Amalgamation

CHAPTER TWO

A/N: I'm sorry guys if there's some inconsistencies or if there's too many errors. I tried to proofread a little, but I'm so exhausted that I honestly can't even and I really wanted to go ahead and get this out to you. In my zombie state the chapter seems really good and I'm really proud, but I guess I'll find out tommorow if that's truly the case or not. Please enjoy!

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"Absolutely not," I deadpan to Suga as he attempts to leave my apartment for the fifth time this morning alone. "Your injuries aren't completely healed yet, there's no way I'm gonna let you just waltz out of here."

"You're not my mother, and certainly not my owner. Fuck off," he says through clenched teeth.

I just know that the pain must be hitting him hard, but he refuses to cooperate with me. I admire the amount of determination it must take him to hobble down the stairs from my bedroom and to my front door. But that doesn't mean I intend to take it easy on him.

"No, I'm neither of those things. But I did save your life, and I'm not going to watch you throw it away carelessly. You will go and lay down, or I will carry you myself!"

As if to prove my point I roll the sleeves of my blouse up, every intention of making good on my word clearly etched into my face, despite the fact that I actually can't carry him.

"I never fucking asked for your help. I don't want it, I don't need it. Leave me be!" He shouts all while attempting to get around me and out of my front door. All of his energy seems to be expended in a single moment, however, as he begins to droop. I know what is coming next and luckily I am able to catch him before he falls to the floor and becomes dead weight. The trek back upstairs to my bed is a long and annoying one, he grumbles the entire way.

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Despite the fact that only a few days have passed Suga has become ridiculously insistent upon moving around frequently. For the most part, he gets around well, and it is beginning to become an issue. Nearly three times a day he makes an attempt to leave, and although I know this must be a whole ordeal for him I just can't let him go. I know that I'm being meddlesome and I honestly don't know if this is the right thing to do, but it feels like it. I don't know the details, but I know that his life before this must have been rough. I've seen it a hundred times at least since I began working at the shelter. I know what could happen to him out there. Since I was the one who rescued him I feel like it's my duty to save him. Not that he's making it easy.

"How is it?" I ask as he scarfs down my homemade beef stew. We are sitting at my dining room table, a small thing, square and sturdy.

It's a rather thick stew, nice and hearty with large chunks of beef and potatoes. Just the right thing for a stomach lingering between sickness and health. It's an old Irish recipe, straight from my grandmother's cookbook.

"It tastes like rotten ass," he retorts, even as he is stuffing his face, elbows splayed out upon the table as he literally hovers over his bowl. The food in his mouth spoils his words, morphing them into a garbled and nearly indecipherable mess. Unfortunately for me, I am more than used to people speaking with their mouths full.

I don't want to retort. I know that he's likely acting in this particular manner because he doesn't trust me. If it were me I'd be afraid, cautious. I can't blame him for putting walls around himself in order to absorb the shock of the impact and protect himself from the betrayal that he expects will come . However, there is only so much that I can take as a human being. I'm so close to losing my temper right now.