Chapter 6 

-Wesley-

“Have you still not found them?” Hettie, my younger sister, asks, raising an eyebrow. Sighing, I shake my head. “No. I must have left them at work earlier. I kind of left in a hurry,” I say awkwardly, pissed off at myself for losing my car keys. I was supposed to be going out with Hettie so she can practice driving around a car park, but she can’t if we can’t even get in the car.

“I’ll just pop back, do you mind waiting?” I ask, chewing on my lips. Hettie shrugs, sitting back down on the sofa, picking her book back up. “No worries, I hope you manage to find them. See you later!”

Smiling, I give her a quick salute, making her laugh brightly, before heading back to work. “Hey, did you see my keys anywhere?” I ask my coworker. She waves me over, handing them to me. “Oh thank god, you’re a life saver,” I tell her brightly, turning back to go and almost smashing face first into a customer.

“Shit, sorry,” I say before my heart stops for a moment when I realise who it is.

“What happened to your face?” The words slip out of my lips before I can even remind myself that this guy is literally the reason I had a panic attack earlier. Kirrill blinks a few times before I glance down, realising what he’s holding. 

“Have you cleaned it properly? And don’t use those, it could irritate the cut,” I say, pointing to what Kirrill is holding. He awkwardly puts them back on the shelf, glancing nervously at me. “What’s…what’s good to use then?” He asks quietly.

Not wanting to look him straight in the eyes, I instead inspect his outfit. Squinting slightly at where his shirt is opened at the collar, I reach forwards before I can stop myself and think about what a bad idea it is that I’m even talking to this guy.

He grabs my wrist just as I pull back his collar, sucking in a breath at the burns there. “You need to go to the hospital,” I tell him firmly, finally meeting Kirrill’s eyes. The man shakes his head quickly, letting go of my wrist. “No.”

Rolling my eyes, I glance over at my coworker awkwardly before grabbing Kirrill’s wrist and dragging him outside. “Listen, if this is because of some gang rules or whatever, forget it. Those look really bad and I’m willing to bet that they’re painful as hell too, so at least- at least see a doctor.”

Scoffing, Kirrill rips his wrist from my grasp, crossing his arms. “And where the fuck am I going to find a random doctor willing to help a sketchy guy like me?”

Chewing on my lips, I regret all my life decisions as I open my mouth again. “My dad’s a doctor.”

Kirrill stares at me for a long moment before running a hand through his hair, chuckling slightly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.”

Shrugging awkwardly, I fiddle with my bracelet. “I’m not, he really is.”

Shaking his head, Kirrill lets out another small laugh. “I don’t doubt that he is. But why would you help me? I literally caused you a panic attack earlier. I’m-“ he touches the stud in his ear before glancing down at the floor. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Taking a deep breath, I shrug again. “It’s fine. And it wasn’t a panic attack anyway,” I lie; I’m not even sure why though.

Kirrill raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms again. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I know a panic attack when I see one.”

Mirroring his stance, I tap my fingertips along my arms. “Oh yeah? Speaking from personal experience?”

Breaking my gaze, Kirrill looks off to the side. “Yeah.”

Not expecting him to actually admit that, I’m surprised into silence for a moment. “O-oh,” I say eventually. Clearing my throat by coughing into my hand, I stand a little taller. “Anyway, just let my dad treat your burns and then you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Seemingly considering it for a moment, Kirrill eventually nods. “Alright. Thank you,” he says quietly, glancing up and meeting my eyes for a fraction of a second. I purposefully avoided answering his question; I simply don’t know the answer.

I don’t know why I’m helping him. Probably just because I’m too nice of a guy to leave him here like this.

Or perhaps it’s because he looks likes he’s begging for someone, anyone, to help him.

Perhaps it’s because I see a lot of similarities between his situation and how mine used to be.

We walk in complete silence back to my house, which is about a half an hour walk from the convenience store I work at. It’s too late for Hettie and I to go out for a drive now; we’ll just have to do that tomorrow or something. Hopefully she doesn’t mind too much.

Unlocking the front door, I hesitate before opening it. “I feel like this is obvious,” I begin, turning back to look at Kirrill. “But if you so much as touch a single member of my family, I will actually murder you. Just so you know,” I warn him, pushing the door open.

It’s not like I trust him, but I know that Kat trusts him. And I hardly trust Kat anymore, but I wouldn’t bring Kirrill here if I thought that he would harm my family in any way. 

“Of course. I won’t do anything,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

Sighing, I beckon him inside, leading him to the kitchen. I know my dad will be here soon; I texted him letting him know the vague situation so that he wouldn’t be ambushed by the prospect of treating some burns in his own home.

“Wes? Jesus you took your sweet time coming home, I thought you’d been kidnapped or somethi-“ Hettie stops mid sentence, frowning at Kirrill. “Who’s this guy?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest and staring down her nose at Kirrill.

She doesn’t tend to like strangers; no particular reason why, she’s just always suspicious of people. Meanwhile Maddie is like a puppy when it comes to new people.

“This is Kirrill,” I explain awkwardly, gesturing to the man standing beside me. Hettie sniffs in disdain before turning around and walking away. Rolling my eyes, I glance over at Kirrill briefly. “Just ignore her, she’s always like this around new people. She’s nice once you get to know her. Well, as nice as a little sister can be anyway,” I say with a slight frown, even though I love her really.

“Yeah well my experience with little sisters is literally just Kat, so,” Kirrill replies after a moment.

Chastising myself mentally, I lead him through to the kitchen, sitting him down on one of the stools. “Here, have some water first. Are you hungry?” What the fuck am I doing???? I need to stop going into automatic host mode.

“That’s ok, I ate this morning.”

Gaping at Kirrill, I shove the glass of water into his hands. “Please tell me you don’t make a habit out of eating breakfast and only breakfast, right?”

Letting out a small laugh, Kirrill quickly shakes his head. “Um. No?”

Narrowing my eyes, I don’t ask why it came out as a question.

Silence unfolds between us and I watch as Kirrill tries to discreetly look around our kitchen; I’m not sure what he’s surprised by but it’s rather…adorable, almost, watching as his curiosity becomes open and Kirrill’s usually hard exterior seems to shatter somewhat as he sips at his water.

“Wesley, I’m home!”

I blink rapidly, coughing awkwardly when Kirrill’s eyes snap to mine and catch me staring. He’s actually rather attractive, especially when he looks calm like he did just now.

“Hey, dad. This is Kirrill, the guy I mentioned,” I say, turning to look at my father as he walks into the kitchen. Kirrill instantly stands up, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he attempts to smile at my dad. I don’t know why Kirrill looks so uneasy around him; my dad is literally the sweetest and most caring man in existence.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kirrill. My name is Jojo. I’ll just get some things ready and then let’s have a look at those burns, shall we?” My dad says with a kind smile, placing his keys in the pot next to the fridge where we all keep our keys.

Kirrill nods slowly, watching my dad’s every move as he leaves the kitchen. Flicking his arm, I frown at him. “Why are you watching my dad like that? He’s going to help you; it’s not like he’d ever hurt you.”

He blinks a few times before nodding, a half-smile grazing his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but not dwelling on it, I lead Kirrill into the living room where we have this big lamp which my dad always says provides the best light. The man in question appears back after a moment, pulling two of our short stools over to beneath the light and beckoning Kirrill over.

“Please sit here. Oh, and I’ll need you to take off your shirt - Wesley said it’s your collarbone we’ll be looking at?”

Kirrill visibly freezes up, grasping his hands together, before nodding stiffly. Sitting down on the sofa, I scroll through my phone idly, not really wanting to leave my dad and Kirrill alone in the room. Not because I’m particularly worried, but just because…I don’t know, Kirrill looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to actually say that. 

So maybe, if it gets too much…I could say something to my dad. Work out a way to make Kirrill feel better.

But he’ll probably be fine, I mean all he has to do is take off his shirt and sit there, my dad probably won’t ask questions, and if he does, then Kirrill doesn’t even have to answer.

Glancing over at Kirrill out of the corner of my eye, I suck in a breath as my gaze lands on the few scars littered across the man’s torso. There aren’t a lot, just a few small ones and then a large one which looks fresher than the others.

A few weeks ago, when Kirrill passed out, Kat had said something as an off-handed comment - that Kirrill had been stabbed just a while prior. I’m guessing that this particular scar is the result of that. It upsets me. I hate pain, and I detest violence. And you can’t get that kind of scar without a lot of pain, and undoubtably, violence too.