Help at 12am.
Lef† to the Dust
Your pov.
Young Pyo opened the door, he wearing a white v neck, and plaid boxers. He scratched his head and his eyes flickered lazily. His eyes widened at my sight. “_-___. It’s 12am.” he stuttered. I looked at him and turned away. “Yahhh! Put on some pants!” I yelled shutting my eyes. He laughed and pulled me into his house. I whimpered as he examined my arm. “It really really hurts.” I looked around his living room. It was really neat, organized and clean. The walls were white, and painted with some stripes of orange and blue as borders adding a modern look. He allowed me to sit down on his couch while he took the emergency kit from a drawer near the couch. He pulled out a few supplies and started putting medication on my injured arm, after that, applying a roll of bandages, wrapping it around, keeping a steady grip. “So, you’re dating Thunder?” he gave an expression of aversion as he said his name. “No.” I simply said. “Then what?” “Then nothing. We are good friends. Stop asking questions.” “Such great friends, he’d kiss you?” “Yah! He doesn’t kiss me on the lips!” “But you wish he did.” “Shut up and just do my arm.” “Then tell me more about yourself.” “I don’t just tell anyone about myself.” I noticed a gun on the coffee table. My eyebrows knit together and I stiffened not feeling too great that someone even more dangerous than I thought was fixing my arm now. He stopped bandaging my arm and saw I was looking straight at his gun. He lightly hit my back. “I’m not gonna shoot you, geez.” he said. “I’m not gonna shoot you.” I mocked and gave a small laugh trying not to show I was a bit intimidated by him. “Yeah right, did you really think that I was scared of a small gun like that? Why do you even have one.” My eyes darted across the room to his open kitchen. The marble counters were freshly wiped, and I could see a small booklet sitting on the corner. “I need that gun.” he said. I gave a dumbstruck mien. “You didn’t know? I’m part of a gang.”
Young Pyo opened the door, he wearing a white v neck, and plaid boxers. He scratched his head and his eyes flickered lazily. His eyes widened at my sight. “_-___. It’s 12am.” he stuttered. I looked at him and turned away. “Yahhh! Put on some pants!” I yelled shutting my eyes. He laughed and pulled me into his house. I whimpered as he examined my arm. “It really really hurts.” I looked around his living room. It was really neat, organized and clean. The walls were white, and painted with some stripes of orange and blue as borders adding a modern look. He allowed me to sit down on his couch while he took the emergency kit from a drawer near the couch. He pulled out a few supplies and started putting medication on my injured arm, after that, applying a roll of bandages, wrapping it around, keeping a steady grip. “So, you’re dating Thunder?” he gave an expression of aversion as he said his name. “No.” I simply said. “Then what?” “Then nothing. We are good friends. Stop asking questions.” “Such great friends, he’d kiss you?” “Yah! He doesn’t kiss me on the lips!” “But you wish he did.” “Shut up and just do my arm.” “Then tell me more about yourself.” “I don’t just tell anyone about myself.” I noticed a gun on the coffee table. My eyebrows knit together and I stiffened not feeling too great that someone even more dangerous than I thought was fixing my arm now. He stopped bandaging my arm and saw I was looking straight at his gun. He lightly hit my back. “I’m not gonna shoot you, geez.” he said. “I’m not gonna shoot you.” I mocked and gave a small laugh trying not to show I was a bit intimidated by him. “Yeah right, did you really think that I was scared of a small gun like that? Why do you even have one.” My eyes darted across the room to his open kitchen. The marble counters were freshly wiped, and I could see a small booklet sitting on the corner. “I need that gun.” he said. I gave a dumbstruck mien. “You didn’t know? I’m part of a gang.”
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