THE ORANGE GIRL

chapter fourteen

Tuesday, 3rd November 2015

7:05AM | Clan of Clandestine, Base Four

Jeon Jungkook was breathed gently onto your cheeks, scattering sparks of electricity across the flushed skin as he tucked the coat tighter around your shoulders. The raven haired boy was whispering quickly, crouched on the balls of his feet at your knees as he tucked strands of hair behind your ears and checked your vitals with the light press of his fingertips, the thump thump thump of your pulse drumming like a tiny hummingbird just beneath your jaw. You watched with wide eyes as he easily slipped the buttons through their holes, flipped up the collar to tuck your hair against the nape of your neck and within the confines of cotton, all the while his voice was gliding like velvet from his tongue with there is not much time before they come, we must go.

But before he could haul you onto your feet, you were digging your nails into his palm and he was then staring at you expectantly. Lips parted slightly, eyes curious as your question scraped like barbwire against your already raw throat.

"Yoongi. Where is Yoongi?"

Jungkook frowned, shook his head. "He is here, but he also is not. He planned this for you, but Seokjin was the one who sent me."

Although his words were confusing, muddled and murky, Yoongi was here. That was all that mattered. Lacing your fingers into the gaps between his own, you allowed Jungkook to pull you up and beneath his wing, pacing quickly over to the door smeared with crimson and black ash. Three bodies lay mangled and disfigured at the entrance, limbs dismembered and twisted at ungodly angles that made your stomach lurch with disgust and illness. Though before you could pick your way over a hand separated from its wrist, the fingers bent in directions that they should not, Jungkook was huddling you back into the room mumbling something about a better idea. Whatever questions were about to form on the tip of your tongue were silenced when he crouched down among the pool of blood and began to strip the hard black armour from their raw skin and bone, the letters CoCengraved into the material over the left breast. You were going to disguise yourselves as the people who were once your own.

As the enemy.

"Okay, it may be a little big but it should be enough," Jungkook muttered as he faced you with armfuls of bloody clothing, kicking the door with his heel so the mutilated bodies were out of sight, out of mind. He dropped the armour to the floor and quickly shed his own bulletproof vest, swiftly sliding on the attire that held the scent of gunpowder and burnt flesh with a distasteful expression, all in the time that you shakily fumbled with the buttons of your coat.

He noticed you once he was about to slide the helmet on, throwing it aside to the bed and cautiously sweeping towards you to help. The boy towered over you, quick to discard of the heavy material before he was slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt, pulling that over your head too as you kicked off your shoes and pants. You shivered at the icy stab of the stale air on your skin, continuing to lean down and grab the armour until a soft jesuswas heard from his lips, making you look up with a sniff to find Jungkook staring agape at your arms and neck, eyes swimming with sympathy.

Over the hours you had lay waiting, rose pink petals had bloomed across your body in the shapes of the restraining fingers, palms marked where you had been hit for disobedience, defiance. The boy audibly swallowed, his touch absentmindedly gliding across your shoulder, up your neck until he was cupping the side of your face, the pad of his thumb stroking away the salt water you had hardly realised was casting a haze over your vision, spilling over. You averted your gaze, sniffing again and reaching for the armour wordlessly, joints locking into place when he curled his fingers around your wrist.