To be fair, the school council was as competitive as it gets. With a president and vice president fighting for different sides, it seems determination is in the air. In contrast, maybe there's more to the story than being rivals who "hate" each oth...
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Heeseung opens the empty infirmary door with his foot, continuing to carry me before laying me down on the white bed. He lets out a frustrated sigh once his arms remove themselves from my legs. I itch the nape of my neck, wondering if he was in distress because of me. "Hey... was I too heavy?"
He gives me the most deadly glare, hands becoming tight fists. "Is that all you care about right now?" His voice starts to get louder, and I wince. "They tried to kill you, Hayoon. KILL YOU!"
"Can you please stop yelling?" I question, rubbing my forehead. "I get that you're upset–hell, even more than I am–but please. It's kind of scary how loud you are."
His eyes seem to soften, and holding in his frustrations, he bites his lip. He lifts his head, sighs at the sky as if promising something to himself, and sits down on the infirmary bed next to me. "I'm just saying, Hayoon, you shouldn't let them do this to you."
"What was I supposed to do? Magically fly?" I rub my ankle, watching Heeseung's eyes drag toward the sight of it. "I know you're upset, but at that moment, I couldn't have done anything more or less. I know you-" I choke up, unknowing if I should say it. "Actually, I don't know if you care enough about me, but-"
"I do."
"What?" I respond instantly.
"I do," He repeats, not looking at me anymore and to the sitting cart next to us full of supplies. "I do care, Hayoon."
I don't reply, and when he acknowledges my silence, he grabs elastic tape off the top storage box. After he does, he turns to me, grabbing my ankle gently and beginning to wrap the tape around my foot. I watch him intently, pressing my lips together to suppress any sounds of pain I might make.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little bit," He cuts the elastic tape once he's done, sticking it together with a piece of tape once he's searched for it. "Sorry. I didn't know."
He doesn't look up at me, and instead, fiddles with his fingers next to me. I scoot over, beckoning him to move fully on the bed, and he does. He lays his legs next to mine, and his chunky converse smacks together in anxiety. "You didn't know about what?"
