Blood Ink ✔️

Epilogue: Centerpiece

There's a special phenomenon that occurs when people are trying too hard to be quiet, and they somehow manage to make even more sound than when they aren't trying.

At this very moment, a group of individuals displaying said phenomenon is tiptoeing around you, whispering to each other in voices that are not whispers.

"You're being too loud," breathes who you think is Jimin. "She's going to wake up."

"Impossible. I'm the best whisperer." That's Jin for sure - and he's not even trying. His voice is only a little raspy, like he thinks the change of clarity equals a change in volume.

It doesn't.

Lying back in the reclined tattoo chair, you keep your eyes squinted closed, pretending that their excessive volume didn't wake you the second they opened the door.

You were so happy and peaceful, napping alone in the empty back room that Jungkook frequents, left to yourself while he was off working with Namjoon.

The break was much needed after all of the stress you've been sunk in, trying to find your cousin.

After the collapse of your father's gang, Jisoo seems to have dropped off of the planet. Her phone number has been disconnected, and you have no inkling as to where she might be. You're worried sick about her, desperate to hear even a single word just so you know that she's okay.

It's hard to sleep at night, and not only because of Jisoo.

Because of Taehyung, too.

That's why this nap break was so incredibly wonderful while it lasted.

Now all you can hear is muffled snorts.

Your head aches, missing the sleep.

"Okay," another voice giggles. Hoseok. "You got it? Ready?"

A quiet snap, and then you inhale the sent of permanent marker.

Oh heck no.

They're going to draw on your face like six year olds.

You explode into action, throwing yourself off the chair and past the three bodies circling you. Jimin gasps at the sudden burst, and Hoseok lets out a spectacular squawk of indignation.

You catch Jin in the ribs with your knee. He screams like he's dying, falling dramatically to the ground so that his head bangs onto the floor.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position.

"You're not the best whisperer," you say to him. "You're the worst whisperer in the world."

Jin gasps and falls back again, laying flat on the floor and staring through the ceiling to the heavens.

"This is the end," he whispers in a whisper that's finally a real whisper. "Take me away from this life. I don't want it anymore."

You're not sure if he's saying that because of the pain in his ribs, or because he's been dethroned from his delusional seat as the Overlord of whispering.

You don't really care, either.

Whipping around, you turn on Jimin and Hoseok.

Jimin is the one holding the permanent marker in his hand, his cute eyes wide like a startled deer's.

Hoseok is trying to muffle the blinding brightness of his grin. He's got his hands at the ready in front of him, like he's preparing to be tackled by a linebacker.

You. You're the linebacker.

"I'll give you two options," you tell them calmly. "One: I call Jungkook in here, and he beats the crap out of you. Two: you draw mustaches and unibrows on your own faces, and then leave me alone so I can sleep."