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word count: 1.6k genre: angst, slight fluff? mafia! Minho x gender-neutral! Reader
Happy belated birthday to this walking perfection! This was supposed to be posted on his birthday but I didn't have any time to finish it. Hope you still enjoy it nevertheless!
Warning: this is such an unsatisfying chapter and I absolutely despise myself for rushing this.
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It was three am when your phone started ringing and a loud knock could be heard at your front door.
Your tired eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the almost pitch-black darkness that engulfed your bedroom. Despite the phone being lit up, your vision was so blurry that you almost missed the familiar number that always called at times like these, a number you were used to seeing on your screen only when bad things happened. And that's why your heart stopped beating for a second.
A gasp made its way past your chapped lips, jumping onto your feet and dragging your sleep-infused legs around your room so you can throw a sweater on before going out.
Another knock echoed throughout the hallway, this time weaker, softer.
"Y/n, please..."
Your breath caught in your throat, rushing to open the door to see the one person you were dying to see after so long. But what were you actually expecting, really? anything else. Maybe you thought he will hug you like he usually does or give you those big, puppy eyes when he wants something. You really wanted it to be just another one of those nights where he comes to your house, pushes you up against the wall, and kisses you like no other person ever did, or one of those evenings when he feels like the world is crashing down around him and the only thing he wants is to sink into your arms and feel your warmth.
But this time it was worse. Your biggest nightmare was slowly turning into reality.
There he stood, leaning against the doorframe with one arm. His knuckles were bruised and full of blood, the small cuts on his eyebrows and lips bleeding a little too, droplets making their way down his temple and on his cheeks until they reached the neck.
Seeing him hurt is the last thing you wanted.
"I'm sorry," the words leave his mouth just barely above a whisper before his eyelashes fluttered shut and he fell into your arms. Panic flooded your mind faster than the light, shaking him lightly to wake him up when you noticed his hand pressing on his stomach, where a big blood patch already formed.
