Charlie P.O.V

Michael parks his truck in the garage and hurries inside. The snow is coming down thick. It seems like the storm is coming a bit quicker than the forecast anticipated.

"Thanks for letting me stay here during the storm." Michael sits down on the couch next to me.

I carefully prop my leg up on the coffee table. The aspirin worked for a bit, but now it's starting to wear off. My leg is starting to hurt again.

"It's fine, just let your family know so they don't worry," I tell him.

I know that my parents would call my phone if they ever bothered to check the weather up here. Unfortunately, they're too busy traveling in the tropical climate to care if I'm freezing my ass off in the snow.

"I already texted my dad."

I turn the television on the weather channel. According to the forecast, our area could be expecting at least three to five feet of snow. That's a lot of snow very suddenly.

I sigh softly and lean my head back. My leg is killing me. It must be infected, which is bad. I should clean it again, but I don't want to worry Michael. Cleaning it is rather painful.

"The forecast says that it probably won't stop snowing for a couple of days at least," Michael points out.

"That's a lot of snow," I mumble softly.

I used to love when it started snowing when I was younger. I would make snowmen and snow angels, have snowball fights with my family, and jump off the top of the car if the snow was soft enough. Now the snow is a hassle and only causes problems. I can no longer enjoy it.

I slowly lean my head on Michael's shoulder. I'm tired and in pain, but at least Michael is here to numb some of my non-physical pain. It's nice to have someone I care about.

Michael puts his arm around my shoulders and plays with my hair. I smile and close my eyes. Having my hair being played with feels very soothing. It almost makes me forget about the pain in my leg.

Michael feels my forehead after a moment. "You feel warm," he says with a worried tone.

"You're warm," I say softly through a yawn.

"You feel like you have a fever," Michael adds, feeling my head again to make sure.

"I'm fine." I swat his hand away gently.

"It's your leg, isn't it?" he asks with concern.

"My leg is fine," I lie.

My leg is obviously the source of the problem. I've attempted to clean it, but the gashes did come from a wolf. God only knows where the wolf was when it scratched me.

Before I know it, Michael is carrying me upstairs. A soft groan escapes my lips as he continues to carry me to the bathroom.

"Your leg is going to get infected if we don't clean it. You're already running a fever," Michael says, sitting me down on the bathroom counter.

"How do you know about my leg?" I ask, leaning against the mirror.

"Not important," he mumbles.

I never told Michael that my leg was scratched up by a wolf. Perhaps he could tell something was wrong by the way I was limping. I suppose it would be possible.

"I'm gonna take your jeans off so I can see your thigh," Michael explains.

In all honesty, I wouldn't mind if he was trying to take my pants off. I hate to admit it, but I've wanted him to for quite a while. I don't want to seem desperate, but I would be willing to do so for Michael.

He unbuttons my jeans and slides them down until he can see the bandages covering my thigh. He looks up at me with concern.

"Have you cleaned this?"

"Twice," I mutter, knowing the next several minutes are going to hurt like hell.

Michael sighs and slowly unwraps the bandages. I bite my lip and shut my eyes tightly. I don't want to see my thigh because I have a feeling that it's gotten worse.

"This looks bad, Charlie," Michael says softly, making me open my eyes.

My leg is clearly inflamed. The semi-deep claw marks have not started to close up yet. I know they are still fairly new, but I would expect them to clot with blood and scab over.

"It's too risky to go to the hospital right now," I tell him, grabbing the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

Michael bites his lip and sighs. I can tell that he doesn't want to use the hydrogen peroxide because he knows that it will hurt me. I hand him the bottle anyway.

"I've done it twice already, just do it," I tell him.

Michael slowly opens the bottle and pours a good amount onto a cloth. I'm already dreading what's soon to come.

Slowly, Michael begins to clean out the gashes. I tense up from the burning sensation now coursing through my thigh.

"God, dammit," I hiss out, gripping onto the edges of the counter.

"I'm sorry, it'll be over soon," Michael apologizes while wrapping my leg a bit loosely.

I've been wrapping my leg pretty tightly, which I suppose could be what's irritating it much. Hopefully, my leg will stay clean and I won't have to use any more hydrogen peroxide for a while. 

Michael easily picks me up from the counter and carries me out. He carries me to my bedroom before laying me gently on the bed. I bite my lip softly as the pain slowly begins to fade.

Michael is about to leave the room when I sit up. "Will you lay with me, please?" I ask softly.

Michael seems surprised at first, but nods. He walks back to the bed and lays down next to me. I hug him rather tightly and sigh.

"Thank you," I say softly.

Michael gently pulls me close and plays with my hair. I smile and close my eyes. I'm glad that this is finally happening.