Shut Up or I Won't Stitch It

"Come on! I don't want to drag an injured dude here," I said to him and helped him stand up. I keep on pressing the button so that the elevator won't close. He's half awake and his ass is heavy.

Finally, he cooperated and slowly walked while I was supporting his weight. We get out and he, yet again, collapsed on the floor.

"Dude, come on!" I screamed at him. But he didn't budged. I tried to open his unit but it's locked. I searched for his pockets in his pants and found a key. I opened his unit and dragged him inside.

His unit is hella messy. And it's very dark in here, he lights and windows but it's still so dark. And dragged him and laid him down at the sofa. I teared his shirt open as he has so many blood. He has a gun shot wound in his arm and a knife cut near his chest.

"Dude! Wake up! I screamed at his face. He's now his senses back and looked at his body. He winced in pain and laid his head at the head rest of his sofa.

"What did you do?" he asked and breathe in heavily.

"I found you inside the elevator, covered in blood and your ass is half awake. So I have to drag you down and--" he cut me off.

"Just stitch it up, I have a kit in the cupboard," he instructed.

"What? You have to go to a hospital. You have a bullet in you flesh and a cut near your chest!"

"Just do it. No hospital."

I just looked at him and went to the kitchen to get his kit. He's kitchen is also a mess and empty. He doesn't even have a spoon. I found his kit and went back. I took a glance at his table and found a magazine. I knew it, the front cover model was the woman he made out with. Now I know why she's so familiar to me.

"It's not my fault when you're gonna die because of this," I said to him and placed the kit beside me. I handed him a towel for him to bite.

"Wait. I have to disinfect that first," and I poured out the alcohol in his wound. He shrieked in pain while I was wiping the blood.

I pulled out my phone and researched in YouTube how to stitch up wounds. Now I have a little regret when I didn't watched The Good Doctor when my Dad forced me to.

"Seriously? YouTube?" he asked.

"What? Do you expect me to an expert in stitching up wounds?"

"I thought you're a college student."

"I am, but I'm a fine arts student not a medicine student, you idiot. Just stay still and bite that towel if you want to live," I said and watched the YouTube tutorial. It seems easy to do and followed the instructions. I started stitching him up while he's biting the towel.

He heaved a sigh of relief when I finished stitching his wound. It's not that neat but it's fine, I guess.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"You don't wanna know," he answered and went up. He went to his room and laid down on his bed. Some part of his body still has blood in it.

"I bet you want to change your clothes and take a shower. You're covered in blood," I said and cleaned the kit. I returned it to the cupboard and was ready to go out. I'm also covered in blood and I look like I just murdered someone.

He's sleeping already and I don't want to budge him. He still must be in excruciating pain. What the hell happened to him that he came home like that? He just look like someone who's always picking a fight but I didn't expect it to be a deadly fight.

I cleaned myself after I got in my unit. His blood dried in my skin and in my shirt. I didn't bother washing it and just soaked it in the water. I might throw it out, I don't want to wear that again.

I was taking my hot shower when I remembered his pained expression. That was the first time I saw him in pain, his eyes seemed defeated unlike his normal piercing gaze that I always see every time we meet. After I finished my shower, I went to the kitchen and prepared dinner. And I'm craving for some Indian food right now so I cooked chicken curry. I purposely doubled the portion, I want to give it to him. His kitchen was empty and so is his fridge. I wonder if he always eat out.

"AAAAAHHH!!" I jumped when I heard a loud scream coming from his unit. I immediately turned off the cooker and rushed to his unit. I saw him curling up in his bed.

"Hey, what happened?" I asked him. He looked at me, I almost took a step back when I saw his dark eyes.

"Get out!"

"What? No! I heard you screaming!"

"I don't have time for your shits so get out!"

"And do I look like I also have time for your bullshits?! What happened to you, really?!" I asked him and went to his side. His white sheet is now red as it was covered in blood. He's holding his arm where I stitched it up. He told me it's hurting so much.

"Just go to the hospital," I told him.

"No. It will heal sooner. You already stitched it up so I'm fine," he insisted. He drank the water in his bed side table.

"I made dinner. Why don't you come to my unit?" I offered him. He's in pain and he's not eating, he might die at this rate.

"You're letting a stranger in your unit?"

"Well, you're not a stranger anymore. I always see and we're neighbours," I told him.

"Really?"

"Okay, Mister Pornstar if you want to die then die, don't drag me in," I finally told him before storming out of his room.