“Jesse?” Trey chokes.
At the sound of his name, Jesse jolts to a sitting position and drags himself back towards the wall behind him.
Trey winces at the sight of Jesse, the wounds and bruises. Both his eyes are swollen shut and there are dark bruises plastered all over his face, cuts on his forehead, some of which are still oozing blood—the same goes for his split lips. Jesse’s scrunching down, hands over his middle, and Trey can imagine what he will find there if he looked at it—more bruises probably, perhaps even some broken ribs? Trey kneels down beside Jesse, his headache completely forgotten.
“What the hell happened to you?” He tentatively puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse stills, shaking his head.
“Go. Just go. Please.”
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