RDM | MW [✔]

06. Wonwoo

His pulse swayed against the pads of my thumbs, each beat heavier and more pronounced than the last. The skin around his throat tightened with each breath he took, and I struggled not to dig my nails into the skin covering his pulse point, claiming each and every one of those breaths as mine.

I was careful as I hoisted one leg over his sleeping body and made a home for myself against the sharp angles of his hips. My toes curled in tandem with my chest tightening, and I wondered if I'd always feel a little dizzy when I looked at him.

I'd spent thousands of hours mapping each line, each divot, and each vein that danced along his skin. I'd memorized the arch of his lips and traced the juncture of his neck. I knew Daddy's face better than I knew my own, and though I'd spent years watching him, it wasn't long enough.

There were spots I missed—subtle curves and faded wounds the cameras could never distinguish. Embedded into his skin, disguised by the thin hair of his left eyebrow, was a barely there scar no longer than my fingernail. The ends of my hair swept across his cheekbones when I bent over him and traced that scar with the tip of my tongue. My fingers crawled up his throat and anchored themselves to the scruff lining his jaw. The texture was rough, and it reminded me of Marv and the way his spikes felt when I wanted to bleed.

I'd rather bleed on Daddy.

My forearms started to itch, but I didn't dare move my fingers. Trapped beneath three layers of gauze and too much tape, were the scars I'd clawed open last night. They were mostly done bleeding by the time we got home from Somin's but Daddy made me wear the bandages, anyway. I hated them, but I knew I'd get in trouble for trying to take them off.

Do not hurt my baby.

Daddy's words were as much a plea as they were an order. I wouldn't disobey him—not again.

My arms were just a casualty to all the stress I felt watching him look through that folder. Anxiety buried me in bricks built of silence, and each second that passed where he said nothing, I fell deeper and deeper. I don't remember tearing at my skin, but I do remember the way my bones felt beneath it, crumbling under the weight of the unknown.

I remember the way my heart hid—concealing itself behind my crippled lungs, struggling to beat properly while it waited like the rest of me did.

Somin was wrong.

Daddy didn't break my heart muscles—he protected them.

His cheekbones twitched beneath my fingers, and I knew he was finally waking when he slid his palms up my thighs and used the tip of his finger to trace four letters against my exposed skin.

M I N E

I pressed our noses together and stared at his smooth eyelids, willing them to open. A heavy sound left his throat, and I felt his breath move across my lips while he struggled.

"I'll help you, Daddy." Taking one hand off his face, I used my thumb and forefinger to pry his eye open. "Hi."

"Kitten." His chest rocked beneath me, and I thought he was laughing at me because I felt his lips curve upward. "How long have you been awake?"

"I'm not sure."

I only slept when I was tired, which wasn't often. My brain buzzed a lot, and all the noise made it difficult for me to shut down. There were too many things to consider—too many questions that needed answers.

Long fingers tightened around my wrist and pulled my hand from his eye. "Was it still dark out when you woke up?"

Uhm... "It's always dark out when I wake up."