For You.

Jimin's POV

"Help me?"

She asked while my eyes were still fixed on the gunshots. They were two, and bleeding.

When did she get those and how? I don't know.

She cleared her throat to get my attention back. I looked up at her, glanced back to the wounds, back up at her.

I hesitated not because I can't clean, and bandage those wounds, but because I haven't touched her since the forced marriage I was dragged into.

I inhaled a deep breath and stepped forward. I should refuse, and leave her all by herself. But I couldn't bring myself to turn my back on her. Not when she's bleeding, and standing there looking helpless in those damnable bra and sweatpants.

W-what?! Damnable?! Since when do I do such things? Ugh! I'm so screwed.

"Hey, amoré?" she broke the chains of my thoughts. "Are you going to stay there, and stare or come here help me?"

A stupid blush crept up my neck at those words. I was indeed staring. At those wounds. At the blood trailing down her spine. At her curves.

Hell yeah. Her curves are so sexy. I can't deny that.

I forced myself to come back to reality and stepped forward towards her. I pointed at the bedroom.

"Sit there on the bed." I commanded in a stern tone, and surprisingly she obeyed. Since when does she start obeying order? Whatever, I just had to clean those wounds, bandage them. That's it.

I watched her settle on the edge of the bed while in kneeled down on the bed behind her. I took the bandage from her hand and placed it beside me. With careful hands, I removed the old bandages, and cleaned the blood with a gauze pad.

Now and then, my knuckles would brush against her skin, and every time, I can feel a shiver run up my spine. Not because she was cold, but because every single touch stirred something unfamiliar in my chest.

I pushed the thoughts aside and quickly, yet carefully wrapped a new bandage on each wound. Once I was done, I said.

"There. All done."

She didn't move, lost in her thoughts, or maybe she didn't want to say something. Who knows?

I climbed down the bed and went to the bathroom, discarded the old bandages in the trash can, washed my hands, and returned to bedroom.

She was still sitting on the bed, staring at nothing particular. That's unusual. She's never zoning out like this. But why do I care? I hate her after all.

I shrugged it off, and laid down on my side of the bed. I chose the right side as it was facing towards the floor to ceiling windows.

It showed the beautiful garden with variety of roses aligned there. A small lake settled under a huge, old cherry blossom tree in a corner of the vast spread out territory she owns. It was like a paradise in my messed up life.

I heard her shift on the mattress, the soft rustle of fabric filled the silence for once.

Then, after a few minutes, again no sound. She's probably in the bed by now. I rolled over, and saw her back facing me. She's changed into a shirt now, but I could still see those bandages I just wrapped on her back through the thin white fabric.

I wonder how she got them. But damn me if I'll ever ask her.

A moment passed. Silence. Not awkward. Not heavy. But... something peaceful.

I stared at her back only to get my curiosity piqued.

With a deep breath, I finally asked. Now damn me.

"How did you get these?"

I know she isn't asleep. Not yet.

"What?" she asked.

"These... Gunshots?" I asked again with much clarity now. And what I saw made my eyes widen.

She's tense. Her spine straightened instinctively, muscles going rigid. She's usually calm and composed. Not whatever this is.

She didn't turn to face me. Didn't reply immediately either.

Then, finally...

"Got in a mess." she replied.