When the Tables are Turned

Chapter 4

Gun's POV

I closed my eyes tightly trying to endure the sting from the tincture. Also the dabbing motion on my sprained ankle was causing it to throb even more painfully.

As Mark started to wrap my ankle with the ace wrap, the pain refused to subside. I was trying to bite my lower lip to keep from crying but suddenly just as Mark had finished wrapping my ankle, the tears that I had managed to hold back so far started to flow freely.

Suddenly I heard cameras popping and bright flashes came from all around.

Mark quickly stood up from his kneeling position and pressed my face against his chest to shield me from the cameras.

I hoped real hard that the cameras did not catch my tearful face before Mark was able to protect my privacy. Never was I so grateful for his protective presence at this moment.

Maybe I had been judging him wrongly all this time. Maybe he was more mature in thinking than I had credited him for. Maybe physical age had nothing to do with maturity of character.

The cameras continued to flash all around us.

"Just stay still," Mark whispered to me, "it will die down in a few moments."

I nodded helplessly against his chest.

True to Mark's words, the media photographers finally went away one by one and we were left alone.

"Are you feeling better now?" P'New asked, looking at my bandaged ankle.

"I think so," I replied.

"I would give credit to Mark for wrapping up your ankle very neatly," said P'New, looking approvingly at Mark.

"Of course," I seconded, "thank you for your assistance, Mark."

"Don't mention it," said Mark, smiling. I noticed his cheeks getting tinted with a pale kind of pink.

I hope I had not embarrassed him with my thanks. Some people are unable to accept thanks graciously.

Finally I saw Title walking towards me. Where had he been all this time that I needed him?

When he saw me, he walked faster.

"P'Gun!" he cried, "I had been waiting and waiting for you at the finish line but you never came, and then I have been looking all over for you but couldn't find you until now."

Suddenly he noticed my bandaged foot.

"What happened to you?" he asked anxiously, moving closer.

"He sprained his ankle," Mark explained.

"P'Gun, have you been crying?" Title asked, taking a handkerchief from his pocket but Mark beat him to it. Mark had also taken out a handkerchief from his pocket and started dabbing at my face before Title could do the same.

"You won't be able to drive yourself home," said Title, "let me take you home."

"Don't worry about it, P'," said Mark, "I will take him home."

"It's okay, Mark," I said, "I will let Title take me home."

"Why," asked Mark, sounding upset, "you don't trust me to take you home in one piece because I am just a child?"

I had the grace to blush guiltily.

"It's not that, Mark," I said in an appeasing tone, "you have done so much for me already. I don't want to burden you any further."

"Taking you home will not be a burden to me," Mark said in a harsh tone.

"Leave your car key with me and let Mark take you home," P'New suggested, "I will let one of the staff drive the car to your house and then the staff can ride back here with Mark."

I had no choice but to follow P'New's suggestion.