방탄 소년단
"That... gash," I muttered, my nose rumpled in disdain - and sympathy for the man - as I studied the newly developing scar on his right eye.
It was fresh, the skin that surrounded the vermilion wound was puffy and distended, as if it just hap...
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The pain of the invasive needle on my neck still remained, my skin a bright crimson red and distended. The tears were relentless, guilt pelting my body as I thought about the detrimental possibility of Mikhail ambushing Yoongi and his team when he least expected it.
I couldn't simply wallow in my own pain while the plausibility of Yoongi's demise approached. I was aware that he could undoubtedly protect himself, and kill off practically anyone that stands in opposition, however, I still worried for him.
This would, no doubt, taint my image for both Hoseok and Namjoon. Especially Namjoon, who had his wits about me from the very beginning, keeping in mind that I ran with Mikhail— refusing to let his guard down, and trust me. Perhaps that was for the best, trusting me came with complications, of course, that Yoongi was somehow able to overlook and set aside to love and cherish our relationship.
Once I was released from the basement, they hauled my depleted body to back into my bedroom, tossing me onto the ground of my bedrom floor as if I were nothing but garbage— shutting the door on their way out.
I gathered myself, slightly stumbling on my feet as I got up from the ground, my knees weak, shaking in the process.
I wasted no time, racing over to my drawer and searching frantically for the phone Yoongi had given to me.
I clicked his contact, sequestered in the corner of my bed and nightstand, sitting with my knees pulled toward my heaving chest, waiting for Yoongi to pick up his phone.
I was unaware of how long I had spent down in that basement, or if Yoongi would be able to even pick up my unanticipated call. Knowing his unpredictable schedule, I figured he would be all too busy to simply look at his phone.
I looked around my room as the line rang, glancing out the window behind my bed, noticing that Mikhail's car had disappeared from the driveway.
My fingers anxiously prattled against my knees, waiting for Yoongi to answer, my heart acting as a drum, thumping against my chest in anticipation. I hadn't any idea where Mikhail went off to, and I had no clue if his first task was to overrun the places he claimed to have found me at, one by one, taking down and destroying what Yoongi and his team had built.
I put the blame on myself.
It was my fault that such a disastrous tragedy would occur.
I couldn't even blame Jeongguk. He could never control me or my actions. That was all me. I was the one person who decided to sneak out those nights, and put myself on Mikhail's suspicious radar. Even when Jeongguk warned me, I was unable to grasp such a concept, and think about the issues I would engender if Mikhail were to ever catch me.
Never did I consider the fact that he would ambush Yoongi and his team.
I was selfish.
I let out a quiet cry when an automated voice began to direct my line over to Yoongi's messaging system.
