Hana

          Of course Min Yoongi would drive an Aston Martin to a grocery store. I snort, face covered by my motorcycle helmet. While he was driving expensive cars and probably living in an expensive flat, I was being a responsible adult and throwing my personal money into the market and stocks.

          We just happened to be going in the same direction as we exited the grocery store, where I had delightfully made him embarrassed simply because I was petty.

          The light turns green and I glance up, only to see two cars trying to run a red light. And with horror, I watch as one slams into the tail of the black Aston Martin, making the expensive car spin out of control and the ordinary car crumple before crashing into streetlight.

          My heart slams against my chest as I, in one of the stupider moves of my life, kick my motorcycle into gear and weave in between cars, before jumping off, ripping off my helmet, and running towards the car that held an unmoving Min Yoongi.

          “Min Yoongi?” I yell hoarsely, not sure if I was really seeing reality. “Min Yoongi?”

          No response.

          “Min Yoongi?” I try a little louder, trying to yank at the jammed door. “Suga?!”

          The door gives away at my fifth pull, revealing a dazed Min Yoongi that was turning towards me. His side airbag had blown up, probably hitting him in the face, which would give him a nasty bruise later. But other than that, he looks perfectly intact, and I curse.

          I should have checked on the other car.

          “Don’t move!” I command, gently pushing him back into the car as he started to struggle to get out. There’s blood dripping down the side of his face, probably from glass from the back window that had scratched him.

          I turn, sprinting towards the other car as other people at the intersection started getting out of their cars. I overhear yells to call the emergency line and I can see from this angle, the crash looked even worse as the car was practically wrapped around the streetlight.

          “Is everyone okay?” I yell. The driver’s side is practically demolished and crushed and my heart beats faster as I hear moans of pain.

          Please. Oh, please.

          My heart sinks as I look into the front passenger side. The lady is feeble, legs pinned and losing a lot of blood fast, and I nearly throw up as my eyes trail down and see the pieces of glass and metal sticking out of her abdomen.

          Pressure. Put pressure. I reach my hands towards her, but realize I had no way of knowing how deep the glass or metal was, and I could make the situation worse. Instead I grab her hand, praying and hoping for her to be okay.

          “Stay awake,” I plead, her eyes unfocused. I tear my eyes away from the driver, probably her husband, who is sitting unmoving and there’s too much blood, too much, for him to be okay. “Please, stay awake. Help will be here soon-”

          Her hand suddenly grips mine. “T-Tae…” She trails off before trying to swallow, but failing. “Taeran. T-take…”

          “Stay awake!” I plead again, desperation creeping into my voice.

          “D-daughter,” She heaves and coughs, and I try to hold her still. “Take care of her…”

          Daughter? I swivel my head towards the back and I want to scream because there’s a kid in a booster seat and I can’t take care of her while taking care of this woman who’s slowly slipping away in front of me.

          “Hana?!” Min Yoongi is right behind me and I curse again. I told him to stay still, but I probably would have had more luck in him following my orders if I told him the opposite. “Are they alive?”

          He’s right behind me, ducking his head only for his eyes to grow wide at the sight of the woman dying in my arms.

          I crack, and tears start to run down my face. “Get the kid!” I try to make sense of it all. “Yoongi, there’s a kid!”

          And he’s tearing at the back doors that hadn’t gotten ripped off, unlike most of the front.  The glass had shattered and the door was caved in from when the car rolled and he curses with a loud “” and he reaches in, tearing up his arm with the glass as he tries to reach the inside handle.

          The mother is fading fast and I squeeze her hand out of reassurance, trying to soothe her as I hear the ambulance sirens. “Please,” I’m begging now.
“Please, just hold on.”

          Her pulse is faint and I can hear more cursing and moving around. “The kid got hit in the head!”

          “How bad?” I call back, hoping, praying, that it was nothing serious.

          He doesn’t respond, and I’m craning my head, trying to see in the mangled car. All I see was the extremely caved in roof and the shattered sunroof and-

          My blood runs cold. The kid probably covered in glass and had probably hit his or her head against the roof while it was rolling.

          “Is the kid alive?!” I yell as ambulance workers try to pull me from the woman.

          “Yes!” He shouts back after a pause and I want to collapse with relief but I can’t because I don’t know if the mother is alive.

          I back away from the car as ambulance workers start to take over. I realize I’m shaking, and I breathe, trying to calm my heartbeat and I wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks.

          Min Yoongi is forced back too; his clothes are torn and there’s blood all over his upper half. He looks dirty and disgusting but I feel a sense of relief knowing that he wasn’t the one that the ambulance workers were standing over.

          I watch grimly as the ambulance workers start extracting the people from the car and there’s yelling and more blood as they are rolled on to the stretchers and the mother looks so pale. The kid is taken out from her booster seat and she’s not moving, but she’s still alive and they’re loading her and the mother up.

          “Can I come with?” I tug at the sleeve of a paramedic that shoves me out of the way. I try again to another and there’s no response.

          Min Yoongi is pushing the paramedics away as they try to treat him for the scratches and cut on his face, insisting that he would get treatment later, and he’s asking if he can ride in the ambulance with the family and they’re shaking their heads.

          “Yoongi!” I wave him over and he arches an eyebrow, but for once he complies.

          “What?” His voice is cold and I nearly wince, knowing that any connection that we had was through the victims and not each other.

          “Do you need a ride?” This was wrong. He was the enemy.

          And I can see the expression on his face change because of all people in the world, Byun Hana is offering Min Yoongi a ride and he obviously wants to say no but he wants to follow the victims too and his “Yes.” is resounding and I can feel the confusion rolling off him in waves.