MY BELOVED POISON

FIVE

I don't know if it was diarrhea or low iron but baby I felt like fainting. The hospital smell wasnt helping it and seeing as king was being stubborn about his check up , I might as well get checked.

"Mr. King". A nurse came with a folder. She was a short blond korean lady who looked to be in her mid twenties. "If you would please". She said , her voice going soft once King stood towering over her. King looked down at her with a stoic expression and a natural frown that made him all the more regal. No but this man was handsome , beautiful and cute all in one.

I felt like my eyes would pop out the sockets because of how strong my side eye was. Like girl , get a room I stead of eye fucking him in front of like 600 people. Okay that was a bit exaggerated it was only 3 people , the nurse Included.

"Please follow me." She said as she all but strutted , her hips moving side to side. I could see her hip pads so no one was impressed baby girl. I kept quiet trying to observe and actually understand what was going on with his ribs and if there was any more cause for concern.

"Okay , the doctor will be with you shortly. Please have a seat". Her smile widened, if she smiled any wider her face would have split in half.

She left. I then began looking around the hospital room, swiveling around in the office chair. I then adjusted myself, the scrubs giving me a wedgie. They were a bit tight because I couldn't afford new ones. "Stop". King said from the bed where people get check ups. "Its fucking annoying". The small frown from earlier still there.

I slowed down, looking anywhere but his eyes. No because he was so scary. I was mentally clutching my Pearls.  I wonder what he would think if he ever got the chance to live in my brain. Would it be chaotic or a calm because my granny always said that if one is a quiet and reserved person then their minds are a chaotic mess.

"Well thank you for your patience". The doctor said walking in. He was a tall dark gentleman with a buzz cut and a small tattoo behind his ear. Then here comes my next question. Would you trust a doctor that has many tattoos? I would honestly it really doesn't matter but then again many people who botched surgeries are ones who didn't have tattoos , I'm rambling again...

"So according to the report your previous doctor had given out, you have a fractured rib and a few bruises. What we will do right now is do scan and see what's really happening that way we have an idea of what's going on and how to treat it". The doctor said writing down some things in King's file.

"Please wait here and the nurse will prep you for the scan". He said with a smile placing the folder thing on the door after jotting down something.

I sat there, fidgeting with the hem of my scrubs, wondering how King managed to get a fractured rib. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, contemplating the doctor's words and trying not to focus on the intimidating aura King exuded.

As the nurse returned to prepare King for the scan, I couldn't help but notice her exaggerated hip sway again. It was distracting, to say the least, but I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to engage in any unintentional eye contact with King.

The room felt tense, and I wished I could escape the awkwardness by diving into the pile of outdated magazines on the side table. Instead, I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, contemplating the implications of trusting a doctor with tattoos. It seemed trivial in comparison to King's health, but my mind couldn't help but wander into unrelated musings.

King, stoic as ever, followed the nurse without a word, leaving me alone in the room with my thoughts. The air hung heavy with the anticipation of the upcoming scan results, and I couldn't shake the feeling of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe it was just diarrhea.

I stood and followed them to the scan room thingy. After all I am his physical therapist.

The nurse, with her exaggerated sway, attempted to strike up a conversation as the scan room hummed with anticipation. "So, you're close to Mr. King, aren't you?" she said, her tone carrying a hint of snobbish curiosity.

I nodded, keeping my responses short, unsure of her intentions. She continued, "He's quite the enigma, isn't he? Not much is known about him, and he doesn't seem too keen on sharing."

I couldn't deny the mystery surrounding King, but I maintained a guarded stance. "He values his privacy," I replied, hoping to steer the conversation away from prying into his personal life. If you wanted to know then go and ask him.

The nurse, undeterred, leaned against the wall, her posture suggesting a casual interest. "I bet there are stories. Rumors, maybe? People must be dying to know what goes on behind that stoic facade."

I chose my words carefully, revealing nothing. "Everyone has their secrets, right?" I said, attempting to deflect her probing inquiries.

She raised an eyebrow, seemingly dissatisfied with my response. "Well, secrets have a way of coming out. Especially in a place like this."

The scan room felt smaller as the nurse's intrusive questioning lingered in the air. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering how much she knew or assumed about King. As the machinery started its rhythmic hum, I couldn't help but hope the scan would bring clarity not only to King's health but also to the escalating tension in the room.