Three months later...
It's been a while now since they've been out of the house. You saw them a few times in the weeks following their move out, but as the days progressed, they came less and less, and eventually just stopped.
They managed to get away from the police, you saw them in the news frequently at the time, but then they started showing up on only one to two new channels which then gradually became none.
Jimin had come more often than the rest to help with the bullet wound which is now a lot better, a little healed even. You don't need to wear piles of gauze anymore, just a really protective bandage and you'll be fine.
But you hate that it became fine, because Jimin started to come fewer times.
He used to be at the house with you almost everyday of the week, now you haven't seen him in almost two months.
He asked you some time ago if you would be fine to take care of the wound by yourself, and like an idiot, you told him you could, not thinking your answer would prompt less visits.
Jungkook doesn't come to school anymore, which was a given, but his name always comes up among students who gossip non-stop.
"Can't believe we went to school with a gangster."
"Shame on the school for not being more protective."
"Our lives were literally in danger."
"I always knew Jungkook was a loser."
"Watch him end up in sewers."
Your graduation is only a few weeks away from now, and you don't even know if he'll be there anymore. He obviously won't, but you try to remain optimistic.
Your mother came home last month, and she's been too much on you.
Of course, you're doing better than you were when they had first left, but you still wish you had more time to heal before she came bombarding on you with questions about them, as if you needed anymore reminders.
But you're still grateful she's here, you don't know how you could've dealt with no other presence in the house, she serves as a distraction.
The gun Jimin gave you has ended up under a pile of clothes in your dresser drawer, mostly to keep it out of your mothers sight, but also because you've realized you probably won't use it.
You had it on your hip at all times during the first few weeks the boys were gone, but it became a hassle, and with no sign of danger, you had it with you less and less, and now not at all.
You don't know what happened to the man who was chasing all of you, maybe the boys led him somewhere, or he went to work on something else.
You don't even know where your boys are.
Jimin was your only sign that they were still here, because of course they were all together, but none of the others kept in contact with you, and now Jimin hasn't either, so you really have no clue of where they are.
They're company, RedSea, or the building at least, had been taken down by government order. But they hadn't discovered any people, the place was abandoned, but they did discover an underground...what did they call it?....training center.
With odd big rooms that were plain white, then rooms that were filled with what they guessed were once weapons, but it had all been taken out, and isolated cafeterias, small rooms with beds and...it was all absurd.
The building was surrounded with people; news reporters, police, firemen, pedestrians, and journalists it was hard to get around the streets because it was so busy.
How did they end up getting away is beyond you, because they've become national gossip.
You wish they left you at least a goodbye so you could have some sort of closure, you feel like you're still grieving and the pain doesn't get better.
You wake up for school this morning more tried than usual because you were up last night cramming in a few more pages on stem cell research for your biology exam you have today.
Your teacher was supposed to make it a graded speech, she'd assign you a side, against or for the use of stem cells in medicine, and you'd have to talk about it for five minutes with a supporting PowerPoint.
But because the kids in your class are such a pain in the ass, she ended up making it an exam on two new topics including stem cells because she got angry.
You drag your weak body out of bed and walk into the bathroom to pee before washing your hands and face and brushing your teeth.
You throw on a hoodie and yoga pants, tie up your hair in a ponytail, apply lip balm and throw your backpack over your shoulder before leaving the room.
You avoid looking at the empty rooms down the hallway and run down the stairs, putting on your Converse, "Good morning, sweetheart." your mother says from the kitchen as you sit on a stair-step to tie your shoes.
"Hey, mom. Working late today?" you ask, hopeful that she says yes.
"Mm, no, not today." she replies and you roll your eyes.
Your mother has never been really open with her job, and you know its because she hates it, people boss her around all day and she can say nothing back to it.
Up until you were fifteen years old, you never actually knew what she did.
That is of course until you finally asked her. She works as an accountant for an indie clothing brand in Korea; 'Cherry Tops' it's called, they sell K-pop inspired clothes, and although it's small, many people know it.
She wanted to be a fashion designer, but her parents were against that, it was a shameful job for their smart daughter, so they made her take math, finance and economics, and she became an accountant.
She couldn't be a fashion designer, but she could work in fashion somehow, so she did, and although she hates her life and her job, she makes good money, which is the way she justifies it unfortunately.
But her boss really loves her, she's good at what she does, that's why she went to Seoul for a few months on that business trip. She and a few others were chosen to tour around new offices and stores their brand was opening.
"I bought groceries yesterday, pack a lunch." she says with a smile when you walk into the kitchen.
You shake your head, pursing your lips, "Eh, I don't know." you say and she clicks her tongue.
"You have to eat something, it's good for the brain." she says with the same line she's been using since you were in the seventh grade.
"Fine, I'll make a sandwich." you give in, knowing she won't back down.
"Good." she nods, taking a sip of her coffee.
When you finish making said sandwich, you wrap it in aluminum foil and shove it in your bag, leaving a kiss on your mom's cheek before you leave the house.
Your mother finally lets you drive her car now, it's not like she needs it, she has her office's driver pick her up.
You want your own car, but you don't know if you're leaving the city for college. You want to do criminology, that's all you know, but you have no colleges yet, and that's not good, you're school has been sending e-mails non-stop about how much they recommend you send applications now.
You turned eighteen three weeks ago, April 28th, and you finally got your driver's license a days after.
You put the car in park in front of your school and find your first class, biology. When you walk in, there's a few people inside already, their textbooks open as they obviously try to memorize a few last pieces of information before the teacher gets in.
A few others have given up, their heads in their arms as they rest on the table, some others on their phones.
You take your seat in the back and pull out your own notes, flipping through to the parts you're the least confident in.
"This is so stupid." you hear, and look up to see your friend, Eden, in her seat in front of you.
She moved to this biology class when Jungkook stopped coming, he opened a new spot so she took it, apparently she had problems with the other bio teacher.
Her dark skin glows under the morning sun, her kinky curls swaying very slightly under the blow of the AC, "What is?" you ask.
"This. Why are we still having exams, we took the CSAT's already." she whines and you smile.
"Some of the kids in here need the extra credit." you reply and she rolls her eyes.
"Not our fault they're dumb." she replies and you nod, looking back down at your notes.
You're very grateful for Eden, you don't know how you would have gotten through school if you had no one but your own thoughts to hang out with. The idea that Jungkook wasn't driving you to school anymore, or that he wasn't waiting by your locker, or class would've been killing you everyday if it wasn't for her.
She's originally from Ethiopia, but she immigrated here with her family when she was five so her dad could give them a better life.
When you first met, you were sucked into her world as she told you stories about how her father used their culture to try to earn a profit.
They had their grandfather bring shea butter from their village to Korea so they could make special skin and hair products that ended up attracting many customers because it was different.
They then opened small stalls among markets where they sold traditional food, that again, attracted many because it was new. She told me that her mother taught her how to make injera, a pancake with different toppings from meat to curries, and she would help her family sell them, occasionally working as the delivery girl to bring some of the food to homes.
You admire her beauty a lot, she has big hair with a perfect chiseled face, her lashes long and her skin a beautiful oak shade. When she smiles the apples of her cheek get very full, and her teeth are like pearls, a smile you can always look at.
She loves jewelry, and no matter how many times she got told off for wearing it she continues to do so. She layers necklace on necklace around her neck, her fingers stacked with big and small rings, silver and gold, the bangles around her wrist always jingling when she raises her hand or writes in her books.
She's a beautiful young woman.
"Alright class! Everyone ready?" the teacher walks in, a stack of papers in her arms.
The class groans, making her laugh and she begins to hand them all out.
- - - - -
School finally ends, and as bodies shove their way out of the glass doors, you stop in one hallway waiting for Eden, you usually drive her home.
As you wait, you notice Seoyeon and her clique walk past you, and you look away, avoiding eye contact.
"I'll see you guys outside." you hear her familiar voice and you sigh. Please just go home.
She walks up to you, leaning against a locker, a smile on her lips, "Hey." she starts.
"Hi." you force out.
Where is Eden?
"So, how are you? Did you do well on the exams?" she asks, her voice chipper.
"I hope so." you reply with short answers.
"Me too, it's going to be hard to wait for results til August. Do you know where you're going for college?" she asks and you furrow your brows at her.
"What are you doing?" you ask, annoyed.
"What?" she asks innocently.
"Why are you trying to start conversation with me, school is over, go home." you nudge your head towards the door.
"I was just-" but she gets interrupted by Eden, who puts her arms around your shoulder.
"She said go home, miss pretty in pink." Eden says and you spit, laughing.
"Who even are you?" she asks.
"Her non-backstabbing friend." she replies with a taunting smile.
Seoyeon can't come up with anything else and walks away, squeezing the handle of her backpack.
"Nice." you say, nudging her arms and she smiles, with her chin up.
- - - - -
You slow down the car once you've finally arrived in front of her house, she pulls the aux cord out of her phone and looks back to grab her bag that's sitting on the backseat.
"Thank you, my dear chauffeur." she says with a British accent.
"Call me that again and you'll have to find a new one." you reply with the same accent making her chuckle.
"But where shall I find one as good as you?" she teases before getting out of the car, "Drive safe, ugly." she says and waves at you as you drive away.
And your smile instantly disappear once you're left alone in the car, your thoughts louder than the music on the radio.
Any second you're not distracted, you think of them, of him.
As you slow down behind a car on the high-way, you notice you're stuck in traffic and you lay your head back against your seat. Great, rush hour.
You look down at your phone in the cup holder and start to think, why not try to call them?....again. You had tried a few times before, but it never got through.
You just assumed they would show up at your doorstep when they were ready to show up again, they were still always a call away, that's what they told you.
You grab the aux cord and plug it into your phone, scrolling through your contacts to find Hoseok's name first, the list goes alphabetically.
You press the number and put your phone back down, hearing the ring through the car speakers. The traffic starts to move, and you put your hands around the steering wheel again, pushing the gas pedal lightly.
"The number you have dialed does not exist. Please try again later." the robotic female says after a few rings and you narrow your eyes.
"Where have you gone?" you whisper.