Making it all the way home with a bad knee and a significantly low amount of blood, proved to be difficult for Hayner, as he slouched against the brick walls just outside of his and his grandmother's home. He dragged his body along the wall, trying to keep pressure off of his leg and stay focused on the goal at hand. When he was able to fumble with the latch and swing the door open, Hayner noticed his grandmother sitting patiently on the living room couch- the television playing softly and her frail hands fiddling with parts of a puzzle that happened to be spread about on the coffee table before her.

His grandmother peeked up at Hayner as the blond skater forced himself inside and shut the door closed. She stood- using the back of the couch to support herself and tutting at Hayner's unkempt appearance. It seemed to take the elderly woman a few prolonged moments to comprehend the copious amounts of blood staining her grandson- and the way his cheeks were dirty and face pulled into a grimace.

"Goodness! Hayner, what happened?" She croaked, shuffling around the couch to get to her grandchild. Hayner felt tears bubbling up in his eyes with relief at finally reaching sanctuary, holding his arm out to the frail woman.

"My skateboard wiped out and I cut my arm open, I had to walk here from the Underground and I think I hurt my knee. I'm fine- it was an accident." His grandmother swept up Hayner's arm in gentle, cold fingers and scrutinized it with pursed lips, her head shaking.

"Oh, Hayner. You know we can't afford the hospital bills for this- you need stitches." Hayner winced profoundly when her fingers poked at the tender, raw flesh of his injury, testing the swollen skin with a tut. Hayner tried to draw his arm back, but with a light smack to the back of his hand- went still.

"We're going to have to sew this up ourselves. I want you to take a nice shower- pour some antiseptic on it, and sit on the table. I'll have to find my sewing kit. This is what you get for being reckless, Hayner, because I don't have anything to numb the pain." Her grandson let loose an agonizing sigh of resigned-fate and took his arm back.

"I know, gramma." He uttered, ignoring the firm pat to his behind that she gave him for presenting his grandmother with any form of an attitude, and hobbled over to the bathroom. He entered it, shutting and locking the door before instantly shucking his pants off and moving to pull his shirt up. It was then that Hayner realized he'd have to pull the sleeve of his shirt over his injury, and groaned at the aspect of even more pain. He did it quickly- the fabric catching and pulling enough to wrench a hiss out of the blond boy's mouth. In a fit of anger, Hayner chucked his shirt at the wall, watching the pile of fabric flop uselessly to the ground.

Realizing the uselessness of his fit, Hayner allowed a long and grieving sigh to escape him. Having done such, he hobbled his way over to the shower, pulling the dull blue curtain back and flicking on the spicket. He tested the water, fumbling his way out of his boxers before stepping under the lukewarm spray and hissing as water trickled into his open wound.