"Hyunjin!"
There, Hyunjin groans, struggling to lift himself off the ground. You assume he'd tried to reach for something without his crutches, and failed miserably. His face red and his lip busted. You hurry to his side, doing your best to pull his weight and lift his upper body. He's a little hesitant in accepting your help, but figures he's got no choice. Feeling his cheek pulse in pain, he's sure it'll be bruised tomorrow, but he's more focused on the wave of déjà vu flooding his being.
Suddenly he was in a car, gripping a steering wheel and there's somebody at his side. He can't see their face, but at the moment, he doesn't care, because he's beyond scared. He's terrified. His arms are trying to frantically swerve, and he can almost taste the blood on his lip.
And the person shrills an octave higher than he ever thought possible, "Hyunjin!" their fear so evident, and it's the most blood-curdling thing he's sure he'll ever hear. Slowly, his hearing is blocked by his pulse, and his eyes are blown wide, staring into your own.
"Hyunjin? Hey, are—are you back?" you panic, wiping his tears from his face frantically, but somehow your hands are still gentle. Your heart's pounding in your chest, and you aren't even sure if calling out to him is what you're supposed to do. One second, he's pushing himself up, hardly accepting your assistance, and the next he's clutching your arm in a death grip, his nails digging into your skin and his breathing staggering.
Thinking quickly, you sat him up, stroking his face and hair in hopes of bringing him out of whatever he was in.
Now, he was aware, focused on you with wet eyes and the most broken expression you'd ever seen. He squeezed his hand slightly, making you flinch. It's as if he hadn't realized what he was squeezing until then, releasing it almost immediately and apologizing profusely. "I-I, I'm sorry—I—"
"It's okay," you reassure him, rubbing your reddened arm, and nodding at him in a way he just knows means "what happened?" but he can't explain it himself. It was so vivid, so real, and then it was just... over. How was he supposed to explain that? Taking notice of his hesitance, you let it slide, opting for a different question, "Are you okay?"
Still catching his breath, he nods, "... I'm okay," gaping at his hand now, guilt beginning to eat at him for what he'd done to you after being rude all day, but his resolve to refuse help from you mended itself just as quickly as it had broken, his face hard and brows furrowed feebly, glaring at you softly as if he didn't cry in your arms moments ago, yet unable to hold the hostility he'd used in his gaze earlier. "Where do I sleep?"
His sudden indifference startles you, and it's certainly disappointing to see any trust or bond dissipate just as it had started, but decide not to voice your opinions. They're just mood swings... they'll fade eventually, you think to yourself, standing and outstretching your arm to him, which he swats away and opts to struggle with the counter instead. Suit yourself.
Eventually, he's standing again—thankfully using his crutch this time—and you guide him over to the guest room. Originally, it had belonged to your ex-boyfriend, but he'd moved out a while back when the two of you broke up, so you figured he wouldn't mind Hyunjin using it. He never really helped with rent anyway.
"Move the room around and whatever you want. Like I said earlier, call me if you need help," turning to leave the room, before sparing one last glance, before giving up for the night. He was just a guest, not a project. "Goodnight."
"Night," he mutters, disregarding the fact that you'd already left and shut your door across the hall. He's more interested in the off-white walls, dragging his palm against their flat surfaces, and poking his fingers into the holes where he assumes you'd drilled holes before to hold frames and such. Guilt washes over him because you didn't deserve his cruel treatment, and he couldn't help but resent your help.
Help. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at the word. More like pity. Why else would you help someone like him? Someone who couldn't give you anything back and was as damaged as he? He'd seen how you'd looked at him in the hospital, how your eyes filled with nothing but sympathy, and it disgusted him before he'd realized what emotion it was. You just wanted a project, something to work on and make your record all nice and shiny, he was sure. Helping a coma and amnesia patient would just be the cherry on top of your impressive resume, after being a volunteer, having a job, and being a strong, powerful woman, and he had no doubt that was what crossed upon your mind each time you decided to deal with his bull crap. And so he decided, he at least wouldn't make it an easy assignment for you, he would not let you win effortlessly.
Checking the drawers, it's unsurprising to find them stocked with neatly folded, used clothes. Looking at the faded colors, he tries his best not to be insulted by the fact that you didn't buy him new outfits but recycled those of people he's sure didn't stick around long. Noting the fresh aromas and determining its previous owners weren't important, he pulls on a pair of sweats and what he assumes was a sleep shirt, he crawls into the mattress, his tensed and sore muscles relaxing on the ever soft piece of furniture.
Throwing yourself to your bed and burying your face into your pillow, you muffle a quiet screech, "He's so arrogant and rude!" a dangerous growl escaping your lips when you lift your head. How could someone treat their voluntary caretaker like trash? It made absolutely no sense. Blinking and holding your eyes closed for a couple of seconds, you take a deep breath. "He's a coma patient [Y/N]... Just a few weeks..."
YOU ARE READING
𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐡𝐡𝐣
FanfictionA rude and arrogant patient with no identification wakes up from a year long coma and develops temporary amnesia. Assigned to you, a volunteer who's not going to put up with his attitude, you're both in for a rough ride. -- "Hyunjin!" There, Hyunjin...