The next day is a blur. Namjoon wakes me early by gently tapping my shoulder. Opening my bleary eyes, I see him crouched next to my side of the bed. "I've got to go out, Orchid. Get our travel documents and make arrangements for leaving the country. I'll pick you up some more clothes too." He pauses to see if I'm comprehending him through the haze of sleep. I mumble an acknowledgement. "Don't go out while I'm gone. Don't open the door for anyone. I should only be a few hours." He starts to rise, hesitates, and leaning down, places a kiss on my forehead. "Sleep well, Ori." I smile at the nickname, recalling the many years ago when Namjoon gave it to me, before quickly obliging.
When I wake up for real about an hour later, I'm met with the miserable task of whiling away time until Namjoon returns. He's gone for five hours and I'm an anxious mess when the beep of a key card in the door signals his return. He's bright and alert. My eyes are drawn to the muscles in his arms, noticeable through the thin fabric of the long sleeve gray sweater he's wearing. Damn girl, when did you start paying attention to what he's wearing?? I snap back to the present as I realize he's talking, explaining that one of his trusted contacts has secured travel arrangements for this evening, that we'll be with Jin soon. "Where is Jin, anyways?" I interject, realizing I have no idea.
"Copenhagen, Denmark." Joon replies. "We have a safe house there. One we established ourselves, not through Lily. We've been there enough times that if they knew it existed, they would have made a move already." From the duffle bag, Joon pulls out a small, sleek, black leather backpack and hands it to me. "It's got your fake passport, some cash," he says. "You'll need to memorize the location of the safehouse so you can make your way there if we get separated. Which," he appears to add as an afterthought, "I don't plan on letting happen." He shoots me a wink that is a characteristic Namjoon move, except my pulse responds to it differently than before. He moves closer to me then -and I swear I nearly pass out -but it's only to unzip the backpack and take out my passport. "We'll be traveling under the guise of newlyweds," he explains. "You're Chloe Park and I'm Michael Park." I wrinkle my nose at this and he laughs "What, you don't like our fake names!?" he exclaims in mock indignation. "I worked so hard!" He pouts.
Laughing, I say, "You just don't look like a Michael." I shrug.
"What do I look like?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.
My first thought, a million bucks. This is, clearly, not what I say. "You look like Namjoon. Just Namjoon."
He seems satisfied by that response. Shoving the passport back into the backpack, he returns his attention to the duffle bag. From it, he begins pulling nondescript clothing. A pair of black jeans, black ankle-high boots with a slight heel that look made for hiking, a plain black t-shirt, a charcoal gray scarf, and a soft blue oversized sweater. "These are for you," he says gesturing to the pile of clothing.
"Thanks," I smile. "That's a lot of black."
He shrugs, "Yeah, well, we usually try to dress inconspicuously. That's what the blue sweater is for -you'll look more normal," he pauses briefly, "It reminded me of your eyes." His head snaps up in my direction. I get the impression that maybe he hadn't meant to say that last part.
"Oh," I say lamely. Cursing myself, I thank him again, pick of the clothing and head to the bathroom to change. The clothing is soft, breathable. It occurs to me that it's probably easy to fight in.
When I come out, Namjoon glances up from the duffle bag that he's still organizing. "Perfect," he smiles. There are those dimples again. I stop myself there. Refusing to let anymore fully formed thoughts break through.
The rest of the day passes quickly. Before long it's time to make our way to the airport to catch our flight. As we climb into the back of a Lyft, I feel incredibly tense. Namjoon must notice because he leans over and says, "It's okay. This is Taehyung."