Bulletproof

1a. Elsie

You wake up to the scent of him covering your skin like a protective layer. His fingertips tingle against a sliver of the exposed flesh of your sensitive hips and you smile through the lifting veil of sleep.

As your eyes flutter open to take in his face, he closes his own quickly, feigning slumber.

"Mm, caught you," you giggle groggily.

He breaks his act and opens his eyes to wink at you. He runs his fingers up the dip of your waist and across your shoulder--raising goosebumps through the fabric of your top along the way--to tap your nose lightly.

"How long have you been staring?" you tease.

His low, gravelly morning voice rattles in your chest. "Not long enough."

You readjust and slip your arms under his so your palms can spread across his bare, sturdy shoulder blades.

"Did you sleep okay?" He brushes a strand of hair from your face. You nod.

"What time is it?"

"A little past noon."

You pull away. "Noon?" you ask in disbelief. "Yoongi, why didn't you wake me up?"

He smiles his gummy smile. "You're clearly tired. You should sleep if you're tired."

"But noon? I didn't even know I could sleep that late." Yoongi laughs at the surprise in your expression. "Well, I guess we should get up now."

He rolls himself partially on top of you, trapping you in bed. "Nope."

"Yoongi, we have things to do," you insist, trying to push him back to his side of the bed. He doesn't budge. You laugh at your own futile efforts. "Fine," you relent. "We can stay in bed." You cock an eyebrow. "But we have to be doing something productive while we're in here."

Yoongi's laugh comes from somewhere deep in his throat as he begins kissing your neck gently.

"No, not that kind of productive." His lips travel up your jawline to meet yours. "Yoongi," you breathe between kisses. "Please...I just woke up." He pauses and looks into your eyes, trying to read your sincerity. He flops back onto his half of the bed, pouting.

"I know, baby," you mumble. "But later, okay?"

"I'm holding you to that," he replies with a smirk.

You lay for a second with his hand in yours. "You know what we could do?"

He shakes his head. "I'm all out of ideas."

You flick his arm playfully and roll your eyes. "Go get the mail. We can read it together in here."

"The mail?"

"Yes, the mail. Go get it."

"It's probably nothing important," he grumbles with fake annoyance as he throws the covers off himself and pulls his flannel pants from the end of the bed. "Probably just bills and wedding RSVPs."

"Both of which are important," you remind him.

He pauses at the door. "Then why don't you go get them?"

"I love you!" you chime.

He runs a hand through his mahogany locks. "I know."

He disappears into the hallway. You drum your fingers absently against the mattress. A minute passes. You twist a piece of hair into a thin braid. Another minute passes.

"Yoongi?" you call, wondering what is taking him so long. You pull the textured white sheets up around your chest and snuggle further into the bed, ready to embrace your lover once more so the cold space beside you can turn warm with his company.

Finally, Yoongi rounds the corner to stand in the doorframe.

But you know right away that something is wrong.

His tightly clenched hands shake around a newly uncreased piece of paper. The color of his skin is oddly pale and sickly. His eyes hold a strange terror, a deep dread, a glimmer reminiscent of death as his gaze travels across your face.

You sit up in bed, heart skipping a beat. "Yoongi?" you whisper. "Yoongi, baby, what's wrong?"

He doesn't respond. You throw the covers back with wobbly arms and slide off the edge of the bed.

"Yoongi? You're scaring me. What's wrong?" You place your hands on his, trying to get a better look at the paper. "What is this?"

His grip remains strong, but his hands and his breaths still shake. Now he won't meet your eyes.

"Yoongi," you beg. "Please, baby, please--tell me what's wrong."

He slowly relinquishes his hold on the document and lets his hands fall limply to his sides.

An official government letterhead greets you with a foreboding overtness. Your shocked eyes can only skim-read, scanning sections of sentences at a time, but you get the gist all too well.

Min Yoongi has been drafted.

The paper flutters to the floor as you stare at him, eyes wide.

"No," you say firmly. He puts a hand to your cheek with resignation etched in his features. You shake your head. "No."

Yoongi tries to pull you closer. The tension drains from his body, but only intensifies in yours.

"Shh. Don't...don't say anything," he says softly, voice cracking. "I-It's...it's okay, Elsie."

"No. You're not going. You're going to stay right here."

You don't realize that you're shaking until Yoongi is running his hands up and down your arms.

"Baby, I gotta go. I don't have a choice. I gotta go."

"Yoongi, no." Your voice is rising in pitch and volume. "You're not going to go. I won't let you." You pause before desperation colors your tone. "We can run. We can leave the country and never come back. I will run anywhere with you."

"No. I won't build our lives running."

"Yoongi!"

You struggle against him, thrashing hopelessly, but he won't let you go.

"I gotta go, honey." You are yelling in refusal, but Yoongi's tone does not change as he mumbles his stream of words. "I don't have a choice. I gotta go, love. I gotta go."

Finally, you collapse against his chest, your tears an oasis in the desert storm of your emotions. He feels exhausted against your skin, but your empathy doesn't prevent your selfish weeping.

"Yoongi!" you sob. "No! I won't let you go! No, Yoongi!"

Your weak knees threaten to give out, but Yoongi holds you steady against himself, trying not to let his own anguish show.

"It'll be okay, Elsie," he whispers into your hair. "But I've gotta go."