You jump out, hoping to help fend off Harry's attacker, or at least disarm him. Then, you have a thought.
"HEY! Get out of here - I've called the cops, and they're going to be here in just a few minutes! If you don't feel like getting arrested, I suggest you get the fuck out of here NOW!"
As if on cue, sirens start to blare not far in the distance. Spooked, the group of boys start to move away.
"C'mon Richard, let's get out of here!"
Still caught in Harry's grip, Richard pays them no heed, but struggles to get close enough to cut Harry's face. The other boys glance back, but as the sirens approach quickly fade into the shadows of an alleyway. Just as the patrol cars pull around the corner, the youth manages to slip from Harry's hands and slice at his eyes. Luckily, Harry lets go of Richard, off-balancing him, so the bottle only grazes the tip of his nose, and then the prep falls to the ground with a thud.
"Hey, kid. You better stay down there if you know what's good for you," says the officer as he steps out of his car. Turning to you and Harry, he says, "Hey guys, you alright? Shit, he got you good Harry!"
"It's just a scratch, really, Robert. Just throw him in the drunk-tank and tell him off for us, will you?"
"A scratch? Right. Alright, asswi- er, I mean, punk, time to learn some manners." Robert takes Richard away and puts him in the car. "You sure you're alright there? It looks pretty bad. I'll call an ambulance for you, it's no biggie."
"No! No. It's fine, it's not as bad as it looks."
Robert shrugs and waves to you. You wave back and watch as he drives off. You turn to Harry:
"Not as bad as it looks, my ass. You're completely white!" It was true, he was turning very pale and looked a bit faint. You stepped over to him and threw his arm around your back. "Come on, I'll help you in and get you bandaged up."
Just then, Jamie steps out of the club. "Oh... You..." He stares at you for a moment, then glances at Harry. "Holy crap! Look at all that blood! I... I gotta go..." He stumbles away, looking slightly green. You knew that Jamie had an aversion to blood, but you never realized it was that bad. Pushing that out of your mind, you grunt as you help Harry into the club - he's REALLY heavy!
Inside, it's completely dead; it seems that everyone deserted when it looked like there was going to be trouble. You get Harry over to one of the booths and lie him down, then run over and shut the door and down the music - may as well close for the night at this rate, you figure. Grabbing the first-aid kit, you head back to Harry.
"Harry, this really doesn't look good. Why don't you go to the hospital?"
"No. No hospitals."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of them?"
Despite his pallor you can see a tinge of red come to his cheeks.
"Oh, brother. Well, you'll just have to put up with me, then. Thankfully I've done this kind of stuff before - my big brother was always getting into fights and I always had to patch him up. Though honestly, this might even need stitches..."
You gingerly pull off Harry's shirt, revealing his full hairy stomach and chest. You quickly work to staunch the bleeding, then disinfect and bandage the cut. You crawl on top of Harry, there not being enough room to work otherwise, careful to not disturb the bandage on his chest, and crouch over his face to look at his nose. You feel Harry's warm breath on your face and inhale the earthy scent. You feel a bulge in your pocket and turn towards it guiltily, but realize it's not a boner, but a bottle.
"Oh, the pain meds from this morning! Perfect. Here, Harry."
"No, no medicine, please."
You decide to
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