ENG - Fractured Fates ʰʸᵘⁿˡᶦˣ

23

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Minho POV

Still pissed off that the bastard had actually got me with a bullet, I dragged myself home. I could feel the lead sticking in my shoulder: a constant, aching pain that urged me to remove it as quickly as possible and stitch up that damn wound. The blood kept oozing from the injury, which I tried to squeeze with my right hand to stop the flow. Chan's orders were getting more and more dangerous, and slowly I really had to pay attention.

Sighing, I stopped and looked around. I was near the hospital and thought about it. I could actually go and see Hyunjin first. He could remove this damn thing from my shoulder and stitch up the wound. At least it would be less hassle to do it myself, and I could just steal the stitching stuff from one of the many rooms.
That was a good plan, so I changed my direction to the right and walked towards the hospital. The people walking past me gave me suspicious looks, but no one spoke to me. Lucky for them. Or rather mine, because it was the middle of the night and you couldn't see the blood very well through my black clothes.

When I arrived at the hospital, I went through the entrance as usual, where the fat security guard was already fast asleep and snoring away, just like last month. Disgusting.
I climbed the stairs and followed the same lifeless path I'd taken several times in the past month. It smelled terribly of death and old people shitting themselves because they couldn't make it to the toilet, mixed with the acrid smell of disinfectant.
I was really glad when Hyunjin got out of here and I never had to walk this damn path again.
The dark corridors of the hospital seemed to stretch endlessly as I moved through the cold, sterile corridors. My footsteps echoed as I moved through the darkness, broken only by the occasional flickering neon lights hanging from the ceiling.

When I reached the floor where Hyunjin's room was located, I was about to turn the corner when a petite, black-haired woman approached me. „You can't stay here any longer, visiting hours are over," she said, giving me a warning look.
A sigh escaped me, followed by a roll of the eyes. There she goes again. „Go away, doll," I said and walked past her, leaving her behind in her little universe of duty and rules. She seemed completely overwhelmed, looked around in panic and then ran off, but I wasn't going to let that bother me.
Unfortunately for me, she came back less than twenty seconds later, this time with someone else in tow. They both stood in my way and an annoyed growl escaped me. The guy she'd brought with her looked at me with wide, worried eyes and then at the girl. „I got this, Kazuha, you go back to Felix," he said, and the doll obeyed.

After she left, he looked at me again and smiled slightly, but his eyes betrayed concern. „She's new. She doesn't know yet that you just show up here at night," he explained to me as I looked at him and he didn't return my gaze, staring at the floor instead. „I don't care," I said and was about to walk past him too, but he stopped me by grabbing my arm. „You're bleeding," he said and stood in front of me again.
I looked down at myself and saw blood running down my entire left arm and dripping from my fingertips onto the cold, sterile floor. He reached for my jacket and pulled it open with a tug, as I had my hand underneath it to press on my wound. Eyes wide, he saw my blood-covered hand and the bleeding area. „This needs to be treated immediately," he said, looking around in a panic as if looking for help that didn't exist in this lonely corridor.

I sighed again, annoyed, and rolled my eyes. „Don't be annoying," I said and walked past him again. But this ex-blondie was incredibly stubborn and stood in my way again. He grabbed my left hand with a force I wouldn't have believed him capable of and pulled me into one of the side rooms. „It can't stay like this, it could end really badly," he said. He immediately started rummaging through the drawers for all sorts of things. His movements were frantic, almost panicked. „And yes, I know you can't afford it, blah blah blah. I'll take care of this now and you sit down and take your top off," he ordered, pointing to the couch where I was to sit down.
A low, bitter laugh escaped me as I shook my head and tried to walk out of the door. But he was immediately in front of me, pushing me back into the room with his hands on my chest. His touch was rough, but not rough. He almost pushed me onto the couch. „I said undress," he said sternly, looking at me with a look that brooked no argument.

I watched him with a raised eyebrow as he started to pick everything out again. The way he was trying to sound commanding was somehow sharp. So I took off my jacket and my top. I didn't really care who took the damn bullet out of my shoulder, as long as it was out. I wiped the wound with my top, which I could throw away anyway, but it didn't do any good as it only made it bleed even more.
When the ex-blondie saw me, he immediately rushed towards me and ripped the piece of fabric out of my hands. He threw it to the floor, his eyes glittering with anger and concern. „Are you crazy? God, what's wrong with you?" he asked me, though to me it sounded more like he was talking to himself. He put his gloves on and then pressed gauze compresses onto my wound and my own hand over it. „Hold on and press firmly," he ordered as he continued to gather everything together. He then placed everything on a tray next to me on the couch.

With a light slap on my hand, he symbolized that I should remove my hand again. He removed the bloody cloths so that he could look at the wound. His eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at the wound. „It needs stitches," he stated, which only made me roll my eyes. „You don't say," I commented, slightly annoyed. „Just get the bullet out and stitch it up," I added, continuing to look at the boy in front of me.
The former blonde's eyes widened in horror as he looked at me in shock. „Bullet? Were you ... shot?" he asked me, stunned, his voice quivering slightly. „That has to be reported. Have you called the police yet?" he asked, but my eyes darkened to a deep, threatening black.

I grabbed the back of his neck with my bloodied right hand and pulled him so close that I could feel his fluttering breath on my face. My eyes bored into his like two sharp blades. „If you even think about calling the police, you won't live to see the next day. So get the damn thing out or get the fuck out," I threatened him in a harsh, icy voice that brooked absolutely no argument.
His eyes widened as he realized I was serious. He swallowed hard and then nodded hesitantly. His throat worked audibly. „Okay," he said quietly, almost a whisper, whereupon I let go of him again and let out a deep, stressed sigh.

So he hesitantly removed all the gauze dressings and looked at the wound again. His hands trembled slightly as he looked at the bloody, gaping area. „I'm going to numb the area," he said, already reaching for a syringe that blinked in the light of the meagre lamp. I grabbed his wrist to stop him and continued to look at him angrily, almost hatefully. „I don't need to. Just do it," I continued to command, which only made him gulp again and simply nod, like a scared little dog obeying.
He grabbed a pair of tweezers and carefully, almost tentatively, began to look for the bullet, peering into the wound. His eyes were focused on my shoulder, his tongue was between his lips as he was completely focused on his work. He was so incredibly careful, as if he was afraid of hurting me. Or as if he was afraid I might kill him if he did. I watched him closely as he did it, my eyes never leaving his fingers.

When he reached the bullet that had buried itself deep in my flesh, he paused and looked at me with a look that expressed both pity and apology. „This is going to hurt like hell," he said quietly, almost apologetically, his voice rough and brittle. I nodded and replied, „Go on now."
I felt the cold metal tweezers touch the bullet and he began to carefully remove it from my shredded shoulder. His every movement was precise and controlled, but still a sharp, biting pain shot through my body, making my face contort into a grimace.

When the bullet was finally out of my flesh, he dropped it onto the bloodstained tray with a soft clink and dabbed away the incessant flow of blood. My shoulder burned like fire, but I was also relieved to finally be rid of that damn piece of metal. „You really have nerves of steel," he said as he pressed the bandage firmly against my wound and looked at me with a look of admiration. „I just removed a bullet from your shoulder without anesthetic and all you did was grimace."
He grabbed my hand again and pressed it onto the bandage to hold it in place while he prepared the needle and thread. „Not many would have remained so calm," he added.
I rolled my eyes scornfully, not taking my eyes off him. „I'm just not a crybaby," I said. He looked at me with a look that expressed both anger and concern. His eyebrows drew together as he looked at me. „Maybe not, but you're pretty stupid. That's the fourth time this month I've stitched you up here," he scolded, sounding more concerned for me than angry. „Those are just the ones you know about," I replied and his eyes immediately widened in shock. His face drained of color as he realized what I had said.
He immediately began to examine my naked upper body. His eyes slid over my skin and he discovered at least two more wounds on the front that I had stitched up myself. His hand reached for my uninjured shoulder and turned me around to inspect my back. There was another wound there, but it wasn't one I had stitched up myself, but one of my bed bunnies.

His eyes widened in horror and a look of bewilderment flitted across his face as he stared at me. „What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself somehow?" he asked me, completely shocked. But I dismissed his concern with a casual wave of my hand, as if it was nothing more than a trifle, which in my eyes it was. „It happens sometimes at work," I replied coolly. „At work?" he repeated skeptically and raised an eyebrow. „Would you believe it," he mumbled to himself as he reached for the needle and thread. He removed the piece of cloth I was holding on the wound.
He disinfected it again and then began to stitch it up. „You're going to die if you carry on like this," he murmured as he concentrated on pulling the thread through my flesh. My gaze remained fixed on him, watching him. „It's quite possible," I answered honestly, because it was true. Every job Chan gave me could kill me.

I saw him tense his jaw, his eyes darkening as he continued his work. I could see him struggling to keep his emotions under control, trying to remain professional, but there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes. His hands trembled slightly as he placed the final stitch and cut the thread. He put the needle aside and covered the wound with a new bandage.
„You should be more careful," he said quietly, without looking at me, and took off his rubber gloves to throw them in the bin with the rest. But before he could dispose of everything, I grabbed the bullet and put it in my pocket, this evidence didn't need to be lying around anywhere. Then he turned around and went to the sink in the corner of the room.
He turned on the tap and washed his hands and the back of his neck where I had touched him with my bloody hand before. He dried his hands and wet another cloth, which he approached me with, and carefully began to wash down my arm and chest where the blood was running down. His touch was gentle, almost tender.

This boy was a mystery to me and confused me in a way I didn't understand. He didn't know me, knew absolutely nothing about me, and yet he broke the rules for the fourth time when he treated me. Apart from the dozens of times before when he didn't report me for walking around here at night. Either he was incredibly naive and stupid or just too good for this world to have pity on a stray like me.
With a sad, almost heartbreaking look in his eyes, he asked me: „Why are you doing this work if you're going to get hurt so badly?" His voice was gentle, full of concern and compassion. I gave him an honest answer, because that was the only reason I had gotten involved with Chan: „Because I need the money to pay for Hyunjin's stay here."
The ex-blondie nodded and continued to gently wipe the blood off my arm. „If ... it was paid off, would you leave this job?" he asked me suddenly, without looking at me. I snorted contemptuously at this question, because it could take years if things continued to progress as slowly as they had so far. „I don't know. I'll decide then," I said and took the towel from his hands.

In a burst of inexplicable passion, I put my right hand on his lower back and pulled him closer to me between my legs. My other hand moved to the back of his neck and briefly ran through his soft, dark hair before I pulled him down to me. My lips touched his only fleetingly, a barely noticeable breath, as I watched his every reaction carefully.
His eyes closed, a soft sigh escaped his throat and his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. He didn't resist this unexpected touch, but snuggled even closer to me, which is why I simply bridged the last millimeter and kissed him.

Without giving myself much time, I let my tongue wander over his lips, curiously exploring their softness and demanding entry. He opened up to me hesitantly, but willingly. I played around his tongue demandingly, explored his mouth and tasted the sweet note of his last drink. His response was shy, uncertain, but full of devotion.
My tongue danced wildly with his until I took his lower lip between my teeth and pulled on it. A low moan escaped his throat as he pressed himself even closer to me. I broke away from his lips and let my tongue wander slowly over his cheek, leaving a wet trail before I reached his ear and whispered into it, „That was my payment, ex-blondie. You might get more next time. Well done."

With those words, I fully detached myself from him again and pulled my jacket back on since I could forget my t-shirt. „My name is Jisung, remember that already," he said, a little miffed. I put my finger under his chin and lifted it as I stroked his lips with my thumbs. „Give me a reason to remember it," I replied. I then left the room, leaving behind a confused but also fascinated boy. I was slowly taking a liking to him.

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