THE ORANGE GIRL

chapter eight

Friday, 30th October 2015

11:05PM | Yoongi's Apartment

The days were becoming longer.

Today was no exception. No gangs dared to pursue his borders for it were a suicide mission, only ever toeing the line of his territory. But now that the word of your release was completely revealed among the underground, every single being that knew of you was curious, bloodthirsty - and of course, they were all looking to the one person who would love to wrap his slender fingers around your fragile neck. There had been numerous reports of rival gang members lurking through his streets, most of them escaping before a bullet or blade could drive home through the soft flesh of their temple, though the ones who weren't so lucky found themselves hauled back to the headquarters, beaten bloody and bruised until their screams were raw on their throats, one infamous name on their thoughts that completely erased the pretence of your own, the idea that you ever existed.

And because of it all, Yoongi oddly found himself looking forward to returning home and finding you among the serene walls of silver grey and lounges of leather. You were a solid rock of calm among the storm of ocean whitewash.

Until tonight, that was.

The first thing Yoongi noticed when he walked into the 11:05PM setting of his apartment were the shopping bags half full with groceries strewn across the kitchen counter. Instantaneous icy panic shot through his veins, freezing him to the spot as he stared entirely still at the grey plastic that seemed to quiver beneath his scrutiny. An endless stream of thoughts, questions, sprinted through his mind until he conjured the only conclusion as to how the bags could have possibly ended up in his flat.

You had broken the golden rule.

"You're home."

Yoongi snapped his gaze to the left to where you stood at the entry of the hallway, hand bracing the weight of your body against the frame of the opening. Your welcoming expression faltered, noticing the way Yoongi was watching you with wide eyes, the stiff edge of his shoulders. There was something different about you in the way that you held yourself, the usual stiffness of your posture and vacant look in your eyes relaxing into something else, smoothing out. It was as though you had seen something that had changed your perspective. But before he could analyse you further, you were taking a step forward, hugging at your elbows, brows pinching together as your voice broke the silence once more.

"Yoongi, what's-"

"How did that shit get in here?"

You flinched at the harsh tone that cut his words into your hearing, the blade of a knife carving each letter into the curve of your eardrum. His expression was slowly transforming from one of bafflement to nothing but seething rage, taut in the snarl of his upper lip and the vicious glint of his corneas. Suddenly, you were the one who had become a statue, unsure as to whether you should step forward or retreat to the confines of your room, confusion swarming your lungs as you exhaled. You tried to put up a blank mask, I don't care when you speak to me like that, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"The supermarket," You replied, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "I thought I would-"

Yoongi moved like a wave, completely fluid, rushing all at once and crashing down entirely on you. You bit down on the yelp that threatened to spill from your lips as he towered over your frame, which seemed to shrink beneath the heavy lead of his eyes. He stared into you with uncontainable fury.

"You left the apartment?" His voice was low, barely audible, completely sinking into your thoughts and playing over, and over until he was screaming directly into your face. "Answer me!"