I slam open the door. He looks flushed. His color drained from his face and his arms were bleeding. A damn good boyfriend I am. Wait... boyfriend? I sit him on the couch.

"What the Hell were you thinking punk?" I say.

He shrugs.

"You have no powers!" I yell.

He looks down. Arghhhh... I slap my forehead.

"Sorry." I grunt.

Yelling never helps. I can feel my throat burning from that. He grips his arms. They were still shaking.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

He nods. I let out a breath. I take up his hands. He winces.

"Sorry. Yeah... it's not pretty at all." I say.

He had several scars. They look deep and we're gushing out blood. The skin around them looked darker as if the wound was infected. Yikes. He nods as if to tell me he already knows. I nod back. I pull out bandages and medicine. I bend down. I wet a towel with alcohol.

"Okay, this is going to sting." I say.

He nods. I place it on the wound. I start moving them up and down. He winces. I know he's not going to scream, he can't. At least I can focus on the wound. I grip the towel.

"How you holding up?" He asks.

He shrugs. There's not much to say.

"I know." I sigh.