Jun's POV
"Jun, I'm fine."
I don't respond to her. Instead, I lock the door behind us and take off the jacket she's hugging around herself, her body still trembling from the cold. I can see her shivering beneath the flimsy night t-shirt with holes—her go-to for comfort, and takes it off of her. Wet clothes do more damage.
"Jun,"
Yep, no response again. It's better that way. If I say something now, I know I'll regret it. I'll shake her for answers I've been dying to hear, or worse, I'll confront her about why she ran out into the rain for me—because she fkng cares.
There are two sides of her battling each other—one that pulls her closer to me, the other that pushes her away.
I take angry steps to the bathroom, fists clenched, and turn on the shower, setting it to the hottest temperature. It heats up quickly, steam billowing up into the air. I reduce it to a warm, more tolerable setting once the water is hot.