Plasters

“Stupid Kamio.” “Oi! You could stop saying that, you know.” “. . . stupid Kamio.” Kamio growled and glared at his friend, trying to put a plaster on the cut splitting his left eyebrow and failing miserably. Shinji hadn’t said anything other than ‘stupid Kamio’ for the past ten minutes, and was determinedly not looking at him, or helping him with the plasters. Here he was, the wounded victim of a vicious attack, and Shinji wouldn’t even look at him! . . . okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But that guy had it coming! He was looking at An-chan funny! And now Shinji wouldn’t look at him. And kept calling him ‘stupid Kamio’. Shinji was the one being stupid, that was all. He’d get over it, once Tachibana told him that Kamio had done the right thing in defending An-chan’s honour. It was nice to have him (mostly) quiet for a while, though. It really was. Really. Yup. Nice. Kamio scowled, then swore as that twisted the plaster just as he’d got it right where he needed it. It was a pain in the arse trying to bandage himself up without a mirror, but the nearest public toilets were at least a twenty minute walk out of their way and it was just easier to do a sloppy job. He winced as the plaster pulled a few hairs out of his eyebrow. Easier, maybe, but certainly more painful. Strong, lean fingers plucked the plaster from his and settled it gently over the cut on his eyebrow. Kamio stared at Shinji, stopping in the middle of the street as his friend took another few paces. “. . . Shinji?” Shinji stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. “. . . stupid Kamio,” he said, and somehow this time was different from all the other times he’d said it – and all was right with the world. Kamio grinned, and ran to catch him. “Doesn’t that make you stupid Shinji?” he asked, and continued without bothering to wait for a reply. “So, you mentioned that new horror movie the other day. . . .”

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