@AmeliaC-eg4nv

2 years ago

POV: (tw; mention of bl0od & w0unds) “I don’t need your help, pretty-boy,” I force through clenched teeth as pain barrels through me. He doesn’t listen and snatches the first-aid kit from my hands with a little quirk of his lips. I attempt to lunge and take back the red box but agony tears through me and I stop short, slumping back into my chair with a groan. “Really?” he says, his voice lilting with mockery. I scowl at him as he kneels in front of me, trying to ignore the strange flutter in my heart at the sight of him at my feet. I focus on the pain instead, the blood seeping through the white fabric of my shirt, staining it a dark, scarlet red. “As your sidekick, it’s my job to help you.” “Aren’t you such a gentleman?” He rolls his eyes. “And if I don’t help you, you’re going to die,” he adds. His voice is calm but I notice the trembling of his hands as he fumbles with the clasps of the box. “Nervous, pretty-boy?” I ask as he finally flips open the lid and takes out a little glass bottle of yellowish liquid. The room spins for a moment but I blink away the dizziness. “No, I just don’t want my boss to die.” He opens the lid of the bottle and grabs a cloth, pouring half the liquid onto the stainless fabric. “Why do you keep calling me that?” “What?” “You know what.” “Pretty-boy?” I say with a smirk and he nods, keeping his gaze averted as he returns the bottle to the box. “Because you’re pretty… and I like how flustered it makes you.” He whips his head up, his green eyes flashing. They take me by surprise, his sudden gaze and I feel a ridiculous, overwhelming urge to tuck the strand of hazel-coloured hair that brushes his brow away from his face. Fortunately, my self-restraint is rather good. A blush crawls up his face and he returns his gaze to the box, unwrapping a roll of bandage in preparation. “I’m going to need you to lift up your shirt,” he mumbles, so quiet that I can barely hear him. Though my heart pounds, my smirk widens and I do so, lifting the blood-sodden fabric up so my stomach and ribs are exposed, the wound with them. A small gasp escapes his lips as he examines the ugly injury, the torn skin and flesh. “I’m surprised you’re not passed out by now,” he says. Ironically, at his words, another wave of dizziness washes over me but I do my best to hide it; no point in worrying him further. Slowly, achingly carefully, he lifts the rag soaked in liquid and gently dabs at the delicate skin on the outside of the wound. I can’t help but hiss with pain and he flinches, as though the sound hurts him. “Sorry,” he says on an exhale of breath that tickles my skin. “I’ve felt worse,” I mutter, trying to keep my expression passive. His gentle fingers brush my skin and the feeling of that contact sends a strange thrill through my body that I’ve never quite felt before. It’s not the same threat that comes with a dangerous job, a vengeful kill, but something different. Something, somehow, better. My breath hitches involuntarily and his hands freeze, one with the rag still gripped in his fist and the other hovering over my skin. He looks up and, as the moonlight catches on the delicate features of his face, the high cheekbones, I realise that pretty is an understatement. His throat bobs and he quickly retracts his hands. I realise that I’m gaping stupidly like a fish and hastily attempt to lapse into that form of easy, loping charm. “I don’t bite, you know,” I drawl and he shakes his head, setting down the rag now drenched in blood. “How did this even happen?” he asks, unraveling a snowy white bandage. “I got in a fight, killed the guy but he got a swipe to my ribs.” I shrug and wince as the movement pulls at the injury. “Nothing I can’t handle.” “You keep saying that but you’re practically swaying in your chair,” he says. “Maybe you should lie down.” “I don’t, ‘lie down’,” I laugh, even as the room spins around me. “It’s a waste of time, unless it’s for the bare minimum hours of sleep I need to function.” “You’re ridiculous,” he sighs. “But you love me.” I grin. He just shakes his head again. Some part of me is grateful, but the bigger part of me wishes he’d said yes. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3

211 |