The adrenaline pumping through my veins made my hands shake as I pressed them against my wound, trying to stop the flow of blood that was seeping through my shirt.
I could feel the moisture from my palms seeping into fabric, turning the light-blue cloth a dark shade of red.

The pain was so intense, as if a thousand knives were stabbing me from inside. I tried to keep my cool, to remain calm and collected, but the sting of the wound and the sight of my own blood made my heart race faster and faster.

"When the fuck did they have time to throw a knife at me, goddammit." I cursed.
"I ain't going to hospital.."

The only thing I can do is...

~~~~~~~●~~~~~~●~~~●~~~~~●~~~~~~~~

I pushed the door to my dorm open. Before I could even say anything, Alex noticed my bloody shoulder. The blood was seeping through my shirt and suit.

"Alex, you said that you study medicine,
right?"

He knew what I was trying to say. He walked towards me as I sat down on the carpet.

Our dorm was small but comfortable. The walls were painted snowy-white, giving the room a severe ambiance. The beds were twin beds with white comforters, with matching nightstand and desk on either side of the bedroom. There was a small television in the corner and a mini fridge beneath it.

"What happened, Ren?" He calmly asked as he helped me take off my suit a shirt.
'This is so embarrassing.'
There was a long cut on my upper arm.

"Uh.. I was training Iadō with real katana and hurt myself, that's all."
He glared at me with suspicion.

"Are you sure?" He asked, slowly cleaning up the wound.
"Mhm."

After a while, the wound was clean.

  "I might need to stitch it, Ren. Four stitches are enough, I think." He informed and walked to the bathroom to prepare needles and threads.

"Alex?"
"Hm?"

"Is everything okay?" I wanted to ask without even noticing that he had started to stitch seconds ago. "You seem..not to be your usual self, Alex."

He stopped stitching, with his needle and thread placed on my shoulder. He avoided my eye contact.
"Just few problems, I guess."
"I can help you." I suggested.

He started to stich again.

"Someone like you can not help me."
He was done stitching, and before I could even say anything, he made his way to the bathroom.

This made my heart sank.