KIERAN — POV
I watched her fly out the door like her life depended on it, coffee mug cradled in my hand.
She looked like a very cute, very panicked storm cloud in heels. A tired little analyst sprinting into the jaws of corporate hell. I didn't even get to tease her properly.
"Tch," I muttered into my cup, the taste strong and bitter, exactly how I liked it.
The moment the door shut, I exhaled. My body sagged into the armrest, and I slowly tugged the hoodie away from my side.
Bad idea.
The fabric clung like a second skin, dark and damp. When I peeled it back, I saw it, fresh blood had soaked through the gauze again, crimson blooming in irregular lines down the curve of my ribs. The stitches hadn't fully torn, but they were definitely pissed off.
The skin was inflamed, angry. My breath hitched as I prodded it lightly with two fingers, the area hot and sharp with pain.
"Perfect," I muttered. "Fucking perfect."
I grabbed my phone and dialed.
"Yeah?"
"Bring the kit."
"About time."
"And don't forget. It's time we did something about her furniture. It's depressing as hell."
"You're the one hiding in a depressing apartment, boss."
"Shut up and move."
---
About thirty minutes later, the place turned into a construction zone.
Furniture movers rolled in with high-end replacements, sleek, clean, efficient. No more dying couch that looked like it'd been through six generations of heartbreak. The rickety TV stand? Gone. The wonky fridge that moaned every ten minutes like a haunted ship? Replaced.
Rocco showed up right on cue, medical bag slung over his shoulder, jaw tight as he motioned for me to sit the hell down.
"Let me see."
I yanked the hoodie off and sat on the edge of the table as he peeled away the soaked bandages.
He didn't say anything at first.
Just clicked his tongue.
"Goddamn it, Kieran."
"I've heard worse."
"You've looked worse," he muttered, disinfecting the wound with the gentle roughness of someone trying not to say 'I told you so.' "But seriously—how the hell are you walking around like this?"
"Adrenaline. Rage. Maybe stupidity."
"Definitely stupidity."
As he stitched me up, again, I watched the furniture guys come in and out, assisted by a couple of Kyle's recruits. They were twitchy little things, barely out of their teens and looking around like they'd just walked into the dragon's lair.
"Tell them to keep their mouths shut," I said.
"Already did."
I stood, slowly, carefully, then walked toward the closest one. He was trying to fix a microwave onto the counter.
I leaned down beside him.
"Enjoy the job?" I asked softly.
He nodded like his head was on a hinge.
"Good. Because if I hear anyone speak about this apartment, or the girl in it—"
I got closer, low enough that only he could hear.
"—I will carve your name into your own back and hang you by your tendons from that rusty-ass fire escape you passed coming in."
He froze.
I smiled, straightened, and walked away.
As the last chair was rolled in and the delivery guys started loading empty boxes into their van, I stood just outside the apartment entrance, arms crossed, the weight of the day pressing into my stitched-up side.
The building's sun-faded bricks soaked in the afternoon heat, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. Rocco leaned beside me, hands in his pockets, watching quietly as two boys carefully adjusted Kina's new work desk through the doorway.
Later, Rocco and I stood just outside the apartment entrance, the warm breeze of midday brushing across my skin. Inside, the last piece of furniture was being maneuvered in, Kina's new work desk.
"Everything's on your card," Rocco said, arms crossed. "Premium quality. Even got her one of those soft-closing toilet seats."
"How generous."
"I'm a giver."
I rolled my shoulder carefully, still sore, but at least not gushing anymore.
Rocco looked at me sideways. "So how's she adjusting? With you around, I mean."
I leaned back against the wall, squinting into the sky.
"She's doing fine. For someone with a criminal sleeping on her couch."
There was a pause before I added, "Found her asleep on the couch last night. Ended up joining her."
Rocco turned his head slowly. "...Joined her?"
I didn't answer. What the hell was I supposed to say? That I sat next to her because something about the way she curled up in her sleep made the air feel softer for once?
He made a face. "You're a goddamn menace."
"I didn't touch her," I muttered, sipping at the coffee I never got to finish earlier. "She didn't even wake up."
Rocco let out a smug little chuckle. "At this rate, might as well put it on the register. Married, room 4C, matching socks and all."
I exhaled through my nose, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "I should've stabbed you when I had the chance."
"Yeah, but then who'd restock your pain meds and order your girlfriend a desk?"
I didn't respond. Just stared at the doorway again.
Soft new furniture met the battered old walls. And somehow, in between all the shit, all the blood, and everything we weren't saying, something that almost looked like comfort was starting to grow.
I barely got a second of silence before the sound of creaky slippers came clicking down the stairs.
"Ah, young man!" came the familiar voice of Mrs. Kim, Kina's landlady, in her usual pink cardigan and oversized visor hat, even though we were indoors. "You're here again!"
I turned just in time to catch her beaming up at me with that suspicious squint that meant she was about to dig her nose into someone's business. I climbed down the stairs almost immediately.
"Morning, ma'am," I said smoothly, offering a short bow.
Her gaze drifted past me, eyes narrowing at the sight of movers hauling furniture out of Kina's place. "What's going on in there?" she asked, already halfway peeking past me at the door like she owned the whole damn building, which, technically, she did.
I shifted in front of her view and gave her the warmest, most obedient boyfriend smile I could muster. "Ah—it's nothing bad, don't worry. Some of her old stuff was falling apart, so I figured I'd help out a little." I scratched the back of my neck, playing the bashful role well. "Used some of my savings to help get things replaced. Figured she deserved better."
Mrs. Kim gasped like I'd just handed her a grandchild. "You did that for her?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She clutched her chest. "Aigoo… she's so lucky. Honestly, I don't know why that girl lives in such a sad little unit with no decent appliances. Everything she has looks like it was passed down from the war."
I kept the smile, even when my jaw tightened.
"She never asks for help either," she continued, waving a hand dramatically. "Not from neighbors, not from friends. I've never even seen any family come by since she moved in. I worry about her a lot."
My chest pulled a little tighter. I didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to explain the strange ache it stirred in me.