BURN AFTER READING

VII. Last Tango in Paris

Lights dance along the murky waters of the Seine, twinkling like stars against a cloudless sky. Swinging your feet aimlessly, you keep your eyes trained on the river, refusing to look at the people around you. But it was all in vain. No one knew you here anyway. Sighing, you watch the lively mass of people on the riverbank below, their tiny figures blending into one another. Like dolls in a dollhouse, living aimlessly and carefree, unaware of the shadowy greyness your presence had brought to the city of lights.

Below you, you see a couple dance along the riverbank, a handsome young man in a stylish suit, twirling his lover around, her skirts spinning into a colorful blur, and for the first time in a long time, your heart no longer lurches at the scene. A small smile makes its way onto your face as your observe their happiness, heart swelling with the promise of a new future on the horizon.

"___?" A deep, melodic voice calls out to you, and you turn, face to face with the handsome man behind you, chestnut locks shining against the city lights. A soft, shy smile lights up his face at the sight of you in your elegant dress, and he offers his arm.

Wrapping your body against his, you lean into his strong body, inhaling the warm comforting scent of his cologne, and feel yourself float away on a dream. This was how it was always meant to be, falling in love in the most romantic city on Earth.

"We need to go back, it's getting dark out," Seokjin's calm voice shatters the illusion you'd so carefully crafted, reminding the both of you that this was no more than a dream. The stark reality turns the scene into a film noir, bathing the once luminous city in shadows. Because the two of you weren't just a normal couple enjoying a vacation. You were fugitives, outlaws on the run, rogues who'd betrayed the agency, who'd jetted far far away from all sense of law and order.

Seokjin notices your body freeze against his, watching how your shoulders slump, and for the first time in forever, he realizes just how deprived your life had been of happiness. How gaunt your face had become from years of working for others, from always putting the needs of others before your own. The two of you had always been each other's way out, an escape from losing yourselves completely to the darkness.

And in the light of the dark alleyway he'd pulled you into him, your frail body curls against his, clutching the lapels of his shirt, fingers blanched as though you never wanted to let go of this moment. Seokjin couldn't help himself, all the love he held for you coursing through his veins, flooding his entire being with the desire to love, to protect the woman who'd always hold the keys to his heart.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispers:

"Don't worry, you're safe with me."

A soft breeze whistles through the empty, ramshackle apartment, the draft causing you to shudder. Namjoon and the other agents had barely left the place in acceptable condition. You could see where the woodwork had been scratched from combat, and a few stray bullet holes littered the walls. Cursing underneath your breath, you stalk over to the shutters closing off the balcony from the inside, pulling them with a grunt to make sure no air could sneak through.

"Cold?" Seokjin whispers, his grey coat coming to rest over your shoulders, and you instantly feel the tension ease.

"Some hideout they left us," you pout, eyes glancing over at the threeadbare couch in the corner, and beyond, to the bedroom you know housed a lone mattress on the floor.

"Better than nothing," he smirks. "Come sit, you'll get sick standing by the window."

"Why do you do that?" You respond, watching his eyes widen in shock. "Why do you still worry so much about me after what I did to you?"

Sitting on the couch, you bounce your leg, nervously awaiting his response.

"I worry," he laughs, "Because you don't know how to take care of yourself properly. I did all the cooking and laundry back when we were trainees, remember?"