(there's the urge to prevent klavier from panicking, to hide his condition and save him from the far too painful (in more ways than one) explanation of what took place in the courtrooms only days ago. they've both been through enough, haven't they? sure just keeping this from him won't do any harm.
then there's a voice in the back of his head, that sounds an awful lot like clay again, barking at him to stop being such a shit boyfriend. if he was hurt from klavier not being fully honest, klavier would be devastated that apollo kept something such at this from him.
it's hard to make eye contact, eyes flitting over to meet klavier's, only to turn away to somewhere else. it's not something that's going to go over well, that's for sure.
he takes a deep breath, before carefully sliding clay's jacket off and let it rest against the back of the couch. the need to keep it pristine and safe will always be there, no doubt. slowly, almost scared of how klavier will react, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, and once that slides off, anything but what klavier might have been hoping for is there.
bandages all up and down his arms, stopping just at the wrists, gauze patches covering the worst parts on his chest and back. the lower half of his stomach area is also fully wrapped in bandages, and really, it's a wonder this kid is moving.) ... I need to take my medicine and change my bandages.
(he's still unable to look klavier in the eye, partly due to the memories of his injuries, even minus the near death, the time of them is what makes him ache.
he rises off the couch to head to the bathroom, find his ointment, bandage supply, medicine from the hospital. things he's... probably been slacking on.)
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then there's a voice in the back of his head, that sounds an awful lot like clay again, barking at him to stop being such a shit boyfriend. if he was hurt from klavier not being fully honest, klavier would be devastated that apollo kept something such at this from him.
it's hard to make eye contact, eyes flitting over to meet klavier's, only to turn away to somewhere else. it's not something that's going to go over well, that's for sure.
he takes a deep breath, before carefully sliding clay's jacket off and let it rest against the back of the couch. the need to keep it pristine and safe will always be there, no doubt. slowly, almost scared of how klavier will react, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, and once that slides off, anything but what klavier might have been hoping for is there.
bandages all up and down his arms, stopping just at the wrists, gauze patches covering the worst parts on his chest and back. the lower half of his stomach area is also fully wrapped in bandages, and really, it's a wonder this kid is moving.) ... I need to take my medicine and change my bandages.
(he's still unable to look klavier in the eye, partly due to the memories of his injuries, even minus the near death, the time of them is what makes him ache.
he rises off the couch to head to the bathroom, find his ointment, bandage supply, medicine from the hospital. things he's... probably been slacking on.)