celine

⋮ snowbound

The bitter wind whipped mercilessly against your face as you hurried down the deserted street, cursing the late hour that kept you out in such unforgiving conditions. Snowflakes danced chaotically in the air, the swirling gusts forcing you to tighten the scarf around your neck and quicken your pace. The pristine beauty of winter had long lost its charm as the biting cold set in. You muttered under your breath, frustration bubbling over.

"When I wished for a white winter," you began to think wryly, your internal monologue cut short as your foot caught on something solid.

With a startled gasp, you found yourself tumbling forward, landing face-first into a thick, cold mound of snow. Disoriented and stunned, you blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A jolt of indignation surged through you as you pushed yourself up, hastily brushing snow from your coat. But your irritation quickly gave way to alarm when you glanced back to identify the culprit of your fall.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was not a hidden obstacle in the street, but a leg, a human leg.

"Dear God," you breathed, eyes wide as you scrambled to your feet, the cold now forgotten. You rushed to inspect the figure slumped against the brick wall behind a row of dumpsters, partially obscured by the shadows. The dim light from a distant streetlamp barely illuminated the scene, but it was enough for you to notice the crimson stain spreading beneath his hand, pressed tightly to his side.

A man, clearly injured. Blood oozed through his fingers, staining the already damp fabric of his coat. Your stomach churned at the sight, a mixture of shock and concern flooding your senses.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, dropping to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you reached out. "Are you, are you alright?"

The man lifted his head slightly, his face partially obscured by the hood of his jacket. His expression was a mixture of pain and annoyance, his voice sharp as he responded, "Do I look alright?" His words were drenched in bitterness, each syllable strained, as if speaking itself was an exertion. "Just... leave me alone."

You recoiled at the hostility in his tone, but the sight of his wound was too alarming to heed his command. His pallor was ghostly, the blood loss unmistakable. Panic bubbled up in your chest, but you shoved it down, instincts kicking in.

"As if I'm going to just leave you here," you muttered under your breath, determination hardening your resolve. Without thinking twice, you unwound the thick woolen scarf from around your neck, hands fumbling slightly as you press it against his side to staunch the bleeding. He hissed in pain, his body tensing under your touch.

"Stop," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, but his protest lacked conviction. "I don't need your help. Just... go."

Ignoring his objection, you focused on wrapping the scarf around his wound as tightly as you could manage. You were no doctor, but you couldn't just walk away. Not when someone was clearly in danger.

"Shut up," you retorted, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart. You moved with purpose, more out of necessity than confidence. The man winced as you adjusted the makeshift bandage, but he didn't resist. Perhaps he was too weak to do so, or perhaps he had resigned himself to his fate.

You glanced at him, noticing the way his face was contorted in pain, yet something about his expression seemed off. He was assessing you with a mixture of disdain and something else, something unreadable. Before you could ponder it further, you slipped your arm around his back and hooked his arm over your shoulders, hoisting him to his feet.

"We need to get you to a hospital," you said firmly, half-dragging, half-guiding him toward the street. Your body strained under his weight, but you were surprised at how little resistance he offered.

His breath came out in short, shallow gasps, but beneath that labored rhythm, you heard him mutter, "Idiot."

It wasn't so much the word itself that gave you pause, but the faint smile that flickered across his lips as he spoke it. His expression, so sharp and angry just moments ago, softened into something almost... amused? It was a fleeting gesture, a ghost of a smile, but it caught you off guard nonetheless.

You didn't respond, though his unspoken thoughts echoed in the frigid air between you. There was something unspoken in the way he leaned against you, allowing you to bear his weight. It felt almost like surrender, an unspoken trust in a moment of dire need.

The snow continued to fall, silent and relentless, as you trudged forward, the world around you fading into a blur of white. But in that brief moment, despite the gravity of the situation, you couldn't help but wonder just who this man was and what had brought him to such a state.

While she imagined various scenarios that might have led to his injury, he contemplated how the mere mention of his name would likely send a shiver down her spine.

'jiwoong'