*******Isaac's POV*******

The games began the next day, and I was constantly busy. From bruises after being hit with a rubber bullet, to cuts from rocks on the ground, to one female Captain who broke her ankle. I barely had time to think.

That was probably a good thing.

When I did have time to take a breather and think, my mind went back to the dark, handsome, dimpled, Korean soldier who came to see me. I couldn't seem to get him out of my head. I liked his deep voice, his almost rhythmic way of speaking, and I was really impressed with his English. He had almost no accent, and spoke it perfectly. My Korean was okay, but I was relieved that I didn't have to break it out with him.

Every time I heard someone enter my tent, I secretly hoped it was him. I didn't want to admit that to myself, but I knew that it was true. I told him not to come back to me, but at the same time, I was hoping that he would ignore that order.

It's probably a good thing that he hadn't. I knew what Delwyn was trying to tell me. That man was my mate. My True Mate. I didn't know what to do about that. How do I explain to him that, while he might be the most attractive man I'd ever met, I was not interested in being his mate. Not now. Not ever.

Even if I was, it wasn't fair to him to make him deal with my issues as far as mates go....was it?

I sighed and finished setting the broken ankle in front of me, then got on the radio and called for a transport back to the barracks, so an ambulance could meet here there and take her to the hospital for a cast. As far ahead of us as South Korea was, it would probably be a 3D printed cast. I asked her to come back and show me if it was, because the idea of those fascinates me.

I was currently out of patients for the time being and was finally able to sit down and get a drink of water. Unfortunately, that also meant that my mind drifted to Kim Namjoon. I liked his name. It fit him. And it sounded a little familiar, though I couldn't remember why.

I leaned back in my chair and said his name, softly, but out loud.

"Kim Namjoon." It really does just kind of roll off the tongue, doesn't it? It's smooth and silky, just like his voice. "Kim Namjoon. Kim Namjoon."

"Uhhh...present," that smooth, silky voice said. Did I just conjure him up in my mind?

"Are you okay, Doc?" the voice asked. "You've been sitting like that for a while. Why were you saying my name?"

When I realized that the voice was just in my head, I jerked upright and stared at the man in question. "Jesus. You're like fucking Beetlejuice."

"Huh?" He asked, a cute look of confusion on his face.

"I said your name three times and you appeared." It was then that I realized he might have never seen the movie, since it was an American one. "Uhhh...Beetlejuice. It's a movie. With Michael Keaton and W-"

"Winona Rider?" He asked. "Yeah. I've seen it. I just didn't know what you meant. But I get it now. You're funny."

I straightened my back a little and looked anywhere but at him, trying to find something to make myself seem busy.

"I...Uhhh..." I gave up and cleared my throat, but still didn't meet his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I got hurt again," he said, holding up his pointer finger.

I walked over to him to look at it. There was a tiny cut on his finger, and the skin around it looked like it had been pinched again.

"You did this trying to load a clip, didn't you?" I asked him. I had seen this before. It could have just been fixed with a Band-Aid, though. Why was he here?

"Uhh...yeah," he said, blushing a little. "I did. I've been trying to practice, but I'm still terrible at it. I just can't seem to figure it out. Write lyrics and music easily, sure. But loading a clip into a gun? I'm hopeless."

"Lyrics and music?" I asked as I walked over to grab a Band-Aid and some Neosporin.

"My normal job requires that I do both," he told me with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Broad shoulders? Why do I keep noticing these things about him? I do not want a mate!

"That's...interesting," I said as I used a Q-tip to apply the ointment. "And why could you not have just put a Band-Aid on this yourself?"

He shrugged again. "I might do it wrong."

"You can't really put a Band-Aid on wrong," I said with a small laugh.

"Oh believe me, if anybody could do it, it would be me."

I laughed again. "You make yourself sound completely useless."

"Not completely," he said. "Just mostly."

"I find that very hard to believe," I said as I put the Band-Aid on.

I went to pull my hands back, but his fingers curled around mine.

"Please, I am begging you," he said with a pitiful look on his face. "Please help me so that I can do this right without getting hurt all of the time."

I looked up at his face that was a little too close for comfort. I was supposed to be trying to distance myself from him, wasn't I?

"The reason you're getting hurt all of the time, is because you're doing it wrong."

"Exactly," he said with a small smile. "So will you help me?"

I sighed and tugged my fingers out of his. "I can't."

He frowned at me as he dropped his hand to his side. "Why the hell not?"

I looked back at him, into his deep brown eyes, and he started right back at me. I'm not sure what he was seeing on my face, but I could tell that he already knew.

"You know why, Namjoon."

"Because I'm your mate?" he asked, as if it was nothing. "Shouldn't that make you want to help me more?"

"I don't want a mate," I grumbled as I sat down on one of the cots. "I've never wanted one."

"That doesn't change the fact that you have one," he told me. He sat on the cot across from mine. "If it helps...I've never been into guys. But my wolf insists that you're my mate, and that his is locked up inside of you and he can't talk to him. He won't stop pacing around in my head and it's giving me a headache."

"You're not gay?" I asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head at me. "Not that I knew of. Are you?"

"I..." I took a deep breath, still looking at him, and nodded my head. "I am. Nobody knows. Not anyone in the Army, not my friends back home, even my parents didn't know it before they-" I stopped mid-sentence, not sure I should be or wanted to divulge that information.

I should have known that he wouldn't leave it at that. Who would?

"Before they what?" He asked, his voice soft and...kind of comforting.

"Before they died," I blurted out, a little louder than I meant to. I lowered my voice before continuing. "My parents died. Because they were mates. It's why I've never wanted one." I sighed again and shook my head. "I've never told anyone that before."

"Seems like you're telling me a few things that you've never told anybody else," he pointed out with a small smile.

"Yeah...why is that?" I asked him, as my eyes roamed over the handsome features of his face.

"Because I'm your mate," he told me. "Isn't it supposed to be easier?"

I shrugged one shoulder and shook my head. "I wouldn't know. All I know of mates is jealousy and death."

This made him frown. "It seems like there's a long story there."

"Yeah. There is."

He reached out and put a hand on my knee. "How about this? You teach me how to load a clip properly, and if I succeed, then you tell me the story."

"And what, exactly, am I getting out of this arrangement?"

He laughed lightly. "You get to help your mate with something, and you get to share the burden you've obviously been carrying for a long time. I promise, I'm a good listener. I won't ask questions, if you don't want me to."

I shrugged again and gave him a small smile. "No, you...you can ask questions if you want to."

"Does that mean that we have a deal?" he asked, holding his hand out like we were closing some big merger.

I looked at his hand, then up at him as I reached out and placed my smaller hand in his. "We do."

"I'll get out of your hair, then," he told me as he released my hand and stood up. "But can I ask you one question first?"

"Sure..." I said, a little worried about what he was going to ask me after what I'd just told him.

I really shouldn't have worried.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"Isaac. I am Doctor Isaac Whitley." 

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A/N: I'm sitting out on my front porch as I post this, and I just looked at my car. On the top of my 'infotainment' screen, I have mini Funko Pops of Hobi and JK (my biases, though I love all seven of them.) It's hot, and my car is black, so it's got to be stifling inside, and I think the doubled-sided tape is losing it's stickiness because of it. Hobi passed out. He fell over backwards. Somebody send a medic. -------Kat