picked out a black dress won’t be tainted by anything else
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Maybe 'exploded' was too dramatic a word.
The building didn't really explode, but that's what it seemed like. There was a burst of light, and the sound of thunder and gunshots, and someone yelling. Minho got up—no, he didn't get up, he was lifted, as if someone had fastened a hook to his collar and pulled him up. The pressure on my chest was relived, and I gasped, trying to drag in as much air as I could lest he should push down on me again.
Stars danced in my vision as I tried to get to my feet, coughing. The cut on my cheek stung as it made contact with the cold air, and the pain brought tears to my eyes. It was no shallow cut. I wondered what might have happened to me if Minho had continued with his carving project.
Through my blurry vision, I spotted Vernon, who had the knife-thrower pushed against a slot machine and was repeatedly punching him in the face. Minho's face was bloody, and I could barely make out his features under the gore. Wincing, I looked away, relief and shock mixing to give a jarring effect to my body. I felt like someone had broken a glass bottle inside my chest, and the shards were making me bleed out.
"Get up." The voice was close, but sounded like it was coming from far away, through layers of foam. The room was spinning, and my head hurt. "Come on."
A hand gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet. I leaned against the person for support, trying to blink away the dark spots in my vision. I had taken a hit to my head when I had fell, and it was bad from the looks of it. Very bad. My fingers tried to hold on to the clothing of the person I was holding on to, trying to find purchase.
Despite my disorientated state, I could sense my own confusion. How had they known where I was? Yeeun could have told them, but if she had wanted them to find me. And she was the one who had led me here in the first place.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I felt like a mess, and I most probably looked like it too.
"Keep walking," the person said again, and I realized it was Jun. I felt like I had swallowed a block of ice.
Don't, I wanted to say, but my throat hurt too much. He pulled me along easily, leading me out of the building. I wanted to get him away from me because I couldn't face him, not after what I had said to him, but I was too weak to do that. And I needed the support, whether I liked it or not.
"Come on," he said again, his grip on me gentle but firm as we got out of the building, his body shielding me. Distantly, I could hear the onslaught of bullets, the screaming and the crashing, but it never reached us. It was as if Jun had managed to wrap us in a bubble of safety, and we got to the car untouched by the chaos.
Before I entered the car, I grabbed his arms, holding him in front of me with difficulty. Loose strands of hair fell into my eyes, and I looked up at him with unblinking eyes, hoping he could see the apology in them. "Taeyong," I said hoarsely, each syllable sounding like sandpaper rubbing against my tongue. My hands were shaking, and I tried to breathe. "Taeyong?"
