This Wild Love // Yoongi

Second Time

I gasp for air.

His eyes smash the living daylights out of me, unaware of the impact they have on the fragile glass of my mind. My stone walls are now firmly built, but they say eyes are the gate to the soul, and my soul is anything but stable as I tremble in his wake.

He doesn't recognize me at all.

"You don't...you don't know...?" I choke. It takes me a few seconds, but I pull myself together. Get on my feet.

Walk up to him. There's no way he'll hurt me...no way. I just have to believe in him.

But is this even...him?

He steps back once more, on the defensive, but pauses as I continue my advance, sensing no ill will. I bring my hand up and lightly brush his cheek, shocked at how pallid and weak he seems. "What happened to you...?"

"You know me?" he asks. His own hands fly up and grab my own. I struggle to understand his actions. His eyes dilate as his wild instincts take over. "You smell like...vanilla? And...mint? It's familiar."

Krrrk.

The door of the house closest to us cracks open. Of all the people that could have been there, Hobi peeks around the rim. His eyes are...so dark. If I could compare his persona to something physical, it would be the sun, but now...now that star has imploded and become a dense black hole.

The forlorn look in his eyes strikes me as odd. He...also doesn't seem like himself. But more so than Yoongi.

Yoongi steps aside, as though he's been silently told to back away. Or is it because of...dislike? No. Hatred...?

My apprehension settles in the middle of my back, menacingly hovering in my body like a cold would, or the flu. I bend over, pick up my trekking stick, and hobble to the door as Hobi motions me inside. I pocket the knife, but dare not let go of it.

Glancing back at Yoongi, I can do nothing but wrench my gaze away. He bristles at me, although I'm not entirely sure why. He doesn't come inside.

The house is warm and cozy, a nostalgic reminder of our time together at the last safehouse. As soon as the door slams shut, Hobi runs up to me and wraps his arms around me. Tears fall on my shoulder, and the grip around me becomes almost unbearably tight.

"Thank god you're here," he cries. "You recognize me, right?"

"Y-Yeah," I stutter. I embrace Hoseok, giving him a few moments to breathe. He's still pale, and he looks tired...but some semblance of him is here. He's still him.

"You...you recognize me, right?"

"How could I not?" I can feel him shaking while he hugs me. In an effort to comfort him, I pat his head and draw him into my shoulder.

"Shhh," I hush him. "I'm right here."

Previously I'd thought Hobi couldn't be rattled in any situation. No matter how desperate we were, he always had a smile on his face. He could always crack a joke. He was always here as support. But now...

"He doesn't trust me," he sobs. "I'm a complete stranger...I can't even understand why. He knows that I know him, but he doesn't want to approach me."

Pulling me away, he grabs my shoulders and gasps. "Can you talk to him? He might talk to you."

"First explain to me what happened," I panic. "I don't understand what's going on here."

"Okay, okay, so--" Hobi looks around the house. He quickly ushers me by a coffee table. I finally get a chance to prop my feet up, taking advantage of the furniture. As I pull away the boot on my good foot, I wince. Blisters have formed on the sole. I'd been feeling pain for the past day or two, but I hadn't realized how bad it had gotten. I can already tell my other foot is worse.

While I'm removing the splint on my other foot, Hobi comes back with a medical kit, presumably from his own bag. I'd built the splint for my ankle around my boot, so now that I'm taking the splint off, I can't seem to figure out how the boot would come off.

How am I supposed to remove this...?

Coming up to the side of the sofa, Hobi taps the boot. "I can undo the laces, and we'll see if we can take it off from there." Nodding my head, I stretch my leg out so he can untie the laces.

He carefully pulls the lace backward, taking special care not to apply pressure. "How did you get here?" he asks.

"I came out of the tunnel and kept walking...I chose a direction and stuck to it, I guess." My stomach starts rumbling, causing heat to come to my cheeks.

"I have some leftover food from my pack. I'll bring you some later."

"Thanks."

Hobi undoes the last lace and pries the boot open. "Is this enough room?"

"I think so..." I pull my foot as he holds the boot. I'm forced to grit my teeth, but I pull, pull, pull until it finally comes out. I tenderly bring my foot down and remove my sock.

"I expected some swelling, but not this much," I groan. "Do you have ice?"

"No...but I can make some. It's cold enough as it is outside."

Trying to make better sense of the situation at hand, I bring my hands to my forehead and close my eyes. The stress has brought on a massive headache, the kind that gnaws at you until it finally gains acknowledgement. "What happened to the rest of the guys?"

"I don't know. We got separated."

"Separated by what? And how did Yoon--"

"Can I help?" The sudden voice shocks the both of us. Simply by habit, Hobi puts his hand on the knife attached to his buckle...but seeing who it is, he quickly removes it.

"Yoongi...?" he clears his throat.

"You both said that in front of me before. It must be my name, right?" He leans against the door, closing it as he does so.

"Why did you come in?" I'm still on edge and wary of his actions. My hand brushes against the knife in my pocket.

"You smell familiar. It's comforting," he remarks, eyes on my hand the entire time. "I can't figure out where you're from, though. You're not wild-born."

"Wild-born?"

"You're not..." He points to his fluffy ears.

"Oh."

"Everyone says I shouldn't approach you. But..." He looks over at the bag next to the sofa. "That bag has my name on it, stitched on the side."

"Everyone?" I mumble. "Your name?" Looking at the backpack, I realize there's some small lettering woven into the fabric.

"How did you end up with something that's mine?"

Yoongi grabs a wooden chair and carries it over. He plops down with the backrest in front of him instead of behind him. Leaning forward, he scans me.

"You don't look very threatening to me." He glances at Hobi. "You do."

"I was trained to look this way," Hobi scoffs, pouting over his lack of connection with Yoongi. He hides it, but I can tell Yoongi's words are cutthroat.

"But she seems to know you. And you both seem to know me. So the only next logical step is..."

"Is...?"

Yoongi has a glint in his eye. Something about his attitude...the way he leans forward...his lackadaisical air. I can already tell where he's going with this.

Because back when we were strangers...he did this before. Back when I was the lone girl on the skateboard, and he was the mysterious new kid.

Back when the boys were all crammed in a place a few blocks from school, and I was seeking an escape route...a different schedule from the day-in and day-out.

Back when I was left with Yoongi in a checker-tiled kitchen, and the only thing between us was a coke taking flight across the room, wings ever so clipped as it crashed into the recycle bin, clinking and clanging the whole way down.

It's an...

"Interrogation."