dating a money-grabbing narcissist was the single worst thing he could've done, yet he smile whenever he talked about her, his voice growing fond whenever he mentioned how they would go to the beach, or the cabin he had rented out for his birthday.
Roy just shook his head, a palm against his forehead.
"Do we have alcohol?" He asked, looking at Theresa. She cocked her head to the side.
"The last thing this kid needs right now is to get drunk," she deadpanned, and Roy snorted. "No, like to disinfect the wound."
"Oh!" Theresa gasped, a hand covering her mouth as she giggled lightly. "Yes, let me grab the first aid kit."
Roy fondly watched as she bent down, disappearing behind the kitchen island and reappearing with a barely-used first aid kit. She opened it, pulling out medical alcohol wipes, as well as some bandaids and an anti-inflammatory cream.
"He had some other bruises," Theresa explained, seeing Roy's confused face at the last item. "The clinic is closed at this time of night, but we might as well try to get them under control right now."
They both jumped at the sound of a door opening, and Roy whipped around, his heart melting at the sight in front of him.
(Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. It would be hard to keep up his cold persona if people knew that he had a fond spot for a very tired looking Gary Neville.)
Gary, hair wet, cheeks red from the hot water of the shower, gently handed him back the towel. "Thank you," he said softly.
Roy simply nodded, putting the towel on the chair next to him, and wrapping his arm around Gary's back, leading him back to the couches.
Gary looked a bit better, covered in a shirt that seemed to bury him, the drawstring on the pants tied so tight that it gave him a corset-like waist that Roy would normally make fun of, but now didn't seem like the time.
"I need to clean up your cheek, yeah?" Roy said, looking into his eyes and asking for permission. Gary nodded, eyes slightly unfocused.
Roy reached for the alcohol wipes that Theresa had so graciously put on the coffee table for him, and wiped the wound on Gary's cheek. The younger man winced, almost flinching away.
"It's okay kid," Roy murmured, running the wipe over the wound again. "Just need to make sure you don't get an infection, yeah?"
Gary stared blankly at him, lip trembling as Roy skilfully placed the bandaid over the now-clean gash.
"All good now," Roy smiled, and Gary nodded again, his expression still blank, his body still shaking.
Roy, against his better judgment (and shoving down any thoughts about his reputation), gently wrapped his arms around the younger man, trying not to laugh at the surprised sound that Gary let out.
"You'll stay here tonight," Roy stated, leaving no room for argument. Gary simply let his head rest on Roy's shoulder, and the Irishman took it as a small win.
If small wins were all he could achieve right now, he hoped that they would keep coming