Says the Boy | j.jk ✓

03 • let's shoot some bitches, bitches

wooooooo posting this as if i haven't had it completed in my phone for 2 whole years

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"Oh, hell yeah!" Cho calls out from behind us. She points at me, a vicious smirk twisting on her lips. "You — time to be humbled."

"You're all bark and no bite."

"You know, I totally forgot to say this earlier but I love that sweater!" she coos sweetly. "Where'd you get it?"

"You're dead to me."

Drunk off the alcohol, the thrill of Jeongguk's confession, the thrill of my confession and the prospect of shooting children, I clutch the boy's arm and begin working to remove my crocks.

"What are you doing?" Jeongguk asks, lips parted in shock and mild disgust. "The trash can was three blocks back."

I grin up at him. "Sport mode, baby."

Cho laughs, grabbing my arm and dragging the four of us into the building. "Let's go shoot some bitches!"

Giddy with excitement, I can barely contain myself in line. Jeongguk has to place both hands on my shoulders to stop me from bouncing. The dimpled man by the name of Namjoon who checks us in shoots us a mystified look as we join the crowd of children, but even that can't dampen my spirits.

However, my full bladder very much could dampen my pants.

While our group waits to be let into the arena, I sneak away to go to the bathroom. Upon exciting, a pair of boys no older than thirteen corner me, grinning up at me with beady little eyes.

"Aren't you fifty?" One of them jeers, flashing candy stained teeth. "Shouldn't you be at, like, an elderly home or something?"

"Yeah," his friend parrots, cackling as if it was the funniest thing in the world. "Shouldn't you be at an elderly home?"

"Shouldn't you be with your mommys?"

The first boy frowns. "For your information, hag, we're in eighth grade."

"Yeah?" My smile is saccharine. "And how long have you been in eighth grade?"

That shut them up real quick.

I rejoin the group just as Jeongguk asks, "where's Aeri?"

"Miss me?" I pop, sidling up next to him. "Sorry. Just had a small quarrel with some children."

He barks a disbelieving laugh. "The verdict?"

"Fuck them kids. That trophy is mine."

"That's my girl."

My heart sings.

Our instructors — gorgeous men by the names of Jimin and Hoseok — finally open the doors, allowing our group into the equipment room. After giving us a quick run-down of the arena and the rules, they give us free reign over the helmets, chest guards, laser guns and protective pads, offering helping hands when needed.

I'm pleased to see that the two boys from the bathroom stay well out of my way.

Yoongi — fiddling with his gun— approaches a now-dressed Jeongguk, Cho and I and launches into his analysis of it's features. "Okay, so to aim you press the small trigger," he explains, fingering said button. "And I think you shoot with the big one."

"Like this?" I ask innocently before shooting Jeongguk in the leg.

His knee pad buzzes, indicating that he's been hit. The number of lives displayed on his helmet's screen — five in total — drops by one.