ENG - Fractured Fates ʰʸᵘⁿˡᶦˣ

9

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

With a clumsy "And hepp", Minho let me fall roughly into my bed, a painful hiss escaping my lips as my whole body writhed in pain. By now I was thinking that it would have been less painful if I had tortured myself here instead of letting him help me. His empathy was barely as gentle as a bed of rice nails and his rough manner made me doubt whether he even realized how much I was hurting.
"Sensitive as always," I mumbled my thoughts to myself and looked up at him as I struggled to get into a sitting position. A sharp pain shot through my upper body, which I instinctively held tightly as I looked at him. He just stood there, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at me too.

An eternity passed, during which we simply stared at each other, before he turned away abruptly and sighed loudly. "I asked Chan about work," he suddenly blurted out. It took a moment for these words to sink into my brain and I widened my eyes. I immediately grabbed the first object I could find - my pillow - and flung it at him with full force. "Have you become completely disabled now?" I asked in horror, struggling to my feet, which felt like pudding and I almost fell back again.
With the last of my strength, I grabbed his collar and pulled him close to me, but at the same time I managed to stay on my feet. "What else was I supposed to do?" he asked me, looking at me with a serious expression before grabbing me by the collar and pulling me towards him. "You don't seriously think that I'm going to let you go to prison because you can't pay the huge amount that this shitty hospital charges," he added worriedly.
"But that's no reason to ask him of all people for work," I retorted angrily, tightening my already weak grip on his collar as I lacked any strength. "We were going to get this fucked somehow, damn it Minho."

He clicked his tongue and pushed me away from him with a jerk, causing me to stumble backwards into the bed. My face contorted in pain as I slammed onto the mattress and I lay motionless, my hands pressed to my stomach. I just felt sick and miserable.
With an angry look, Minho left the room and returned shortly afterwards. With difficulty, I braced myself on my forearms to look at him skeptically and angrily. He was holding a letter in his hand, which he tore open in front of my eyes with a jerky movement. His eyes sparkled with anger as he looked at the piece of paper and then held it right in front of my face. "Here, look at this shit," he growled. "These fuckers want 45,000 fucking pennies. So tell me how the fuck we're supposed to pay this shit out of the meager income we get from dealing." He crumpled up the paper and threw it at me.
Now I was the one clicking my tongue and rolling my eyes. "What are you getting upset about, man?" I replied, quite disinterested in the amount. "They don't even know who I am. They just know my fucking name, that's all. As if they'll ever find me."
"Dude," Minho snapped at me, looking at me angrily. "There were cameras everywhere, they know what you look like. You don't seriously think they won't find you if they call the police, do you?" he asked me sarcastically, waving his hands around like a fool. His voice was almost overflowing with anger.

"Oh, fuck it," I muttered, averting my gaze and looking stubbornly past him. Of the two of us, he had always been the one who was more concerned about everything. While I was shitting on that amount, he was already thinking about what the consequences might be and looking for a solution.
Finally, I sighed and looked at him again. "What does he want from you?" I asked with interest. Because if there was one thing you should never do, it was to ask Chan for work that went beyond simple dealing or prostitution.
Minho came to my bedside and sat on the edge, supporting his arms and holding his head in his hands. "I have no idea, we haven't talked about it yet. But he's already got me a job that's happening tonight," he told me.
My face contorted with pain, I sat up and took a deep breath. This was bloody exhausting. "I have no idea how long the job goes on for either," he continued, "so do me a favor and don't die while I'm gone," he added. "Don't worry, I'll just lie here and wait to die," I replied with a sarcastic undertone.
"Well, have fun dying then," Minho replied indifferently and slumped back onto the bed.

I rolled my eyes and let myself sink onto the bed next to him with a sigh. "If you die, I'll follow you to hell and torture you for all eternity," I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper.
I felt him move next to me and suddenly lower himself onto my lap. His breath brushed my face as he spoke in a raspy voice, "Then I'll torture you a little first." A shiver ran through my body and I lifted my arm from my eyes to look at him.
"As much as I wanted to, it's impossible to fuck you with this fucking pain," I replied with a wry grin on my lips. "Well," he replied with an equally crooked grin on his face as his fingers played with the waistband of my pants.
"Fucking might not be in the cards," he whispered as he pulled my pants down a little, "but a little blow job is always good." I couldn't help but laugh, despite the pain that rose up inside me and made my wounds throb again. "You bastard," I said with a grin on my lips. "Yes, I am," he admitted before kneeling between my legs and pulling my pants down over my hips.

Minho leaned forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and began placing small kisses on my groin as his hand began to slowly pump me. Panting, I leaned my head back and covered my eyes with my arm again as my breathing quickened a little with the arousal that was building inside me.
I felt his tongue slide over my cock, which was getting harder and harder. Slowly, I felt his tongue lapping my tip before he took me completely into his mouth.
He began to slowly move his head up and down, his movements careful not to cause me any unnecessary pain. But damn, it was so tantalizing, so arousing, so seductive.
I couldn't help but stifle a low, harsh moan. My fingers clawed at the sheets as my body tensed with desire. But this tension had consequences, as it strained my wounds, which began to throb painfully.
I could hear the soft panting of his breathing mingling with my own gasps. His lips enveloped me completely, his tongue dancing skillfully around my tip as his fingers gripped my hips and pulled me closer to him. I could feel him taking me deeper into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he did so, creating an even more intense sensation inside me. His movements became faster, more intense, but still so careful that it almost drove me insane.
That was definitely torture.

My body reacted instinctively to his touch, my hips began to move in the same rhythm as his head movements. I could feel the tension building inside me and my breathing becoming faster and more erratic. The pain of my wounds began to mix with the desire inside me, a mixture of pleasure and pain that drove me even crazier.
I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest, my whole body shaking with excitement. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and would soon come. My breathing became shallower, faster.
When Minho put his hand around my cock and started pumping me in the same rhythm as his mouth movements, it was impossible to hold back any longer.
My body tensed and with a moan that escaped my lips, I poured myself into his mouth. I heard him swallow and felt him lick my shaft one last time before he stood up. Panting, I removed my arm from my eyes to look at him. He licked his lips with his tongue and grinned at me. "Fancy it," he said with a shrug and dropped into bed next to me.
Still a little out of breath, I pulled my pants back up and turned to look at his side profile. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed and his black strands of hair fell down his face.
Our friendship was really perfectly strange.

We both lay there quietly without saying a word and probably fell asleep at some point. The sound of the alarm on Minho's cell phone finally broke the silence and I opened my eyes tiredly to find that he was already getting up. "I have to go now," he mumbled, his voice sounding raspy and tired. "Chan doesn't like to wait."
He went to the door and opened it before turning back to me.
"Don't start shit," he warned me, his voice stern, but I could hear the concern in his tone. "I don't want to have to come back and get your fucking body out of bed."
I sighed and tried to suppress a smile. "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled and waved at him. "I plan to lie here for a while and enjoy my misery." He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, before adding, "And take your fucking pills." He then left our shabby apartment with a slam of the door and was gone.
I sighed and held my stomach, which still hurt like hell, as if I'd been run over by a truck. My head was also pounding and my empty stomach was rebelling. I could feel the nausea rising inside me and I swallowed hard.
I knew I had to eat something, but I just didn't feel like getting up and looking for something, as there was probably nothing there anyway. But when my stomach finally grumbled loudly, I gave in and struggled out of bed. My legs were shaking with the effort, so I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.

I staggered into the kitchen, whose furnishings had seen better days. The fridge offered me nothing but empty packaging and an open bottle of whiskey. I hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged my shoulders. "Why not? Maybe it will help with the pain," I muttered to myself and reached for the bottle. I found a packet of potato chips in one of the cupboards and grabbed them.
That would probably have to do.
I sat down at the kitchen table, the wood of which was already beginning to crumble and would probably soon collapse. I ate the chips slowly, washing down each bite with a sip of whiskey while I worried about my best friend. I had no idea what to expect from Minho tonight, but I knew it couldn't be good. Chan wasn't exactly known for giving easy jobs. I didn't know how long Minho would be away, but I hoped fervently that he would come back quickly.

The tablets I had received from the hospital were also on the kitchen table. I picked them up and looked at them while I read the ingredients. I raised an eyebrow skeptically. I could easily sell these things instead of taking them myself, but as the pain would send me to hell, I decided to take them myself. I swallowed one tablet after another, hoping that the pain would soon subside.
Then I sat back and waited for them to kick in while I stared into the silence of the apartment and waited for Minho to return.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰