#1 TOXIC SERIES
It's the typical Enemies to Lovers story, flavored by yours truly.
Raised in the same neighborhood and social circle, Minho and Hyunjin know each other far too well. Both families are well-known chaebols with deep roots in the South...
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The tea was gone. In the blink of an eye, the chabudai had turned more sterile than the side tables used in an operating room. There were so many things stalled out, and most of the medicines had names I couldn't pronounce. I assured myself that she was a nurse so she most likely knew what she was doing. And that was ordering me to lay down with the top of my clothes off.
"How do you think I can attend to those wounds if you don't remove your hoodie and shirt?"
"I don't care, I'm not removing it!" My arms folded across my chest. It was an automatic thing which I regretted instantly. My skin stretched, and it felt like tiny, sharp claws that dug into the welts on my back to rip them apart.
"You're acting like a child. Do you think I haven't seen naked men before?" We stood toe to toe, because nose-to-nose was impossible with her height, and I wasn't that tall. Moriko rose on her tippytoes to at least try and look me straight in the eye. And all I could do was quirk a brow at her.
"Should that comfort me?"
She sighed. "I feel sorry for your partner." Then turned on her heels and walked to the kitchen. She filled a bowl with water and dipped a washing cloth in. Water sloshed as she pulled it out again and wrung the access water out.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I said to her back. She chuckled softly, irking me more than she already did, and turned to face me. Her back rested against the counter, and her arms mirrored mine.
"That you're being a prude. Men up!" With the bowl in both hands, Moriko came back and placed it on the table. "Now let me clean those wounds. Lay down on your stomach."
I knew I was being a stubborn ass and I did need my wounds cleaned because it would be impossible for me to reach them myself, which was why I gave in—partly—and lay down on the futon mattress that was covered with a sheet to keep it from getting dirty. I pulled the hoodie over my head as fast as I could, like ripping off a bandage, and threw it on the ground. The white gym shirt stayed on as I lay down on my stomach.
"You can cut that one apart, it's stuck. Besides, I don't think it's savable anyway."
Moriko gave no wise remark back, which was a bit unsettling, but complied. I heard her rummage on the table, then kneeled beside me, her knee pressed softly against my hip as she leaned in.
"How bad is it?"
"I don't think you want to know..."
"Now you're making it worse."
She ignored me. "Alright, stay still, I'm going to cut your shirt." Moriko lifted the white fabric from the bottom and began to cut through the middle. The farther up, the more the wet piece of cloth desperately clung to me. I hissed when she peeled it off me and continued with the scissors.
"O-kay..." Now that my back was finally bare, it felt nice. The air was soothing against my battered skin, like a gulp of fresh mountain air on a wintery day frosting my lungs. Because right now, the welts felt like I was standing too close to the fireplace but I couldn't move to take that needed step back.
