“What does it mean?” Mira’s voice was borderline hysterical as she tugged on the shorter strands of red hair framing her pale face. Her wide, green eyes were pleading while she watched me re-read the message.

Looking up at her, I raised my brows, “What you do mean, what does it mean?” I parroted back to her, my voice raising slightly. “How am I supposed to know?” Was she really as clueless as I was?

“I don’t know!” she whined back, “You met that Wells, guy, right? What does he mean ‘More information to follow’?” Her hand shot out to snatch the note away from me again as she read it over herself. “And ‘one or more’? How am I supposed to prepare for this?”

The hallway fell quiet as we stared at each other in panicked disbelief. In that moment, we were total equals, lost in the void of uncertainty. Thankfully, the silence was broken as the door across from ours cracked open, a pair of guys haphazardly tumbling out of the apartment. I recognized one as Taemin, and I was only about fifty percent sure I had met the other one, his wide-set eyes and strong jawline at least looked somewhat familiar. “Oh, hi Mira, hey Zoey,” Taemin stumbled to a halt at the sight of us, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Taemin, Minho,” Mira greeted them curtly, clearly disinterested with their sudden appearance. She gave them a lazy little wave before turning back to me, “Should we tell Namjoon?”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her slightly, looking around her shoulder to give the awkwardly retreating pair a little polite bow and wave. They both returned the gesture before turning away, and I looked back up at Mira, who still seemed utterly unconcerned with them. “No,” I said after a moment of thought, “The last thing I want is to get his hopes up. He’d be crushed if it turned out not to be them.”

“Who else could it be?” she asked, incredulous. “I haven’t heard news of any other refugees coming my way.” I was taken aback by her complete sense of panic. Every time I had seen her, she had more or less been pretty well put together, if not a little overly friendly for my taste. This note was clearly unraveling her.

With a sigh, I took the letter back once more. “Still,” I spoke quietly, inspecting the seal and the signature, “Let’s wait for this ‘more information’ he’s talking about.” I took a deep breath, my mind racing. I wanted to tell Namjoon, I really did, but just the thought of his face when the plan fell through was physically painful. Handing the note back to Mira, I gave her a half-hearted little smile. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”

Mira simply looked down at the paper for a moment before taking it, folding it, and tucking it into her jacket. “Okay,” she breathed, clearly still flustered. Gathering herself together, she managed to stand up straighter, giving me a little grin. “Namjoon doing okay?” she finally asked me.

“Yeah,” my smile spread at the question. “Blonde, now,” I added with a slight chuckle, “But, yeah, he’s doing much better.”

“I saw the hair,” she commented, suddenly rather pleased as an even smile broke out on her slender, face. “Looks good,” she gave me one last, lingering look with those deep green eyes, as if she were judging my own condition. “Well,” she finally looked away from me and down the hall, “let me know if you need anything.”

Our conversation at an end, I watched her walk away before turning back to my door. Puffing out my cheeks as I gathered my wits, I hesitated as I hovered my hand over the door knob. Keeping this from Namjoon might actually kill me if it took any amount of time to get an update from Sergeant Wells. Letting my breath go, I finally pushed through the door. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised when Namjoon was gone from the couch. With a little sigh, kicking the door closed behind me, I shouted as loud as I could, “NAMJOONIEEEE!”

“ZOEYYYYYY” I heard the voice call out in our standard game of Marco Polo whenever he managed to slip away from me. From the sounds of it, he was just in his bedroom, so I shuffled down the hall. He was splayed out on his bed, the sheets and comforter still messed up from the night before. He wasn’t a big fan of bed-making, apparently. His head picked up slightly as I leaned against the doorframe, a little dimpled smile on his face. Wordlessly, he lifted his arms slightly, reaching out for me. With one quiet chuckle, I took a few steps before crawling onto his bed with him and into his arms.

It was sort of twisted, but Namjoon and I sort of served as surrogates for the significant others we left behind. I knew Namjoon wasn’t into me, and the non-feeling was mutual. Still, there was something comforting about resting my head on his uninjured shoulder as he held me close to his body. And there was also the comfort of knowing he was alive and well. My nights were still plagued by the images of his limp body hitting the compound floor, blood pooling on the concrete. Hearing Namjoon’s heartbeat put me at ease, and gave me hope. “So what was that all about?” he finally asked me, his low husky voice rumbling through his chest.

I nestled my head deeper into his flesh, as if I could hide there. Keeping anything from Namjoon was difficult. “Mira checking up on you,” I only half lied. She had asked how he had been doing.

His laugh caused my head to bounce off of his chest, causing me to lift my head to look at him curiously. “You’re a horrible liar,” he chuckled, pulling my head back down to his shoulder with his large hand, giving my hair a familiar little ruffle.

Pouting, my heart sank a little bit. “I’m an excellent liar,” I whined into his shirt, not bothering to fight his grip on my head. “We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I reminded him, giving his ribs a stern poke.

He squirmed, stifling a giggle, “Okay, you’re right, you’re a fabulous liar,” he was humoring me, but I still appreciated. “Still, you can’t lie to me, Zoey,” he spoke softly, his hand loosening to my hair. “But it’s okay,” he continued, his voice like a parent comforting a child, “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

It was slightly condescending, and I was considering protesting, but at the end of the day, I let it go. He was right, anyway. “Fine,” I breathed, letting my eyes slide shut. My voice just barely grumbling above a whisper, I murmured, “Now shut up and take a nap with me.” He said nothing, but laughed one more time before letting his arms relax, one under my neck and holding me to him, the other draped lazily over my waist. I was just grateful we had privacy in our own little world.

When I came to, there was a pinching soreness in my neck from where it bent unnaturally over Namjoon’s bicep. With a groan, I sat up in the bed, reaching up to rub my face with sleeves pulled over my hands. I felt Namjoon stir beside me. Crossing my legs, I twisted around to sit at his side, watching as he began to prop himself up on his hands. He looked up at me, one eye still forcefully squinted shut against the light of the room. “Well don’t you look ravishing,” his voice croaked from the sleep, but a little smirk pulled at his full lips.

“Look who’s talking, blondie,” I shot back, reaching up to smooth out my own hair. He simply chuckled as he struggled to sit up properly, leaning slightly over his legs. We were quiet for a little while as we adjusted to the light, straightened our clothes, and let the drowsiness slowly fade. “How are you feeling?” I finally asked him as I saw him run his fingers very gently through this collapsed hair.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, his smile remaining on his face. “Well, you drooled on me again,” he teased, glancing down at the damp spot on his shoulder before looking straight at me. “And you’re too short,” Namjoon did his best to pull his mouth into an impressive frown, “No fun to cuddle with.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He always gave me some dig about how I wasn’t Jin. Maybe he needed to in order to keep his memories of his time with Jin alive, or maybe it was just to remind both of us why we did stuff like that in the first place. “Yeah, well, you’re bony,” I countered, giving his shoulder an aggressive poke.

“Hey!” he protested, rubbing the spot defensively, “And Yoongi isn’t?”

Pausing, I felt my eyebrows twitch upwards just a fraction of an inch as I looked away at nothing in particular. He did have me there- no matter how lanky Namjoon was, it pared in comparison to just how bony Yoongi was. “Yeah, yeah, you win,” I said with a little laugh, glancing back to him, trying to repress my smile as I waved my hand at him dismissively.

His large, warm hand landed on the very top of my head, his habitual gesture of affection causing my smile to break through. “Hand me my crutches, Zoey, I’m starving,” he gave my head a little shake with his hand before he let his arm fall back to his side.

I obliged him, slipping off the bed and handing him the alumi