Who Are You Playing With? | MYG & JH

Chapter 11: Injuries

"Hyung, you really don't understand. She was raised a completely different way than us." Namjoon says softly with a small frown as he looks away from me to Yoongi. He looks between the two of us in confusion while I'm looking at Namjoon confused as well.

"How do you know anything about me aside from what I've told you?" I question hesitantly as Jin silently continues checking my legs, though clearly still listening.

"My father worked for your father's gang. He saw how hard he trained you and didn't want me to be trained that way, even though everyone knew he was only hard on you. He was harder on you even more than he was your brothers. My father was having my train with the lower levels during the weekdays to prepare me eventually when I'd be old enough." He explains with a tiny smile.

Looking back out the window, I simply nod. I don't know how to feel about this, but there's not exactly anything I can do to change that.

"Ryujin, I... I was there in the computer rooms monitoring things with my father. I... I was there as you continued losing people. I've always wanted to tell you, though I wasn't allowed to speak to you back then, that... I'm really sorry for all your losses. I stayed behind the scenes with things, but I could just see you growing colder and colder and closing up more and more with each person you lost. I can't imagine the amount of pain you had to be bottling up behind your cold front." Namjoon says softly.

I don't bother looking over at him, nodding my head. It's hard just being here. Back in a gang, but also back with Yoongi. It's a complete war inside for everything, over every little bit.

Being with a gang again brings back my coldness and lack of emotion towards every single thing. The only problem is that, being with Yoongi, just being around him, draws out emotions and feelings. I hate it. Not knowing what to feel or how to feel or if I feel anything anymore.

"Alright, your legs are all taken care of. I need to move up to your torso and upper body though." Jin says, breaking me from my thoughts. I frown, shaking my head.

"No. I'm perfectly fine and I can handle that area." I speak, not wanting him to see.

"Ryujin, I know you can handle yourself, but I need to check. Yoongi wanted me to check over you and get you all bandaged up. Plus, I know how hard that whip can hit and how hard Jungkook can punch. There's a possibility of you having a few broken ribs." He argues with me.

"Fine, but Namjoon and Yoongi are leaving." I snap in annoyance. Both boys simply nod, standing up and exiting the room.

A few minutes later, I come back out of the bathroom in a clean pair of dark washed ripped skinny jeans and a gray tank top with my jacket in hand. Jin motions for me to lay on the bed and, begrudgingly, I do so.

Staring up at the ceiling, I feel him lift the hem of my tank top up. He only stops once he reaches my chest, letting the material bunch up on top of there so that everything else is uncovered.

"Ryujin... do you cut yourself?" Jin suddenly asks, his voice soft and hesitant as he looks up at my face.

"I've been in a lot of fights, Jin. It's nothing, don't worry about it." I speak, my voice cold as I don't bother removing my gaze from the ceiling.

"That isn't nothing, Ryujin. Answer the damn question." He replies, sounding mildly worried and frustrated.

"It doesn't matter, Jin. Let it the fuck go." I snap, trying to get out of it. He sighs.

"Ryujin, I'm just trying to help. I can't do that if you don't let me and the boys are going to worry." He says, his voice softer this time.

"Yes, okay? Are you happy? Don't you dare fucking tell anyone about this, Jin." I snarl, lifting my head up to shoot him a glare. He sighs again, raising his hands up in defeat.

"Okay, okay. I won't tell anyone, Ryujin. Just... please don't keep doing it. Okay?" He answers gently, a worried look in his eye. I just roll my eyes and lay my head back down.

He continues checking over everything and puts some medicine on the wounds that were left by the whip along with some on the cuts that I'd gotten. Eventually, he checks my ribs before looking over at me with a small frown.

"Well, you have four broken ribs. You're damn lucky it's not all six." He says with a sigh. Groaning quietly, I pull myself back up into a sitting position.

"Well that's not terrible. I've dealt with worse so it's not like it's the end of the world or anything." I huff, pulling my shirt back down and slipping my jacket on. He just looks at me in disbelief.