36 | Stitched

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Matteo guided Ryder into the house, his grip steady, though the silence between them grew thick with tension. 

Ryder leaned heavily against him, gritting his teeth with every step, each flare of pain tightening his resolve to keep his defenses up, especially with Matteo. 

The moment they reached the spare room, Ryder pulled away, wincing as he took a shaky breath. "I'm fine from here. Just need a kit, a needle, and some gauze. I can handle it myself."

Matteo frowned, crossing his arms as he studied Ryder's pale face. "You're kidding, right? You can barely stand, let alone stitch up your own wound."

Ryder shot him a look, cold and unyielding. "I've done it before. Believe it or not, I don't need your help."

"Like hell, you don't." Matteo's tone was sharp, the hint of irritation igniting in his eyes. He reached for his phone. "I'm calling the doctor. We don't need this turning into an infection or—"

"Put the phone down," Ryder snapped, his voice low and firm. "I don't need a doctor. I'm not your problem, Matteo. Just get me the damn kit."

Matteo's hand froze, the phone clutched tightly in his fingers as he narrowed his gaze at Ryder. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to prove here, but bleeding out in silence isn't it."

"Trying to prove something?" Ryder let out a humorless laugh, his gaze hardening. "This has nothing to do with you. Just get me what I need, and leave me alone."

Matteo clenched his jaw, the anger simmering beneath the surface flashing in his eyes. 

"If you want to be stupid, that's on you. But I'm not going to stand by while you make it worse." He turned his back to Ryder, but instead of heading for the first aid kit, he dialed the number, his voice clipped. 

"Hey, it's Matteo. We've got a situation. I need you to come here, now."

Ryder shook his head, frustration and exhaustion mixing with the pain that pulsed through him. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "I don't need saving, Matteo. Not from you."

As soon as Matteo left the room, Ryder dragged himself over to the bathroom, the cold tile floor and fluorescent light adding a harshness to the quiet space. 

He gritted his teeth, determined to ignore Matteo's infuriating insistence on calling for backup he didn't need. 

This was something he could handle himself; he'd done it countless times before.

Ryder opened the cabinet under the sink, rummaging through its contents, knocking over bottles and supplies in a desperate search for the first aid kit. 

He let out a frustrated huff, shoving aside a stack of towels before finally spotting a compact, white box stashed in the back. 

With trembling fingers, he pulled it out, setting it on the counter as he took a shaky breath.

He eased himself onto the edge of the bathtub, unrolling the supplies with one hand pressed to his wound, each move a jolt of agony that threatened to break his composure. 

Ignoring the relentless throb in his side, he threaded the needle, the small metal glinting under the bathroom light. 

His vision blurred, but he blinked it away, focusing on each careful movement.

The first prick of the needle burned, and he clenched his jaw, his breathing shallow as he forced the stitch through his skin. 

He didn't bother numbing the area, the pain somehow grounding him, giving him a sense of control he hadn't felt since the night started spiraling out of his hands.

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 18 ⏰

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