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Chase knew to be careful around heat, but sometimes things slipped his mind.
There was no sizzling sound when his hand brushed against the boiling kettle, only a hiss of pain leaving his mouth like a wounded animal.
The skin became red and painful—burned.
He was looking at his hand, but at the same time he wasn’t. His hand was smaller, more fragile.
The soft baby skin surrounded the flaming imprint of the home stove. Tears wetted his face, landing on the fist cradled close to his chest.
A hand kept his mouth shut and quiet, “Shh Robbie. Don’t cry.”
Half of her face remained in shadow, the other was glowing orange, dousing her in a soft, warm light. She was smiling.
“Don’t ever cry.”
‘But it hurts,’ he wanted to say, but only muffled sobs made it past. Somehow Mum knew what he meant regardless. “Oh baby, this is good. Know you know what pain feels like, real pain—the kind that makes you feel alive.”
Robert felt his heart race in his chest. Wasn’t that enough?
Her gripped tightened on his face, painted nails digging into his cheek, before letting go completely.
“You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that. Mummy loves you and here you are crying like a baby.”
He meant to stop crying, for her sake, but the scalding hot pain overpowered him.
“Chase….”
She shook her head, reaching for her glass of red liquid, it was darker in color than the fire, but it burned in his throat all the same. After big gulps, she started crying with him.
“Oh honey—”
“Chase!”
“This is our secret now,” she kissed his hand and he understood.
This was the price you pay for love.
“Chase, snap out of it.”
House was in front of him. His hands were on his shoulder, gripping tight, but he released the pressure when they made eye contact.
“Oh.”
He was looking at him, but he couldn’t understand it. All he knew was the pain—a familiar sensation ghosting his skin.
“There you are,” House released a breath, Chase should be breathing, but he couldn’t feel anything. “You burned yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s take a look,” he made a reach for his wrist, cradled against his body. House easily penetrates his defensive and took it in his own.
He saw it too, the injury—the burn. But despite all his training, he had no idea what to do about it but stare.
House took charge. He run his hand under water.
Chase saw the water rushing; he didn’t know if it was hot or not.
“It was an accident.”
House was still holding his wrist steady over the sink like he was afraid Chase couldn’t do it himself. Despite their position, he managed to look at his face. Whatever House saw made him hesitant.
“Of course it was.”
Chase sighed—relieved House understood.
He blinked once and he sat in a chair, House applying a bandage around his hand. “All done.”
Chase looked at the white fabric and then at House, perfectly content with the way things were. House was looking at him like he lost his keys and hoped to find them in his face.
“Is it good? Too tight. Too loose.”
“It’s good.”
House heaved another sigh, looking around the room—for his keys.
He got up from his chair, “Well, carry on then.” He was just about to leave when Chase felt a hand run through his hair, ruffling up the edges.
Even after House left, the warmth remained in his hair.
Yes, he would.