Smoke Me.

Chapter 54: Liquids

It's been two days since we knocked on Michael's door and found that the apartment Roxy had helped fill was empty. Michael had fed the landlord nothing but lies. Those wouldn't help us, but it was undeniable proof that he absolutely had something to do with Mona's death. Or that he knew something about it since he had to lie in the first place. That and the fact that he darted before Mona's blood hit the floor.

Two days that we've spent asking around, knocking on random doors, and stalking every single person that moved during the night. Eating the piles of junk food that V has kindly bought from every gestation. It was hard not to notice, however, how a bag of chips magically appeared every time Roxy and I started disagreeing on something. And harder to ignore that he had already brought junk food with him from the dorm. When I confronted him about it because I was too tired and had nothing to do, he simply said: "I was craving milkshakes then and I didn't pack any milkshakes."

Two days since I've been gravitating around this car, surrounded by tall, spotless, pale-colored buildings and their respective gardens. Wishing that I could burn it all down so Fred would treat me like his kid again, and not like everyone who's ever worked for him.

On the morning of day three, we were all exhausted, cold, and out of people to call.

V was on watch duty outside the car, Roxy was taking a nap in the passenger's seat and I was spreading my legs as much as possible on the backseat couch.

And although I haven't slept more than four hours in total, I didn't think I deserved sleep at all.

I would never admit it out loud, but I was thankful that V had the worst insomnia case I've ever seen because staying awake on nothing but adrenaline and sugar didn't seem to be a problem when someone else didn't have the option to fall asleep.

Roxy's peaceful sleeping face didn't calm me down since all I could think about was how late it was for me to blame her for Mona's death. Lie to Fred that it took two days to get the confession out of her so I killed her for him.

I doubted he'd believe me unless I recorded it though.

He knew it was too much at stake for me so I'd go as far as to blame myself at this point. Not for Taehyung specifically, but for...

"Hey Namjoon," Roxy whispered.

"Hmm?"
"Can't we just lie and pretend it's someone else?"

'Can she hear my thoughts?'
"Like?"
"Does it matter? Just cut someone's head off and bring it to him."
"It's not that simple."
"Isn't Fred consumed by grief at this point? He only needs someone to blame..."
"No. He was mad but he didn't lose it or else you'd be in a basement somewhere without skin on your face or something."
"That's...comforting."

"It should be. You have really good luck since he's been weaker ever since he got shot, but we still can't fool him. It has to make some sense to him and a random guy won't cut it."
"Why?! How would he know?"
"He'll take a look at my face... and he'll know."

She didn't seem convinced by my argument, but that has always been the case. He and my father were the only ones who could do that.
Buried my face in the crook of the arm and propped one leg up on the window of the car to get some blood flowing.

"But what if we do find the person and it makes no sense?"
"Then I am screwed either way," I admitted with the same toneless voice because I had no energy to infuse my words with emotion.

She stretched and then breathed out the words:
"Let's give up on this place."
"And do what?" I asked for the tenth time in, perhaps, the last ten hours.

"We should try his old house or somewhere he frequents, though I don't know him that well..."

"No one lives there and we've already called most acquaintances. Or who you knew at least. The three won't answer which makes me suspect them too."