Back up at the apartment, things were a bit of a mess. Once I pushed through the door, a wall of voices hit me. The main family room was crowded with bodies, both strange and familiar to me. It was difficult to squeeze my way through the dense crowd of bodies, especially since everybody else seemed to be just as frantic as I was. My short stature was an advantage as I wormed my way through the crowd, making my way to where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they had taken Jin. Namjoon’s door was only open a crack, but I could hear faint whispers inside. Careful to stay quiet, I slipped through, unsurprised to find the scene somber. At the sound of the door clicking shut behind me, Hongbin’s head swiveled to face me. Namjoon remained rooted on the spot beside the bed, paralyzed by the sight of Jin. “How’s he doing?” I asked hesitantly as I moved to Namjoon’s side, taking the opportunity to really get a good look at Jin. As I had observed earlier, he was grimy, bloody, and his skin was incredibly pale. Upon closer inspection, he had some puffy gauze bandages taped to his neck and arms. Bulges under his shirt on his chest and abdomen suggested more might be taped there, as well.

“He’s okay,” Hongbin’s voice was low and weary, but he seemed genuine as he gave me a once-over. “He’s obviously beat up, but he’s stable.” Standing from his seat at Jin’s bedside, he let a heavy hand fall to my shoulder, “I’ll leave you guys here.” We exchanged short little nods and weak, sad smiles before he brushed past me to head out the door. Namjoon and I were alone at Jin’s comatose side.

We stayed quiet for a little while, Namjoon staring at Jin while I watched Namjoon’s face. I could tell he was having a hard time processing exactly what was going on. “He’s here,” I heard him whisper, his fingertips lightly brushing Jin’s chestnut hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah,” I could hardly bring myself to speak. We should be ecstatic, but it was hard to be happy when all three of our friend had come back unconscious and clearly battered. There was no knowing what happened to them until one of them came to, or if we got word from Ellen. I worried about her, too. The fact that she hadn’t come back with the rest of them caused me to feel anxious. And who was at the hospital? Jungkook, Hobie, and Yoongi were still unaccounted for. It meant two of them were still out there. Why? Who? So many questions that took a backseat to the one that mattered in that moment- would these three be okay?

“Zoey!” I heard a low voice call out to me, and I looked up to see an almost cartoonish smile peeking around the door, an only vaguely familiar face looking my way. His eyes were wide, and his large, round ears stuck out from his head. I narrowed my eyes slightly as I looked at his face, trying my hardest to remember the name. It had only been a couple of instances that I had run into the residents of the third floor, but a few of them were unnaturally friendly- this guy being one of them. When he reached me, he continued to smile like an idiot, both rows of teeth showing in his naturally triangular smile. “Baek needs your help with V,” he spoke quickly, reaching out to grab my wrist, dragging me along with him. I relented, glancing back at Namjoon, who didn’t even bother looking at me. Reluctant to leave him, I sighed before allowing myself to be pulled back out into the family room. The general air of the room was fairly panicked and somber, so I found it odd that this tall young man was grinning so much, but there wasn’t much I could do except to follow.

Once we had pushed our way through, there was a clearing around one of the couches, but immediately I lurched forward, out of my ’s grasp, falling to my knees at the side of the cushions. Taehyung had been laid haphazardly across the piece of furniture, his limbs folded awkwardly into his body. I reached out, carefully ghosting my hands over Taehyung’s body, afraid to touch him. A voice pulled me out of my state of shock, and I noticed another person there with me, leaning over the plush arm of the couch, holding Taehyung’s head still. “Thanks, Chanyeol,” the stranger spoke quickly, though his eyes were fixed on me, his eyes wild and panicked. “Zoey,” his voice sounded like he was begging, “He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness, I don’t’ know what to do.” And I suddenly recognized him- I had asked his name because his expressions and mannerisms reminded me an awful lot of Taehyung himself. Baekhyun, as he had introduced himself, continued to speak, “What do we do?”

Snapped out of my trance, I looked down at Taehyung, his mouth slightly open as he continued his labored breathing. “Let’s see,” I whispered as I scooted closer, still a bit in shock at the sight before me. It was strange to see the standard issue black and white linens again, and even stranger to see my friend, who I had only hoped to see again, laying on a brand new leather couch. It was such a strange juxtaposition, that it took me a moment to remember what I was trying to do. Shaking my head to regain focus, I finally got to work, searching Taehyung for any signs of wounds. He was mostly just dirty, with only a few dried stains that might have been blood. His face was damp with sweat, his rusty, matted hair stuck to his forehead. Thankfully, he had no open sores, and from at least an initial once-over, no severely broken bones. I had faith that if any of the three were in critical condition that they would be back in China in whatever hospital Ellen had sent Namjoon to. Fairly confident that Taehyung was going to be fine, I sat back on the floor with a little sigh, “Just let him rest,” I finally spoke, remembering that I had an audience. When Namjoon had returned, things had been pretty quiet, and admittedly a little bit lonely while he recovered. Even though I apparently could only learn ten names at a time, it was nice to have so many people around who at least cared.

“He’s awake!” a voice called over the quiet din of chattering voices, sending the entire room into a heavy silence. Scrambling to my feet, I gave one last lingering look back at TaeTae, willing myself to believe that he would be just fine. Soon enough, I was whisked away across the room, only to be thrown into the midst of a different huddle, centered around Jimin, hunched over in a chair. “Give him some space!” Hakyeon was the one calling the shots on this one, clearly, the slightly tanned man crouched at Jimin’s side, shooing away anyone else who dared approach.

Jimin groaned, his hands grasping at the sides of his head, fingers clutching at his raven hair, clearly in extreme discomfort. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and looked up, his already narrow eyes squinted to mere slits, as if the light exacerbated the pain. He scanned the semicircle that had gathered around him, which included people from just about every floor of the tower. “Am I dreaming?” his normally smooth, airy voice was scratchy and dry. He coughed to clear his throat, glancing up at his caretaker, “N?” his voice was skeptical and confused, “Where am I?” he continued to speak, disoriented. I certainly couldn’t blame him- I had the advantage of slowly learning about the various residents of the building, but Jimin presumably at least recognized just about every face of the celebrity-turned-refugee population.

“Jimin,” I finally spoke up, daring to penetrate the perimeter Hakyeon had set up as I stepped forward, pushing through.

I saw his eyebrows knit together at the sound of my voice, scanning for a moment before finally meeting my gaze. “Zoey?” he reached up to rub his eyes, blinking rapidly once his eyes were open again.

“Alright,” it was Hakyeon who spoke up, “let’s leave these guys alone.” He was addressing the rest of the crowd, and I heard some reluctant grumbles behind me. It was strange to me that there was such a fuss all of a sudden. When Namjoon was brought in, the visitors came in a slow trickle, but I suppo