Our dinner was pleasant. We shared so anecdotes from our own work, so playful teasing and banter. We were just two people sharing a al, a comfortable silence occasionally punctuated by laughter.
He wasn’t the lion; I wasn’t the prey.
Between us, there was a silent acknowledgnt and possibly understanding, which Levi clearly sought. A pleasant Sunday evening, with the man that terrified .
We got inside our ho. The exhaustion from the long day of filming hit like a physical weight, and I imdiately crashed onto the plush couch in the living room. Levi, continued upstairs towards his room, presumably to change out of his impeccably tailored suit. I chuckled softly at the predictable routine. Then, a deafening crash ripped through the quiet of the house. The long, wall-covering window of our living room imploded, showering the room in shards of glittering glass.
Instinctively, I scrambled to jump off the couch, to find so semblance of cover behind its bulk. It was a grave mistake. The mont I moved, a searing, white-hot pain ripped through my shoulder, sending a shock wave of agony through my entire body. I gasped, collapsing down to the floor, a strangled cry escaping my lips. Warm, sticky wetness blood against my skin, spreading rapidly. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear Levi’s sharp, furious shout from upstairs.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The reality slamd into with the force of the bullet that had just torn through my flesh. I got shot. Here. In our ho. The pleasant evening, the quiet understanding with Levi—all of it shattered as violently as the window. My vision swam, the edges blurring. The ringing in my ears intensified, almost drowning out Levi’s frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs.
“No! Don’t co! Take cover!” I choked out, the words ragged and weak. Ignoring my plea, Levi’s voice, sharp with fury and laced with a raw fear I’d never heard before, cut through the shattered remnants of our peaceful evening.
“Raphael! Where are you?” His footsteps were still pounding down the stairs, closer now.
Before Levi could reach the bottom step, another sharp crack echoed through the room, followed by the sickening thud of sothing hitting the rug near my head. More glass rained down, and a fresh wave of terror washed over . They weren't just shooting at the window; they were shooting into the room, targeting .,
Gasping through the pain that lanced through my shoulder with every shallow breath, I focused on Levi’s frozen form at the bottom of the stairs, trying to convey the direction of the attack and the location of my injury despite the haze of pain threatening to overwhelm . “Stay… there…” I managed, hoping he wouldn’t expose himself further.
Levi’s eyes darted around the shattered window, assessing the situation with terrifying speed. “Snipers, Raphael. If you can, crawl behind the wall. Don’t raise your head.” He remained crouched at the bottom of the stairs, a silent command in his gaze urging to move.
Our living room was gigantic, like a poorly designed golf field, stretching far beyond the shattered window and flowing into an open kitchen. The best chance of real cover was indeed either towards Levi, which ant crossing open space, or going the complete opposite way, pressing myself against the wall where the window had been, hoping the snipers' angle wouldn't allow a clear shot from there. Both options felt impossibly dangerous with the searing pain in my shoulder.
Levi’s voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the ringing in my ears. “Don’t sleep, Raphael. Move!”
Ignoring the agonizing protest from my wounded shoulder, I twisted my body, pushing myself onto my knees. The shattered glass crunched beneath . Dragging my injured arm, I began to crawl, inching my way across the open space towards Levi. Each movent sent jolts of searing pain through , and the floor seed miles away, but the unwavering intensity in Levi’s gaze, the sheer urgency of his voice, propelled forward.
As I got closer, a deafening crack ripped through the air again, and with a terrifying cascade of sound, every remaining window in the living room exploded inwards, showering us with even more shards of glass. The force of the impact sent a tremor through the floor, and I instinctively flinched, trying to shield my head with my good arm, the pain in my shoulder screaming in protest.
That was probably what pushed Levi to the edge; with a guttural growl of pure fury, he moved, low and fast. He grabbed my wrists firmly and hauled up, his grip like iron bands as he half-carried, half-dragged towards the stairs. A searing, white-hot lance of agony shot through my shoulder with the sudden movent, and a raw scream ripped from my throat. The pain was so intense it montarily blanked out everything else.
The rest of it was a black-out blur to . I vaguely registered the sensation of being hauled up the stairs, Levi’s frantic movents, but then a dark curtain fell, and everything went silent.
...
When I woke up again. I was in Levi’s room, lying on the bed; the pain made cry out again. Levi’s low, urgent voice filtered through the haze of pain as I slowly regained consciousness. He was pacing near the window, his back to , talking intently on his phone.
“I’ll clean the wound, but I don’t know if the bullet is still inside. Yes, it was the job of a single sniper. He left after I descended downstairs.” Levi’s voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the undercurrent of fury simring beneath the surface. He paused, listening to the person on the other end.
“Lev…” My voice was weak and raspy, the simple act of speaking sending a jolt of pain through my shoulder. Levi’s head snapped around. He turned his phone off and ca to the bed. “Raphael,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying an edge of urgency. He knelt beside , his gaze intense as he assessed my condition. “You didn’t lose too much blood, thankfully, but your wound is still open. Do not move. I need to examine it properly.”
Levi’s voice was firm, as he began to peel back the makeshift bandage he must have applied. “This is going to hurt, Raphael,” he warned, his eyes eting mine with a look of grim determination. “Do not clench your jaw; instead, bite down on this.” He produced a thick, folded piece of fabric and held it out to .
“What… the fuck…” The words tumbled out of , a disbelieving whisper at first, then rising in volu. “I got shot… I actually got shot…” The delayed shock of the event finally crashed over .
Levi’s voice was a low, steady anchor in the storm of my panic. “Pulla, deep breaths for . In… and out…” He demonstrated slowly, his gaze locked on mine, his presence a tangible weight beside . “It is over now. You are safe. Sadly, the pain will be there for a little while, but the danger… the danger is gone now.”
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“I got… Shot.” The words were still difficult to grasp, the reality surreal. “Shot by a sniper… in the… living room…” The image of the shattered window flashed in my mind, and a fresh wave of nausea rolled through .
“Pulla, do not spiral. I need you to breathe and prepare yourself. I did so initial first aid, but I need to properly clean the wound and see if the bullet is still lodged in your shoulder.”
“Fuck… lodged in my shoulder?” My eyes widened in disbelief and a fresh surge of panic. Were there any words to calm down? Well, I didn’t think there were, and judging by the determined set of his jaw, Levi didn't either.
He gently but firmly pressed my uninjured side against the mattress, carefully positioning . Then, with a focused intensity, he examined my wounded shoulder, his fingers probing the area with a surprising gentleness despite the urgency of the situation. “Pulla,” he finally said, his voice a touch less tense. “Relatively good news. The bullet just pierced through the muscle over your shoulder. It didn’t hit any bone, pierce straight through, or lodge inside. But,” he added, his gaze serious, “the wound itself is rather deep. You will need stitches.”
“Did I faint? What happened? I don’t really rember much after you started pulling towards the stairs.” The mories were fragnted, flashes of pain and Levi's fierce grip.
“You possibly fainted from the shock and pain,” Levi confird, his expression still tight with concern. “The blood loss itself wasn’t severe, thankfully. But my… ho attempt at bandaging a bullet wound is not nearly enough. This needs proper dical attention to prevent infection and ensure it heals correctly.”
“I got shot… I got shot by a bullet…” My breath hitched, and a tremor ran through my body.
“Raphael, I do not know whether it would offer any consolation, but I might try to do sothing to distract you from the pain while we wait for the physician.” Levi's voice was asured, his gaze steady.
“What can possibly distract from a gunshot wound, Levi?” My voice was laced with disbelief and a hint of hysteria. The throbbing in my shoulder seed to amplify with every panicked thought. “Are you going to juggle?”
A ghost of a smile touched Levi’s lips, a rare and unexpected sight in the midst of the chaos. “No, Pulla, I will not attempt juggling. However,” he continued, his voice shifting to a more conversational tone, “I might share so anecdotes from my ti as a college student. Would you be interested?”
“Shit. What?” My eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. Levi? Sharing college stories? This was unexpected. “Yeah, I am. Tell .”
“Well, even as a child, I always had a keen interest in chemistry. My interest particularly stemd from the imdiate and often dramatic reactions one could observe in experints. But,” he paused, his voice taking on a more somber tone, “on a more personal note, I sincerely wanted to create a drug that could help my now late sister. My dream of that specific cure shattered, but my interest in synthesizing drugs didn’t subside. So, I applied to the Royal Academy to study chemistry, specifically focusing on the synthesis of pharmaceuticals.” A hint of his characteristic determination returned to his voice. “They had the most rigorous program, despite the… occasional explosive incident.”
“Explosive?” I echoed, a wry smile tugging at my lips despite the throbbing in my shoulder.
“Yes, Raphael. The regulations at the Royal Academy regarding laboratory safety were, shall we say, comprehensive. Multiple protocols, ergency procedures, mandatory safety equipnt. I, of course, adhered to all of them ticulously. Twice. The first incident involved a minor miscalculation with a volatile compound. The resulting exothermic reaction exceeded the capacity of the containnt vessel. The sound, I was later inford, was akin to a small firework display. The second… involved a rather enthusiastic release of pressure during a synthesis. The primary containnt failed, followed shortly by a secondary seal. The force was sufficient to dislodge several ceiling tiles. On both occasions, I promptly initiated the docunted ergency shutdown procedures. Professor Armitage's feedback, while technically constructive, did carry a certain… weary resignation.”
“So, you basically blew up the Royal Academy’s lab, not once but twice, and made your professor age faster?” I chuckled again, the image becoming clearer and more absurd in my mind. “He probably started getting grey hairs after your first ‘minor miscalculation.’”
A hint of a genuine smile touched Levi’s lips this ti. “It is… plausible. Professor Armitage did seem to acquire a more distinguished shade of silver in his temples during my tenure. Though I am certain it was purely coincidental and a natural progression of ti.”
Just then, a discreet knock echoed from the door. “That will be Dr. Nora,” he said, his voice regaining its usual crispness. “She is prompt.” He moved swiftly to the door, opening it to reveal a woman carrying a dical bag. “Thank you for coming so quickly. He is in here.”
“Mr. Blake,” Dr. Nora acknowledged Levi with a respectful nod, her professional gaze then imdiately turning to on the bed. “I understand there has been an ergency.” Her voice was calm and reassuring, carrying a quiet authority. “Hello, Raphael. Let’s have a look at that shoulder.”
Dr. Nora moved towards the bed with a composed confidence. “My na is Nora.” She offered a brief, polite smile. “Can you tell where the pain is most intense?” She listened attentively as I indicated the throbbing area. “Any radiating pain?”
“Alright, we’ll remove this dressing carefully. Please let know if you experience any significant discomfort.” Her movents were precise and gentle as she unwrapped Levi's bandage.
After a closer look, her expression remained calm but firm. “Mr. Blake, as you suspected, it is a clean through-and-through, but the wound is deep enough to require sutures for proper healing and to minimize scarring.”
Dr. Nora nodded briefly before turning her attention back to . “Raphael, I will need to administer a local anesthetic before I proceed with the stitches. It will sting montarily.” She prepared the injection swiftly. “This will help numb the area. Afterwards, you will still feel so pressure, but the sharp pain should subside.” Once the anesthetic was given, she efficiently prepared her instrunts. “Now, try to remain as still as possible while I close the wound.”
Once finished, she applied a sterile dressing. “There we are. A clean closure. I will also administer a mild analgesic and an antibiotic now to manage any residual discomfort and prevent infection. Try to rest and avoid putting any strain on your arm.” She gave Levi a direct, concise look. “Please monitor him for any fever or increased inflammation. Contact imdiately if you have any concerns.”
Levi gave a curt nod of acknowledgnt. After a few brief, clear instructions to regarding rest and the dication, Dr. Nora packed her bag. “Get so rest, Raphael,” she said with a final, professional smile before departing the room quietly.
I got shot, and I got stitches to rember this day for the rest of my life.
“Levi,” I said, the exhaustion coloring my voice, but the urgency clear, “we need to move out.”
“Please do not worry yourself with that, Pulla,” Levi said, his voice calm but firm. “We will leave this house first thing in the morning. At the sa ti, focus on your recovery.”
“Yeah… I am exhausted…” The pain dication was starting to take effect. My eyelids felt like lead.
I was lying down on his bed. Where was he going to sleep? “Wait, where are you gonna sleep?”
The thought of being alone right now was unsettling.
“Pulla, I cannot sleep right now, for the life of ,” he said, his gaze steady. “But I can rest in my study. It has a comfortable enough chaise lounge.”
“No,” I mumbled, the exhaustion making sound petulant. “Just co here. Don’t leave alone.”
“Surely, Pulla. Be careful of your shoulder; scoot over to the right side of the bed.” He moved with a quiet grace, carefully settling onto the edge of the mattress, giving my injured side a wide berth.
“This is a serious question,” I mumbled, my eyelids already feeling heavy. “Like, how can you be mindful of that in the middle of everything? Like, how?” The events of the day were a blur of pain and fear, and Levi's consistent awareness of my injury felt almost surreal. “You were just talking to soone about who shot , and you still rembered my shoulder when you sat down. How?”
“The more imdiate truth is, I do not know, Pulla. It has beco… instinctive. But, on a surface level, your discomfort would distress .”
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