𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵; park jisung

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪-𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

Jisung held her hair back as she continued to vomit. It really wasn't a feeling that was enjoyable, but it felt that much better with the older's soft touches and kind, soothing words.

"You feeling better now?" He asked, turning her around to sit on his lap on the ground of the bathroom.

Unaware of the position they were in, Seyeon just snuggled closer to him. "A bit," she mumbled, her pale skin expressing how she truly felt.

"That's bull crap, Yeon. Just tell me straight. What's on your mind?" He leaned his head against her's, so that he could smell her freshly washed hair.

She smelt like cherries, one of his favourite scents. And so as she bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying something she would likely regret, he inhaled the addictive smell.

He didn't know what this feeling was, but the younger looked up at him, and it felt as if his gut began to twist, but in a good way?

He felt vulnerable, and easily targeted ever since she arrived.

He was Renjun's emotionless killer, yet here he was, feeling.

He felt like he was betraying the person who had raised him from nothing but a defenceless nobody off the street, and it was a girl of all people, who had knocked that wall down.

And everyone knew that Jisung hated girls.

He himself was yet to wrap his head around what this captive-turned-member had done to him, and how he was to control such a foreign situation.

"Are you even listening?" Seyeon groaned, weakly punch Jisung's chest when she got an innocent 'no' as a response. "You know what? It doesn't matter, Ji. I feel great."

The sarcasm that laced each word made Jisung chuckle lightly as he stood up after she had done so.

"Seyeon, be reasonable. I spaced out!" He called, watching as she hobbled away stubbornly.

"Later, Park. Later."