pretty | knj. + jjk.

2

Namjoon

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Standing on the ledge of the roof, a thin boy with slumped shoulders stood. One of his hands were in his sweatpants pockets, the other was holding a lighter; thumb brushing over the top, causing a flame to ignite, then get blown out by the wind. Both of his forearms were wrapped in sterile bandages. From where I stood, I could see that he had ear buds in. His jet black hair moved in the direction of the wind as he looked down at the road.

Throwing my bag to the side, I ran towards him and grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him away from the edge. He let out a scream of fear.

Turning him around to face me, I looked down on his frail frame.

His wide glossy doe eyes stared up at me with fear, his cheeks flushed a rich shade of red, but the other parts of his skin was overall on the paler side, or bruised. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his chapped pink lips slightly parted. 

He was simply pretty. Really pretty.

I also caught sight of the bandages wrapped around the tips of all of his fingers. I subconsciously gripped his wrist, earning a loud wince and him breaking out of my grasp and running away.

---
"Why are you late Kim?" I rubbed the back of my neck and avoided coach's eyes.

"Sorry coach. My stomach was hurting" I bowed my head before letting him continue to give instructions. 

Practice continued as usual, but I was definitely off my game. No pun intended. 

I kept fumbling with the ball, tripping on the slightest unevenness on the field, running the wrong way, etc.. 

"You okay, man?" Hoseok gave me a concerned look from underneath his helmet. I nodded and waved him away.

During one of the breaks, coach waved me down and patted the bench before telling my sub to go on next.

"I'm benching you for the rest of practice today. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that today is just not your day. You can choose whether or not you want to leave practice now or wait for practice to finish" I bowed my head in thanks before dismissing myself.

Standing in the change rooms, I leaned my forehead against the cold lockers.

Why can't I get his face out of my my head?

His wide eyes stared up at me with such fright and sadness, my heart tightens thinking about it. He looked so fragile.

Punching the lockers out of frustration, I soon packed my belongings into my bag and left the school.

I stopped by the convenience store to buy some bandages and disinfectant when I realized my aching hand was not only in pain, but bleeding.

Rounding the corner of one of the aisles I stopped in my tracks when I saw the same boy from earlier.

He looked up from the package of bandages he was holding and looked at me with wide eyes. Dropping the box, he ran in the opposite direction, out of the aisle, and most likely, out of the store.

I sighed. Walking to where he was previously standing, I crouched down and picked up the box of bandages.

Blister/burn bandages

Grabbing a box of normal bandaids, sterile wrap and disinfectant, I went to the check out and paid for the items.

I walked back to my house and creeped up to my room as quietly as I could, not to wake my mom.

Closing my bathroom door, I washed the gash on my knuckles and poured disinfectant on it, wincing at the burn. 

"Shit" I put bandages on the cuts before wrapping my knuckles and wrist with the compression wrap.

I laid down in my bed, the frightened face of mystery boy stuck in mind.

He looked so innocent when he didn't know I was there. So why did he have to look so scared?