Misha sat up and leaned forward to unplug the drain. As he did, he slowly began to stand, but his ink wasn’t in sync and so it came as no surprise that his legs felt like jell-o. Too bad he wasn’t all too keen with his actual essence and instead of giving himself a moment to adjust, he panicked. Startled by his lack of balance, he threw his arms about and inhaled sharply.
Misha tried to at least step one leg out of the tub, but, as luck would have it, he did not reach his leg high enough and ended up having his foot caught on the rim of the tub, sending him toppling forward. His face smashed first against the damp carpet but that did little to save him from the merciless tile floor under. He groaned, feeling the rest of his body sort of slop and plop out onto the cool floor. His ink was sorry about that, really, but what was done was done. At least his legs didn’t feel so weird anymore. His face was another story though.
Misha secretly hoped that Aras and Arkem hadn’t heard the loud slap of a mess as he scrambled to get to the mirror, already feeling the warmth of blood seeping down his nose.
Shit man, way to nearly smash half of your face in.
His entire left side was already turning red and it ached so badly. It took everything in him not to outright burst into tears.
He ended up tearing up anyways.
Misha felt the sudden, thick drip of goopy blood escape his nose, so he tried cupping his hands under his nose to try and catch all of this blood. Fuck, fuck.
Stupid was a little too preoccupied with his runny nose to realize the gingered twins had scrambled to get to the door. Aras pushed against it to get in, feeling his heart hammering out of his chest. He was 210% sure this fool had snapped his neck against the side of the tub, for the love of Impius.
Misha just about yelped when Aras came barging in. His hands still cupped themselves under his nose, as if he couldn’t figure out what the hell to do with the towel Aras tried to hand him. Instead he gave his boyfriend such a sleepy, dreamy look before dropping his eyes back to his curved hands, staring at the mini puddle of blood squeezing its freedom through the cracks of his fingers. “I’m bleeding-” He muttered, feeling like he was stuck in slow motion. He dropped one hand to take hold of the side of the side of the sink, but with such a bloody hand, he nearly slipped. It would have been a blow against blow had Aras not caught and steadied him.
Naturally his own hands shot out to hold onto Aras, smearing his snotty blood all over the fair skinned ginger. He gave a shaky apology for making a mess and tried to blink salty tears away.
But he just couldn’t.
Misha passed his tongue over his gums and winced, because they were already swollen and bleeding. The inside of his left cheek burned and his tongue felt dry and nasty.
And now he could feel how much his face actually hurt. How hot it suddenly became and how hard it was throbbing. Especially his left temple. Somehow he managed to drag it against the very small space between the tiles of the floor and won himself the prettiest little gash. Misha shut his eyes momentarily and gave Aras another hard squeeze, for his bloody little hand was wrapped tightly against his wrists.
Blood found its way into his eye and he had a hard time trying to blink it away.
He probably spooked Aras when he spat up a little bit of the blood, but really, it was only because it was filling his mouth a little too fast for his dazed mind to register swallowing it instead. The sticky substance dribbled down his pale chest and was accompanied by the few stray drops that fell from his still bleeding nose.
Really, the exhausted child would not be able to tell you when he started crying, because he was now in a world of hurt. He squeezed Aras’ wrists hard and told him how much it hurt and that really, all he wanted to do was lay down.
What a dumb kid.