My poetic analogies are so romantic, I would conquer at poetry readings

                                    

                                          
Dedicated to Naja, who has been such a sweetheart to me on this site. You're one classy girl, love, and thank you so much for being my friend. 
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Logan and I were seated on the edge of an ambulance as a paramedic agent finished tying up yet another white cloth, though this third one was wrapped around my forearm. It turned out that jumping out of a car onto rocks and dirt gave me some pretty bad wounds. I know, right? What a shocker. 
Logan was swabbing cream onto the cuts on his face as I waited for the paramedic to finish. I winced as she secured the cloth. 
"Does it sting?" the paramedic asked in concern, immediately removing her hands. 
"A bit," I shrugged. "Nothing too bad, though."
"Movement will cause pain," she said, giving me an apologetic smile. She took a step back and brushed her hands together, signaling a job finished. "You're going to need to remove your bandages twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. Make sure to apply the ointments I've listed and try not to slam your wounds against anything."
I thanked her for her help, and the paramedic gave a swift bow before walking off to talk to an agent in the distance. 
Police cars had swarmed the area by now, and the officers were arguing with the agents. I watched as a cop waved his arms, barking something at a black-clad agent who didn't even seem to be paying attention. Typical--this always happened. XYZ didn't trust any other branch of help to assist them and were quite insistent on giving everyone who tried the cold shoulder. 
"Sparrow," Logan spoke up. "I need you to come here."
I scooted closer to my bodyguard until we were both sitting cross-legged, facing each other with our knees touching. He took my chin in between his fingers while he began gently smoothing a thin layer of the antibiotic cream over the cuts on my faces and hands. There was a slight burn every time he applied the cream, but a cooling sensation followed. Once Logan caped the tube, I no longer felt the sting of my cuts. 
"Feeling better?" he asked, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. 
"Peachy keen," I answered, rubbing at my clothed wrist. "I always feel so splendid after jumping out of cars. It's so refreshing, don't you think?"
Logan's eyes rolled so far back into his head that they might've gotten stuck there. "You're never going to give me a straight answer, are you?"
"Are you kidding me?" a voice nearby snorted. "She's a Sparrow. That clan strives for complicated."
I whipped my head towards the boy who approached us, and suddenly all I could feel was a flooding sensation of absolute joy. In a matter of seconds, I had shot off the ambulance to pull the boy into my arms. 
"P-Park," the kid choked. "I c-can't breathe!"
"I don't care!" My grip grew even tighter, forming an iron prison around the boy's chest while I buried my face in his dark locks. I smiled as I realized there was a tightness constricting my waist. For a moment, the two of us stood in a tight embrace, neither party willing to let go. 
Finally, Logan gave an awkward little cough, prompting me to loosen my arms. However, my hands cupped the boy's face, taking in every angle that he grew into, noticing that his glasses had gotten thicker and he had cut his hair. Long brown strands no longer fell into his dark eyes but instead were swept upwards, revealing the crinkles on the corners of his eyes. 
"Logan," I said, facing my bodyguard with a humongous smile on my face, "meet Jasper Bishop. He's Elijah's half-brother."
For a moment, I saw Jasper's own grin slip before the corners of his lips quickly tugged upwards again. If Logan saw, he didn't show it. His eyes were watching me instead, an almost curious glint in his gold-like gaze before they flickered over to Jasper. Logan smiled and hopped off the ambulance to stride over to us.