New bff's... kinda (BTS supposed to be a texting fanfic but I'm extra)

17: Bullets

A/n:    Lil' meow meow's wearing a SEE THROUGH SHIRT I AM NOT OKAYYYYYYYYY

HE LOOKS SO SOFTTTTT

Also, I kinda want his shirt. It looks so comfy.

Sorry lol

BACK TO THE STORY THINGY

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Right, straight, curve, straight, left...

El remembered the path well, as it was one that she had taken to see her employer once a week.

Boss

El:
Omw

Boss:
Good.
where's Lisa?

El:
Safe.

Boss:
Thank you El

I toss my phone onto the seat beside me, pressing the gas slightly harder.

I'm on my way, Ms. Song.

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I sit at my desk with the small lamp beside me on and Jin lying on my bed behind me, tossing a tennis ball into the air and catching it repeatedly.

I stare at the handwritten note that I had made and kept in middle school momentarily before continuing reading it aloud to Seokjin, "People like to confuse love and obsession. People think love is constantly thinking about them, doing absolutely anything for them, picturing them in your life in the future and doing so often. You just 'know'. That is bullshit. That is not love. That is obsession. Love does not just happen. You choose love. Love is when it just... fits. All the time. You care about them all lot but you also care about yourself and vice versa. You do the act of loving and are happy to do so. And you even do the act of loving without meaning to do so, even when you may be angry as all hell. Loving someone is kinda like a best friend, just on different levels. So, Min Yoongi... the other night, you told me you love me. Is that actually true? Because I know I love you..."

I turn around to see Jin sitting on the edge of the bed, immediately cupping my cheeks and wiping my unknown tears, "I'm sorry," He said before I got out of my chair and sat next to him, the older boy instantly welcoming me as I snuggle my face into his chest, unwanted tears falling quickly.

Damn you, Min Yoongi

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"Ms. Song?" I called out into the open, trying to find Lisa's mother and my boss. I straightened my back slightly to feel my cold metal blade touch towards the base of my spine and readjust my fingers around the cold metal in my hand filled with only 2 bullets left. Mr. Song had 5 bodyguards meaning that I needed six: one for each of them and one for him.

It hadn't taken me very long to notice that the text messages were not from Ms. Song and someone else. If I said 'omw', all she would've said was thank you. And never would use my name unless it is a real emergency.

Ms. Song is in danger.

I walk, trying to find the older woman while attempting to prepare myself for the worst.