Short Stories

Creative Writing - Raphael & Jodie

"Don't you dare tell me you're fine! I can see the blood!"

She had stumbled into the hideout with a large gash on her arm and a trail of blood dripping from her elbow. She didn't want to cause a fuss and had snuck into the bathroom with the first aid box to avoid any extra attention.

"I can't believe when I asked if you were okay you actually said yes. There's a trail of blood through this whole bloody place, pun not intended," Raphael murmured, his fingers carefully mopping at Jodie's wound. She winced as the alcohol on the fabric stung and tried to sit as still as possible. "I was okay, just needed to patch myself up," she argued.

"Yeah which you were doing terribly." Raphael patted the wound once more with the wet fabric before preparing a needle and surgical thread to sew the slash closed. "You're lucky I'm here."

Jodie deadpanned and glared at the man beside her. "Raph, you're the reason I'm even in this mess in the first place."

Raphael froze for a moment, took a deep breath and accepted his guilt, before continuing his stitching. "Which I've already apologised for, many, MANY times, but apparently to little miss privileged it's never enough."

Jodie scowled at him, "don't call me that."

"It's not wrong though is it."

A silence washed over them. "You're an ass, you know that."

"Yep, and you're all patched up. Just put a dressing over that and you're all good to go."

Jodie stood from where they had both perched on the side of the bath tub and examined Raphael's handy work. She stepped aside to allow him to gather the medical supplies and headed out into the lounge. On the coffee table in front of her were two pistols, yet to be fully assembled, and Raph's signature drink. "What's wrong with the guns?"

"Nothing, just cleaning them up a little." He replied as he joined her in the living room.

The pair sat in silence as Raphael returned to cleaning the weapons on the table and Jodie lay with her eyes closed, trying to sleep off the pain burning through her arm. She knew it was her fault she had got injured, Raph had warned her about the dangers and she had tried anyway. She needed to understand the city's underworld better before she took it on alone. That was the reason why Raphael had taken her in. After assassinating her parents and trying to kill her, the cold killer had given in to his false gentleman act and hidden her away to try repent for the harm he had caused, knowing that she wouldn't survive the dark city without his help.

As the man worked, Jodie opened her eyes and watched his lean hands as they were meticulous in their work, fast and precise and practiced. She wondered how he had ended up like that, how long he had already given of his life to the darkness of their corrupt city. Watching as his hands moved to his glass, she followed it upwards to his face, the scar across his cheek and his eyes sharp. She knew there was warmth in his glance, he had looked at her with it often, and she wondered again how Raphael could still be so warm and yet such a ruthless killer at the same time.

"You're staring. It's rude," Raphael noted.

"I was watching the gun," she denied.

"Sure, sure. Enjoy the view," he smirked.

"I would, if there was one," Jodie scoffed. She rolled over on the sofa and turned her back to him, annoyed she had been caught, even more annoyed that she was sure there was a blush dusted on her cheeks as she'd denied it. Raphael was not a man who had relationships, he was a man who destroyed them, stole them, ripped them to shreds and burned the remains. Falling for him was out of bounds, that much made sense, but Jodie couldn't deny that amongst his rugged nature, his warmer side made him quite the charmer and a mysterious type of attractive that she couldn't ignore.

"How's the arm?"

Jodie rolled back over, lifting the injured arm so that she wouldn't lie on it. "Better. Thanks by the way, for patching me up."

Raphael scoffed, eyes still on the gun and the rag in his hands, "it's nothing. I've seen worse."

"I imagine you've done worse too."

"Ha, probably..." There was a silence after Raphael had replied and Jodie kept watching him, the rise and fall of his chest, the wrinkles on his hands and the scars littered across what skin he was showing. "Must be hard, killing people so often, at least mentally, I doubt the physicality is an issue."

Raphael smirks, "so you were admiring the view."

Jodie rolls her eyes at him, "it's called a gun Raph, you're holding one."

"Sure Jo whatever you wanna tell yourself."

"If I admit you're hot will you leave me alone?"

Raphael looks to Jodie, mischief laced in his voice and expression. "Maybe. Depends. How hot am I?"

Jodie shakes her head at him. "You're insufferable you are."

"What was that? I'm how hot?" He teased.

"FINE. Fine. You're hot, and totally my type if you weren't a hitman. You got the whole deadly and mysterious thing going on. Happy now?"

He chuckled, "you've could've just said I was hot. But I'll take the extra stuff, its nice to know what works with the ladies."

"Player much," Jodie scoffed, trying to insult him for the embarrassment he caused her.

"Well, a man's gotta look good if he's seducing his target," Raphael reasoned.

"Right, right, hitman stuff again. You just got less attractive."

A significant click came from the gun in Raphael's hand and he put it down triumphantly before necking the rest of his drink and placing the glass beside the weapons. "Well, I'm gonna catch some Zs, rest up, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

"Right. Thanks again Raph," Jodie voiced as she settled on the sofa once more.

As Raphael walked away, a small smile appeared at the sound of Jodie voice.

"'It's nothing. Night Jodie."