Blood Ink ✔️

43: More Than Pride

"We came back because we need to make a plan," says Namjoon, tapping one long finger against the side of his thigh.

His eyes are trained on the youngest of the group, his voice directed towards him, almost like an exasperating teacher trying to call a misbehaving student to attention.

In true student form, Jungkook's not listening.

It took your black-eyed romantic interest all of five minutes to remember that not only did Hoseok lie to the two of you to keep you here together, but Jimin unintentionally stole your first kiss from him.

With a startled look that flashed across his face at the mere realization he forgot, he had ripped off on the glaring jag of the century.

And now here you are, weighed down by the burden of an uncooperative Jungkook in the midst of a time where cooperation is really, really needed.

He obviously can't decide who to kill first, as his dark glare roves between the cheerful Hoseok at Namjoon's side and the wary Jimin behind them.

Wary, because he's winning about 65% of the glares from his younger friend.

"A plan about what?" you ask, trying to edge yourself ever so slightly in front of Jungkook's line of sight. "Aren't we just going to hide out until they give up?"

Jin pushes past Yoongi to enter the living room, taking a seat on the couch and crossing one leg over the other in one smooth, elegant motion. The others follow their elder, spilling into the large room and taking seats.

"We can't wait," Namjoon tells you as they go.

You trail behind him, straining to hear, and take a seat on the fluffy carpet that's spread over the hardwood floor. Across from you on the couch Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung slouch into the cushions. Their shoulders are slumped and weary. You wonder silently what they've been doing the last few days to make their usual vivacious personas sink so low.

Then you remember that they've been disposing of bodies and tying up bloody loose ends.

Hip hip hurrah.

That can't be too much of a mood booster.

Jungkook plops onto the floor beside you, his hard knee jabbing into your thigh on the way down. When you send him a dirty look, he barely drags his eyes away from Jimin to stick his tongue out at you.

A silver ball is pierced through the very center of his tongue, making a tiny flush of heat shiver through your chest.

You stab a finger into his ribs.

Jungkook pops your shoulder with the flat of his palm as punishment and puts a bit of distance between you, dodging any form of retaliation.

"Are you freaking serious?" Yoongi moans in exasperation from the couch, drawing your attention. "What are you, toddlers? We're in a situation here, and we don't need you two accidentally popping a joint out of socket when you're 'playing around'."

Jimin raises his hand. "Also, just while we're off subject, I want to bring this up." His hand lowers slowly, drifting down to point accusingly at the very black-eyed man who's probably considering tearing that arm off his body and beating him with it. "Why does Jungkook suddenly want to rip my head off?"

Jungkook opened his mouth, but you slap a hand over it before any condemning words can escape. "He's fine," you tell the gathering. "He's pouting like a baby. Ignore him."

Jungkook's hand circles the slope of your wrist and applies force, peeling your palm away from his lips like a stubborn spot of glue from paper.

"You kissed her," he says to Jimin in a voice that's less human and more cannibalistic monster. The gleam in his stormy eyes causes the hair on your skin to stand on end.