SeVen Uncaged :The Second Chapter

The Right Words Can Become Keys To Certain Doors

The earth’s last straggling attempt at snow powdered your windows on the way back to the apartment, wipers quickly flicking away any trace leaving only a smear of water behind. The smell of pizza and wings permeated the small space as your stomach growled just under Justin Beiber’s “Peaches.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. The all-too-intimate event paired with Namjoon’s cutting words kept you tossing and turning. A domino effect of you keeping Jungkook awake, which in turn, meant he was keeping you awake with the glow of his phone and subtle tick tick tick of nails on plastic. In the end, you got out of bed, did some dishes, cleaned the fridge while pretending you hadn’t just been pinned to it like the tail on the donkey—you were definitely a jackass—and busied yourself around the house with any other chores you could find while you thought of how to approach the subject. Had things gone too far for a discussion on bodily boundaries, and set communications? Would they accept your apology? 

The cold, crawling claws of truth dug themselves into your skin no matter how busy you became, like a shadow of Namjoon hanging over your shoulders, weighing them down under a seize of perception anywhere you looked. It was pervasive and suffocating. You had to get out of that apartment.

So, in the early morning hours before the sun rose, you left the apartment to visit Mill’s family, and decided to go shopping afterwards to kill some extra time. You knew Ash would at least be awake; he was always an early riser who usually woke you and Milly up for school. In the very Ash way you’d come to know, you found him in the shop beside the house, greased up black with oil and hair tied up in a high pony, working on his project car under the orange glow of his weary shop light. 

With you standing off to the side like some five-year old annoying their older brother, Ash laughed sympathetically while you complained about the situation back at work and home, your pacing becoming limited because of his scattered tools and benches. Of course, you hadn’t told him everything, but you told him about Brayden flipping out, and your hybrids’ moods after that.

“Obviously, that guy was jealous and lashing out at the most obvious thing he could think of. You being surrounded by hybrids that made him look like a shucked shell,” Ashton commented, sobering from his fit of chuckles that resonated from beneath the 1950's Chevelle. “I wouldn’t let him get to you. Your hybrids on the other hand..” He rolled out to pin you with a stern look. “They obviously feel like you don’t give them enough respect.”

Ash’s words attached themselves to the repeating Namjoon demon inside your head like a second skin, both of their voices condemning you as you zombied through the aisles of the garden section at the megamart, mindlessly shopping for nothing at all. You grabbed some groceries and a few things for the apartment, then passed the hybrid accessories with a scanning eye. You were sure the boys would love some of them. They were sparkly and dangly, nothing like the harsh leather they currently wore. Debating, you almost bought them, but Ashton’s voice stopped you. Respect would mean not treating them like animals, you realized. They have their own autonomy.

Your reaching hand gripped your cart before you turned away, making a mental note to take them collar shopping later. Let them choose.

Around lunchtime, you knew you had to return home to your starving boys, so you picked up the pizza and wings, then made your way through town on barren streets. Nobody liked to drive in the snow, so it made the roads clear for you to get back quicker. Not necessarily a good thing as the dread of facing everyone twisted you into knots. You knew they heard everything that'd happened. They were hybrids; with their ears, you couldn’t fart in another room without them becoming alert.