Serendipity: The Amazing Journey Of A Soulmate

52. Your eyes tell

JUNGKOOK

"Before you start complaining," I say to the woman beside me as I sweep her off her feet and secure my arms around her slender body, "let me tell you there are a lot of stairs ahead which it will probably take you all night to climb alone in this state. So hold tight onto me, okay?" I instruct and to my surprise she's not protesting, although I see the small frown on her forehead. She's swallowing back her remarks, I believe. What a sharp tongue she has, scary little thing. I find this amusing and hold back a smile as I carry her to the apartment, carefully stepping to not make sudden moves and hurt her. But despite my carefulness, I can see her grimacing in pain from time to time, trying hard to conceal it.

When I called her tonight, my intention was to find out the reason why she ran away from me back in the woods and maybe a part of me, the least proud and rational, just wanted to hear her voice. Oh, and what a pleasant sound that was. Until I heard she got wounded and all the excitement turned into fear. Pure, utter terror. Only the thought of seeing her lying on a hospital bed, bloodied and barely clinging to life made me jump into my car and racing to the hospital. To her.

Reea. Her name is a melody slyly creeping into my mind. Like one of those songs stuck in your head and no matter what you do, you can't get rid of it. It's so annoying and it pisses you off but then you find yourself humming to it, until eventually you can't stop singing it. Until it becomes the only music that you know. Its lyrics, your favorite words. Its tune, your favorite sound. You don't have lips or ears for something else. This is what she is to me. She's residing in my mind and won't leave. Do I really want her to leave, though?

She is not easy to like. She fights me and curses at me like a sailor, she ignores me and kills me with her stare. But the more she pushes me away, the more I want to be around her. I can't explain this feeling. I've never felt this drawn to a woman before. The music was the only thing that I ever committed to, yet here she is, challenging me, throwing me over the edge over and over again. She's emanating strength through all her pores, dominant and wild. A rebel of the new world. All these traits are inciting, admirable. But there is a certain fragility in her all the same. The moment I see her eyes, she's pulling me closer, like I'm a puppet on a string. There is something in her look that makes want to linger. A foreign sadness that I want to know; a pool of loneliness that I want to rescue her from. Her eyes, they tell. They tell a story I want to unveil.

I'm being selfish, but I want her. I think I wanted her from the moment I saw her that night at the club, casually leaning on the police car with her brown hair blown by the wind, quietly smoking a cigarette. She makes me want to fight for her, win her. In a world where you're either truth or dare, she is both. A dare to my mind and a truth to my soul that has yet to be uncovered.

"So what happened exactly? How did you get wounded?" I ask the woman in my arms as I press a button to the elevator. I glance down at her, expectantly. Her skin is pale and she wears a tired expression on her face. All this must've been draining her out of energy. She takes a moment before she speaks.

"I was on patrol and I witnessed a scumbag trying to force himself on a woman. We got into a fight. He had a small knife that I totally lost sight of and he stabbed me with it. I didn't know how bad it was until I collapsed in front of my office, after the arrest." she says licking her chapped lips, making my gaze fall inevitably on that very spot.

"Jesus Christ, Reea. He got you well there. You could've died! " I exclaim horrified, the realization sinking in.

"You should see the other guy," she jokes, letting out a chuckle that quickly turns into a cough and a hiss of pain.