[1] Code: RED || KTH

Ch18: Not An Apology

I zip the suitcase, taking a last look around the room to make sure I didn't forget anything.

I pick up my phone, checking the time before I glance at Taehyung's bed when I hear him shift.

There's a low groan before he sits up on bed, squinting his eyes at me, his hair dishelved and standing in all directions.

"Go and wash up," I say. "We're leaving."

He stares at me for a little while, then stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, we're in the car, driving back home. The drive is silent, much more silent than the one to the beach. I don't have anything to say, but Taehyung seems like he has, because he keeps on staring at the purple and green bruises on my wrist, at my face, then away.

He doesn't say anything, though.

The drive seems longer than it should be, with nothing but the low hum of the engine in the background, and after what seems like forever, we're finally home.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?" I ask Taehyung once we step in the apartment.

"No," He replies.

I hum and walk to my bedroom to unpack my bag.

Night time comes faster than I expect it to and soon enough, stars are lining the dark sky. I sit in my bedroom the whole day, reading books and checking social media; doing anything to get things out of my mind.

I hear shifting and footsteps, and I know it's Taehyung, but then I hear a clink, a low squeak, and a thud.

I ignore the sound, knowing he's probably messing around in the apartment. After spending more time in my bedroom, I finally walk out, and head to Taehyung's room.

I knock on the door once, twice, thrice. When I don't get a reply, I open the door, and the room is empty.

I walk out to the living room, but it's empty. So is the kitchen. I go to the last place, the bathroom, and it's empty, too.

My heart drops, and I walk to the apartment's front door. I realize it's unlocked, even though I'm pretty sure I locked it in the morning.

My heartbeats quicken as I run around the apartment, grabbing my phone and car keys, shoving my feet into the nearest sneakers I find.

I hurry out of the place, dialling Namjoon as I run and stop in front of the elevator, repeatedly pressing on the button.

I put the phone on my ear and it rings. And I wait.

Namjoon answers on the fourth ring, and before I open my mouth to speak, the elevator's doors open, and my mouth hangs open.

"Hello?"

I blink a few times to make sure I'm not seeing things, but it really is him.

Taehyung stands in front of me, his ears laying flat on his head as he stares at me, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hello? Hanseol? Are you okay?"

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, but he doesn't say anything. He just stands there awkwardly, with one hand behind his back.

"Where were you?" I murmur, still in shock as I drop my hand, hearing Namjoon's voice through the speaker.

"Hanseol, what's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Taehyung doesn't reply, just shifts his weight from one leg to the other.

I put the phone up to my ear. "I'm sorry, Namjoon, I called you by mistake."

I hang up before I hear his reply, and stop the elevator before it closes with one hand.

Taehyung looks me in the eye once then comes out. I walk towards the apartment and he follows me silently.

Once we're in, I turn around, facing Taehyung.

"You left without telling me," I say to myself more than to him. "And you came back."

"I... " He hesitates. "I was buying some stuff. Plus, you don't have the right to interrogate me."

"Right, I just thought... " I trail off.

"You thought I escaped?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Why didn't you?" I ask.

He licks his lips, looking away, then down at his feet. He scratches his head, then clears his throat and looks up at me.

He brings out his hand from behind his back, and throws something at me. I'm quick to catch it, and look down to see a small plastic bag.

I furrow my eyebrows and look in, to find two small tubs of ice-cream.

"Does it hurt?"

I look up at him. "What?"

"Does it hurt?" He repeats, pointing at my bruised wrist. I glance at it, then back at him.

"Not that I care," He adds quickly.

"Also," He breathes in, pointing at the ice-cream. "This is not an apology or anything. I just wanted some ice-cream."

I squeal, and non-hesitantly wrap my arms around him, pulling him in a hug. For a mere second, he doesn't move, then pushes me away.

"Sorry," I mutter.

I grin, holding up the plastic bag. "Apology accepted. Let's have some ice-cream."

"It wasn't an apology!" He yells after me as I walk to the living room, turning on the TV.

I hum nonchalantly and open the tubs.

"That's mine!" He says, pointing at the strawberry flavoured one.

"Not anymore," I say as I dig in, and he follows me, whining about how I'm not supposed to eat what's his.

For a while, I forget I cried myself to sleep the night before because of him, and just laugh as I tease him.

It's surprising, really, and I can't describe how proud I felt. How happy I felt when he bought those ice-creams (even though it's with my money).

What confused me, however, was the question I asked that he left unanswered.

Why did he come back?