SLEEPSONG (BoyxBoy)✔️

Chapter 168

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Eight

Louise ended up spreading the word around the house for us.

People with features that weren't human needed to keep a low profile for a while, but Horst apparently was the only one who didn't get the memo. In her own words, once she'd come back to talk with me, he "hated putting on pants" and "didn't care if anyone saw his furry ass" which led to me scurrying off to the kitchen with Bash hot on my heels, dogging my footsteps.

When we crashed inside, however, my mouth actually dropped open since the kid, to my literal shock, was attempting to shove a ridiculously large turkey into an orange Home Depot bucket.

He looked up, flushed-faced and frustrated, then froze like a deer in the headlights. His nostrils flared and he looked right at Sebastian, ears pulling back and going low. I hardly noticed. I simply stared at his hand, which was shoved into a very bloody turkey... actually, wait... oh. 

Oh, no. 

"What did you do?" I whispered, horrified to realize that the entire bucket was full of blood. "Horst! Did you cut yourself and... is that all yours?!"

"Y-yeah," he said, scowling at me. "So what? It was for your sake, Fang-Face--"

He squeaked when I bolted across the kitchen and pulled his arm out of the turkey, gasping when blood gushed out of a long cut on his wrist. I froze as the scent hit me, making my teeth ache and my mouth water, but I fought my instincts down and quickly rushed over to the pantry, grabbing the medical kit. I smashed it open, hastily trying to pull out some gauze--

"OW!" Horst yelped, and I whipped around to see Bash holding his arm, mouth clamped down tight over the wound. I dropped the medical case since blood ran down his chin. "OW! OW! OW!"

The hybrid tried to push him off, but Bash batted his hand away and held his wrist tight, face scrunched in the most serious of concentrated looks I'd ever seen him wear. Horst struggled, pulled, and even hit him a few times to no avail... but then he paused, swaying slightly.

"Horst, you okay?" I asked, and he looked at me, obviously unsteady.

"Pain is going away," he explained, shaking his head. "I'm a little dizzy though."

Bash pulled his lips away and let go of him, stiffly walking over to the sink and spitting out a mouthful of blood. I glanced at Horst's wrist to see that the wound had completely closed. 

"Never do that again," Sebastian said hoarsely, casting him a scalding glare. "You think you can't die from blood loss? Think again. You're not as impervious to damage as the rest of us. You may heal quicker than the average satyr, but you are very susceptible to open wounds."

"But Aerin," he said weakly, ears flopping down. "I just wanted to help him be able to enjoy Thanksgiving with the rest of us. He won't be able to unless its marinated with blood, right?"

"Yes, but giving yourself a cut that makes you bleed enough to fill a bucket is insanity," Bash said a little more gently, face slowly but surely beginning to gleam with sweat and stress. "I... very much appreciate the gesture, but you nicked your artery. You could have died doing this."

"Eh?" Horst squeaked, shocked. "I did?"

"Yes," Bash said, rinsing his mouth out with some water from the tap and swishing it around, grimacing all the while; he spit out red-tinged fluid and made a face. "You're lucky we caught you. Another five minutes and you'd have been unconscious."

"Well, what's done is done," Horst said, snagging the bucket and putting it on the floor; I watched as he squatted over it and gripped the legs, struggling to stuff it in. "Fuck..."