"DOES IT STILL hurt?"
The man smiled at me in response. He had this gentle vibe, and he looked at me as if telling me that he would dote on me regardless of my bitchiness (lies). So, I couldn't help but look at his face for longer than a second.
He had this chiselled jawline, thin hair below his mouth, and alluring grey eyes. Gone was his pallid face; at least, now, he looked healthy with that wheat colour of his. He looked thin, but he was bulging with muscles. When he stood up earlier, I almost thought I was in the presence of a giant. I barely reached his chest! Once again, grief filled my heart. I hate my height!
"It's good. It doesn't hurt anymore." His words awoke me from my stupor. Then, my gaze turned to his supposedly injured knee. Funny how no blood gashed out from it despite seeing his kneecap. I could also see his reddish muscles. However, there was no blood. I wonder if the scientist already had this kind of situation. If they did, have they found the reason and cure for it? This man had no blood— literally. Maybe his disease was why he refused my offer to send him to the nearest hospital earlier, afraid of becoming the subject of the doctors' and scientists' experimentation.
"Are you sure?" I asked, doubting his words. "I still believe you better see the expert." My medical knowledge was on par with my cooking, after all. Both were at the struggling levels.
He nodded.
"But can I stay here for a while?" he asked, looking around our front porch. "It still hurts when I move."
I shrugged. "Feel free to stay."
He could stay here outside our house, no worries. I had my knife in my pocket, anyway. If you were wondering, I didn't invite him inside. Why? For safety purposes, of course. One shouldn't lower their guard just because the other party has a handsome or beautiful face.
Every psychopath hid in those beguiling faces, mind you— if not in those oh-so-perfect personalities.
"Thank you, by the way," he said.
"No worries," I waved my hand, indicating for him not to worry about it. I also had enough of hearing his words of gratitude. It was hard to come by a polite man, but I wasn't used to it. "How did you get your knee scraped that deep, anyway?"
The man, who I forgot to ask the name of (and had no plan to do so), smiled wryly. He caressed the smooth part of his knee and said, "I had an accident." He sighed. "This part is where I got wounded. It hasn't healed that well yet. So, when I walked some distance, my knee lost its strength, and that was when you saw me earlier."
I 'oohed' and nodded at the same time. Serve this man right for underestimating his injury. Who the heck would go around the village with such a wound? His doctor would no doubt reprimand him for being an idiot.
We stayed on our front porch for almost half an hour without talking after that. It was awkward, to be honest. When would this man leave? I was dying to enter our house and rest on my bed. And he looked like he was having a good time sitting and staring at nothing. Well, I wasn't.
"Where do you live?" I asked, finally done with waiting. "I'll take you there." I stood up, leaving him no way to disagree.
The man responded with a half smile, raising his left hand. I stared at it and didn't understand what he meant by his action. He might have understood my thoughts as he quickly said, "Can I ask you to help me?"
My brows twitched. So, this man wanted me to be his personal crutch?
To help, or not?
Taking a deep breath, I decided to lean on my good personality. I offered the man my arms to hold on to. He smiled gratefully as he gently gripped my arms. For some reason, I shivered. I was so glad I had my jacket to prevent us from touching each other's skins. But then, he suddenly snaked his arms around my shoulders.
I quickly got away from him, but my action resulted in him almost kissing the ground. At last, I had to hug him to prevent him from falling. I inwardly cursed.
"Do you have to hold me on my shoulders?" I asked, raising my voice. I had to let this guy know how angry I was!
I felt him stiffened. He raised his head to look at me. Weirdly enough, my anger dissipated. Should I start seeing a psychologist? I changed my mood in just a span of a minute. But then again, I was a woman. I had mood swings. So, there might be no need to see a psychologist.
By the way, what was the difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist? Hmmm. I had some research to do once I got home.
"I'm sorry," he said, holding onto my shoulders to stand straight. It took me a hard time to look at him with a straight face and not to swat his hands off. "I know my action earlier was offensive. But I only wanted to stand adequately. Your shoulders were the first that came to my mind for me to hold on to."
Fine. I would forgive this stranger this once. But this man needed to understand, not to get familiar with someone he didn't know. And so I told him that. His response was another round of apology. Yet his hands were still holding my shoulders. Annoyed, I let him be. I should deliver him to his house sooner to get rid of him. Hopefully, he would forget about me and my house. I don't want him lurking around, despite his handsomeness.
I was so full of myself, I know. But I really hope it was just me who was overthinking it.
After walking around the village, reaching a particular 'Grandi Street' (which I never knew existed), and a hundred steps down, the man and I (finally) reached our destination.
"Your home looks—" I trailed, absorbing the wondrous view in front, "— magnificent."
I felt like I stepped into a portal, the entrance to the medieval era. I looked behind. When I saw the modern houses, I sighed in relief. I didn't get transported. I was still in my own time.
Well, you couldn't blame a writer for her imaginative thinking.
The castle didn't look just like those in the medieval ages. Though its size wasn't as enormous as the castles in the past, it was still relatively big. At the same time, the atmosphere was odd. It gave me chills, the vibes of entering a new, strange world.
While immersing in my own thoughts, the man was looking at me. I only noticed when I turned my head to the side. His gaze was blank, but as soon as I gave him a look, his eyes turned gentle. My mouth almost twitched. The idiot might've thought I didn't notice it. An urge to shove him filled me, but I reigned it. Instead, I humanely took his hand off my shoulders and reciprocated his oh-so-gentle smile.
"We're here," I said. "Since you're home, I should be home too." Which, by the way, I should've been if not for our encounter.
"How about a drink inside?" he quickly said when I was about to leave. "You helped me. I should respond in kindness."
I stopped in my tracks and looked at the castle. It was tempting, alright. But I wasn't stupid yet to say 'yes' to this stranger's invitation. So, I told him off and went home.
Back to my bed to love it dearly!