Blackjack

Chapter 10

• Y/N •

You and Jungkook are the first ones to enter.

The first ones to sit, the first ones to wait and the first ones to watch while the others trickle in. It is the reverse of the first meeting you attended, when all of Bangtan stared and you were set on display.

Now, you are firmly engrained in the atmosphere, your head on Jungkook's shoulder and knees drawn in your lap. It is a position of relaxation; mildly deceptive on your part, since you feel anything but.

Your teeth grind, absent-minded while your hands play in your lap. This conversation is crucial – asking for help has never been your strong suit, especially not from people like Bangtan. Jungkook sits beside you, feet planted firm on the floor. There are dark circles under his eyes and you know he feels the same way as you do: no longer certain if your plan is good, crazy, or workable – only that you need to do something, anything before it all goes to hell.

Namjoon stands at the front, mostly hidden behind the oak of his desk. He watches everyone enter, meeting each gaze in turn. When all are sitting – Taehyung last, closing the wood door behind him – Namjoon exhales.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," he says.

Taehyung sinks lower in his chair, barely restraining from rolling his eyes. "Namjoon, we all live here." His expression is inscrutable. "We have literally nothing better to do."

"Says you," Yoongi mutters, three different mobile devices open before him. Scrolling through one, he searches for information to enter into another. "I'm trying to rebuild our crumbled technological fortress, thanks."

"And whose fault is that?" Taehyung blinks, unrepentant.

Yoongi growls, deep in his throat.

Seokjin groans. "Shut up," he tells Taehyung. "And Yoongi, we're aware you're saving our asses. We love and appreciate that fact, but don't make us suck your dick over it."

Lip twitching, Yoongi reburies himself in his devices. "No need," he says. "I still have that video of Jungkook and Y/N."

"Yoongi!"

Yoongi ducks when Seokjin throws a wadded-up tissue at his head. "Kidding, kidding," he says.

Jungkook glares at them both, slouched in the seat beside yours. His fingers drum over your knee, a careful pattern to soothe. "Anyways," he says, turning his head. "Back to Namjoon."

"Thank you, Jungkook." Namjoon lowers his gaze to you all. "As many of you know, we were attacked by the Vine last night."

"... who here doesn't know that?"

"Shut up, Taehyung." Namjoon says this pleasantly before continuing. "As all of you know, we were attacked by the Vine last night."

Silence follows, the room unnaturally silent. Despite Taehyung's witticism, he is tenser than usual – his gaze continues to dart towards the door, hands wrung in the center of his lap. Stomach sinking, you know to where his mind wanders – or rather, to whom. Word came to you much too slow of Lena's injury in the attack against Bangtan. Although honestly, any speed beyond immediate was reprehensible to you.

The moment you heard, it felt as though the floor had cracked open. Suddenly nauseous, you raced from the room in search for your friend. Jungkook followed you, calling out, but it did not really matter, since you barely heard what he said. The halls and staircases blurred, pointless obstacles between you and your best friend. When you found Lena, skidding to a stop in her doorway, you barely contained your sob at the sight of her in a bed.