Page 196 of Scarbound

“What about everything I did for you?”

“I never asked you to destroy yourself for me.”

Chung-Hee’s hands curled into fists. “You will not become someone else’s happiness while I’m left with nothing.”

Noeul went very still. His fear sharpened into certainty. He started backing away.

“Let’s stop.”

Chung-Hee followed. “Noeul.”

“We’re getting nowhere.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No.”

Noeul turned.

The last thing he saw was Chung-Hee’s furious face and the shattered remains of the sesame-oil bottle in his hand.

Then everything went dark.

CHAPTER 52

Chung-Hee caught Noeul before he hit the floor. For several seconds, he simply held him, staring at the blood beginning to darken his hair.

“Noeul?”

No response. The broken bottle slipped from Chung-Hee’s hand.

“Noeul.”

Noeul’s eyelids fluttered. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, before his gaze settled somewhere beyond Chung-Hee. He was conscious, but dazed and frighteningly passive.

Chung-Hee carried him to the bedroom. Noeul remained awake but did not speak or resist. When Chung-Hee cleaned the wound, he flinched once, then became still again.

Chung-Hee told himself the cut was superficial. He told himself Noeul was only in shock. He told himself he would call a doctor if anything changed.

Instead, he sat beside him. Noeul had wanted to leave. Chung-Hee closed his eyes. No. He couldn’t let that happen. He lay beside Noeul for a while, holding him against his chest as though closeness could somehow undo what had happened in the kitchen.

Then he reached for the handcuffs. By the time he left for work, Noeul’s wrists were secured to the bedposts. Chung-Hee told himself it was temporary. Just until Noeul calmed down. Just until they could talk. Just until he understood.

He hoped to return before Noeul became fully aware of what was happening.

He didn’t.

***

Morning light filtered through the curtains when Noeul opened his eyes. His head throbbed. He recognized Chung-Hee’s bedroom, but he could not remember being carried there.

Then he tried to lift his hand. Metal pulled against his wrist. Noeul froze. He tried the other. Another cuff. He pulled hard, once, twice, the metal biting into his skin.

“What—”

His voice barely worked.