Hurt | N x V | Murder Drones OneShot

Hurt

N frowned, "I'm sorry, V."

"You already said sorry over the phone, don't start sounding like a broken record or else I'll kick you out," V replied, sitting down at the table and opening the kit. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the chair beside her, "Sit."

N didn't hesitate to do as he was told, obediently walking to the chair and sitting down before her. V looked him over now that she could see him better with proper light.

A newly formed black eye and a small cut above it; the whole area was starting to swell.

Now it was V's turn to frown; this was recent— but all of the injuries he's ever arrived with have been.

As she began sorting through the medical kit to grab what she needed, V was honest with herself. Even if she countered that Uzi wasn't that much younger than them, she was only sixteen— a sophomore in high school who could barely drive. She shouldn't have to deal with situations like this.

But yet again, N was only in highschool too. Sure he was a senior, but still.

No one — kid or not — should have to deal with abusive parents.

V was bitch— she knew this very well. But she wasn't cruel; she wouldn't wish this upon anyone.

Especially him.

N hissed and flinched back a bit when V began cleaning his cut.

"Stay still or else this'll take longer," V warned him, her voice not holding as much firmness as she wanted it too.

"Right, sorry," N apologized for the umpteenth time, folding his hands together in his lap.

She continued to clean it and N still flinched, but she said nothing to him and he was silent in return.

V, as much as she wishes she didn't, wonders what goes on in that head of his during times like these; when they're both quiet as she fixes him up.

Does he think about what happened; how he got these injuries? Does he worry about what his friends will think if he told them? Does he wonder what V's thinking? Does he wish things were different?

V bit her lip, thinking back to the Valentine's Day card she knew N kept in his backpack.

She sure wished things were different.

"There, you're all done wasting my medical supplies," V said once she finished, putting everything back in the first kit. N chuckled as she clicked the small box shut.

"Thanks for this, V. You should be asleep right now, not taking care of me," He said, a small smile on his face.

V frowned. She hated it when he got all moppy, sad, and sincere like this.

Be happy again, please.

"If I don't do it, who's gonna? You'd be dead by now if it weren't for me," V huffed, moving to poke N in the ribs; an attack she used on him all the time.

Except this time, N didn't let out a girly squeak or some gurgled 'gah,' he yelped and jerked away from V's touch.

V jumped, backed up from N as if she'd burned him, confusion filling her body(and maybe just the tiniest bit of concern).

"What the hell was that?" She demanded of him, her voice unsteady for a reason she wished she didn't know.

N slouched over in his chair, his hand hovering over where she'd poked him but not quite touching it. His head was down, face hidden. He didn't answer her.

"N," V demanded once more, her voice firming up as her heart rate quickened, "What was that?" She repeated, emphasizing every syllable.

N remained silent.

Unable to hold it in any longer, V forced N's hand hovering over his ribs away and pulled his shirt up, all while the boy himself did nothing to stop her.

What she saw made her want to throw up.

Covering N's whole side and expanding a bit onto his stomach was a dark, brown and purple bruise— it looked awful, how the hell had N been able to hide this!?

"N... what the fuck happened?" V interrogated. She was done pretending like nothing was wrong— done turning a blind eye every time N came to her home injured. She was tired of waiting for him to finally come clean but him never doing so.

N lifted his head and gave her a smile, "Nothing, don't worry about me! I just fell is all— you know how clumsy I am."

"Do you think I'm dumb?" V hissed, "Do you seriously think I haven't already put two and two together every time you call me looking for a place to stay and arrive hurt? I was patient enough to not say anything; to stay quiet until you decided to finally say something. But this?" She gestured to his abdomen, "This is too far, N. This has gone to fucking far."

"Please, V, just leave it alone," N begged, "I'm fine, you don't understand—"

"Don't understand what!?" V cried, rage engulfing her entire being as she stood up, the force of her stand making the chair she was in push back, "You're being abused, N! I'm not an idiot! Why are you just standing by and letting it happen? You have so many people who can and would help you!"

"There's nothing anyone can do!" N retaliated, his expression mixed with sadness and anger— V genuinely couldn't tell who the anger was directed at but she didn't care.

"Look at yourself!" V countered, "Call the police— CPS! You have all the proof you need right here on your body! All of this can end and it's only one damn phone call away!" She reached for her phone resting on the table but stopped when N suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"Don't!" He cried, his grip on V's wrist iron-like and his expression so... so pained V stopped breathing for a moment, "Please, V... just... don't."

Everything in the room went quiet and still; it was as if time itself had stopped. V made no attempt to remove her hand, still in its hovering position over her phone, being held in place by N. She wanted to fight him further— call him stupid, foolish, dense, a nitwit, and every other synonym in the book and then grab her phone and call the police.

But his face— his eyes. Damn, those eyes... she couldn't.

With a tired sigh, V fell back into her chair, rubbing her face tiredly.

"I hate you..." She murmured.

"I know."

"You're so fucking dumb."

"I know."

V didn't move her eyes from her lap when she heard N stand from his chair and make his way towards her. Even when she felt arms wrap around her — holding her close — she didn't look up.

"I wish you'd like me help you," She mumbled, not caring anymore about how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be in the moment. N's embrace around her tightened.

"You are."

"I just wanna be with you."

"...I know."

Once upon a time — years ago — V, innocent and immature, poured her heart and soul into the most basic, cheesiest Valentines card in the world.

She'd never had the courage to confess to anyone in her short thirteen years of living, but N was different— he was so clearly in love with her too... stupid, naïve V believed he could never say no.

And once upon a time, a boy who was just as in love with her as she was with him, rejected her with tears in his eyes and a bruise on his face.

"I'm sorry... it'd be... really selfish of me to let you so far into my life right now. But... let's try again in the future— when things are better! Please...?"

How long until this 'better' time came? How long until N was finally safe— until he wasn't hurting anymore?

How long will V have to wait?