Author's Notes: Written for the darkship prompt meme, the prompt: "you're bleeding."
"Uh, no offense Rach, but you just punched me in the face. It's not that surprising."
"Oh my god," and Rachel starts to wildly flail, her hands fluttering all over the place. "I'm so sorry! Finn, are you okay? Do you need me to get ice or something?"
He wipes under his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood. It's making her feel surprisingly nauseous – she's never had a real problem with blood before. "It's cool," he says. "I just think I need like, tissues or something."
"Of course," she nods so fast she's slightly afraid she'll make her head fall off. "They're, uh, in the lounge room. Just let me..."
She shakily walks out the door to the stair case, grabbing it as she heads down. The lounge room isn't far away. She gets distracted for a split-second as she passes past the kitchen – they were meant to head out for dinner before they got into that fight, and now she's hungry.
No, she tells herself. She just needs to get tissues.
She makes her way to the lounge room, and manages to bang her leg on the coffee table. Ow! Why is she always doing that? One day, the paparazzi are going to start rumors about the mysterious bruises appearing on the body of a star like Rachel Berry.
She shakes her head. Focus. She grabs a few tissues, and resists the urge to scrunch them beyond point of usability in her hand. She turns back around and goes past the kitchen (resisting the urge to get food, again) and heading for the stairs. She holds onto the railing with her free hand – these stairs are disturbingly long and steep. They're not so good for her short legs.
When she returns, Finn's still sitting on her bed, like a child in trouble waiting to be punished. The thought makes her stomach roll. He's pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning his head back, and she bites her lip before entering.
"Apparently, that's not actually good for you when you have a nose bleed," he looks surprised – either because she reentered, or because of this information. "I read it somewhere," she explains as she sits next to him. "Although I can't really remember why."
She hands him the tissues and he covers his nose with them. "I woth tryin not to bleed on your bed," he slurs through the tissues. She winces.
"I'm really sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have..."
"It'th okay," he pulls the tissues away for a second to speak. "I kinda being a douche."
"For christ's sake, keep holding that, Finn," she snaps. He obeys quickly, and she sighs. "Sorry. And: no, you weren't. This is my fault. I had no right to..."
She doesn't want to put it into words, even though she knows what she did. Putting it into words is pushing her closer to the ideas already planted in her head – when Finn is bleeding, it's pretty much impossible to avoid that. Yet...
"...What were we even fighting about?" she asks. He frowns in confusion.
"Not sure," he mumbles. "Breadsticks?"
She bites her lip. She can't quite remember now; all she knows is their bickering got out of control, and then she punched him in the face. Why did she do that?
"I'm really sorry," she repeats in place of an actual explanation.
"I'm fine," says Finn. "Don't worry about it." He finally pulls the tissues away, and she vaguely wonders she probably should have brought more than a few of those – she probably should have brought the box with her. Not that it appears to have been necessary, as Finn's bleeding is clearing up about now, but...
Or not. A drop of blood drips down and she doesn't take it well: "Stop doing that Finn! Keep the tissues pressed there!"
He very obviously flinches when she yells, even if he obeys. After she catches herself, her stomach starts churning again. What is up with her nerves? Why does she keep taking it out on him? Why is he now bleeding anyway?
She feels like the world is playing some kind of trick on her.
"...I'm sorry," she mumbles, repeating herself again. What is she doing?
"It's cool," says Finn.
She's not stupid enough to believe that. But what should she do?