A Bullet to the Heart, ₗₑₑ Fₑₗᵢₓ

17.

⇝ ⇝ ⇝ "Excuse me manager-nim,"

I hobbled into my apartment, leaving my bike outside. After moving to a new apartment with my finite belongings, I did my typical routine of checking out everything. The government goons had found a more likable part of Seoul with more protected streets; I felt my bike was safe sitting outside. I ignored the rush of footsteps behind me as I hobbled into the elevator.

I was trying so hard to not let out groans of pain but standing on my right leg was hellish. Felix rushed into the elevator beside me before the doors closed and immediately his hands found my waist. He forced my arm over his shoulder. Despite the height difference between us, the weight he took on helped liberate pressure from my leg and I was appreciative despite the severe trauma I've already put him through. I didn't want him to see me like this.

We hobbled together to my apartment - when inside, I wasted no time in leading us to my bathroom. It was larger than the prior one, the room in which I had to sit myself down on the toilet and lean over to rest my top half on the sink was pleasant and reliable.

"What the hell happened?" I heard a panicked voice and I looked at Felix through my tired eyes.

He was covered in my blood already - his white shirt sprinkled with some blood, his hands were shaking yet he was almost in a trance-like state at the sight of me. I sighed at him, he had never been subjected to this at all, never mind the amount of blood. He didn't need to be in here while I pry out these bullets. My first thought was to distract him instead of comfort him; I wasn't sure if comforting him would be helpful as long as he had his eyes on me.

"Yongbok," I said, my head starting to feel heavy, "Hey!"

His head shot up and we looked each other in the eyes. It's been two weeks since I last took a good look at him, but when I finally did, I noticed that he hadn't changed a bit. He still had that sweet and naïve look in his eyes, and his demeanour remained as gentle and caring as ever before.

"Do you want to help me?" I asked him, and he nodded quickly, his eyes falling on my two different wounds.

"Tell me what I can do," His voice wavered in uncertainty, he was too nervous to help physically but I could see the desperation in the tears starting to well in his lash line.

"I want you to go to my bedroom, there's a black bag in there, bring it to me," I said to him slowly, calmly, hoping it would work enough so he could process what I was saying.

He nodded quickly and left to navigate his way to my bedroom. While he was gone, I took the opportunity to gradually remove my clothes. The bulletproof vest came off first, and each weapon it concealed came off afterwards. My black long-sleeved shirt and then my boots. My pants were especially difficult since I lacked the feeling to lift my injured leg. I was sitting on my toilet, with nothing but underwear on. Each second passed, and I felt closer to passing out.

I looked at the disarray at my feet, clothes and a few weapons thrown about on the floor. Droplets of crimson-red blood descended from my leg and shoulder. The feeling of the warm liquid running down my arm and chest was close to making me sick. 

A part of me found this funny because this hasn't been the worst injury I've gotten. Have you ever been underwater before and run out of breath? Ever tried to fight to the surface?

Felix walked into the room, carrying a bag in his hand. As soon as he laid his eyes on me, I noticed a sudden shift in his demeanour. His face turned pale, and his eyes widened in surprise. I could sense that his heart skipped a beat at the sight of me. It was as if he had seen a ghost. I snatched the bag from him and lay it in the sink, just so I could reach it easier. I pulled out the small alcohol packets, used specifically for bullets.