Yoongi had been right that one jar of plaster was not enough to sufficiently complete the towel rod anchor and repair the hole in the wall caused by Namjoon somehow ripping the original off. Taehyung and I worked silently, the muffled sound of shouting and arguing occasionally coming through the door behind us. “I guess you guys will just have to live with that hole for a while,” I finally spoke, trying to drown out the muted chaos. At that point, Taehyung was sitting on the ground, playing with the little chips of dried plaster. We had managed to seal the anchor that Yoongi had arduously drilled into the concrete, but just barely. I made a mental note to warn Namjoon to be perhaps a bit more gentle in his towel retrieval. As I plopped down next to Taehyung with a huff, I stifled a cough. I was feeling a bit better, but the lingering congestion was still a pain. Letting my head rest against the back wall, I let my eyes close, listening to the muffled voices still coming through the door. “I wish you could talk, Taehyung,” I lamented, opening one eye to glance at him. When his face fell into a regretful frown, I blinked both of my eyes open, “No, no,” I waved my hands at him. The last thing I wanted was that extremely expressive face of his to take a downward turn. He was my only company. I wanted nothing more than his bright, rectangle smile. “I understand. It’s okay,” I spoke quickly, “I admire your resolve, it’s just,” I sighed heavily, looking away for a moment, “I wish I knew what they’re fighting about.” I heard him sigh quietly beside me. He mirrored my own actions, leaning his head against the concrete wall, letting his mouth hang open just a little bit, his very slight frown revealing his small, even bottom teeth. Clearly he was just as frustrated as I was. In a way, that was comforting to me. I wasn’t alone. I reached out, taking my turn to drape an arm over his shoulders. He managed a small little smile in response, but it was apparent that both of our spirits were pretty securely, as they say, down in the dumps.

We both flinched when the door to the main hall pushed open. Yoongi’s head popped in through the narrow crack, searching quickly around the room before finding us seated on the ground. “Done already?” he asked once his eyes met mine. His voice was tired and strained, from what I guessed was the five-way shouting match.

I nodded towards the wall, “We did as much as we could. The big hole in the wall isn’t going anywhere until you get more filler,” I explained, my voice level and quiet. When I looked back, Yoongi had narrowed his eyes at me slightly, his already pouty mouth accentuated by a very slight frown.

He broke eye contact with me to look over to the opposite wall, scrutinizing our work, “Oh, hey, not bad, America,” I saw his eyebrows raise slightly as he stepped through the door, striding over to get a better look. Apparently ‘America’ was my new name from Yoongi. Honestly, I didn’t mind. “Good thing this hole doesn’t go all the way through. We can live with this,” Yoongi was once again muttering to mostly himself as he poked gingerly at the drying plaster. He straightened up, glancing over his shoulder at Taehyung and me, “I’ll finish this up. TaeTae, I think Hobie can use some help sorting through the rest of the supplies.”

Taehyung slipped out from under my arm, quickly hopping to his feet. He turned to give me an appreciative smile, only allowing me time to give him a little wave before he slipped away out the door. I returned my attention to Yoongi, who was still inspecting our handiwork, “So?” I spoke up, raising my eyebrows at him. He didn’t expect me to just let that whole fiasco go, did he?

The way his shoulders dropped as he smiled was the prefect indication that, in fact, he was hoping I wouldn’t ask. “I know this is going to sound strange,” he took a step towards me before sinking down into a crouch in front of me, “but would you mind talking to Jin about it?”

“What?” my knee-jerk reaction was perhaps a bit loud, but looking into Yoongi’s worried face, I was honestly surprised to find him completely serious. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No,” he answered plainly, “but he needs to talk to someone and he already knows what the rest of us will say.” Yoongi paused to ruffle his own black hair, his eyes squinting in frustration, “Look, I’m not good at talking about this stuff,” he admitted, pressing his knee as he returned to a standing position, “but me, Hobie, Namjoon, and even Jungkook agreed that you’re pretty good at listening with an objective ear, and you give pretty okay advice.” He wouldn’t look at me, clearly a bit embarrassed by the thread of conversation.

I managed to smile just a little, honestly pleased by the compliment. “Alright,” I spoke with a little groan, finally scrambling to my feet, “I’ll try.”

He peered at me quietly for a moment, both of us quiet and still. One of his little crooked smiles broke across his face. It was subtle, hardly moving his expression at all, but those dark eyes of his seemed to shine as he spoke, “You know if someone had told me two years ago that someone would be intimated by Jin, I would have laughed at them.”

I couldn’t help but give a dry laugh. That certainly wasn’t what I had expected him to stay, “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, giving my shoulder a gentle nudge with his fist, “Go fix Jin, I’ll fix this towel rod.”

“I feel like I’m getting the short end of the stick on this deal,” I grumbled, turning to head through the door.

I heard Yoongi’s low, rumbling laugh follow me, “He’s in the kitchen. You’ll do fine, America!”

Rolling my eyes, I gave him one last little wave over my shoulder as I slipped through the door, leaving Yoongi behind. When I stepped into the main room, the atmosphere was legitimately suffocating. Glancing around the room, I only caught Hobie, Taehyung, and Jungkook left, sitting together quietly around Jungkook’s cot at the end. They had been talking quietly amongst themselves (well, presumably just two of them were speaking), but fell quiet when they caught sight of me. I locked eyes with Jungkook, his eyes swollen and tired. He nudged his head towards the kitchen, and I merely nodded. Hobie’s face was borderline depressed, tear stains evident on his flushed face. Damn I thought to myself, this had been worse than I had imagined. The cold fingers of dread began to creep up my spine. Trying to shake it off, I picked up the pace as I strode over to the cracked kitchen door.

Before pushing the door open, I took a deep breath. I needed to get my together. Putting on my brave face, I made the plunge, quietly slipping through the doorway. Jin’s broad shoulders were hunched over the kitchen counter across from me, the sound of a knife frantically impacting a cutting board giving me a pretty good idea of what he was up to. The door betrayed my arrival as I shut it behind me with a dull thud. I could see Jin’s muscles ripple under his white linen shirt as he tensed.

He whirled around, large chopping knife in hand, eyes wild with rage. Instinctively, I pressed my back against the cool metal door, heart pounding. “Oh,” he spoke, voice even and flat. When I saw him relax, I let out the long breath I had been holding. “It’s you,” he turned back around, the sound of chopping resuming.

His absolute and instant dismissal of me caused a little flare to burn behind my eyes. I knew I was utterly insignificant to all of these guys in the grand scheme of things, but for whatever reason, Jin’s nonchalance was utterly aggravating. “Yes,” I spoke up, trying to reign in the sarcasm on my voice, “it’s me.”

When he glanced at me over his shoulder, I could see his wide eye holding a spark of surprise at my response. I heard him set his knife down as he sighed, turning to face me again, placing the heels of his hands on the counter behind him. Jin’s face was undeniably defiant as he tilted his face up to look down at me reproachfully. We simply watched each other silently. His eyes were almond in both shape and color, intense- yet no amount of distain could disguise the kindness hard wired into his face. “Can I help you?” he asked, clearly trying his best to sound sassy.

I pursed my lips together, trying my best not to chuckle. Regardless of his sour attitude, I used his question as the opening I was waiting for, “I’m sorry Jin, but I don’t think sass is really your color.”

His small mouth twitched, one corner of his full upper lip curling slightly into a little subtle snarl. “You don’t know me,” he countered childishly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Clever,” I replied quickly, deciding to give him a little taste of real sass, “In fact, let me tell you exactly what I do know about you.” I paused to think, holding up my fingers to count, “First, I know you’re super protective of Jungkook, which is why you’ve decided to not like me, even though Jungkook himself has gotten past that anger,” I pulled down one finger, “Second, I know that you’re so insanely nice that you’ve showed me kindness on accident.” I watched him shrink back a little at my accusation, finally tearing his eyes from mine as he looked down at his feet. “And,”