And so I waited. The quiet of the dimly lit room was oppressive. I had the urge to get up and explore this new space, but the unshakable need to stay by Namjoon’s side was stronger. I leaned against the edge of the elevated gurney, resting my folded arms by his side, my fingers ghosting over the skin of his hand and wrist as I studied his face. He was breathing, and he was clean, but he looked so pallid and thin. I doubted he had been conscious long enough to eat anything since getting lifted out of the compound. My chest began to stir with anxiety as I simply sat there, staring at the slight movement of his dry, full lips as he breathed slowly and evenly in his sedated state.

 A soft knock at the door caused me to jump in my seat slightly, as I was certainly not expecting visitors. I supposed from experience, several people lived or worked here, and from that guy Taemin’s reaction earlier, Namjoon’s arrival had been a pretty big deal. Reluctantly, I stood as the door opened just a crack, a tall man squeezed through the gap, closing the door carefully and quietly behind him. He approached me on long legs in the dingy overhead lights. I saw him look around the room as he moved, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey slacks. He wore a bulky knit red sweater, hanging off of his lanky frame. His almond eyes widened a touch as he looked me in the face. “I guess Mira still hasn’t fixed this place up yet, huh?” he postured vaguely as he gave me a little bow before pulling a chair up to the other side of Namjoon’s gurney, leaning casually on the edge with his elbows. Under the light, I was better able to see this stranger’s face. He had soft features: a small nose, and uneven lips, the upper a bit fuller than you might expect. There was something youthful and innocent about his look, his slightly unkempt chestnut hair reminding me of Yoongi’s, nearly encroaching on his eyes. He sighed, bringing one hand up to support his head. His fingers were disproportionately long in comparison, and I noticed a faint scar running diagonally across the back of the hand. “Still out cold,” he murmured as his eyes flicked down to Namjoon.

“Were you a friend of his?” I finally asked, perplexed by this man’s sudden comfortable entrance and complete lack of introduction.

His face twitched into a small, almost invisible little smile, causing distinct lines to form around the corners of his mouth. “Friend is a strong word,” he finally answered as he looked at me properly. “We only really met once.”

Still, I was glad another familiar face was nearby. “Nice to see he’ll have visitors,” I murmured, more to myself than anything. I would have to go home eventually, and even if it was just the one, I relaxed slightly at the prospect of Namjoon having some company for when I couldn’t be around.

“Oh he’ll have plenty,” he responded, a little smirk playing on his lips. “He’ll probably get sick of the revolving door of concerned well-wishers soon enough,” his voice was playful and expressive as he spoke. At least he didn’t seem worried in the slightest. Abruptly, he began to speak again, “I was in a bad accident, oh what, over ten years ago now,” he looked away, as if recalling a vivid memory, “and I almost died in the hospital.” He pointed to the scar on his hand for reference. “RM here has a tough road ahead.” RM? I thought to myself. And then I remembered- Namjoon’s silly stage name: Rap Monster. “I suppose you’re Zoey, then?”

I guess news traveled quickly around here. “Yes,” I answered awkwardly, unnerved by the fact that he had still yet to introduce himself. Then again, I hadn’t either. It was at the point in the conversation where it was too uncomfortable to ask. He already knew who I was, apparently. I decided to occupy myself by reaching for Namjoon’s hair, tangled and damp with sweat and crusted with dried blood. The area around his temple stitches had been freshly shaven, but the longer section in the middle was unwieldy and dirty. Recalling his nervous habit, I laced my fingers through his hair, but the aforementioned tangles soon got caught. I felt twitch under my touch, and it startled me so much, I yanked my hand away, unfortunately giving his scalp an unfortunate tug on my way out. Namjoon winced, a dry, cracked groan escaping his lips.

“Oh, way to go,” the man across from me laughed, showing off an open-mouthed smile revealing small, even top teeth. “What a way to wake him up, kid,” he continued, standing up from his chair to hold Namjoon’s shoulder still as he began to slowly come to, writhing in discomfort.

This innocent-looking, silver-tongued stranger was aggravating. “You think this is funny?” I asked desperately, glaring at him before looking back down to Namjoon. I saw him wince again as his eyes began to squint open. “Namjoon, it’s okay,” I tried to reassure my friend, keeping my voice soft and even, but it was clear he couldn’t really hear me.

The stranger continued to laugh, but I saw him hold Namjoon still with firm hands, “I think it’s hilarious, actually,” he continued to chide me, his eyes squinted with mirth, “Don’t sweat it, kid, a friend of mine told me you’re a smart girl. I only tease because I know you can take it.” I narrowed my eyes at him even further, this time just trying to figure him out. Who would he know that also knew me well enough to give a statement like that? He was right, in a way. If I weren’t stressed out and panicking, I might have actually engaged in his sarcastic banter. But in that moment, I just didn’t have the will or the energy. My thoughts were sidetracked when Namjoon seemed to calm at last, and his voice cracked as he tried to speak. “I’ll leave you two alone,” his smile relaxed as he took a step back.

As the man began to move away, Namjoon lifted a hand to get his attention. “Kyuhyun?” Namjoon’s voice was hoarse and weak, but he was clearly calling out.

The man hesitated, confusion written in his expression, looking briefly to me before stepping back to Namjoon’s bedside. “Hey big guy, how are you feeling?” he asked warily, clearly just surprised to be addressed so directly. Namjoon’s first moment awake, and he calls out to someone he hasn’t seen in at least two years? I was just a surprised as he was.

“Wait,” Namjoon croaked, and I quickly looked down at his weary face. His eyes were on the stranger, and he swallowed hard to clear his throat before attempting to speak again. “Kyuhyun,” he breathed. I guessed that was this guy’s name, “your dog.”

“Dog?” Kyuhyun and I spoke in unison. “Nunsongi?” he pressed, his confusion gone in an instant, only to be replaced by surprise and concern. “Did you see her?” Kyuhyun’s attitude changed completely. He moved closer to Namjoon, as if desperate for answers. “Was she in Korea?” When Namjoon nodded, Kyuhyun’s face fell into a deep frown. “She was supposed to stay in China, where it’s safe,” I heard him mumble angrily.

I was confused. The dog was Ellen’s. She had explained that, in part, it had traveled extensively and ‘belonged’ to others, so I guessed this guy was one of them. Still, it seemed like a strange connection. “But Ellen said-“

“Ellen?” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence as Kyuhyun looked to me. “You met her? Don’t tell me she was in Korea, too!” he seemed genuinely upset by the idea. Recalling our conversation earlier, it sounded as though she didn’t want anyone to know where she was.

I had to cover for her. “She was, uh, at the layover point in China,” I explained vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t press me for answers.

Thankfully, he didn’t. Judging by his face, it looked like didn’t believe me, but he realized getting answers from me was unlikely, or just not worth the effort. “I’ll be back to visit again, RapMon. Merry Christmas, by the way,” he addressed to Namjoon, patting him gently on the arm before giving me a curt little bow. And with that, he spun on his heel and swiftly walked away, still taking care to close the door quietly on his way out.

“Namjoon?” I asked quietly, trying to get his attention. He seemed disoriented and confused. When his eyes finally met mine, he let out a long, slow breath, grabbing my hand. A smile took over my face, and I felt my chest clench as I began to feel a wave of emotions. Relief, concern, and pure simple joy overwhelmed me.

His eyes closed forcefully, his wide face scrunching from the force of the expression. “Zoey,” he managed to speak, his tongue flipping across his lips to wet them before his eyes opened again. “Is this some strange dream?” he asked as he moved to try and sit up. At his moans of pain, I moved to try and steady him, propping him up just slightly with one of the cushions from the couch nearby. “Where are we?” he pressed once he was settled, “And is it really Christmas?”

“It is, and we’re in California,” I explained quickly, “Any more specific than that, and it gets complicated, and even I don’t have answers yet.” I looked around, becoming more and more aware that, while I knew where we were geographically, I didn’t have any id