When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 24

His stomach was worse.

I hesitated. "Lift your shirt."

Han Ul's gaze didn't waver.

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, without a word, he lifted the fabric.

I sucked in a breath.

Bruises sprawled across his ribs and stomach-deep, dark, spreading like ink under his skin. Some were fresh, others still forming. I didn't realize my super power had made it worse.

I reached out. The second my fingers brushed against his skin, he inhaled sharply.

His head tipped back against the couch.

I froze.

His jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck flexing. He wasn't making a sound, but I felt it-the way his muscles tensed under my touch, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking.

Heat crawled up my neck.

I pressed the cloth against his ribs, ignoring the way his stomach tensed beneath my hand.

His voice was lower than usual. "Trying to kill me?"

I swallowed. "You should be grateful I'm helping."

His lips twitched. "Grateful, huh?"

I pressed harder.

He let out a slow exhale, something like a chuckle escaping under his breath.

The silence stretched between us. It wasn't uncomfortable. But it wasn't comfortable either.

It was something in between.

When I finished, I sat back, closing the first-aid kit.

And then, reality settled in.

It was late. Too late.

I should go home.

...But the thought made something sink in my stomach.

The silence stretched.

I glanced at the door. Then at him. Then at the door again.

"...It's, um, really late," I muttered.

Han Ul didn't even blink.

I cleared my throat. "And, you know, my house is pretty far."

Still nothing.

I picked at my sleeve. "And it's not like I have anywhere to go right now, so..."

Silence.

I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "And, uh, I mean, dangerous people are out there, so staying here would just be... logical?"

Han Ul stared at me.

I stared back.

And then, he sighed.

"You're terrible at this."

I frowned. "At what?"

"At asking for things."

I scowled. "I wasn't-"

"I'll get you a room," he muttered, pushing himself up.

I shut my mouth.

He disappeared down the hall, and when he returned, he tossed something at me.

I caught it, blinking.

It was a T-shirt. His T-shirt. And a pair of shorts.

"They're clean," he said simply.

I hesitated before taking them. My uniform was still stained with blood.