So he'd come after all. One less debt in the tally book. “Why would you do that?” he said. “Why can't you just leave him alone?”

“Go away,” Jonghyun said. “Don't get all noble on me suddenly. It's not like you had any problem with this on the bus.”

Jongin finally began to look angry. “Enough is enough,” he said. “You can't keep hurting people like that.”

Jonghyun laughed. “I can,” he said. “And I'm going to keep doing it until he leaves.”

“No, you're not,” Jongin said. “Stay away from Taemin. He's had enough from you.”

“Don't tell me you've started slobbering after this bastard again. You like calling babies 'hyung'?”

“Why does it matter?” Jongin said. He'd never liked fights, and he was starting to look a little sick. “You shouldn't treat anyone like this, not even Taemin.” He walked to her and knelt, offering his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let's get out of here.”

Jonghyun scoffed. “You're not seriously doing this again,” he said, disbelieving. “You know what's going to happen next.”

Jongin looked seriously ill now. “Let it happen!” he said defiantly as he helped Taemin stand up. “I'm not going to let you treat another human like this. I'm not going to let you be a monster.”

“Just wait,” Jonghyun called after them as Jongin helped Taerim shuffle out of the locker room. “'s going to come down hard on you, Jongin.”

“Let it come,” Jongin muttered under his breath so only Taerim could hear.

They were almost to the gym's exit before Taerim found it in her to unclench her teeth. “Would you mind not holding onto me?” she said in Thai.

Jongin didn't look at her. “You asked me to come here,” he said. “At least pretend you want me to help you.”

“It's not that,” Taerim said. “My arm just really hurts.”

He let go of her immediately. “Sorry,” he said. “Really sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.”

They walked in silence for a while. Jongin kept looking at her and walking closer as if he wanted to support her but he didn't know how. Taerim tried her best to stand up straight, even though she could feel blood trickling down her side underneath her tennis jersey.

“Let's go to the infirmary,” Jongin said.

“No.”

“We have to go this time,” Jongin insisted. “I'm serious. You can't keep getting beat up and not go.”

“How am I going to explain this?” Taerim said, pointing to her eye. It felt like it was being repeatedly slammed with a hammer.

“We'll say you got hit in the face with a tennis ball,” Jongin said. “Or a racket someone was swinging carelessly. They won't think it's odd.”

“No,” Taerim said again. “I just need to get back to my room.”

“Don't be stupid!” Jongin exclaimed, angry now. “You can't keep doing this to yourself! Go to the infirmary. Let me help you.”

“Wanna help me?” Taerim snapped. “Help me to my room.”

Jongin sighed. “Dammit, Taemin,” he said. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I've got reasons,” Taerim murmured. She looked down. Blood was starting to soak through her jersey at the waist. They were in the middle of the noon rush to the cafeteria, and if anyone saw the blood, they'd start to ask questions. “Let's hurry,” she said.

“Why?” Jongin said. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“Let's just hurry,” she repeated.

“Fine,” Jongin muttered, hurrying to keep up with her. Taerim tripped on the steps to their dorm hall, and Jongin grabbed her arm again to keep her from falling. She shied away from him. “God damn it, Jongin!” she snapped. “Arm hurts, I said!”

Jongin let go again, for the first time looking afraid. “That bad?” he asked. “Really?”

“Really.” Taerim pulled herself to her feet and shuffled inside. Her room was just down the hallway to her left. She was starting to really feel where her calf had caught on the bench as she fell, and all she could think about doing was sitting down. She hurried inside her room, said “thanks” quickly, and slammed the door in Jongin's face.

She sank to the ground, holding her side. The cut was like a line of fire along her ribcage, and the blood was soaking through her shirt in earnest by now. She couldn't hold back a sob as the truth of her situation crashed in on her again. Everything hurt. There was still no solution. This had to be the end.

“...Taemin?”

Jongin had opened the door again. He was standing in the open doorway, shock written all over his face.

“Go away!” Taerim screamed at him, her voice cracking.

Jongin rushed to her. “Taemin,” he said, concern making him quiet and firm. “Calm down and let me look at your side.”

Taerim scooted away from him until her shoulder bumped against Minho's bed. “Go away,” she repeated, screwing up her face to try to keep tears back. “Go away, go away.”

Jongin forcibly pulled her hands away from her side. “You need help,” he said. “Goddammit, Taemin, why are you such a stubborn son of a ?” He tried to pull up her jersey, but Taerim pushed him away with her one good arm. “Please leave me alone,” she said, trying to sound civil, like she wasn't coming apart at the seams.

“You think I'm going to leave you like this?” Jongin demanded. “What happened to you? How is this... all this blood...” His hands hovered uncertainly over her left arm, trying to decide whether it was worth it to cause her injured arm pain in order to see the gash beneath it. “I'm trying to be better, Taemin,” he pleaded. “Please let me help you.”

Taerim was exhausted, and it was all she could do to keep herself from slumping to the floor and sobbing until there was nothing left of her but a dry husk. She turned further away from Jongin, pressing her left arm firmly to her side even though it felt like the glass was slitting her open all over again, only this time it was red hot.

“I need to shower,” she said in reply. “Leave me alone.”

When she pushed herself laboriously to her feet, Jongin rose from his crouch as though he wanted to follow her. “Please, Taemin,” he said. “Please. You need help. You can't just...”

Taerim took two steps towards the washroom and felt the muscles in her injured right calf bunch in a cramp so acute that she fell to her knees again, dizzy with pain.

When she could see again, think again, she was sitting against Minho's bed like before, and Jongin had her jersey pulled up to her armpit. He was staring at the gash on her side like that was all he could see, like the cut itself and all the blood coursing from it was the problem.

“He needs stitches,” he was muttering to himself. His hands were on her, careful but unfriendly, assessing damage but not giving comfort. His finger traced up the length of her side beside the cut, measuring how long it was, stopping when he reached the bottom edge of her chest band. He glanced up at Taerim and saw that she was awake, that she was staring at him in horror. “Did you break ribs?” he asked, dismayed. “This bandage...”

His voice trailed off in confusion. Taerim grabbed the hem of her jersey and jerked it down, scooting away from him to the wall.

A moment later, the door opened. It was Minho. He took in the situation in a glance – Jongin kneeling on the ground just inside the door, and Taerim pressed into the corner of the room beside Minho's closet, wide-eyed with shock and fear.

“I waited for you at lunch,” he said, gesturing behind him meaninglessly, still trying to gauge the circumstances. “But you didn't come, so...”

Jongin was staring at Taerim like everything else in the world had gone away, like everything he knew had just been it's head and taken on a whole new meaning. “You...” he whispered. “You're...”