LONDON SEOUL (BTS)

LIII

Jungkook entered the room after a knock. "Can I talk to her for a moment?" He asked.

Joon nodded and got up, clearing a jar of water that Byul had forced me to drink to hydrate myself. He left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

I moved over on my bed. I could see that the wings made him uncomfortable, but I just couldn't pool enough energy to retract it. 

He sat down next to me. He was uncomfortable about sitting on my bed. "How are you?"

"Good," I answered. "How's things at work?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "It's a bit of an uproar. Umm. We haven't decided on the necessary actions."

I nodded. I put my weaker hand on my lap in an effort to make it's lack of usual movement less apparent. I quickly checked if Kook noticed it. 

He was busy in thought. "Do you remember-"

"Yeah. I do." 

"Oh." Talking things through were neither of our strong points. 

"Umm," I started. "About-um yesterday, I understand if you don't-" What? Was I really okay if he decided he hated me? He was looking expectantly at me, urging me to go on. But I didn't have anything to say. I wished he had meant it when he forgave me, but that was really selfish of me. 

He took my hand on my lap. This instantly shot anxiety through my whole body. I was worried that he would figure out that I had been injured. It would be awful to hear him apologize for that when I deserved so much worse. 

My hand slightly trembled. I quickly used my left to cover up the weaker fingers forming a fist and  pulling both my hands towards myself. 

"Are you scared?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

I shook my head as I tried to relax my shoulder not to look so defensive. 

"It's okay. We can talk this through some other day," he clarified. "I just wanted you to know that I meant it when I said I forgave you."

"No, don't say that." 

"What?" He asked, surprised. "But I thought-" 

"You don't understand. It is me. I can feel it-" Feel how it felt to kill people. The rush of energy as the time drove into me. 

"No, it wasn't you," he insisted.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? How isn't it me when I did it? I thought it. With my own brain and did it," I shouted. " And I still can sense the thought, the thought of wanting to kill you." 

He took both my hands which I had been flailing about in the heat of the moment. This instantly jerked me back with worry. 

I looked into his eyes for apprehension. He just kindly looked back at me and said, "Then trust me. Trust me when I say I can sense if it's you or not."