Work Text:
There's a burning in Vyncent's skin. His side feels tight and sticky as he groans- and he opens his eyes to the bright streetlight. What's he doing here- his back is against a brick wall and something hurts. Maybe everything hurts- his head pulses and his there's a- a thickness- to all his joints. Soreness? He can barely flex his hands as he gets his bearings.
He's just on the sidewalk. He's in costume- so he puts two and two together and realises oh, I was on patrol. So something happened. He presses his hand to his side and grimaces when it pulls away black with his blood- and it stings. It stings as the wound reacts to the cold, night air and he thinks he should get home.
He clicks open the phone he carries around, staining it with his slick fingers. 10:42. He has twenty minutes to get back before it gets suspicious. Maybe twenty-five if he pushes it.
Getting up is the worst feeling ever. The torn skin on his hip pulls and rubs against the fabric of his clothes, and he can feel more wounds make themselves known. He doesn't remember anything but blurry images of a fight- there was a knife and maybe some fire or something but that's not- important. He just needs to get back.
His hip hurts as he starts to walk. He barely registers what street he's on- so it's a miracle once the forest surrounding their base comes i to view. He walks up the broken stairs- letting the shattered railing dig into his hand. He's pretty sure the blood isn't visible through his costume- so he takes in a shaky breath and walks through the door frame.
It's empty. There's no sign of life in what used to be the living room, and he lets himself relax as he stumbles his way to his own room, slamming the door behind him and slumping down to the floor.
Fuck.
He scrambles under his bed- letting his blood flow and rub into the carpet as he grabs for the roll of bandages. He pulls off his outer layers with a practiced ease before gritting his teeth. The wound doesn't feel wrong- it hurts as he begins to wrap around it but he pushes through it and tries not to grimace as the bandages stain black.
Nothing a little painkillers can't fix. He'll check it tomorrow- because he can already feel himself fading off, so he pulls on a shirt, clicks off the light in his room, and pulls himself into bed.
That was a mistake. He groans as he wakes up and he tastes blood.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, he can see blood has pooled on his bed sheets and he's bled through the bandages. That is…not good. But they can't do anything about it- not in this run down, destroyed building of a home. So he grabs the bandages again and tries not to shake as he puts on a new layer.
They still have training today. He can feel himself burning up and his hands shake but he can push through it. Get through training. Sleep until patrol.
He should eat something. Maybe it'll help- get his blood sugar up or something. He doesn't remember what he ate last and thats weird because he remembers eating. He can't- he can't remember a lot. His brain feels like someone shoved it full of cotton and left it there. That's really not good.
When he can see enough to walk out of room, the first thing he notices is William. He's sitting on the ground, in front of their T.V with the shattered screen, in sweatpants and a tank too. It really, really sucks the other doesn't try to fight him on training days now.
"G'morning Vynce."
"Morning."
"Gimme ten minutes-"
All he can do is nod before almost on autopilot, he waits around. He does stretches and tries to ignore the pain in his body and watches Will finish eating. That parts a bit weird.
Next thing he knows he's standing in the room they train in. William's standing there sort of nervously and he blinks before he remembers he should say something.
"I'm just gonna stay like this- the Greats are too tired after last night's patrol." That's a lie. They don't get tired. Vyncent shouldn't either.
"Okay- can I start or-"
He nods. Gods, he's tired. His side hurts and he wants to go sleep but- Williams hand flashes blue and he feels himself tense up.
He doesn't know what happens next. Something impacts- and then he's on the floor and William is looking down at him- the others hands are around his waist and…
"Vyncent- Vynce- wake up please I- I can't lose you too- c'mon- c'mon."
"…Will?"
"Vyncent- jesus christ- please don't do that again-"
"…what happened-" His voice is scratchy and it still tastes like iron.
"You- y-you fainted and I didn't think I hit you that hard but- Vynce you're bleeding-"
"I'm fine- it's just something from patrol-"
William does not look like he believes him. "Stay here-" and he runs out the room.
It's cold in the room. He looks down at his side- it's stained black and growing steadily. He should take off his jacket- that probably needes stitches and he doesn't think he's going to get out of this now.
He's unwrapped the soaked bandages when William comes back, aid kit in hand. The other almost does a double take when he sees him.
"Villain attack." He coughs out.
"I…can tell." The other sits down next to him, and he can watch as he starts to thread a needle. "That doesn't look good."
He's right. The wound reopened and it oozes blood down his side. "It's- fine. Y'know how to do stitches-"
William nods. He really wishes he didn't because for the next five minutes Vyncent Sol bites his tongue and tries not to scream or twitch as he holds onto William's jacket.
His chest is rewrapped. The- gash is sewn shut almost neatly and dried blood is on William's fingers when the other helps him up to his room.
He doesn't try hide wounds anymore.