Edited: 19/09/21

Blair hated school, that was probably expected from anyone who went to any type of school. But she didn't hate school itself, just the multitude of work she had to do or finish at home. Reports and assignments filled her spare time ore then she cared to admit.

She was sat on the living room floor, using a blanket as her protection from the cold — simply because it was closer to her and therefor she didn't have get up to shut the window.

With said laziness, came the fact that she was sat on the floor in the dark with the harsh light of her computer screen on as bright as possible so she didn't fall asleep.

Long hours spent at her med school followed by ballet was exhausting, especially when she had to stay up to complete homework, that was not including the hours she spent working at a local cafe.

Lucky for her, her father (who was pretty loaded) was happy to pay for education and her inheritance from her mother (that she only recently got access to) went towards her bills whilst money she made from work went towards her dance lessons.

Unlike Blair, Claire was able to catch a good handful of hours to sleep. But unlucky for her, she had to work the early shift.

Blair often tried to be considerate, but when her mind was drifting and her body was slowly falling asleep she liked to music to distract herself. She hoped Claire didn't mind, but she played it quiet enough to not bother her roommate, and loud enough to keep her awake.

Blair opened Spotify, scrolling through her 'please stay the fuck awake' playlist, she pressed shuffle before returning to her word document. She stared at the screen, partly hoping that words would appear for her and she would no longer have to write about the affects of drugs on the mind and how it can further affect people.

After getting bored of the living room floor, Blair had repositioned her work station to the kitchen counters, her laptop resting onto of the toaster whisky she sat crosslegged on the surface.

Her coffee had gone cold as she pressed words on her keyboard before hating on what she wrote and deleting it all. The pattern had gone on for a little to long, and it had began to stress her out.

A cat jumped onto the counter, continuously bumping his head against her leg, before climbing into her lap. Blair stared down at him, shaking her head slightly. "Dumb cat."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Blair mumbled along to the music as she managed to get back into writing, her speed increasing as passion took over her mind. She had chosen to focus more on the affects on young people's minds and how it could affect them as they became an adult and further into their life.

The concentration was lost as a tap of the window made her fall of the kitchen side — luckily she caught her laptop after she knocked it. An 'ow' left her lips as she pushed herself up to be sitting.

She was fairly confused about the taping before remembering that they had acquainted a vigilante that over the past few days had a tendency to show up injured.

"Yeah. Coming." She mumbled, carefully pressing her hand to the part of her head that she hit. She removed her hand to see no blood. "It's open, I didn't lock I just shut it."

'Mike' pushed the window open, climbing in. He came over to the fallen woman, offering his hand out for her to take. "How's your head?"

"Hurts, I just hit it on the tiles." Blair answered, taking his hand and allowed him to help pull her up. "So, how far away from death are you? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Only a four."

"Oh, I'm glad." She nodded, before realising that was by helping the headache that had came to join her. "Wouldn't want your pretty face leaving me alone anytime soon."

"You think I'm pretty?" 'Mike' asked, a small smirk upon his lips.

Blair hummed as she took her hand from his and wandered over to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. "Yeah, you're nice on the eyes. I imagine a lot hotter without the blood, maybe a suit to." She spoke, finding the first aid box.

'Mike' was silent his brows raised under the mask. "Huh?"

"You're hot, you nice body and a face I like. You're just bloody . . . a lot. Do people not question that? Like think your abused by a lover or something?"

"People just think I walk into things." He told her, following her over to the living room.

Blair turned on the main light, taking a seat next to him on the sofa. She opened the first aid box, sanitising her hands before pulling on the blue rubber gloves.

She gently pulled the mask off his head before cleaning his face. Her hands and fingers were gentle as she moved his face in the light, peering closer to his face.

She looked at one particular scar running down his jawline. She traced it with her finger, watching the way pain was emulated onto his face. She was almost fascinated with how pain was reflected on different people.

"Sorry." She muttered softly, pulling her hand back. "I'm not meant to do that."

"It's fine." He told her, as she picked up what she needed to clean and stitch it.

"No, it's not, slap me next time I do it."

"Do you do it often?" He asked.

"A little. I try and refrain. I mean if I did that in actual medical place I'd be totally done for." She told him, angling his head in a position that made it easier for her to stitch him up and see what she was working with in the light.

"I'm not going to hit you."

Blair smiled, shaking her head in amusement. "I could totally take it."

"Don't doubt it."

"Shut up, else I'll mess up." She told him, readjusting the position of his head after he moved to speak to her.

After a few stitches she was done against the once open cut, she was able to to work on cleaning the marks that didn't need stitching up.

"So what happened? Save a kid? Killed anyone?"

"Drug dealers." 'Mike' told her. "I don't kill."

"No, right, of course not, how silly of me. You simply their lives difficult." Blair spoke, staring at his chest as she figured out how exactly she was supposed to tell him to take of his shirt.

"You know me so well."

"You need to strip." Blair spoke quickly. Her eyes widened just after, her face red.

"Wow, didn't realise we got there so quickly."

"I wasn't meant to say that, especially not like that." She said, regretting allowing herself to ever speak to anyone ever. "I am so sorry."

'Mike' chuckled gently patting her leg, before gripping the base of his black shirt and pulled it over his body.

Blair stared at him, swallowing as she cry quickly pulled her eyes away from his body.

"You okay?" He asked, a small smirk on his lips. A type of smirk that if she was looking at him she would either be a lot more red then she was or slap it from his face.

It was then she realised how close they where despite only knowing each other for a couple days. Her legs had rested over his simply so she wasn't in an awkward position whilst stitching him up. Hell, if the faced each other and Blair wasn't staring at the wall, the two would feel the others breathing fanning their face.

"Yep, I'm . . . I'm, yeah I'm good." Blair stumbled out, nodding. It was completely unconvincing to the two of them.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked innocently, placing a hand on the side of her face, turning her to look at him.

"I'm fine. I said I was fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" She asked, very defensively.

"No reason." 'Mike' said, slowly shaking his head.

"Stop smirking." She told him, pulling her legs away and standing up, she pushed his shoulders down, making him lying back on the sofa.

The smirk hadn't left his lips. "Didn't realise we'd gotten to this part so quickly."

Blair blinked before realising what he was saying. She lightly hit him in her chest. "Get me dinner first, and your actual name."

"Don't get to ahead of yourself."

Blair laughed lightly, cleaning up the the blood on his chest, making sure nothing would get infected. "You don't have any glass or metal or what ever else you could have inside of you?" 'Mike' shook his head, allowing her to get to work as she moved onto her knees as she cleaned and stitched up his cuts. "I am glad, I'm not awake enough to dig around inside of you."

She didn't pay attention to how his body reacted, it made it easier for her to not get mesmerised by the pain when she tricked herself into think each cut was fatal to him — even when none of them were.

"You know how you can smell people from really far?"

'Mike' made a noise suggesting he knew what she was on about.

"Does that mean you can't be surprised or scared by people?"

"Pretty much."

'Mike' sat up when Blair was finished. "I doubt you're going out again, it's like four am." Blair said, passing him back his shirt and mask.

"It's four?"

"Yeah, you got here at like half two."

"Why were you up at two?"

"I had to finish my school work, I don't get a lot of time during the day between work, dance and school."

Blair stood up and walked into the kitchen, to put away the first aid box. She ripped of the rubber blue gloves, binned them before washing her hands. She grabbed her computer off the floor where she left it, placing it on charge before making the two of them done water.

"Do people commit crimes at four in the morning?" Blair asked, joining 'Mike' on the sofa, she pressed a glass into his hand.

"Not commonly."

"Do I get a name yet?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

"Why do you hate the name 'Mike' so much?"

She didn't hate the name, she hated the man Claire dated. She hated the man who didn't understand boundaries. Blair hadn't noticed how her body had tensed. "Oh, no reason."

"Blair, I know you're lying."

"It's fine, it's over now. No point dwelling on the past."

His brows furrowed at her as she drank the cold water in her glass, ignoring the way his face had morphed into concern.