𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 [Ongoing]

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ- ꜰɪᴠᴇ

I am extremely sorry for the late update! But anyway here it is.

"Let me do this." He says, setting me down on a tool in his bathroom. He runs the tap, holding my hand beneath the running water. The flowing stream of clean water washes away the dirt, chemical and pieces of fabrics residing in it. Next he unscrews a bottle of antiseptic before dabbing some of it on a piece of cotton and then uses it to clean the wound. The touch of antiseptic is nothing romantic, the sharp sting makes my eyes water immediately. I close my eyes as if avoiding looking at it would make the sting disappear and bite my lips, while I taste something salty and metallic on my tongue.

"Shush, it's okay," He tries soothing me but the sting and the burn blurs every other sound. I am faintly aware of his warmth disappearing from my side, the sound of rushing water followed by the sweet, citrusy smell of hand sanitizer. The next moment I feel his fingers glide over my skin again before something sharp penetrates my skin like a bee sting, going deeper in my skin before pulling out. A syringe.

"Was that local anaesthesia?" I open my eyes in time to see him pulling out the needle.

"Obviously, do you think, I will just stich it up without giving anesthesia?"

"Oh, no obviously not." I actually had my doubts but I'm so glad he's all equipped. The anaesthesia sets into action, numbing the area. I watch with fascination as to how precisely his fingers move, the curved needle piercing my skin before coming back up, his fine fingers forming a knot before diving again. The thing that made me cringe a lot in the beginning of my internship was suture. I found it the hardest, doing 'ohh' and 'ahh' more than the patient.

"What's that look on your face? You sure you got a degree?" He speaks, bringing me out of my musings.

"Who said I got a degree?" I make an incredulous expression, "You see, I am beautiful so the government said, 'let me give you a degree since you have such a nice face'." I scorn.

"I knew it." He exclaims only to be smacked on his shoulder with my uninjured hand. He gives me a look before resuming his work.

"You seem quite experienced," I wonder aloud.

"We need to. Sometimes on missions we need to look after ourselves. There's no one we can rely on, no one we can trust."

"You can rely on me." I whisper, squeezing his shoulders. You can trust me.

"Yeah and get you to suffer the wounds I should?" He questions, tying the final knot before discarding the needle and wrapping a sterile gauze around my forearm.

"Basheer, I-"

"No, Nehali." He comes to sit in front of me, encasing my face between his palms, "Sahiba, this is why I wanted to keep you away. I didn't want you getting involved and hurt. I can't-I-" He rests his forehead on mine, breathing in deeply, his eyes closing shut momentarily before opening again and staring deeply into mine. I stare in his grey orbs mesmerized at the intensity of those. The grey of his eyes reminds me of the silver lining of a cloud. My eyes don't miss the motion where his tongue darts out, moistening his lips, "I-I-" He sighs, " I just want you to be safe."