Eighteen: Unknown

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"Is Jungkook still outside?" Namjoon asked, the moment I entered the room with his dinner in my hand

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"Is Jungkook still outside?" Namjoon asked, the moment I entered the room with his dinner in my hand. He was by my window, staring out into the darkened street. "I can't see his car anymore."

It was past nine, about five hours since we arrived with his stuff. "I threatened to never speak to him again if he didn't go home."

"So, he's gone?" He asked, turning to look at me. I shrugged. "He really likes you."

I placed the plate on my reading desk. It had taken more than a threat to never speak to him again to get him to leave. I told him I'd go and look for Mr. Cho myself, get him before he hurts someone close to me.

"Do you find pleasure in making me worry, Jin?" He'd asked running his fingers through his thick hair in frustration.

"I could ask you the same," I said to him. "Go home, Jungkook. I'll text you every hour."

"Every ten minutes," he bargained stubbornly. I knew he didn't want to leave, but I couldn't risk bringing him into my room again, plus letting him stay vigilant in his car all night was not even an option. He was crazy to even consider doing that.

"Eat," I said to Namjoon, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"I'm not hungry," he said. "I'm full on alcohol and sherds of my broken heart."

"You still have to eat. My mum says I have to return that plate empty," I said sympathetically to him. As Namjoon settled on my desk to eat, I asked. "So, where are you now?"

"What?" Namjoon asked.

I shook my head at him. "Not you," I said, showing the screen of my phone to him where the minutes of my phonecall with Jungkook was reading by the second. "Kook?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook called through my earbuds. "I just walked into my apartment. I still hate it that you're there and I'm here. What if he shows up and—"

"I promise he's not going to take me by surprise again," I said. Mr. Cho wasn't the only one who knew how to use a pepper spray. Plus I'd grabbed Namjoon's baseball bat that afternoon. So, if he ever showed up, he'd be leaving with irritated eyes and a concussion.

"That's not reassuring. I don't want him coming close to you. If I'm there, I'll prevent that. I know the last time I slipped up but that's never going to happen again."

"I'm safe in my home," I reassured him. "Are you safe there? If he could easily get into the building, isn't it possible he could enter your apartment?" I asked worriedly. "I think you should find somewhere else to stay for the meantime. What if he shows up?"

"I hope he shows up again," he said and the tone of his voice made me realize he meant it. "It would make this all easy for me, trust me."

"Just be careful. He's more dangerous than I gave him credit for," I said, wincing at how much pain he'd put me through just the previous day. My eyes were still irritated but not as much as they'd been.

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