FORBIDDEN LOVE

Chapter 17🥀

Mew groaned at the morning sun hitting his eyes. His throat was so dry, the corner of his eyes stinging with crust. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying down on something soft, but he didn't remember going to bed. What was the last thing he did? He couldn't recall.

His entire body ached, but especially his back and his waist. He lifted his hand to rub at his eyes, but his other was held between a warm hand and a warm cheek.

"Mew?" The familiar sound of Gulf's voice interrupted the peace of the morning.

Mew opened his eyes to Gulf, who looked, to be frank, like shit. He looked exhausted with  his hair sticking up every way, and his eyes were puffy and had bags under them that would rival Mew's.
And he was holding the wedding planner's  hand to his face, Mew unknowingly leaned into the warm hand on his cheek.

"What... where are we? What happened?" Mew asked, heaviness was slowly lifting from his mind but uncomfortable fogginess still resided though, curtsy of hospital drugs. Mew was not a fan of being given drugs. They made him lose the sharpness of the senses he so relied on. They made him feel vulnerable, not that anyone had to know that.

"An assassin tried to kill you. We're at the hospital. You've been out for just over a day, so don't worry too much, okay?"

"Okay," Mew murmured, closing his eyes again and leaning back into Gulf's soft hand, his thumb caressing Mew's cheekbone.

"I need to talk to you" Gulf said, serious

"Aren't we talking now?"
The wedding planner laughed, opening his bleary eyes open.

A slow smile formed on Gulf's plump lips, he was happy to see Mew alive and joking like his usual self but became instantly worried when Mew coughed deeply and winced.

"Are you alright?"

"I just got shot. I’m not going to die of a cough."

Seeing Gulf's saddened reaction, the wedding planner sighed and said:
"No, I’m alright. I think they had one of those, ah, tubes down my throat so I could breathe during the surgery, or something like that, and it scraped the insides when it was removed."

"Ah."

"He's awake." Two nurses and Dr. Park who was incharge of Mew entered, disrupting the peaceful silence.

After checking on Mew, the doctor scribbled something on his notepad.

"We need to conduct a few more tests and although your condition is stable, we would have to keep you here for atleast a week"
Dr. Park tells him, in his usual baritone voice.  “You should consider yourself lucky. A few millimeters upward, and the bullet could’ve pierced right through your heart.”

The reality of the situation sinked in once again. 'Instant death', that’s what he meant by his words.

If only Gulf wasn’t in ear-shot to hear that, but he’s here, he’s heard it, and now he’s totally facing the window, trying to hide his reaction from them. Mew still can see it through the rigid lines of his back, and the slightly trembling hands by his sides.

Dr. Park leaves not long after, and a dreadful silence falls upon the room.

Gulf still refuses to face Mew, gaze fixated outside.

Mew has no idea how to start this kind of conversations. This ain’t a typical situation,after all. It was a near death experience, for both of them.

The man was clearly aiming at Gulf's head, and when Mew jumped in, last second, he put his own life in line too. Hopefully, his sudden interference had shifted them from the bullet’s original trajectory, only getting a shot on the side of his stomach.

"Gulf?"
After long contemplation, Mew decides to approach the other ,  but as soon as his tiptoes touch the ground, a voice stops him mid-movement.

“Don’t you dare leave that bed.”

He meets the reflection of Gulf's glare on the window’s glass, and decides to sit there like an obedient kid, waiting for Gulf to cool down. It takes some time, longer than he’s expected, before the other talks again.

“Why did you do it?”
It didn’t sound like a question, but more like an accusation. Like Mew has done an unforgivable deed.

Mew is almost confused about the other’s harsh tone, if not for Gulf's broken, sad whisper, that he could’ve easily missed, if his breathing was any louder.
"Promise me that you would never, ever again, let yourself get hurt because of me, or while protecting me,”

Gulf turns to face him and Mew finally gets to see how swollen and red Gulf's eyes are. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Even if he’s succeeded at protecting him from that bullet, he’s failed at protecting him from the psychological pain.

It was a trade-off he
couldn’t have a say in.

“I’m sorry - I can't"

“Don’t.” Gulf firmly stops him.
“Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it.”

“But I mean it,” Mew refutes, in a heartbeat, “I don’t regret saving you!"

Gulf scoffs, “Saving me? Is that what you call it? Should I thank you then? Saviour?"

The expression on his face is so foreign, makes him look like a different person.

“Gulf-” the wedding planner weakly calls

Gulf speaks his next words in a dangerously low tone.
“Don’t you ever think that I will be grateful for you putting your life on line for mine, If you end up dead, I will never forgive you, That, I can promise you,” he says it with such intensity, that he’s out of breath when he finishes.

Mew ignores the pain growing inside of his heart, and focuses on the fear hidden behind the flames blazing around Gulf. All of the anger, the harsh words, the cold glares, are nothing but a defense system he’s using to hide how frightened he is. And Mew hates that system, to say the least.

“I didn’t do it so that I could gain your gratitude,” he beams sincerely, and watches as Gulf's fury crumbles into confusion, then shock, when the wedding planner takes his hand between his. It’s cold to the
touch, and still shaking.

“I did it because I’d rather lose my life than let you get hurt. I won’t apologize for saving you, but I’m apologizing because I don’t regret it, and if something like that happens again, I would still protect you with my life.” Mew says it with all the honesty within his heart, because he means it, and he wishes for Gulf to understand that.

Gulf stares at him silently for a second, then another, as if having difficulty processing his words. When he finally does, his eyes turn red, glossy. And yet, he still holds the tears back.
“Why?” his voice is now significantly weaker, more vulnerable.

🥀🥀🥀

AUTHOR'S NOTE : Here's an update after more than a month just to let y'all know the author ain't dead 👀🤧
JK... I've been so busy recently, not getting time at all to update but thank you so much to everyone who waited patiently and even reached out to me in concern for my health... It means alot🥺💕✨