EVERY NIGHT AGAIN, DANCING WITH THE MOONLIGHT &— private

[WOLF BITE]

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[align=left][justify][sub]Wolfbite noticed all the wrappers scattered upon the ground, all seven of them. He'd eaten only once for seven days, no wonder why he was so thin and fragile, he barely ate. That would need to change in time if he wanted to avoid getting sick constantly. His current condition was pitiful. His duo-toned hair was greasy, a noticeable stench wafting from him that indicated he hadn't bathed in the time of his illness. He frowned, watching him turn over to emit an almost inaudible whine, seeming to protest against his help. "You are not okay, Cecil," he retorted, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling, taking one of the water bottles to unscrew the cap. Had he even had a sip of water while in this room? Slowly, his head shook in mild disappointment at the lack of care the younger had for himself. He slipped his hand beneath his head, gently tilting it upward as he pressed the edge of the bottle to his lips, urging him to drink from it.

"Drink." he said softly, though it was more of a demand. He would need him to hydrate first, after all, he had been sweating for seven days straight, it was a surprise that he had any fluid left to excrete. The tea would come next, something that would bring the fever down enough since he'd dropped a few tablets of dissolvable ibuprofen into it so he could have an easier time ingesting it.

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[align=left][justify][sub]It wasn't intentional to put so much conviction in his voice, it was out of habit. His face softened as he flinched, his lips twitching to form the words to an apology but he pursed them. He needed to know that he was incredibly serious about his health, apologizing won't take back what he said because he meant it. It didn't come to a surprise to Wolfbite as Cecil completely inhaled the water, assuming that he would be possibly dehydrated from the sweating. "Of course," he hummed, screwing the cap on to the empty bottle to retrieve another full one. He unscrewed the second bottle, pressing the edge to Cecil's lips again, tilting his head up so he could drink it correctly. "I made you some tea, as well. It will reduce your fever, hopefully." he murmured, looking at his eyes, seeing that they were rather unfocused and bleary. Soon, he'd get his strength back for him... He just needed to find someone who could cook instead of eating the processed bullshit in the cans.

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[align=left][justify][sub]He didn't understand himself, at this point. Before he became apart of this community, he had lived on his own for so long that it was slightly foreign to be around so many people at once. To care for so many people at once. He completely tossed away any regard for himself to mind the well-being of others. That was a selfless act that he had never been raised to execute, let alone feel the need to do. All of his life, he had been taught to degrade others and manipulate them for his own benefit. He hated it. He didn't want to be a monster. Which explained the scar on his left eye, something to remember the day he defied his father and became his own free man. It's an important day for the Successor. Wolfbite was so immersed in making sure Cecil was alright, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he asked what happened to his face. He had forgotten what had happened to him. "Just a little fight I got into. I'm fine, really," he murmured, lifting the cup of tea he had and handing it to the other, making sure he grabbed it by the handle so he didn't burn himself from the heat of the mug. "It's honey and ginger, it may have a strange taste. You don't have to drink if you don't want to."

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[align=left][justify][sub]Much like Cecil, there was only one aspect of life he was completely accustomed to a way of life that was taught to him at a young age. It was all he knew. To be someone who didn't give a damn about the feelings of others, to be someone he knew he didn't want to be. But, it was so engraved in his head that he couldn't seem to shake it away. The guilt that he felt boiling in the pit of his stomach from committing these good deeds were eating him up inside - he was a good person, right? That's all that mattered? He didn't know anymore. From the moment he joined, he felt like he was on auto-pilot and he was just going along with whatever his body chose to do. It wasn't a way to live. Though, with Cecil, it felt... Different. With Cecil, he didn't feel that regret, he felt like he was doing just what it was. The right thing. He wanted to make that feeling last forever, but he couldn't have the sickly man trail behind him and get involved with his twisted life. He wasn't a good man. No matter how many times he told himself, he wasn't. It didn't make up for all the suffering people he ignored, all the innocent people he's killed. Nothing could just wipe that off his record. Nothing.

Cecil's concern for him had taken him by surprise, confused that the other for worrying so much about him when he was only doing what he was obligated to do. Perhaps, it really wasn't something that was required, but his desire to feel better about himself had urged him to do so. And now? He felt nothing. Which, he supposed, was better than feeling guilty. His mouth parted to respond to him, likely brushing off his unease, but he was interrupted with the younger man reaching toward him to wrap his thin arms around his broad shoulders. He visibly stiffened, said shoulders tensing up with the rest of his body at the act of affection that was completely alien to him. He had never in his life received a hug. Not even a pat on the fucking back. This... This was something he had always craved for. He lusted for a god damn hug. His brain felt as if it was malfunctioning - short circuiting from this random gesture. What should he do? Does he hug him back? Would he even like that? Of course he would, he hugged you first. The Russian's face scrunched up slightly at his own thoughts, crisscrossing and jumbling together. Slowly, his arms lifted from their position in his lap, twitching as if they were deciding what they should do. His waist, you idiot. Right, right. They wrapped around Cecil's waist, attempting to find away to comfortably do so without making him feel uncomfortable until he settled with a little above the small of his back.

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[align=left][justify][sub]The pulsating pain extended from the trauma along scattered pieces of his face was familiar. Like a fleeting melody trapped inside the deep caverns of your mind. He's felt this much agony originating in one area before, it was years ago, but almost fresh in his memories as if it had happened just a few days ago. He could still feel the hard knuckles connecting with his face, splitting open his once flawless skin to stain it with the blood that should have been kept hidden. Wolfbite didn't know much about medicine other than what to stop infections, which he was quick to do with his own injuries. It stung like fucking hell, but he hardly flinched. He set some gauze on the open lacerations, putting a cross of bandages onto it to make it stick and... He was done, right? Right. Now, that was enough about his own well-being, he wouldn't die, he would be fine. His swollen eye would need some ice, but it wasn't urgent. The Russian held a basket in his hands; water bottles, a steaming cup of tea, and a container of ice water and rags filled it.

His destination was to Cecil's room, worried for the sickly boy since he hadn't seen him within a week, his absence incredibly prominent to him. After all, he tended to focus more on those who were less likely to survive. He wanted to protect him. Approaching the makeshift room, he gently shifted the basket in his hand to balance it while his knuckles rapped against the metal of the shelves to notify the younger of his presence. "Cecil?" he murmured, keeping his voice lowered in case he was sleeping. He didn't want to wake him since he would need his rest to get his strength. Wolfbite settled down beside him, flickering his chocolate brown eyes across his flushed features. The poor thing was suffering. The blond sighed softly, putting the basket on to the floor and opening the top of the plastic container to take one of the white rags out, wringing it so only some of the water collected in the fabric. He folded it in a neat rectangle, setting it on to his forehead which was hot to the touch. "Cecil, it's me, Wolfbite."

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