Cinderella

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"Please don't touch anything," you requested as you unlocked the door.

He cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked his lip as it started to well red with blood. You need to get the first aid kit- you thought to yourself.

You entered the store and immediately locked eyes with your shift cover, Skip -the owner's nephew. He was a lanky fellow about 1 year past due for a haircut, but he never gave you any trouble. "What are you doing back here?" he questioned, eyeing you and Jungkook's disheveled state.

"What are you doing back here? Why aren't you on the floor?" you shot back, trying to appear calm. He scowled at you before returning to the register upfront.

You led Jungkook through the backroom to the small corner that was the 'employees lounge', a folding chair and card that was half-covered in inventory documents and leaned a little too far to the left.

"Best stay in the backroom since the front of the store is made up of windows," you said lightly before reaching for the first aid kit on a nearby shelf.

He watched you curiously as you shuffled through the dusty medical supplies. This can't be sanitary, you thought to yourself as you read through the expired labels with slight difficulty as your hands shook. You were just coming down from an adrenaline high, you told yourself stubbornly,

You settled on the hydrogen peroxide which didn't look out of date just yet and poured some on the cleanest rag you could find and willing your hand to hold steady before prodding it gently at the scratches on his face.

Jungkook tried to keep his expressions neutral, tried to keep his eyes staring past you and to the doorway to avoid studying every detail of your face. But he found himself failing as he watched you fall into the comfort of tending to his wounds. The distraction grounding you more than putting you on edge. As you reached for his hands to pick out the rubble and wrap his split knuckles, he realized that he was shaking, and he flushed with embarrassment. But you didn't seem to notice or judge him at least.

You inspected his hand with a trained eye ignoring the tremor and instead focusing on the swelling on his wrist.

Fractured? You wondered, watching his face cautiously as you gave an experimental turn. He flinched, confirming your suspicion, and you winced thinking about how you grabbed his arm to pull him into the alley.

"Thank you for helping me," he said, finally breaking the silence, "and for this," he ended awkwardly, pulling his hand from your grasp and gesturing to the rag in your hand and the first aid kit.

"Oh," you let out not quite knowing how to respond to such a situation, "umm you're welcome I mean anyone would-"

"They wouldn't," he cut you off with another cheeky grin, "but I'm glad you did. Although I'm sorry, you had to" you nodded in response all words lost as you flushed unsure of what to do with yourself you shuffled through the first aid kit.

"Wait, wait, we didn't get you," he murmured, taking your hand and gently turning it palm up to reveal the scattered scratches. He stood from the chair maneuvering you so you could be seated instead, before helping himself to the first aid kid.

He picked out a few bits of gravel before carefully dabbing the scrapes to clean them, and reaching for the thin white strips of gauze. Wrapping your hands in a way, he saw you wrap his own. You smiled amused, while it was a little unnecessary to wrap your hands, the cuts on his were much deeper than your own. You appreciated the gesture. You couldn't remember the last time someone tended to your wounds.

"Now Cinderella, let's take a look at that foot," he said with a teasing smile as he crouched down, reaching for your ankle.

Panic flew through you as you pulled your foot away with an embarrassing squeal. "No need, it's fine. I swear," you flushed.

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