Bulletproof girl scouts

About Time

This storyline is so explosive. It keeps blowing up.

RM's POV

"RM"

I looked down to where I had smashed her face in my chest.

"I can't breath"

I put distance between us.

"Why did you run?"

"Some guy across the street was running away with my blanky"

Goodness gracious. Those people and their pea-sized brains and this girl. Someone could have gotten seriously injured. A car honked and I pulled her to the curb. "Lets go get your blanket"

She turned around on wobbly legs and started going in the direction of the road. I held her wrist and spun her around. "This way"

"But Aera said...."

"Aera lied"

"What....no! She wouldn't lie to me. She-"

"Lee Nara", I called sternly.

She stopped trying to pull free. I used my other hand to run it through my hair. I was tired and she was drunk. This situation was a mess. "Listen, we can catch a cab to get home and......Nara?", I leaned to get a closer look at her face. Her eyes were downcast, lips pushed together in a sad pout. "Hey, what's wrong?.

"....Don't call me like that", she murmured.

"Like what?", I asked.

"Like you're mad at me", a tear rolled down her cheek.

I loosened my grip on her wrist and took both of her hands in mine.
"Nara....hey, look at me. I'm not mad t you. Don't cry, 'kay?"

"Don't call me Nara", another tear.

"Okay, just...", I took the liberty of wiping her tears with my thumb, "let's get inside, hm? Hold my hand"

She obeyed. I put an arm around her shoulder for extra support as she stumbled with every step. Once inside, she stopped abruptly.

"RM", she removed my hand and turned around to face me. She swayed a little on her feet but instantly regained her balance. "I had a thought", she said while unzipping the leather jacket. "This is yours, right?"

I can always rely on my gut to tell me when something is out of place. It's like a 97% accurate weather forecast. Right now, the air smelled of approaching disaster. She peeled off the jacket very slowly, maintaining eye contact as she did so. Her expression gave nothing away, quite similar to my mom's poker face. When the fabric slipped down her shoulders, it revealed her shirt which I thought was a turtle neck sweater to be sleeveless. Bare shoulder and bare arms. Removing it completely, she smiled. And threw it in my face. It landed right over my head, obscuring my vision. By the time I pulled it away from my face, she was gone. Her giggles echoed in the empty hallway, the sound of running footsteps resounding loudly.

This was going to be a long night.

Hands in my pockets, I stared at the digital display above the elevator. Fourth floor. That's her studio. Blanky, here I come.
        It wasn't there. And neither was she. I even searched under the sofa. Curiosity got the best of me and I lifted the end of the yellowing newspaper on the wall. Behind it was a painting. All this time I thought it would be an outdated poster of Jackson. But a grayscale painting of a crying child? The only actual colour was red. And it was raining from the sky. Depression? Zombie apocalypse? Is she a horror fanatic? But why cover it up? She doesn't look the type anyway. Sighing, I put my hands on my hips. Now,
What else is there on this floor?