Title: Best Friends?
Characters: Nick and Arvo
Summary: Nick and Arvo meet and seem to hit it off, both being outcasts.
Author’s Note: I know you requested this a while ago and I don’t know if it’s relevant anymore but I hope you like it anyways! SWEARS INSIDE
Requested By: ellie-the-swindler
“Agh, shit.” Nick grumbled, clutching his bloody shoulder as he walked through the damp forest.
After just barely escaping Howe’s warehouse, Nick stumbled away alone with a bullet shot by one of Carver’s workers lodged into his shoulder. “Ugh.” He groaned, pain seeping through his veins.
With every step against the grass, frost and twigs crunched under his feet.
Hearing the heavy accent lift through the thick air, the depressed male stumbled forwards slightly before standing upright and glancing behind him.
It was a man, rather a teenage male. He had broken glasses, a purple jacket, and he seemed rather shaken despite holding up a gun and threatening to injure the male more than he already was.
Nick slowly raised one of his hands, the other firmly planted against his wound. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Put your hands up!” He slurred in his thick Russian accent.
Nick sighed and attempted to do so, revealing the blood-stained fabric that rested against his shirt. Flinching and jolting in pain as he attempted to lift his other arm, it flopped lifelessly to his side in defeat. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Returning his palm to wound he groaned and whispered to himself. “Ah, god! This hurts like a bitch.”
The Russian male lowered his gun, his gaze softening upon seeing the bleeding wound. “You are hurt.” He said quietly, still attempting to sound intimidating.
“I feel like I’m dying.” Nick retorted, almost shooting a glare towards the other male. The hate in his voice was rich, causing the Russian to flinch at his gaze.
“I….I have tools.”
“What?” Nick grumbled. Who the hell was this guy? Why was he still here? Why didn’t he just shoot him already? Nick sighed, turning more of his body towards the male in an attempt to hear better. His accent was hard enough to understand.
“U-Uhm…” He started, as only a whisper to himself. “I have tools. Medicine. I can help. Fix you.”
Nick scowled, as if studying over the male. The Russian squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze and finally, deciding that he had had enough, Nick nodded. “That’d be fucking awesome.” Despite the fact that Nick had been told countless times by the group to not trust strangers, he needed medicine if he could get it.
Flinching at his curse, the Russian scowled, dropping his gun in the frosty grass and lifting a large sports bag from his side. Nick watched, clearly unimpressed and bored, as the male set the bag down beside him and tugged it open. Really, Nick shouldn’t be trusting the male in the slightest. In this scenario there were two possible outcomes; either the male would shoot him and kill him or help him recover, and either or was fine with him right now. Nick sighed in frustration as he watched the male pour some disinfectant onto a cloth, the Russian frowned.
“It will hurt.” He warned, gesturing to the crimson fabric.
Nodding and bracing himself, Nick turned his shoulder towards the teen, allowing him to cleanse the burning would. Hearing a sharp gasp in pain, the Russian flinched away with a frown before hesitantly continuing.
“What’s your name?” Nick gruffly asked. Arvo glanced at him in confusion for a moment before the man continued with his question. “Talking is the only way to distract from this god damn pain. So, what’s your name?” He asked, sounding harsh at first but attempting to sound softer as he repeated his question.
“Arvo.” He claimed quietly, flipping the dirty cloth over to clean the rest of the wound.
“Nice to meet you….Nick.” He said softly, clearly trying to force back his Russian accent as he spoke.
“Yeah, you too.”
Groaning as Arvo firmed wrapped some bandages up, around and over his shoulder, Nick rocked his arm back and forth and nodded, satisfied by the work the teen had done.
“Good?” Arvo asked, pushing his glasses farther up his face and adjusting his sweater around his shoulders.
Nick nodded, forcing a small smile at the shy—and clearly shaken—male. “Where are you headed?” Nick asked softly.
“Yeah, where are you going?”
Arvo glanced down to the ground, sorrow stricken over his face. “Medicine. I am taking medicine to my sister. She is sick. Very sick.”
“Really?” His eyes darted back to the large duffle bag filled to the brim with medical equipment. Did he really just waste some medication for his sick sister on him? “Damn…” He grumbled. Making eye contact with the stuttering male once more, Nick gave a small smile. “I’ll help ya.”
“Yeah. You helped me, so I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you get there safe. For God’s sake, I can’t get worse than I am right now.”
A small smile formed on Arvo’s face as he gratefully nodded and lifted the medicine bag from the forest floor. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Nick, with his good hand, gestured for the male to walk in front of him with a grateful nod.
“Thank you.” He repeated again.
As they walked, it started out as peaceful silence, and then slowly drifted to conversations about Arvo’s family and sister. As the two walked, they slowly began to bond over their tragic pasts, and their seemingly dark futures.
But they didn’t seem so dark anymore, now that they had each other.