LIBBY

***

Well that went horribly.

I hadn't planned on answering the call at all, but in my panic I'd hit 'answer' instead of 'ignore' and now I had two parents that looked disappointed in me, a brother who is cackling his head off and a guy outside who I think has just punched a wall.

I understood why Jasper blew up, and bless him, but there's one person he shouldn't blow up and it's my dad. But I do get it, and I won't shout at him for it.

Dad's face went white as a sheet when I'd mentioned I was at Jasper's house... and I'm guessing from the oversized hoodie I was wearing and the fact Jasper had sauntered in in his pyjamas, he had made the assumption that we'd had a one-night stand. And then Jasper blew up at the fact my dad looked disappointed in me.

But although Jasper, again, stuck his foot in it, he'd actually been really sweet. Despite the swearing and the shouting. He'd assured both me and my parents that this, whatever this is, is more than a one night thing. Although now that he'd gone and stormed off, it was now down to me to try and talk him down from his mood.

"Sweetie, do you know what you're doing?" Dad asks, recovering after the shock of Jasper's verbal tirade.

"Yes. I know what I'm doing. It's not as bad as it looks. He's good to me and he likes me for me, and he's kind and funny. He's just... a bit hotheaded sometimes."

"And you've known him a week?" He asks, not convinced.

I nod. "So?" I shrug. "I'm only here for nine, maybe ten months... and I do like him Dad. I like him a lot already."

He shakes his head and doesn't seem convinced at all. I knew I liked him. And I liked him enough to ignore my parents wishes if I wanted. I mean what exactly could they do from England? It's not as if he's interfering with my classes or anything. He wouldn't do that.

"We just don't want you to get distracted, Lib. You've done so well the last two years and we don't want to see that go to waste."

"Dad, come on, you can't make a split judgement about him just from talking to him for five minutes. He was kind of surprised. So was I, to be fair."

"Surprised?"

"Yeah. The phone call. We didn't agree a time or anything?"

"What? Would you have hidden him if we'd agreed a time."

"No," I say shortly, bunching my hands into fists. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant that a little warning would have been nice."

I hear a chuckle from the background again and Rob's head pushes next to Dad's. Dad tuts but moves out of the way.

"I like him," he says and I smile. "I think he's going to be good for you. And speaking as your older brother and your protector... if he so much as hurts you, shouts at you or upsets you in any way... I'm coming over there."

I snort. I didn't doubt he'd have my back, he's always been my unofficial protector. I just knew I wouldn't need him.

Sure Jasper is quick to explode, and he shouts. But I've come to learn already that when Jasper shouts, he's not shouting at me. He's got issues and I knew that. But now Mum and Dad could see that. They didn't understand how far he'd come already, and that I was getting through to him. And they didn't know that, no matter what, I'm going to be there for him every step of the way.

"Guys, I want to go check he's okay. Can I call you back later?" I say, my hand hovering over the end button.

"Honey..." Dad starts to protest, but I glare at him. "Fine..." He changes his tack. "Just be careful. And don't do anything stupid."

I nod and roll my eyes and say my goodbyes. Then as soon as I've hit the button I'm out of my seat and out the door.

I gasp as I get to the corridor and cup my mouth. Becca is cleaning up glass, and I was right in thinking Jasper had punched something. But he hadn't just punched anything. He'd punched a mirror, and I could see from the blood on the floor that he'd most definitely hurt himself. And from the amount of blood and from Becca's pale face... I'd say badly.

"Be-" I start but she's already there.

"First aid kit's just under the sink in the bathroom. He went to the gym downstairs. I'm not even going to try."

I nod, too panicked to say anything other than a squeak of an oh my god. I find the first aid kit and dash down the corridor to the sound of someone punching a bag.

The door isn't locked, thank god, so I open it quietly.

He has his back to me as he punches the bag at the other end of the room. There's a trail of blood droplets that lead towards him and I can see a pool of it at the bottom of the punchbag. And as he turns and sees me, I can see he's been using his bad hand to punch the bag.

"Jasper!" I cry, running over to him.

He stops punching and falls to the floor, his legs giving way either due to exertion or pain. He was sweating and his skin was dripping. He's panting and cradling his arm but he's at least coherent.

"What are you doing?" I ask, cupping his head with both of my hands, dropping the first aid kit next to him.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice raspy from being out of breath. "I am so so sorry."

"Jasper it's fine. But what the hell did you do!"

"I punched... ah! The mirror," he tries to flex his hand but it looks like the skin pulls on his thumb. He screws his eyes shut and cradles his hand again, moving it away from me.

"I can see that. Let me take a look," I say, pulling his arm closer, not even waiting for his response.

He has a sizeable gash on the side of his hand, but it's not deep. The deeper one is on his thumb. It's bleeding profusely, but the skin doesn't even look like skin. It's scar tissue, so it makes me question how many windows he's had to punch through to get it this bad.

"You'll need stitches," I say, holding his hand still while I opened the first aid kit. The arm would be fine but the thumb definitely needs stitches.

The first aid kit is well-stocked, and thankfully full of antiseptic wipes. So the first thing I do is make sure the wounds are both clean and that there isn't any glass in there. I spy a pair of tweezers, and a piece of glass in his arm, so I grit my teeth and swallow, my hands beginning to shake.

"Jasper, there's glass in your arm. I'm going to try to take it out, okay?" I'm talking to him like he's a child, but he doesn't seem to notice. It's more for my benefit than for his.

He nods and shuffles closer to me, gripping the handle on the bottom of the punchbag hard to stop himself from moving.

"Here goes. Ready?" He doesn't say anything but I just start pulling the pieces out, trying not to flinch myself.

He doesn't scream. He doesn't even make a sound. He barely moves. But when I pull out the fifth and final piece of glass, he's white as a sheet. He's ghostly white, but still with me and conscious, which is a relief. And as the last piece of glass comes out, his colour comes back.

"That's all of it. But I do want to take a look at that thumb."

He nods again and breathes sharply. "You're good at this." His voice is shaky as he laughs nervously.

I laugh nervously as well, trying my best to make light of the situation. "I have two older brothers. You get used to it."

He laughs but groans loudly as I run a disinfectant wipe over the gash on his arm against now that I've got all the glass out. It clearly stings because he's tensed every muscle in his arm. It looks worse than it is, and it'll hopefully start scabbing over within a couple of days, but at least all the glass is out.

The thumb though. That does look bad. It looks like a piece of glass has basically ripped the skin in two. And the more I look at it, I think I can see bone... but that might be me overreacting.

"You should really get this looked at by a doctor. It's nasty," I say, looking at it closely, praising my iron stomach. "Ah!" I grimace same as him as he involuntarily flexes his thumb. The cut opens slightly and oozes a tiny stream of blood down his hand.

"It's fine. You done any... sewing?" He jokes, grimacing again as he lets the bag go, the muscles in his other arm flexing.

"Yeah but Jasper... I'm not stitching up your-"

"I trust you," he cuts me off, a droplet of sweat dripping down his head.

I look at him, but he's clearly serious.

I stammer and shake my head, brushing my hair back from my eyes. My hands are shaking and I feel like I'm about to cry, but he leans forward and captures my lips quickly with his. His bad hands remains limp in his lap but his good hand tangles into my hair.

"I can't go to a hospital. I can't," he whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. "I can't go back there."

He's looking me dead in the eye and his eyes are filled with terror and dread.

"Please?" He begs, his voice barely a whisper.

I really shouldn't do it. Sure, I've patched up Andy after a few scrapes, Rob too, but I'd never stitched anyone up before.

"Has your mum got a sewing kit?" I ask, kissing his head. He's hot but I think it's because of his physical exertions. It can't be fever setting in already? Can it?

He nods. "In her room. And I have a lighter somewhere in here." He sounds out of breath.

"A lighter?" I question.

"To sterilise the needle... and there should be stitching material in the first aid bag. Mum's patched me up before."

I nod. "Okay. You wait here. Don't go to sleep, whatever you do, okay?"

He shakes his head. "I won't."

I kiss him again, a long kiss, then dash up to the kitchen to find the sewing kit.

"Do you have a sewing kit?" Becca is now sitting at the table, thankfully looking slightly less peaky.

She nods. "First drawer of my wardrobe. Is he refusing to go to the hospital?"

"Yeah. He's making me do it..." I shake my head but hold my nerve.

"He's stubborn, that boy, but I know his reasons. Do you need any help?"

"Maybe," I shrug, quickly dashing into the room she's just pointed at. "He did stay still though. So maybe I'll call for you?"

She nods and she looks thankful. She's still pale, and I don't want both of them fainting on me. I'm guessing maybe she's squeamish.

"It's okay. I can manage," I smile as I walk past her.

I run back into the gym and he's still sitting upright just as he promised. His hand is on the bottom of the punchbag again, but at least the colour is vaguely coming back to his face.

I hold up the needle, and find the stitch and thread it through, and I go to where he points the lighter is. I hold the flame to the needle for too long than I need, to make sure it's completely sterile before I start threading.

"Jasper, are you sure you don't want to go to hospital? You're not going to blame me if you have to have it amputated?"

He chuckles, "Now there's a way to reassure a guy. And, no I won't blame you. It's fine. I trust you."

I kneel in front of him but sigh. "Fine." I take a deep shaky breath. "I need better light. Have you got your phone?"

"Yeah. Hang on," he grimaces, leaning awkwardly back and I lean forward to see his phone in his back pocket. I pull it out and turn on the torch.

"Hold it here with your good hand okay. Right there," I direct it so it's shining the light directly on the wound. "There. Okay, now this is really going to hurt."

"I know. It's okay. I won't move, I promise." His green eyes bore into mine, and I swallow loudly, swallowing my fear.

"Okay... count of three. One... two... three."

***

True to his word, he held the torch stock still, he barely moved and he even didn't make a sound as I threaded eight stitches into his thumb. He's shaking, either with pain or from fear, but when the cut is stitched, cleaned and covered, we both flop backwards on the gym mats out of sheer adrenaline exhaustion.

"You okay?" He asks me. He doesn't sit up, but I can hear the anxiety in his voice, even though it still sounds odd and shaky.

"I've just patched you up and stitched you up without any anaesthetic and you're asking me if I'm okay?" I sit up and look at him incredulously, moving to lie down next to him so our heads are on the same level. "I should be asking you."

He grins. "It hurts a bit. But I'm okay. Thank you."

I lean up and shuffle forward to him. "We need to keep a close eye on it though okay? The minute it starts to itch or ooze... anything... we're heading straight to the hospital, no questions asked."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine. We won't need to," he assures me, tucking my hair back behind my ear and kissing my nose. "You were amazing. My hero," he chuckles, touching my nose with his index finger.

I could feel my hands shaking so much, and I laugh, or at least try to. The laugh comes out as a sob, and I put my forehead on his chest as he brings his good arm around me, leaving the other one by his side. I wasn't leaving his side tonight, or tomorrow, not until I knew he'd be okay and that it wasn't infected.

"How have we already gone through so much?" He whispers.

I look up at him but I don't have to say anything. I know what I'm thinking, and from the warm smile he gives me before kissing me firmly, he knows it too.