Taekook and the ECLIPSE

43 | A Slightly Mocking Smile

The counter in Jimin's bathroom was covered with a thousand different products, all claiming to beautify a person's surface. Since everyone in this house was both perfect and impermeable, I could only assume that he'd bought most of these things with me in mind. I read the labels numbly, struck by the waste.

I was careful never to look in the long mirror. Jimin combed through my hair with a slow, rhythmic motion.

"That's enough, Jimin," I said tonelessly. "I want to go back to La Push."

How many hours had I waited for Jaewoo to finally leave Minho's house so that I could see Minghyu? Each
minute, not knowing if Minghyu was still breathing or not, had seemed like ten lifetimes. And then, when at last I'd been allowed to go, to see for myself that Minghyu was alive, the time had gone so quickly. I felt like I'd barely caught my breath before Jimin was calling Taehyung, insisting that I keep up this ridiculous sleepover façade. It seemed so insignificant. . . .

"Minghyu's still unconscious," Jimin answered. "Joon or Taehyung will call when he's awake. Anyway, you need to go see Jaewoo. He was there at Minho's house, he saw that Joon and Taehyung are back in from their trip, and he's bound to be suspicious when you get home."

I already had my story memorized and corroborated. "I don't care. I want to be there when Minghyu wakes up."

"You need to think of Jaewoo now. You've had a long day — sorry, I know that doesn't begin to cover it — but that doesn't mean that you can shirk your responsibilities." His voice was serious, almost chiding. "It's more important now than ever that Jaewoo stays safely in the dark. Play your role first, Kook, and then you can do what you want second. Part of being a Cullen is being meticulously responsible."

Of course she was right. And if not for this same reason — a reason that was more powerful than all my fear and pain and guilt — Joon would never have been able to talk me into leaving Minghyu's side, unconscious or not.

"Go home," Jimin ordered. "Talk to Jaewoo. Flesh out your alibi. Keep him safe."

I stood, and the blood flowed down to my feet, stinging like the pricks of a thousand needles. I'd been sitting still for a long time.

"That outfit is adorable on you," Jimin cooed.

"Huh? Oh. Er — thanks again for the clothes," I mumbled out of courtesy rather than real gratitude.

"You need the evidence," Jimin said, his eyes innocent and wide. "What's a shopping trip without a new outfit? It's very flattering, if I do say so myself."

I blinked, unable to remember what he'd dressed me in. I couldn't keep my thoughts from skittering away every few seconds, insects running from the light. . . .

"Minghyu is fine, Kook," Jimin said, easily interpreting my preoccupation. "There's no hurry. If you realized how much extra morphine Joon had to give him — what with his temperature burning it off so quickly — you would know that he's going to be out for a while."