———————
Not even a second after Lay left, I hear a bump then groan at the door. My eyes move to detect the noise to see Namjoon after being bumped into by Lay on the way in. Confused, he looks back at me and his face straightens.
"What's up with him? Are you already getting under his skin too?" He smirks and chew my cheek.
"I don't know," I mumble, turning to the bed. I don't even want to deal with his attitude right now.
I try to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.
"What happened?" He asks, not out of concerned, but annoyance. Like he had to ask. I look at his hand and glare at him.
"Nothing. Let go of my arm before you lose the hand."
"It's obviously something, your hand is shaking," he ignores my comment completely, holding my arm up to my eye level to show me. His eyes narrow as he looks at my face, at my chin. Folding under his gaze, I close my fist and yank my arm back.
"I said it's nothing. Don't grab me like that."
He sighs and I turn to the bed, grabbing the box and pulling it off the bed. I push it toward the wall to get it out of the way, wincing when I bump my thigh against the dresser.
Namjoon is on the other side of the room, placing his own things on the desk. I'm not looking, but I can feel him watching me.
"I bet you're excited to be stuck with me for the next while?" Namjoon says, trying to break the silence. It's obvious he senses something is wrong. But he's not my therapist. He's not my friend. He's an ally, a coworker. I respect him in the way somebody should if he saved my life, but nothing more.
I don't know if it's because of what just happened with Lay or the stress of the whole situation we're in, but I feel my blood boil. The fact that he's still the same cocky prick I knew before to get under my skin really pisses me off.
"Why are you talking to me?" I snap, turning around and putting my hand on the dresser behind me. "I understand that we had a moment. We apologized, we set things straight. I'm glad we did, but that doesn't mean I want to talk to you any more than I have to."
I can tell he's shocked. Frankly I am too. But I keep going. Words flow out of my lips without my brain even trying to process them.
"You almost died for me. And I'm grateful for that, if you weren't here, I wouldn't be either. But you can't expect us to be all sunshine and rainbows now because guess what? In case you forgot, we hate each other," I step forward, balling my fists in front of my face.
He stands these, disbelief in his eyes.
"I thought we talked this shit through already. You know why I-"
"That's all shit, Namjoon!" I raise my voice. "Keeping me on edge? There's more than one way to do that, you don't have to be a dick about everything. Opening old wounds, constantly harassing me about my brother, kicking my shit in the ring."
His face falls and his jaw clenches.
"So that whole conversation really went through one ear, out the other, huh?" He scoffs.
"That whole conversation, we were both physically and emotionally drained. I was nearly beaten to death and had a major head injury. You were literally on your possible death bed."
"You're saying I didn't mean what I said?"
"I didn't say that."
"So you don't mean what you said?"
"I didn't say that either..." I say, shifting my weight.
"Then what? What are you saying?" He crosses his arms, becoming appearing more angry. I take a deep breath, looking at the ceiling before looking back at Namjoon to calm down. Limping a few steps forward to the bed, I rest my palms on the the surface of the comforter.
"I'm saying we can't be friends. You're assigned to me, that's it. You don't have to try justify your behaviour, just don't do it. Or don't act like nothing happened. I don't know how long we're stuck with each other, but the second Hyunsoo is dead, I'm gone. You won't have to see me again. At least try to treat me like a person. If you can't do that, then it's gonna be hard for both of us."
I reach for the gun on the bed and his eyes follow, tensing up. I grab it and stick it into the holster as I turn, shaking my head while leaving the room.
As I leave, I see a few of the EXO members at the door, including Lay, who stands there was a mocking grin on his face.
"Hope you enjoyed the show, assholes," I growl as I push through them.
As I walk down the hall, I slow my pace, my head becoming lighter. I stop, closing my eyes and leaning my hand against the rail of the staircase before descending.
I walk toward the kitchen of the main floor to get to the basement, seeing Jimin with Jin in the kitchen with a couple of the EXO boys. Baekhyun and one of the guards from before. Suho. I gulp just looking at him. His name is so close to Seho's. Looking at him, he looks a bit like Seho. His build is similar, so is his nose and mouth.
I look away and continue to walk to the basement. I hear voices as I approach the door at the end of the hall. It's open, exposing the circular room with the training room door open as well.
I slowly limp inside, not knowing who to expect. Frankly, not really caring. But once I enter, my heart begins to beat faster as I get more nervous. All I see are four boys from the EXO unit. I don't know any of them. Well, one. Chanyeol. But we're not exactly buddies. I recognize the other guard. The one with the shaved head, but I don't know him. I don't like the energy he gives off either.
All of them are talking and laughing as they are holding rifles, either loading them or wiping them down. Every one of them are armed to the teeth. Holsters of handguns, knives as well as clips attached to their shoulder straps. They all have walkies and vests under their jackets. Bulletproof.
All of their eyes fall on me and fall silent. I shift my weight. I need to arm myself, just to have when I'm in my room. A knife, another handgun. Maybe a few clips. Problem is, they're standing in front of all of those things.
We all stand silently for a moment.
"First shift," one of them says, sliding a clip into his rifle and stepping toward me. He's about Jimin's height with black, wavy hair. He wears a leather glove on his left hand, the other without. "In case you were wondering."
I shake my head. "Okay?" I look past him and see a knife I can take.
I limp toward them, the shaved one moves to the side. I grab the knife, sliding it into the holster. My whole body is tense, four strangers practically breathing down my neck as I arm myself.
I grab a CZ 75, checking the clip.
"We never met," the man speaks again. "Not officially, anyway."
I don't look at him. The clip is full, I slide it back in.
"My name is Chen," he continues after my silence. I don't say anything. I slide the handgun into the holster on my belt. I chew my cheek and hesitantly take a glock 19. "Hello?"
I sigh, turning to face him. He chuckles a bit. "I'm Chen," he repeats. He points at the shaved man. "This is Kyungsoo." When he turns his head to point, I notice a large burn scar on the side of his neck and disappearing down into his jacket.
He points down to a tall man with black slicked hair parted in the middle. "Sehun," Sehun gives me a nod and Chen points to the white-blonde giant that isn't exactly fond of me. "And Chanyeol."
I pull the hood back slightly, checking if the gun is loaded. It is and I release it, nodding. Tucking the handgun into my waistband, I turn again and grab two clips.
"I was hoping to run into you," Chen adds. He likes to hear himself talk. "Heard a lot of interesting things about you." I turn, sucking some air between my teeth and leaning, giving him a sarcastic look.
"I would love to hear those, but unfortunately I don't really give a shit and I think you should get going. you're gonna be late for your first shift," I close the gap between us and look him in the eyes. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"
He smiles, leaning forward, barely an inch from my face. "No. We wouldn't," after a few seconds, he bites his lip and laughs, pulling away. Giving a motion with his hand, he lets the others know they're leaving. They all begin to leave and Chen picks up his rifle from the table behind me.
"I'll see you around, Y/N," Chen says, walking backwards, smiling and putting the rifle on his shoulder before turning and leaving out the door with the rest of his crew.
I squeeze the handle of the gun on my thigh and huff, looking back at the rack. Putting the clips in my pockets, I slam the doors shut and lock them up, shaking my head.
*******
"Hey! You disappeared, where'd you go," Jimin smiles at me as I enter the kitchen. It's just him now, the others had left.
"Downstairs," I say nodding behind me.
"How come?" He asks, popping a grape in his mouth.
I lift my shirt, showing him the guns. He raises his eyebrows and stops chewing for a seconds before swallowing the grape down.
"Oh that's why."
It feels way better being able to carry now. Before, I wasn't allowed, if I asked at the end, I probably would have been able to, but I guess we haven't established that level of trust yet. Now we have. And now I feel more secure being on my own.
"You going somewhere?" He asks.
"No, why?"
"I mean you're carrying a lot, I didn't know if you were leaving?"
I think for a second. It wouldn't be bad to leave.
"No, I just wanted to have something in the room just in case."
"Makes sense," he nods. "I already have something, but it's under my pillow, so it probably wouldn't do you very good."
"Probably not," I nod, looking out the window at the boys still unloading their things. Or the people starting their first shift. "How are we going to do the rooming situation?"
"Hm?" He asks, chewing on another grape.
"I mean like you have Namjoon and I. Only one couch and one bed so what's going on? Like are Namjoon and I sharing the couch or am I taking the floor, what's happening?"
"You're taking the bed, Namjoon couch and I'm taking the floor."
I bring my eyebrows together. "Uh no?"
"Uh yes?" He jokingly gives me the same attitude.
"No, Jimin. I'm not taking your bed. I'm honestly fine with the floor, I've slept on worse," I laugh, shrugging. "It's not a big deal."
"That's right, it's not a big deal, so I'll take it."
"No you're not. I'm already taking your space, I'm not taking your bed."
"First of all, you're still injured. You have a head injury, your thigh is fucked up, your shoulder. You're not sleeping on the floor. You're taking the comfy bed because it'll be better for you. And I honestly don't give a shit, I sleep on the floor a lot anyway."
"Jimin n-"
"Y/N, enough," he says, grabbing my hand from across the counter. "Take it. Get better. I'll be fine."
I sigh, puffing my cheeks. "Fine," I say. He smiles. "But only until I'm better. Once my thigh and shoulder feel better, you're taking it back."
His face falls slightly but he nods. "If that's what it takes, then sure. But your head-"
"The epilepsy isn't going away Jimin, it doesn't matter where or how I sleep, it's always going to be there. Might as well get used to it now so I don't have to later."
He lets out a deep breath and nods. "I know. Sorry."
I shrug, looking down. "It's fine."
We're both silent for a moment before he slides the bowl of grapes to me with a small smile. "Grape?"
I grin, popping one in my mouth. "Thanks."
Looking out the window again, my gaze falls onto the trees again. My hand moves down to the handle of the foreign knife in my holster. It feels so wrong. Mr. Min said they looked for mine and couldn't find it. But who's to say they looked very hard? Or at all, for that matter. It's not important to them like it is to me.
"Jimin?" I mumble.
"Mhm?"
I look back at the orange haired boy, stuffing his cheeks.
"Walk with me?"