Restless, I awoke right as dawn’s light began to appear in the windows. I sat up, looking around slowly, dragging my fingers through my angry hair. Memories of the previous day flooded back to me and I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I covered my face. “This isn’t happening,” I muttered quietly to myself, keenly aware of the soreness below my waist.

“Are you okay?” a hesitant voice called, and I looked up in surprise. Not because Namjoon was speaking, but because it was in English.

I blinked at him slowly for a moment, “You speak English, Namjoon?”

“Ah,” he smiled his wide smile. I’m pretty sure I could count every one of his teeth with how wide it was. It brought me comfort to see anyone show any sign of joy around here. “I’m out of practice,” he explained. It was strange, unlike most Koreans who spoke English as a second language, his individual pronunciation was excellent, but he had awkward pacing and inflection on his words. But to me, it didn’t matter. Just hearing the language was something of a comfort, and I found myself smiling a little, too.

A groan came from one of the other beds, and Namjoon and I both snapped our heads to find the source. “Yah, I knew this would happen,” it was Hobie’s voice, slightly muffled by the blanket still over his face.

“What?” Namjoon asked defensively.

“Secret English Time-u” Hobie’s voice raised about half an octave as he also began to speak in English.

I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the sound of his heavy accent. “Your English is very nice,” I assured him, trying to suppress any further laughter.

“Yes, yes,” Hobie continued with a groan, wriggling out from under Taehyung, who seemed dead asleep still. Once he popped up from under his blanket, his long horse-like face brightened up as he spotted me, his eyes narrowing into nothingness as he gave me a bright smile. “Very happy,” he continued in his very abrupt, but thankfully understandable broken English. Suddenly he looked to the bed nearest the front door, where Jin and Jungkook were somehow managing to stay on the same cot. At least Hobie seemed to be using Taehuyng as a glorified blanket. “Hey!” Hobie called to them, “Handsome guys!” clearly he had these words practiced.

To my surprise, Jin actually sat up, though his eyes were bleary and he was clearly slightly disoriented, “Yes, thank you very much,” he managed in smooth, native-sounding English.

My smile grew, and I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was for my mood to swing from something so simple. When I looked back to Namjoon, he was watching me, his lips curled up in a gentle smile. I gave him a little nod of appreciation, and he returned the gesture. “Alright,” he suddenly switched back to Korean, “might as well get everybody up,” he raised his voice, taking his pillow and chucking it over Hobie and Taehyung to land on Yoongi’s bed, the one that had remained motionless throughout the whole ordeal.

“Zoey,” Hobie spoke up again, though his voice was in a mock whisper, “For future reference, I would recommend against trying to wake Yoongi up. He loves sleep more than he loves any of us.”

“You’re damn right,” I heard Yoongi’s croaky voice grumble from his bed. But at least it meant he was awake. And apparently while I wasn’t paying attention, Taehuyng had also emerged from Hobie’s bed, and had come to sit on his own, directly next to mine. His funny rectangle smile was a pleasant sight, too. Almost as soon as he sat down, though, he moved to rummage under his cot, searching for something.

The final member made his appearance when I movement caught my eye. Jungkook sat up, almost a mirror image of Jin earlier. My smile faded and I looked away before I could get a proper look at him. As much as my mood had lifted, Jungkook was someone I was not quite ready to face that morning. Following Taehyung’s lead, I began to look around my bed to take stock of what was there. Not much, was the answer to that, by the way. Taehyung must have noticed, as I felt a hesitant hand on my shoulder. Instinctively I flinched rather violently, causing him to pull his hand back as if he had burned himself on my shirt. His mouth hung very slightly open as his narrow eyes stared at me intently, his brows tilted upward slightly in clear concern. It amazed me how all of them had such different but exceptionally expressive faces.

“I’m okay,” I spoke softly, going so far as to reach out and gently touch his knee, reciprocating the gesture he had extended to me just moments ago. This seemed to satisfy him, his smile returning as he jumped to his feet, change of clothes in hand as he headed for the western door, one I still had not seen past. Judging by his actions, it was their larger, shared bathroom. It was a decent idea, actually, so I stood as well, edging my way to the back room. I quickly glanced around the room one last time, finding most of my company otherwise occupied with trying to wrest Yoongi out of bed. Slipping through the door as quietly as I could, I made my way to the rear bathroom to get ready for the day, no idea what exactly that entailed.

Once I had changed into identical clothes and done what little I could to clean up, I hesitated before once again returning to the main room. With a sigh, I realized I had nothing else to do, and lingering would only be suspicious. Striding toward the main door, I opened it a crack, only to be met with raised voices.

“I’m just saying you could have been a little gentler, Jungkookie, she looked absolutely wrecked.”

“Don’t ing call me that! I’m not a kid anymore!” Jungkook’s voice, no doubt.

“Yes you are! And so is she! Jimin and Taehyung, too.” It was pretty clearly Yoongi shouting, judging by the tone of his voice. I tried to peek through the crack in the door, but all I could see was Taehyung sitting against the wall next to his bed nearby. He must have felt my eyes, as he turned his head to look up at me. His mouth was turned to a frown, but he raised a finger to his lips as he locked his eyes on mine. Clearly he was advising me to stay put and be quiet. Perhaps this was not an argument to interrupt.

“Don’t talk about Jimin,” Jungkook’s voice dropped considerably, and I had to strain to continue listening. “Let’s not kid ourselves, he’s dead.”

I looked to Taehyung again, who had returned his attention across the room, but I could see his frown visibly deepen. “Don’t say that,” a new voice joined the argument. Jin, if I had to guess. “There’s a chance we’ll get Jimin back,” he sounded as soothing as possible.

“In pieces, maybe,” Junkook spat back.

“That’s enough,” Namjoon’s voice was one I could recognize at least, though hearing it in such a stern and authoritative tone took me by surprise. “Junkook, go with Hobie on his rounds this morning.”

There was some mumbles and some grumbles, but eventually after a long while, I heard the creaky front door open and close again. I looked to Taehyung for the go-ahead, and he didn’t let me down. Catching my eye, he gave me a little nod and smile, so I slipped through the crack in the door as casually