SHORT STORY
●pairings: Day6 Wonpil×reader
●description: Such a fragile heart torn in a terrible way; I can't just leave him...
At first, the sound was almost just my imagination, as I walked along the steady nights road, heading home from a long day at work. I had started to take the long way home after fighting with a lazy co-worker to blow off some steam, knowing that the town was lit and full of people in every corner, but I had stopped in the midst of waking. I know I heard it, I had to of. There was no way I could have made up a distinctive voice calling out for help. So I moved towards what I thought was a light voice.
He was laying down uncomfortably on the cardboard box, a red hand over his stomach to cover up what had to be a wound. The color of his eyes was draining as he stared at the sky, softly calling out for help, hoping someone would hear. The dark brown hair of his was sticking up in every direction and covered in a dried red substance that matched his hands and every other cut upon his body.
At first, I froze at the sight. I was surprised to see such a small person in my town. Although pocket people were not unheard of, my town was forbidden of having them, as it was seen expensive and not needed. We hadn't become accustomed to miniature people being sold at stores like pets.
But then I realized how badly injured the poor thing really was. His voice was very soft and groggy, continuously asking for someone to help him. The life was seemingly gone from his body as he laid helplessly on the box, waiting. Immediately I moved the box out from behind the garbage bin that was beside the small restaurant I worked for. The full body of the miniature person was before me and I sighed.
More bruises.
Biting my lip, I gently raise my pointer finger towards the person and nudge him. "Hey there," I whispered, worried he had some damage to him internally as well. His eyes maneuvered on to me and I cracked a small smile to reassure him. "Are you alright?"
His free hand grabs my finger, barely covering the tip with his palm. "Please, help me." The dark brown eyes of his met my own, swallowing me whole and drowning me in sorrow. I nodded to him and his breath caught in his throat. "I'm hurting."
My heart ached to hear him struggle. I didn't know what the situation was at all, nor why he was out here alone and in the cold, but I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life if I left the poor thing. "I'm going to see if I can pick you up, okay?"
He nodded, allowing me to attempt at picking him up without hurting him. But, I could see his eyes scrunching to the pain, so I stopped. "Oh god, you poor thing, I don't know what to do..." I trailed off, thinking of how much trouble I would be in if caught having a pocket person with me. But he was injured and leaving him wouldn't be wise.
I go to look around for something to help me, when I recognized the box he was laying on. It was an empty box I had thrown out just earlier today and was free to use, now. Taking the edges between my hands, I rip off the section he laid on and brought him closer to my eyes to see each wound. Most did not look deep, but who knows what was under that hand of his.
"Alright, I need to get you home now. It will be a little bit, just bear with me please," I inform the boy, glancing down at him with panic every few seconds. I was paranoid that we would get caught as there were so many people around me, but also that he may die on me at any moment. Not wanting either to happen, I pulled my glasses cleaning rag out from my purse and used it as a blanket.
