Flower Shop ✿ park jimin

fifteen

YOU

Taehyung had the most severe injuries of everyone, therefore I was bandaging him. Everyone else were either asleep, or relaxing their tensed muscles. Jimin, on the other hand, is playing with Luna in his bedroom. I dipped a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and placed it on his wounds, causing him to snarl and hiss. He clinched his fists onto the table and squeezed his eyes in misery, pleading, "Be gentle with my cuts," as I appeared to press too hard. His entire body flinches again with another dab. "Be gentle, Y/N! Gentle!"

"Perhaps next time, don't be too reckless," I rolled my eyes at him. "And maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

Taehyung whimpers in pain as I apply another press to his open wounds, and he squeezes my palm as I pour more alcohol into them. He chews his lower lip, attempting to alleviate the discomfort. "I understand; it's just that I didn't anticipate him to actually try to kill me. He's usually a picker pecker, picking up shit and then throwing it away when he's done. But this time, I saw the anxiousness in his eyes. Usually he displays emotions of satisfaction and absolute joy of torturing someone, but he looked worried; he's in a hurry about something for him to do this."

"In a rush?" While bandaging his wounds, I asked him out. "But what for?"

"Though his men or the cartel conduct the murdering because Ace is a perfectionist and likes his hands clean, he rarely does the work of attempting to end someone's life. Of course—" As I patched Taehyung's wounds, he groans. I came to a halt for a second and looked up at him, obtaining an encouraging nod to continue on my way. I sighed and inserted the needle into his flesh, stretching out the threads as it slowly closed the large gash on his upper left back near his shoulder. "I wasn't prepared to take a harsh thrashing," Taehyung continues.

I softly dabbed the cotton on his back. As I continued to look around, my gaze was drawn to a massive scar that stretched across his body, as if he had been burned with some metal. I stroked his scar, but he grabbed my wrist. I look to Taehyung, who is staring me down. "Sorry, shouldn't have done that," I said as I averted my gaze. I stated.

Taehyung does not respond as his grip on my wrist gradually loosens. Then everything fell silent as I finished patching him wounds and applying numbing cream. He carefully slides off the counter and puts on his shirt, accompanied by more whimpering and painful noises. But my gaze was locked onto his scars, and he appeared to notice my strong gaze.

"You appeared captivated by my scars, Y/N. It's impolite to stare at them without their permission," Taehyung says with a faint grin, as if he's taunting me.

But what's the deal with his melancholy expression?

I became flushed from embarrassment and mumbled, "I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be gazing," I said, looking down at my feet, slightly ashamed of myself.

"Would you like to hear how I obtained them?" He says. What annoyed me was how he said it—like as if the scars were trophies given by his trauma. I can tell by the looks he gave me—his eyes were full of pain, his heart still affected heavily to what happened. As if he were being reminded of a memory that he would rather not be reminded of at all. He smiled and sat back down. As I opened my lips to speak, he quickly cuts me off, "I'll tell you anyhow."