❝ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞. ❞
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˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 ✎ IN WHICHˀ
*-. You find yourself getting involved in many dangerous events after meeting two boys at the a...
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﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉
-.... [Y/n]'s house
*-... 4:14 P.M.
Thick red splotches of liquid were littered on the ground.
"Well fuck," you monotonously cursed.
You stood up and covered the cut with the fabric of your shirt. Considering how you didn't know anything about medical aid, you believed you were doing the right thing. Whether you really were or not was something that you didn't have the motivation to search up.
Opening the first aid kit in your kitchen, you peeled off the cover of a band aid carefully pressed it onto your cut.
"There," you lifted your hand up to admire your work. "Fuck I forgot to wipe it with an alcohol wipe."
Banging your hand on the counter, you stumbled back in pain. It was now you knew why no one would punch marble surfaces. Hissing in pain, you winced as you tried to wiggle your fingers.
"You know what.. Fuck this."
Forcing yourself to ignore the pounding pain from your hand, you walked back to the front entrance area and finished bagging up the rest of the large broken ceramic.
As you lifted the tied plastic bag of broken shards, you realized that it wasn't going to work out. There were holes where the broken vase would poke our of the bag, causing it to be quite hazardous for someone as clumsy as you.
You raced to the nearest trash can in hopes of making it before the bag completely gives out, however you abruptly stopped after your shin bumped straight into the corner of a table.
You stared down at the low table, 'Another marble table top. God damn, stupid uncle. Out of all days, I thought I already got rid of the problem of my always bumping into the corners of tables.'
This is already like your trillionth bruise or injury of the day. It was like a curse was placed onto you right as you met Mikey and Draken. Or it could've been karma's doing, but either way, you didn't exactly enjoy the pain.
"I hate it here," you muttered as you held your leg in pain.
The plastic bag began to droop and you groaned before tossing it in the direction towards the trash can. It flew in midair before pressing down on the black trashcan flap and sinking inside of the large covered bin.
You pushed the pain onto the back of your head, "score! Haha, I'm just too good. Like I should try out for the Japanese basketball team."
Imaginary music played and you danced, celebrating the victory that you just won.
A/n: sorry for the short chapter
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