Chapter Text
Vivian knew exactly what this sound meant.
Jason was breaking into her window—her living room window.
She also knew that this sound meant he was injured. Otherwise, she would just be scared to death when she walked into the room and saw him hanging out on her couch, nonchalant about the fact that he had just broken in.
She walked quickly to the living room. Her stupid Hello Kitty PJs didn’t fit the moment too well. She saw him stumbling in, his hand pressed to his side. She stood by him and supported him with her body. Vivian hated to see him like that. She would kill to have him safe for at least one night. She looked up at his pained face. Now was the time to be pragmatic—not irrational and emotional.
“Stabbed?”
He nodded. They walked to the couch, where he threw himself down.
Vivian was almost a nurse. He knew how to use that when he couldn’t go back to the cave. This wasn’t the first time she patched him up.
She leaned down and reached for the hem of his shirt. She carefully lifted it up to see the deep cut, close to his left ribs.
Oh no… That wasn’t a simple cut.
Blood. Lots of it, hidden by his black shirt.
She looked up at him, pale. And Jason? In pain, but not worried about how serious it was.
“Jason, I can’t just stitch this together. We… we need a doctor, an X-ray, supplies I don’t keep in my bathroom cabinet.” She practically screamed. The desperation was clear in her voice—the cold, pragmatic tone she thought she had? All gone now.
He looked down at her, and for the first time that night, she saw an emotion in his eyes: fear. “No.”
She felt a new emotion rise—anger. Vivian’s jaw clenched. She was about to drag him out to a hospital, or to the cave where they could treat him like they always did, but he interrupted her.
His eyes now showed vulnerability—a new emotion, even after years of friendship. “Viv, no.”
And that’s when she cracked. She couldn’t be angry when he was this open in front of her. And literally bleeding like hell.
She got up and silently walked to the bathroom. She came back with her nursing kit. Vivian knew it probably wouldn’t be enough, that stitching him up might only be temporary, that he needed a doctor, and that it was reckless of her to give in.
But she also knew her best friend needed her. This wasn’t just about medical care—it was about emotional support, about having someone who cared about him tending to his wounds. So she knelt between his legs to reach the injury and do the best she could. He had left some supplies here once, so she had what she needed for a local anesthetic—though not a very good one. She tried hard not to hurt him, but she could tell he was holding back grunts and pained moans to look tough. She knew he was suffering by the way his chest rose, the way he breathed deeply, and the way he cursed every time the needle went into his skin.
It took about an hour—a torturous hour for him.
She finished as quickly as she could, patched him up, and checked for any other deep wounds. When she looked up at him, she saw his head resting on the couch, his eyes closed, his lips parted. He was weak and tired.
“Jay?” she called softly.
He didn’t move his head. His breathing was deep, and he was trying hard not to show any signs of pain, already feeling too weak and pathetic for needing her help.
“Yeah?” His voice was shaky, almost a whisper.
Vivian stood and looked down at him, concerned. “How are you feeling?”
“Just tired.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Just tired?”
“Just tired.”
“Bullshit.”
“Can you just give me a damn pillow, for god’s sake?” he said, struggling to lay back on the couch.
She sighed, knowing this wasn’t the moment to press him for a conversation. Vivian went to her bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket. She knew he wouldn’t be here tomorrow.
Before turning to leave, she looked at him one more time, with concern and a hint of sadness. It made her sick to think this wasn’t even the worst thing that could happen to him on a daily basis. She was worried he’d collapse, that he had internal bleeding, that he’d do something reckless. But she just took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away.
“If you need anything, call me. And if I don’t wake up, scream.” She turned and started walking to the hallway.
But when she reached the doorway, his voice stopped her.
“Hey.”
She looked back at him.
He wanted to say something, but he was struggling with words, like always. His gratitude was written all over his face—and something else, something she had never been able to name, not in all these years.
“I know.”