Stitches ➵ Meanie t.s

Part One: Crooked

PART ONE: CROOKED

(Psst I actually started writing the first part of this b4 the prologue so sorry it it seems kinda weird at first)

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"You shouldn't smoke."

Those were the first word that Mingyu had uttered to the slightly shorter boy who teetered on the sidewalk just outside his father's cafe as he puffed almost angrily on the lit cigarette that was jammed between his teeth; inhaling deeply until the lit ambers of the joint disappeared into an ashy gray and reappeared as he exhaled thick tendrils of curling smoke into the brisk winter air of Seoul. It took a few seconds of silence and a few more inhales of nicotine before Mingyu realized that the shorter male was probably too drunk to hear him. The way the dark-haired boy appeared as if he was two seconds away from collapsing onto the concrete suggested so. Intoxicated beyond return.

Mingyu sighed, watching his breath turn white as he stepped forward and poked the disoriented male's shoulder with his outstretched index finger. "Hey, can you hear me --"

Instead of being greeted by an incoherent answer - or maybe no answer at all - Mingyu was caught off guard as the boy had suddenly taken on a more violent demeanor; The skin on his knuckles was stretched taut, his shoulder wrenched back as he whipped around and sent his much too tightly compacted fist in Mingyu's General direction - he seemed to have more speed than accuracy - suddenly forgetting his cigarette as it escaped his parted lips and cascaded to the ground.

Gasping sharply, Mingyu ducked to the side, just barely avoiding getting the side of his jaw clipped by the boy's attempt of assault. He swallowed and held his hand out in front of him, whilst saying "Whoa, Whoa. Calm down, I'm not trying to -- Fuck!"

Mingyu cursed as the boy rebounded and swung once more, this time managing a solid blow to Mingyu's right eye. He hissed in pain as his hand habitually flew up to cup the wounded area. And whilst he felt a bruise conjuring up beneath his skin, his patience with the latter had suddenly dissipated and before his brain could act, his body had beat it to the punch line...literally.

Involuntarily, Mingyu's fist tightened at his side and without any further evaluation of his impending actions, blood was gushing from nose the intoxicated human being in front of him. Mingyu had successfully knocked the boy out cold as his bloodshot eyes rolled back and then shut all together, his figure slumping to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Almost immediately, Mingyu's limbs went cold, and it wasn't because of the climate. Guilt was a better way to have the feeling described. He felt undoubtedly guilty as he stared wide-eyed at the unconscious male that laid before him. Maybe a little bit panicky.

What did I just do?

Cursing his lack of long-term temperament, Mingyu knelt beside the unnamed boy and placed a careful hand on his back, only then noticing the small Crimson lacerations that decorated his whitened knuckles from the punch he'd thrown moments before that had in turn, ultimately knocked the out drunken boy.

Mingyu huffed in contemplation. He couldn't just leave the stranger here. Well, he could. But of course, he wasn't going to. Maybe if it wasn't twelve degrees outside, maybe if the boy's nose wasn't still bleeding - and it was a very strong probability that it may have been broken altogether - and maybe if the boy hadn't been so overwhelmingly shitfaced before losing consciousness. Just maybe.

But alas, Mingyu was not going to leave a shitfaced, possibly broken nosed boy to freeze out on the sidewalk in twelve degree weather.

With a smidgen of lingering hesitance, Mingyu squatted lower and grabbed the boy's limp arm, slinging it around his shoulders. He hooked his free arm around the male's waist, feeling how his hip bone protruded from beneath his skin, and put forth a decent portion of his strength into hoisting the teen up to a semi-standing position as he grunted with effort. The boy was a lot heavier than he looked.