SEVEN
It's so boring in the house when there isn't seven idiots to entertain you.
After they'd gone, I'd literally spent the rest of the day rolling around on the carpet and eating some of the food that Jin had left for me when I got hungry.
So unproductive.
And now I'm shuffling towards Jimin's room, yawning. How long did a mission take them? It had been only something like five hours, and from what I'd heard earlier, it was a fast mission.
King obviously pointed to the most powerful man in the South— and his sidekick, as Jin had pointed it out, probably meant one of the rulers of the smaller parts.
But I couldn't guess who that was.
Slipping underneath the blankets, I'm about to close my eyes when a small noise sounds. My instincts flare up, and I'm instantly out of the bed and on my feet in a flash.
Someone's in the house.
Alert.
My senses on edge, I quickly search for a weapon in Jimin's room. The footsteps split into multiple others, and I swallow when I realize one of them is coming towards where I am.
It's not just one?
Okay. Okay. Calm— and hide.
Quickly grabbing a pencil— because for being a damn assassin Park freaking Jimin has zero things that can be used as a weapon in his room— I hide myself behind the door.
And then the door silently clicks open.
My heart's beating out of my chest as the door swings, nearly hitting me. I had to calm down— you know this, Seven.
And when the shadow of a person comes in, I instantly hit the door close and wrap my arm around his neck.
My legs sweep under his, and I'm surprised how smoothly this goes as the person goes down without a single move of resistance.
He hasn't cried out yet, and I press my hand successfully over where his mouth is before he can.
Perfect.
And then I swallow when I recognize two pairs of glowing silver eyes.
"O-Oh, hey." I stutter, immediately hiding the pencil behind my back. I blush fiercely as I scramble off his figure, cursing silently under my breath.
You're freaking paranoid.
I wait for his mocking, cold voice, telling me that I was stupid, whatever. But then nothing comes, and I blink in confusion, finally looking back.
He's still on the floor, eyes closed.
Oh gosh, I think, my eyes wide as I quickly get down next to the shadow of Jimin's form. Had I choked him too hard? But to have knocked him out with that—"
And then my eyes catch on his hand, squeezing his right arm tightly.
What...?
I turn on the small light next to his bed, and then nearly freeze altogether in shock. His upper right arm— the clothing around it is darker, and I swallow as I touch it.
My fingertips come off red.
Immediately I get to my feet, about to go wake one of them when pale fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me backwards.
"Don't.... tell them." He whispers, his voice weak. The blood spreads on the floor, and I turn on him with my expression confused.
"Jimin! That's literally major blood loss already— how did they not know about this?"
"They're all tired. I don't want to bother them." He growls, tone more sharper now. His face pales, but his fingers are still wrapped tightly. "Just— get some bandages. It's the second room... to the right..."
Stubborn as heck.
His fingers slip, and I quickly find my way to the room he'd told me to go to. It looks like a mini clinic— there's so many medical supplies, and I can even see some of the more expensive equipment.
That much bleeding— it was probably a deep cut.
With an armful of painkillers and bandages, I head back to the room. He's now unconscious, and I tilt the light as I get to work quickly.
He's still in his black suit. Chewing on my bottom lip, I harden my expression and run my hands down his back. When I find the zipper, I tug it down and slip the top off so I can see his upper body.
Oh man.
His arm is worse than I'd thought.
There's so much blood, and I take a deep breath as I start cleaning it away with the towel from the bathroom. He gasps, and I slip a painkiller between his lips.
Biting down on the roll of bandage between my teeth, I unravel a long strip and pull it off. Then I drop the roll to the side, and expertly wind the white gauze around the long cut before it starts bleeding again.
I have to give him multiple painkillers, but I soon get the job done.
"Come on, Jimin. I'm done." I say, shaking at him to get him up. But he doesn't move, and I swallow drily as I grip his shoulders. And really shake.
His silver eyes open blearily.
"What..."
"Time to get into bed." I say, wincing at his drugged expression. "My bad— I think I gave you too many tablets. But come on— help me out, Jimin."
"It's so— tight." He whispers, pulling at his suit.
I sigh.
"I'll get you something." I say, getting to my feet and heading to the closet in the side of the room. I quickly pick out a loose shirt and a pair of shorts, and toss them over my shoulder.
"Help me, slave."
"Are you kidding me? Hell to the no—"
And then I burst into an even larger sigh, remembering the depth of the cut. Had he been knifed or something?
"Just your shirt."
After I pull the shirt over him, I cross my arms and turn away. I can feel his stare on my back, full of hate and mockery.
"What? The slave hasn't seen a man naked before?"
Now I'm about to just kill him. Huffing loudly, I stomp to the bed and flip the covers over my head without another thought. I'd helped him with all that, and of course he was stupid enough to repay me like this.
Finally, after five minutes, a voice comes. It's both annoyed and defeated.
"Seven."
"I can't— get up."
Of course not— I knew he was going to say that. With that much blood loss, it was honestly a wonder he still had his eyes open. And a miracle he'd actually dressed himself.
"What? The assassin can't even stand up like a kid?"
He scowls at me, but I just flash a mocking smile and slip back out of bed. My eyes widen in a bit of surprise, he'd actually dressed back into his shorts, and now was staring at me with a hateful look.
"You're petty as hell."
"I could've just left you to bleed out to death." I shoot back, annoyed. "Do you want me to leave you on the floor now or help you?"
He purses his lips.
I smile darkly.
I throw his arm around my neck to help him up, and roll my eyes when he grimaces.
If you really don't want to touch me that much, it's your problem. And what happened to Help me with my clothes, slave?
But then his eyes roam, skipping right over the bed. And then my eyes widen in surprise when he heads for the bathroom instead.
I quickly turn him back.
"Where are you going? That's the bathroom."
He flinches, and I raise one of my brows as I lead him to the bed. The bloodstained towel is still on the floor, and I look at it pointedly. Now that I think about it, where was I going to put that?
"You— didn't tell them, right." He mumbles, and I nod as I fix his pillow under his head.
"I don't understand you sometimes. You're bleeding out a gallon from your arm, and you're worrying about not waking them up."
"What happened, anyway?"
At my question, he scrunches his features and turns away. I growl softly, muttering a fine as I slip into the covers again. After spending more than twenty minutes patching him up, I get the silent treatment.
"Thank...you."
The words are quiet, but I still look at him with wide eyes. He winces even harder, and I burst into a devilish smile as I tease him.
"Did you just say something that didn't include something negative or insulting about me?"
"Stop talking to me." He snarls, and I just shrug and flip the covers back over my head.