Tick growled swears under his breath looking at the bandit of boys standing on the opposite side of the garage. No man dared to move. Their eyes flickered to the figure writhing  the ground, clutching a bloody knee.

            Woozi’s stared at you, eyes unfocused and with strange expression with mouth agape.

            “Woozi,” you snapped impatiently. This was not a time for nonsense, “Woozi!”

            “Uh, what?” Woozi blinked his eyes back into focus.

            “Come on,” you rolled your eyes, digging the gun into Ticks neck. For the coward you knew Tick to be, his compliance didn’t surprise you. At the thought of his sleaziness, you were reminded of a trick he pulled when it came to exchanges.

            “Wait,” you stopped Woozi as he picked up the bag. “Check the bottom of the bag.”

            “What?” Woozi’s eyes were fixed on the squad of men on the other side. This black eyes darted around, sizing each figure up.

            “Check the bottom bills,” You ordered, “QUICKLY.”

            Woozi dug his hand into the bag and pulled out a stack from the bottom, keeping his unwavering gaze. “Put one under the light,” you said.

            Woozi looked uncertain, not willing to put his hands up in front of a gang looking ready to slaughter him.

            You pressed the gun further into Tick’s temple and tightened the grip around his neck. The gang roared in outrage but no one moved, “PUT YOUR BELTS ON THE GROUND NOW!” Your voiced echoed in the cavernous space.
            All of the guys lifted their shirts, undoing the thin strap of fabric tied around their middle. A gun daggled from one mans strap, another held a knife and a clear bag of white powder.

            You watched closely as each one of them took off the belts and threw them to the ground. “You back there,” you pointed to a man hiding in the back. “I didn’t see you take yours off.”

            The man grumbled and he stripped himself of his belt holding with tight fists.

            Woozi lifted a bill to the light, his eyes widened. “This one is fake.”

            Tick choked out a laugh, “Still know my ol’ tricks, there girl?” He hollered.

            “Where is the rest?” You said through clenched teeth.

            “If you let me go,” Tick bargained greasily.

            “Not likely.”

            “You’ll have to settle for half,” Tick grunted as you crushed his toes under your heel.

            “We came here looking for forty,” Woozi said loudly, directing his voice at the squad of men on the other side. “We will not leave without forty.”

            “Where is the rest?” The grip around Tick’s neck was no longer just for show-your knuckles were white. His mouth opened wide in an airless gasp.

            “Don’t-,” Tick wheezed.         

            Woozi pulled the stashed gun from his back pocket, and held it in both hands with a  professional stance. He kept the gun poised down. “Money,” Woozi said, taking a step carefully forward. His gaze targeted on each man, “Who knows where the money is?”

            The men remained stone-faced. Past the stoic expression and defensive stances, there was a teen in the back, shaking like a leaf.

            As Woozi neared the group, your eyes lingered on his footsteps walking father away and sweat increased on your brow. “Don’t get too close,” you whispered under your breath.

            “You,” Woozi pointed to the scrawny kid in the back. “Come here.”

            The rest of the group turned to the boy. The kid looked up with large eyes. He pointed a shaking finger to himself questioningly. The early teen’s arms were decorated with splotches of purple bruises

            “Yes, you.” Woozi said impatiently. “Come here.”

            The kid’s wide eyes darted to his older fellow gang members, the members said nothing but words were not necessary, the glares said it all.

            “I d-don’t-“ The kid stuttered, dragging his feet forward and out of the protection of his fellows.

            “Do you want your boss to live?” Woozi spoke with authority, “Or do you want me to hurt your brothers instead?”

            “My b-brothers-?” The kids voice cracked, glancing back at the crowd. His eyes still glistened with innocence. “No.”

            “Tell me where the money is,” Woozi bargained. “Then, we leave. No one gets hurt.”

            The kid collar darkened sweat, his eyes darted around anxiously. If the kid really didn’t know where the money was, he wouldn’t be this nervous.

            Woozi stepped carefully to the kid, a foot away, “I know you care for your brothers, and I don’t want to hurt them, honestly,” Woozi’s voice was cautious. “But we came here for something and we can’t leave without it.”

            The boy’s eyes were trained on the gun in Woozi’s hand. Woozi noticed this and carefully knelt down. With one hand up in the air, he set the gun down on the ground, “See?” Woozi breathed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Your heart quickened. Woozi was playing the cards right, but you were unsure if putting the gun down was absolutely necessary.

            The thirteen year old let out a choked in breath.

            “We need this money,” Woozi said. “If you give it to us, we will leave you alone.”

            “DON’T DO IT!” One member yelled, “WE WOULD RATHER DIE THEN BETRAY OUR LEADER!”

            You raised your gun at the member and the same time Woozi yelled, “STOP!” He raised his arms up. “We will not hurt your leader unless we have to- don’t make us.”

            The gun lowered in your hand and you turned it back to Tick.  

            “You love your brothers?” Woozi said softly, “Well, I love my brothers too. And this money could save one of my brothers.”

            The boy looked to his dirty sneaker

            “You would do this for your brothers, wouldn’t you?” Woozi put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That is all we are trying to do. If we don’t get this money, one of our brothers would be in a lot of danger.”

            The boy’s big blue eyes glistened down on shoes, completely falling apart around the edges.

“It’s in the car.” The boy said.

            The members screamed outrage and the boy flinched. The brothers he would give his life for, would punish him severely for his disobedience.

            “I never liked him,” Tick said under his breath.

            Woozi began backing up slowing, thanking the boy quietly. The members behind the boy were boiling.

            “YOU GONNA GET IT TONIGHT YOU BRAT.”

            “IMMA SKIN YOU AFTA THIS!”

            “YOUR MUM AND POPS ARE GONNA GET A VISIT TONIGHT!”

            The boy’s shoulders deflated as the yells grew louder. Tears brimmed the boy’s eyes.

            “YOU ARE ALL TESTING MY PATIENCE.” You yelled, gripping Tick tightly.

            “You can come if you want,” Woozi talked so softly only you could hear the conversation with the boy.

            “Woozi, we should go.” The members were getting antsy, you could see a few of them reaching for their packs. “Everyone stay where they are!” They moved so slowly, Woozi didn’t notice.

            “I have to stay with my brothers.” The kid mumbled.          

            “Woozi, we need to go, now!” You said through gritted teeth.

            “I think your brothers aren’t good to you.” Woozi said, eyes traveling down his bruised arms. “You could come with us, we have real brothers who will treat you right-“

            A man in the back slowly made way to Woozi’s discarded gun a few feet behind the kid.

            “WOOZI!”

           Woozi put his hand to the kid’s shoulder. His knuckles bunched up the fabric of the kid’s shirt and pulled down. The kid gasped as he was yanked down. The kid was pulled to Woozi’s other side as Woozi wrapped an arm around his shoulder blades. Woozi’s foot twisted around the kids ankle and with a little give, the feet were swept off the ground. Woozi’s eyes widened as they fell, as if hearing the sound before it happened.

           CRACK!

           Woozi’s feet lifted underneath him. Dust rose from the floor. He wrapped his arms around the kids head. He pressed him to his chest.

           CRACK!

           Wham, they both hit the floor.

           Your heart was pounding at their unmoving figures on the ground, but you knew no matter what, you had to keep cool. You used the pumping adrenalin to feed your strength holding Tick hostage. As long as you had Tick, they couldn’t do anything more.

           “Woozi,” you said, trying to hide the panic in your voice.

           He was lying on top of the kid. The kid yelped and immediately Woozi got off. “Are you hurt?”

           You sighed in relief, but looked to the man holding the gun. “Put down the gun,” you said sternly.

           “I will if you put down your’s,” He said bravely.

           “PUT down the gun, you IDIOT!” Tick screeched and the gun clattered to the cement.

           If you had one thing on your side, it was that Tick feared you.

           “We are leaving,” You ordered the men, “You are staying here. We will drive off and leave Tick behind.”

           “How can we be sure?” One of the men yelled. Woozi was talking to the boy again. You prayed Woozi wasn’t offering to let him come, the gang wouldn’t let you leave if you had one of their own in the backseat.

           “How do we know you won’t take our leader?” The man yelled.

           “You will just have to-“

           “If you say ‘trust me’ I will vomit on your shoes,” Tick added.

           Your eye twitched, “Believe me. I don’t want to take him with me.”

            You started backing up. Woozi slowly picked up the gun and started walking backwards alongside you. Now he was beside you again, the twinge of anxiousness faded.

            The two of you backed up out of the building, you leading the way with Woozi in front, scanning the crowd with gun cocked.

            You swept out the door first, and Woozi closed it behind you. As soon as the lock clicked, Woozi ran to the other car frantically, “IT’S IN THE BACK!” you yelled. “The BACK!”

            Woozi popped other car’s trunk open and pulled out a bag of cash. Once his hands were on the extra money, you pushed Tick to the ground, and Woozi bolted to the van.

            Tick got up, sunglasses askew. His unforgettable blue eyes pierced you as you jumped into the drivers seat.

            You put the keys in the ignition. Tick lifted up his shirt as the ignition clicked. The car rumbled underneath you, Woozi was halfway in the van. Tick grabbed the gun around his belt. Woozi’s left foot was in the car, lifting himself to the seat. You reached over, fingers extending to the fabric on his shirt. Tick’s brow surged down, his gun flying up to you. You fisted the fabric around Woozi’s collar and pulled. Woozi’s head hit the center console. Cracks echoed, then the sound of sprinkling of glass as bullets rained down through the windshield

            The car jerked in reverse and you slammed on the gas. Your head slammed against the headrest pumping on the brake. You switched gears, bullets thudding the back window, and  swerved the car back onto the highway,

            “DRIVE!” Woozi screamed, still bending over, “JUST ING DRIVE. IT DOESN’T MATTER, JUST DRIVE!”

            Your heart was beating so fast, it would explode. The gun burned your lap, still hot.

            You didn’t know how long you drove for. The hours were mere seconds through the ragging adrenalin. You had returned, and escaped. You were free again.

            Woozi kept a lookout at the back window. No one was following you, you had slashed the other car’s tires before entering. The van fled down the highway, going more than double the speed limit.

            You looked at the clock, it was seven. You looked back on the road and when you looked back up, the clock was at eleven. Time was flying.

            Woozi was saying things you didn’t understand, to himself. You spotted an old motel. Tick would expect you to drive non-stop until you got to your destination, it was unlike you to stop for breaks. Doing something unpredictable would be your advantage. You pulled over.

            “I’ll get us a room,” You said quickly, Woozi merely grunted in response.

            You ran through the double doors and came out with a pair of keys.

            “I got us a room around the back,” You told Woozi, driving to your room. “So that oncoming traffic won’t see the van.”

            Woozi didn’t say anything. His whole body was turned towards the window.

            “They haven’t followed us here,” You said, tapping him on the shoulder.

            Woozi’s hooded eyes dragged up to look at you,his pale face drained of pigment. His hand dropped, his fingertips hanging weakly, stained red. Your eyes trailed up his arm and to his other hand pressing to his shoulder, his T-shirt spilling blood.

            “WOOZI!” You screamed, jumping out of the drivers side and running over to the passenger’s door. “You’ve been shot!”

            “You would’ve stopped driving…” He murmured faintly, eyes rolling back. He unbuckled his seatbelt, swayed and fell out.

            You caught him by his side, cursing under your breath. His eyes were still open, but struggling to stay so.

            Unlocking the door, you hoisted Woozi on the bed and tossed your bag. You fumbled around the contents, rummaging through everything with sweating palms.

            Your heart screamed in your ears, you tipped the bag upside down. The insides fell out onto the floor, you dropped to your knees frantically. You spotted it, grabbed it and lunged back to Woozi.

            Woozi was trying to take off his shirt but the sleeve caught. He whined at every move of his shoulder. You ripped the shirt and he yelped.

            “Do you even know the word gentle?” Woozi breathed, clutching his collarbone, rocking himself slightly.

            “YOU SHOULD’VE TOLD ME YOU WERE SHOT!” You screamed at him angrily.

            “I’ve been shot before but-,” Woozi looked at you in urgency- lips parted. “You were in a gang-of course, you can stich me up.”

            You ripped open fresh packaging of surgical stitching string and pulled a already sterilized needles from a clear box.

            “Is the bullet still in you?” you said roughly, trying to clear your mind.

            “Of course, I don’t want to bleed out.” Woozi bunched his shirt together and stuffed it into his mouth, biting down on it. He knew what was coming.

            You pulled out a syringe, “How much morphine had they adapted you to?”

            Woozi held up eight fingers. You squirted the liquid out of the syringe until it topped at the eighty milligram mark.

            You ripped his shirt and a wrapped thin piece of fabric just above his elbow, tying it tight. The second it took for the veins to pop dragged by. The purple vein bulged under his pale skin and you stabbed him with the needle

            Once administered, you put on rubber gloves and grabbed a pair of oversized tweezers. You put a surgical mask on. Woozi closed his eyes, pressing his head into the pillow.

            “This is gonna hurt,” You said, and you plunged the tweezers into the gaping pouring wound. An animalistic howl erupted from Woozi and he immediately out.

 

 

            When Woozi awoke his chest felt like ash after a fire.

           Woozi looked down, a bandage wrapped around his arm. His bloody front had been cleaned. A clear IV bag, strung up to the fire detector above his head lead directly into this arm.

           His blurry vision cleared, and you were sitting up against the door, ear to the wood. You were waiting with held breath for a sign- any sign they were on your tail. You didn’t look outside just on the mere chance they actually were there- you didn’t want to give yourself way.

           You held a gun in your hand, eyes closed in concentration. If it came down to it, you were ready to go down in a hailstorm of bullets before you were taken alive back to that hellhole. And if it was the last option, your own gun would do the deed for you.

            A strange sound came from the bed, you perked up. Woozi was struggling with the sheets.

            “How are you feeling?” You put a hand to his forehead, his fever was only slight.

            “Like I got shot,” Woozi said breathlessly. He attempted to sit up, but he as he moved his shoulder, he yelped and plopped back down on the pillow. “You have more of that morphine?”

            “I already gave you a high dosage,” You said, “The bullet wasn’t in the deep, thank the Lord.”

            “Give me more,” Woozi hissed, grinding his teeth together. “God, it hurts.”

            “I don’t have anymore.”

            “Liar,” Woozi said, “You have a ‘shot victim bag’ and you only have one vial of morphine?” His hand had a vice grip on your arm, dark squinted eyes looked up at you pleading.

            “I have pills but-“

            “Give me,” Woozi said gritting his teeth, “It’s unbearable. Please.” Woozi’s sweating forehead glimmered under the yellow light.

            You looked at him, brows meeting. Giving Woozi morphine in the first place was just pure instinct. Besides, you had stolen those liquid vitals from a hospital.

           However, the pill versions- those were yours. You made those in your basement for druggies and addicts who would come knocking on your door at three in the morning. Giving them to Woozi, didn’t feel right.

            Woozi took a staggered breath in, biting his lip, hands pale and shaky at his side.

            At the sight of Woozi, you gritted your teeth and resigned, opening your bag and taking out a plastic baggie filled with pills. All the pills were white and to any human eye, they were indistinguishable but like a mother, you knew each one.

            “Here,” You pulled his chin down with your thumb. The bottom lip parted from the top, the pill was tossed in. He swallowed.

            “Did you make this?” Woozi moaned as your hands clawed through the bag more.

            “Yes,” you said under your breath, retrieving an insta-cold pack.

            Woozi opened his eyes wide, clearing his throat, “it works fast.”

            “It’s supposed to,” you sat next to him on the bed, rubbing the cold pack between your hands. “The clear outercoating is… another drug,” you laid the pack on his forehead. “It gives an immediate and temporary high until the actual morphine kicks in.”

            “Sounds like heaven for a druggie,” Woozi’s voice was hoarse.

            “That’s why I was the best,” There was no pride in your voice, digging up old memories was no joyful thing.

            Woozi pushed himself off the bed, the cold pack falling onto his lap, and sat up against the headboard. His fingertips grazed the gauze on his chest, his brows lowered at the contact and then he pressed harder. He raised an eyebrow, confused in the lack of pain

            “I put numbing gel over the stitches, it should last until morning,” you said. You pulled your bag up on the bed and retrieved some gauze. Now he was awake, you needed to change it.

            “You know a lot about this stuff,” Woozi said. “Did the members come to you after fights?”

            “Of course,” you said, carefully peeling of the gauze, sticking to his chest. You tossed the gauze in the trash and ripped open a new packet with your teeth.  “Men need drugs for the pain. And after a while I learned how to stitch them up as well.”

            The switches were crusted with blood, but thankfully, there was no sign of leakage. The stitches themselves, were admittedly not your best. You went a little far into this skin and the ends were long and sticking out.

            You wrapped a piece of his shirt a around his neck, to his armpit and back again, repeating it until the gauze was secure. “I’ll change the gauze in the morning,” You said. “Then I’ll cut the ends of the stiches off.”

           And there it was again- that look. Woozi was looking at you in a way you couldn’t place. You had never seen that gaze before. It was the same look he gave you at the fire station just hours before.

           The way his eyebrows slowly arched up, his eyes glossed over as if you were transparent. The expression looked almost like pity but somewhere near admiration.

            “What?” You said.

            “What?”
            “You are looking at me weird,” you muttered. “Stop it.”

            “You should be more lenient to a guy who just got shot, okay?” Woozi huffed, the color slowly coming back to his face. He appeared to not be in anymore pain.

            “I’ve seen a lot of guys get shot.” You picked up the various content strewn across the apartment

            “I’ve been shot a lot.” Woozi said.

            “You have?”

            “Best fighter in a gang means-“

            “Everyone is after you.” You finished for him. “Take out the best and the rest is easy.” You got on the end of the bed and sat down next to Woozi’s feet.

            Woozi looked down at his hands in his lap, “I wish we could’ve taken that boy with us.”

            Your hand rested on his ankle, “We both know the gang wouldn’t have let us leave with him.”

            “But he-,” Woozi’s brows furrowed. “He was so young. And you saw the bruises…” Woozi trailed off. “Goddammit, he is probably getting the beating of a lifetime right now.”

            “You can’t save everyone,” You said bluntly.

            Woozi’s lips lifted in a cold smile, “I’ll try at least,” His eyes clouded over in thought, frowning.

            “People wouldn’t be called survivors if everyone survived,” You said softly. “It gives the people who survived more determination to live well, thinking about those who didn’t make it.”

            Woozi eyes narrowed on you, “Bull,” He sighed heavily touching his shoulder. “All you are saying is bull.”

            You shrugged your shoulders, pursing your lips. “Maybe.”

 

            You stood up, Woozi’s worn face not chancing a glance at you. “You hungry? You need to get your energy back,” The bag propped open on the dresser as you opened it under the light.

            “I’m unsure if people getting shot is a normalized thing for you, or if you are trying to normalize the fact that I was shot through snacks,” Woozi said. A granola bar hit him in the face

           “You were out for about two hours,” You said, opening a wrapper yourself near the dresser. “I had two hours to lose my , and regain my composure.”

           “Have you been shot?” Woozi asked, struggling with the wrapper.

           “Only twice,” You reached over and opened the wrapper and handed it back to him, “Once by a druggie when I was out of stock. Another by Tick.”

           “Tick shot you?” Woozi said with no surprise in his voice. He took a bite.

           “In the foot,” You grimaced. “That was after the first time I tried to run. They caught me.”

           Your eyes scanned over the his front. His nearly twenty year old skin was aged parchment. Splotches of scars and discoloration of unhealed wounds covered his surface.

           “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been shot,” Woozi said, through a mouthful “None of them were serious. All by idiots who didn’t know how to shoot properly.”

           The casualness of talking about gangs was freeing.

           You had been living a double life. One was an ex-drug dealer on the run, the other a run-of-the-mill art student.

           With the gang, you always kept tough; an emotionless, strictly-business drug-dealer. Weakness not something to be flaunted when knee deep with people who would easily betray you over a bag of coke.

           With the roommates and others, you could be somewhat casual but never truly free. You were always hiding something- a big bad secret that loomed over you, waiting to strike and ruin everything.

           For once, you were talking as both. In this moment, your past was not some scary thing that needed to be hid at all cost, neither did you feel as emotionless as stone. There was no shame here.

           With him, everything was transparent. There had never a person who understood both of them. But, Woozi knew you, the artist. And after today, he knew A.

           As if reading your mind, Woozi asked, “What does A stand for?”

           “Anonymous.” You said.

           Woozi raised a brow, “But what does it really stand for?”

“I told you-,” you sighed.

           “Is your real name Alex?”     

           “No.”

           “Audrey.”

           “No.”

           “Amber?”

           “No.”

           “Annabeth.”

           You made a face.

           “Obviously not. Andrea?”

           “Woozi,” you moaned. “You don’t need to know my name.”

           “I don’t need to.” Woozi said, “but I want to.”

           “It’s not like-“           

           “My name is Jihoon,” He said quickly, his eyes widened, scanning your face for the reaction.

           This wasn’t new information to you, but as far as Woozi knew, you were oblivious. You parted your mouth and widened your eyes.

           “That’s…a. Good name.” You said awkwardly, looking at your granola bar.

           “Tell me yours.” Woozi leaned forward, looking more determined than you had seen him.

           You sat down on the bed, granola squeezed in your hands. “You should really eat more. It will replenish your energy.”

           Woozi’s brows lowered, “Why can’t you-“
            You stood back up, eyes darting to find something to preoccupy with. “When we get back, you should go to the hospital. At to least to make sure it’s not infected.”

           Woozi slung his foot off the bed and leaned forward to get off. The bed creaked and turned around quickly to pushed him back on, “You need to rest!” You said urgently, “You’ve been shot!”

           Woozi looked at you as if you betrayed him, “You can’t tell me?”

           “My name is nothing worth knowing,” You said softly.

           “It is to me,” he said.

            There was a crack and the two of you jumped. The small room echoed the rain outside. The curtain flashed white, followed by a crashing of thunder the two of you felt in the motel.

            “Thunder,” You whispered, shaking your head. “I hate it.”

            “That makes two of us,” Woozi eyed the door with distain. “Thunder just reminds me of-”

            “Gunshots.” The two of you said at the same time.

            Woozi looked at you and for a moment. There was no noise.

            Then thunder flashed again and you trembled under the mighty roar.

            “I’m fine.” You said roughly, trying to ignore the frightened heart pounding in your ears.

           “Well, I’m not,” Woozi said admittedly, “I’ve been shot, and I still am afraid of goddamn thunder.” Your lips twitched up mildly, “Hey its’ not like you are any better!” Woozi said sternly.

           “What do you want your guitar or something?’ You said raising an eyebrow. “Would that soothe you?”

           “Actually, yes. It would. I sing in thunderstorms,” Woozi snapped, “At least I have a way of dealing with it instead of doing nothing like you.”

           “I have a way of dealing,” You snapped. “But it’s not here.”

           “Good luck trying to find a paintbrush in this trash hotel room.”

           “No,” you said abruptly before turning away in the bed. “It’s stupid, I know. But there is a body pillow I have and I just…” You coughed loudly, hands twisting in your lap.

           Thunder cracked, you shuttered down, forehead touching your ankles, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

           “Are you okay?” Woozi’s hand was on your shoulder.         

           “Worry about yourself,” you said honestly. “Are you in any pain?” You turned around, eyes locked on the bandage.

           “I don’t feel anything anymore,” Woozi touched his collarbone. “The drug worked.”

           Thunder crashed and it shook the dangling light above you. Surely, ceiling was going to cave in.

           You yelped, and shuttered, turning around on the bed and burying your face into the sheets. Woozi let out a sound too.

           “God, this is so embarrassing,” You couldn’t stop shaking. ing thunder, you thought.

           “I have an idea,” Woozi patted your hair awkwardly.

           You looked up just as Woozi’s fingers slid around your neck. With a hand on your shoulder, he pulled you flush against him. Objecting to this sudden contact, you put a hand on his chest. Just as you were about the push away, thunder crashed and you flung your arms around him. Both of you tensed into each other at the sound.

           “What are you-” you mumbled, arms weakening around him as you recovered from the shock.

            “There is no such thing as easy work,” Woozi was singing, tapping the beat on the back of your neck. “The world is like a maze without an exit, and labor is the road.”

           He leant back, and pulled you with him, both now lying down completely.

           “Happiness is nothing more than a word,” Woozi’s voice was breath in your hair. “The one word that everyone is running after.” Thunder crashed, Woozi paused his voice cracking and shoulders shaking but he continued singing.

           “I didn’t want to believe the nonsense they talked about. Happiness was just a word.” You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the more he sang, he began to relaxed too.

           You saw the light of the thunder crash, but you did not hear it. Woozi’s melody overpowered your senses. Your eyelids fluttered to a close and you sunk deeper into the covers.

            “I just wanted it simple. And you were everything but simple.”

           With a click, the lights turned off. Woozi’s calloused hands rubbed through the material on your shoulder. Your back hunched as you pressed your face deeper into his chest, eager for the music easily drowning out your horrors.

           “If I’m wrong, say it. And after tonight we can laugh about it together. But I just want it simple.”

           His breath slowed to match yours, he was barely whispering. The toll of night, finally baring down on the two of you. This was peace

            “Don’t you want it simple?” His breath was shallow, and his body was warm.

 

 

 

 

           You dreamt in warm colors. You dreamt of hands cupping your face and whispering lyrics into your ear, of kept promises and the peace of being free. You dreamt for one night you were not alone. You dreamt in clichés and strange love songs, you dreamt of daring adventures of heroism ,where instead of being a villain, you had become a hero in someone else’s story,

            And when you awoke, it wasn’t a dream.

            “We are fine,” You squinted to see Woozi sitting up in bed beside you, covers pulled up to his stomach. “She got really drunk that is all.”

           “I’ve told you, she needed a night off, so we took a road trip. She got wasted on the way there though,” Woozi looked down on you. Your frizzy hair was a mess and you rubbed at the bags under your eyes. Woozi smirked, and rested his hand on your matted hair. He tussled it, sticking out his tongue.

           “Where?” Woozi looked up in alarm, frowning. “At a hotel- no, of course not. She’s sleeping on the couch.” His ears flushed red.

           “We’ll be back by today. I promise….no seriously. If you want to call her you can….Dude! I’m not lying,” Woozi gritted his teeth in annoyance. “Fine. Do that.”

           Woozi pressed the button and turned to you. His blonde hair fell effortlessly onto his shoulder. You reached up and touched his split ends, “You need a cut.” You whispered, Woozi’s lips flickered a smile.

           Your phone buzzed and Woozi let out an exasperated sigh, “I told him-!”

           You picked up the call, “Hello-?” Your voice cracked slightly.

           “Are you okay? Where are you?” You recognized the panicked voice of the hipster.

           “I’m at a hotel.” A draft wafted by your legs and you noticed Woozi was taking the majority of the blankets.  You pulled the sheets, gliding them back over you.

           “Are you okay? You left me that voicemail and I about thought you had cancer or something!” Joshua exclaimed.

           “I am fine. Really, I’ll be getting breakfast at this inn and then we’ll be heading back. You can see for yourself.”

           Joshua huffed a goodbye and hung up rather quickly. Your mouth parted and you sighed, dropping your head back on the pillow, “Josh is touchy.”

           “I don’t think so,” Woozi said, a slight stink in his eye. “After you confessed your love to him before going on a suicide mission.”

           You looked at him, brow furrowed. “’confessed my love?” You gasped, “When did I-“

           “In the car yesterday,” Woozi turned away, “Don’t think I didn’t hear you. Practically crying on the phone, saying the word’s, ‘I Love you’.” Woozi spat the words as if they were poison.

           “Of course, I-“ You swallowed your pride, “I do…love him.”

           Woozi stood up, aggravated, “Well of course, he is going to respond like that! He is a man!”

           “Calling at the crack of dawn? That’s a bit much,” You bargained, pulling the blankets over you.

           Woozi looked at you; lowered eyes and raised eyebrows. “Are you not getting this? Are you so emotionally dead you don’t notice when a man is confused?”

           “Obviously, he is confused.” You said, “He thought I was going to die. But my point still stands-.”

           “God, I wish someone was here to listen to this right now,” Woozi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right now, Joshua is facing difficult choice. In a guy’s mind, he going over if you are hot enough to ask out. But for Josh, it’s probably analyzing if you are wife material.”

           “WOAH!” you yelled, waving your hands and sitting up in bed so quickly you got dizzy. “Wife material? Who said anything about marriage? Who said anything about dating?”

           “You did,” Woozi said shortly. “Josh thinks long term.”

           “No,” You said loudly curling your toes. “Who said anything about dating in general?”

           “You did!” Woozi repeated looking annoyed, “When you said you loved him.”

           “You didn’t think I meant romantically,” You said slowly. “No! I never mean romantically.”

           “People just don’t say I love you as friends,” Woozi crossed his arms, lip curled.

           “Hoshi tells DK he loves him all the time,” you said desperately.

           “But that is Hoshi. Those two have seen each other in diapers, they have no boundaries.”

           Your heart stopped, “You don’t think- J-joshua,” You mouthed airless sounds. “Josh didn’t- he couldn’t. He k-knows….”

           “Josh is thinking about putting a ring on you now,” Woozi smiled greasily. “The faster he can bang you, am I right?”

           You screamed, clasping your hands to your ears as if hearing a dirty word for the first time. “I MEANT FRIENDS!” You yelled, grabbing your phone. “I should call him. I have to call him now an explain-“

           Woozi snatched the phone from your hands, “No! Calling him now makes you seem desperate to cover things up.”

           “I am desperate!” You hollered shoving his side roughly.

           “Wait until you see him in person,” Woozi reassured you. “He will have probably have to think things through.”

           “He has nothing to think through. We are friends end of story.” You said heatedly in a strangely high panicky voice.

           Woozi’s stopped and looked off into the distance for a minute. He came back into focus with a mischievous smile, “So, you love Joshua?”

           “I love all my friends,” the words made you cringe, but they slid out anyway.

           “We are your friends?” Woozi sang, smiling at you as if you were three-years-old.

           “I hate you,” You grumbled, resting your head on the board and sighing

           “You love Hoshi?” Woozi took a step forward, knees up against the bed, looking down teasingly.

           “If you tell him that you are dead,” You grumped, still warm under the blankets, “But yes.”

           “You love Dino?” Woozi put his hands on the bed, then his knees followed.

           “Of course,” You said warily, as Woozi crawled to you.

           “You love me?” Woozi neared you. You pressed yourself up against the board, suddenly feeling hot.

           “I-I-“ You stuttered, unable to think clearly as Woozi neared in, looking at you intensely.

           “You what?” Woozi egged you on like a child, his breath was on your face and his hand grazed your ear on the headboard. It was obvious by his expression; he was playing a game. And you weren’t about to let him win.

           Your cold gaze narrowed down on him as he leaned in. You copied his movements. As he leaned in, you stuck your chin out and did the same. Milliseconds away from each other, Woozi was caught off guard. His eyes widened and he yelped, scrambling back on the bed to avoid the possible contact that might have occurred.

           “You are all talk.” You whistled, throwing the blanket off of you. They smacked Woozi’s tramatized face. You laughed, “If you did try something, you wouldn’t be able to pee for a week.”

           Woozi stared at you blankly.

           “Get me some breakfast. Stop ing around.” You said impatiently.

           “Pun intended?” Woozi added snarkily.

           “WOOZI!” You growled, and Woozi was out he door before you could say anything else.