The wind washes over us as we wait at the front, making Trinity and Zaina’s hair flap in the wind like a flag. Kieran looks at the ground. I look at Kieran.
The Uber arrives and I help Kieran into the backseat and buckle his seatbelt. I expect him to complain that I’m babying him, but he slumps against the seat and closes his eyes.
“Look after him,” Trinity tells me as I get into the seat beside him.
I give her a nod, then close the door. As soon as the car drives off, I let out a long breath and cover my face with my hands. Fucking hell.
It’s almost midnight when the Uber drops us off at Senior’s house. Senior goes to bed early, but I’m still worried we’ll wake him up. Maybe I should have taken Kieran to mine, but I didn’t think about it when I ordered the Uber. It’s fine. Kieran will prefer to sleep in his own bed.
Kieran uses his key to unlock the front door, and I take him to his bedroom, holding him up even though he’s in no danger of falling over. I sit Kieran down on his bed and flick on the beside table lamp. “Wait here,” I whisper.
Quietly and quickly, I go to the kitchen and grab a handful of ice from the freezer, then wrap it up in a kitchen towel. I also go to the bathroom and grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet.
When I return to Kieran’s bedroom, I close the door and take a seat beside him. “Hold still,” I say, pressing the towel of ice to his nose.
Kieran lets out a soft hiss, but raises his hand to hold the ice.
I dig my phone out, the blue light from the screen bright in the dim room.
“What are you doing?”
“Searching up how to treat getting punched in the nose. Are you sure your nose isn’t broken? Shit, maybe we should go to the hospital —”
Kieran takes my hand. “I’m sure it’s not broken.”
“How do you know?” I hold up my phone. “It says it requires a medical diagnosis. I think we should go to the hospital.”
He rubs his fingers down the bridge of his nose. “It’s not deformed, so it’s not broken. Trust me.”
“Kieran,” I say helplessly. “How are we going to explain this to Senior?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
After a moment, I sigh and dig through the first-aid kit. I pull out a tube of anti-septic cream and nudge his hands holding the ice out of the way. “For the cut,” I explain, nodding at it on the bridge of his nose. “The internet says it could get infected.” I put some cream on my fingertip, then dab it on the cut.
Kieran holds still, brown eyes roaming my face. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“For putting you through all this trouble.” His voice is so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. “Imogen’s going to despise me for ruining her birthday party.”
“That’s what you’re worrying about right now?” I inspect his face for any other cuts.
“She’s been nothing but nice, and this is how I repay her. I’m a terrible friend”
Satisfied there aren’t any other cuts, I put the cream away and wipe my finger with a tissue. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” I murmur. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, it was,” Kieran says, bringing the ice against his nose again. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to do this.”
I shush him. “It’s not your fault,” I repeat. “Fin’s fucked with you all year, and… and…”And I just let him. I only stopped him tonight, after you were on the ground.
“I shouldn’t have —” Kieran cuts himself off and hangs his head. “I’ve ruined everything.”
I take his shoes off and changing his clothes for his pyjamas. Kieran doesn’t argue, and when I push him down so he’s lying back in his bed, he does.
“You haven’t ruined everything,” I whisper, kneeling on the ground by the bed, using my finger to brush the hair out of his eyes.
“I don’t want you to think I’m a violent person,” he says.
