Incognito ✔️

Εννέα

"What happened to you?" I kneeled down by him and inspected his injury. It was indeed a bullet that pierced through his upperarm. I looked at his perfect features and it was mauled. Black and blue peppered his face with dried blood and cuts designing his cheeks and the side of his mouth.

I'll take you to the hospital" I stood and helped him up but his face morped in pain and shook his head otherwise, "No hospital visits"

I sighed and brushed my hair with my fingers, "What the he- What happened to you?"

Without his explanation, I jumped to my toes and semi-ran to the bathroom to take my first aid kit out and nurse Mikhail. I know for one that I won't be able to gather information from this guy. Been there, done that.

It wasn't my first time to take care of a wounded individual, but it was my first to see how damage one could ever be, physically.

I sat back to where he sat, more like he is holding on to consciousness and he just lay back there and I feel like I couldn't move his body because there might be broken bones somewhere since he flinched earlier when I tried to get him up to his feet.

"Who did this to you" I whispered, but it was more of a statement than a question I know he wouldn't answer, while I clean up the blood that dried and some that where still wet on his arm.

He coughed hard and I looked away to not see his pain.

Is this the life he chose? To kill and be killed?

He told me to leave his house a couple weeks ago and now when he's all bruised and had it bad, he comes to my apartment like he owns it. And I let him.

I don't think I'll endure it every time he will walk out on me and see him all destroyed when he gets back. Before, with Cisco, I didn't know how much he'd be on, but now I do. It is to the extent where he might not get back alive one of these days and I know it.

I finish the upperarm, trying so difficult to not give him more pain when I took the bullet out. I didn't even know how to take it but still I did.

His eyes where on me the whole time and at last he spoke, "I'm sorry"

My right hand stopped dabbing clean cotton from his forehead and I met his gaze. As always, his eyes are wonders that traps me. Every freaking time. But now I just realized how tired he looked.

He has dark circles and his skin was dry, like he haven't had nourishment and water for a couple of days.

I shook my head, "I don't need an apology" and suddenly, I voiced much harsher, "I need the reason or f*ck reasons why you look like you've been mugged and starved for days. Not an I'm sorry phrase that makes me look even more pathetic of why I'm actually helping you out after you obviously cast me out of your house and your life weeks ago"

Mikhail smiled faintly. Yes, the asshole smiled, he tried to and I lost it.

"Stop being an ass, will you?" I dabbed the cotton much rougher on the side of his lip now and he hissed. I got the upperhand here and he knows it. I continued since I'm quite not done yet, "You were the one who treated me poorly and now you're like a lost wounded puppy who needed a roof and I tuck you in. Nursed you. Stop f*cking with me and tell me what the hell happened, who did this to you and so I could have at least a peace of mind. The weeks has been difficult for me enough not to think about you, your smirk, your smell, your f*cking eyes, and your touch" I exasperated, "F*ck Mikhail"

By the time I finished, I didn't know I'm already tearing up. I was crying because I'm broken, used, pathetic.

Most of all, I hated myself. At why I should and why I'm not pushing him out of my house right this moment.