~~Daniil's POV~~
*Glass clangs*
"Arghhhhh!" clenching my hair in fists, I vented amid the debris of the cup I just flew flying all over.
Ultimately, I couldn't stop myself. It kept hovering in my head all day, and I could not just sit back with folded arms without confronting Yoshida. This feeling was familiar and that was driving me nuts already! This was how it was whenever someone... anyone defied my mom. Regardless of how she'd always tried to talk me out of retaliating or avenging her, her words ended up like water being poured on hard rock; I never listened and always did as I pleased at long last. Mind you, these acts of retaliation were never petty even when I was a minor. One time I set my dad's favorite automobile ablaze because he'd fought with my mom and got her tearing up incessantly. Of course, he'd gotten me punished for that but no matter how abysmal his punishments were, the cycle only ended up repeating itself.
Now it was Ashley. She was the one I oddly started feeling the urge to protect. My will to protect what was mine wasn't average; I could go to extreme lengths to mark my territory and whatever I considered precious to me safe. What burdened me the most right now was why and how Ashley got into the picture of my dad somehow got wind of this, it wasn't going to be funny for either party.
With depressed shoulders and a sullen look, I donned my bathrobe in front of the mirror before unenthusiastically dragging my feet out.
Stepping foot into my bed space, my fatigued eyes first jammed with those beautiful deep blue eyes radiating the portrait a few paces away. In a laggard fashion, I approached it.
She was the second person to make me feel overprotective, and also the chief reason I was back in Chicago.
"What do I do?" I whispered to the portrait.
"Jason is trying to gain entrance," Alexa informed.
"Let him in," I breathed, sliding my hands into my pockets.
"Hey, Alexa! What's good?" he greeted lively on getting in.
"Everything is good," came her systematic reply.
"Boss," he called mildly, spurring me to turn to him now standing beside me.
"You okay?" I creased my brows questioningly. What did he mean? "Lately you stare at this whenever you have a lot on your mind," he completed, veering to the painting after he said that.
I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. Did I really do that? Was I forgetting "her"? To the point where I only came here when I felt down.
"How could I possibly forget the sole reason I am in Chicago."
"Maybe when someone takes her place?" Our conversation from the other day resonated through my mind but I shrugged it off almost immediately. No way in hell was Ashley slowly replacing "her". I just could not come to terms with it yet.
"So tell me. What's going on with you?" he rephrased, now staring at me with studying eyes.
Pursing my lips, I rolled my eyes before pushing myself back to sit on the bed behind me. "Why do you think something is going on? I returned casually with a shrug.
"Pretty obvious," he replied with conviction, bending over to get the first aid kit in the drawer beside my legs. "Let's tend to your wounds, shall we?"
Sitting across from me on the bed, and placing the kit on the bed between us, he went on to dress my injuries. He renewed the plasters, applied ointments, and now it was time for the one on the back of my palm.
Undressing it, his eyes lingered a little longer on this one. He just sat there, staring into the open wound like he was searching for some hidden treasure.
"Are you gonna dress it or just keep staring?" I asked, breaking the awkward silence that broke out.
"This looks pretty deep. You sure you're gonna be okay without visiting the hospital?"
"Leave it then." I attempted pulling my hand away when he held on firmer.
"Easyyy…" he stressed jovially. "Or do you want me to call Ashley over?"
I quirked an eyebrow, effectively pulling a dismal look over my eyes. His ensuing snickers ceased before they could develop into laughter, in the face of my grim stare. Crystal clear I wasn't in for his silly jokes tonight, and I was glad he at least understood that.
"Relax," he winked goofily and then gave me one of those silly smiles before proceeding to dress the wound. Firstly, he cleansed the surface with distilled water. Thereafter, he cut a small portion of the cotton wool and held it between the two sharp ends of the tweezer. He applied an antiseptic cream to it, after which it was used to dab on the opening.
"Doesn't it hurt?" he asked midway. And when I did nothing but stare in silence, he tilted his neck upward to me. His eyes that dared to peer into me spoke of a different pain. I looked away and then heard a huff sound from him.
"Going clubbing again?" I asked after some time, finally acknowledging the fact that he was all dressed.
"Yup!" he affirmed, popping the 'p' with enthusiasm. "Gotta rock some girls tonight after so long, you know?!"
I scoffed. "Sure have it easy with you," I mumbled to his hearing, instigating a light chuckle from him. "You know, I wonder why the old man lets you off the hook every time," I chirped breezily, more like thought aloud.
"The "old man" according to you is probably obsessed with you, that my business doesn't seem to affect him anymore."
I scoffed at that. "Obsessed with me" indeed.
"Why?" He called my attention to himself again. "Suddenly interested in clubbing?" he teased guilelessly, causing me to cringe at once. He knew how much I despised the idea, and I see he was catching his fun right now judging by the hearty laughter he burst into.
"You should give fun a chance in your life, boss."
"As if." I rolled my eyes with a scoff, flashing him a closed-lip smile.
"Be careful with this," he admonished while wrapping a fresh gauze around my hand. "If you need anything, just ring for help. Because as for Jason," he stressed, closing up the packed box and bending over to place it back neatly, "This guy is going awol until tomorrow morning."
"Don't miss me too much," he added, pointing at me jovially.
I chuckled in response, roving my eyes away momentarily.
"Stay well, Alexa!" he hailed into empty space, walking to the door with his back against me.
My eyes never broke free from his view until he was out of eyeshot.
The moment I heard the door chime close, I sucked in air through gritted teeth. Holding up the gauzed hand and massaging it with the other, I whispered to myself: "It hurts. It really does."