𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 ₓ˚. ୭ ᵗᵒᵏʸᵒ ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉʳˢ

𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 | 𝟹 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛

"No!" Kazutora yells, pushing his hands up in defence, "no doctors. You can't tell anyone," he explains, tears brimming his eyes.

"Why can't I tell anyone you're hurt?" I question, blissfully unaware of the horrors he hid away behind those gleaming white picket fences.

Kazutora doesn't answer, so I move to get off the bed, slowly manoeuvring towards my closed door.

He seemed to catch on, and he jumped onto me; our falling bodies bouncing back onto my mattress, causing me to yelp out in response.

"Please..." Kazutora mumbled into my ear, hugging my waist tighter as he stayed laying on top of me, "please don't leave me," he continued to beg, over and over.

In turn, I wrapped my arms around his trembling body, "I promise I won't leave," I say, truthfulness laced within my tone.

Kazutora moved his head from my neck to look into my eyes, "you promise?" He repeated back.

I pulled my right hand out from underneath his body, raising my pinky finger, "I promise."

Smiling, our pinky fingers then intertwined.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

My vision was blurred when I first peeled my eyes open. It was then I realised that I was just reliving the summer of 1994 within my dreams.

The sound of a heart monitor reverberated in my right ear, and as I was coming back to my senses, I figured the stale white room I was sleeping in was the hospital.

I attempted to shift my body on the stiff mattress underneath me, however it seemed as though I forgot my wound, and as a response it sent a violent throb up my stomach and bloomed into my chest.

In turn, I let out a small cough, which alerted the person who accompanied me in my room.

"[y/n]! You're awake!"

I shifted my head towards the source; seeing [b/n] sat on a plastic waiting chair next to my bed, who appeared to have previously chewing on the straw of his juice box.

"[b/n]?" I question, scanning over his form, until I noticed what he was wearing, "you're wearing my Toman jacket?"

[b/n] nodded, playing with the ends, "a guy with blonde hair gave it to me, saying that I needed to give it to you," he explains, before giving a sheepish smile, "but it's really warm and comfy, so I kinda started wearing it cause it's cold."

I smile, refraining from laughing to not cause more pain in my side.

Observing the room, I took notice of the IV attached to my arm and the various balloons, cards and flowers over on a desk, "where is everyone?" I ask, grabbing onto the closest card next to me.

"You're in the accident and emergency ward, and [parent/guardian] requested only direct family to see you until you're moved into the general ward," [b/n] states, and my eyebrows furrow at the decision made.

[b/n] seemed to pick up on my confusion, continuing, "they got really mad, because you got really hurt cause of those 'gang boys' as they call them."

I roll my eyes, "they seem to forget that I'm actually apart of a gang as well," I state, annoyance written in my tone.

"Yeah, I guess," [b/n] says softly, wrapping himself further into my jacket, "but, although no one told me, I overheard that you almost bled out, and the doctors said something about you going into stage 3 hypovolemic shock."