AN: Just "sort of" proofread!

"Yuna, what the hell is going on?"

I sipped on a bottle of water that Jimin had ever so kindly grabbed for me. Or was it Jungkook? I wasn't sure, nor did my brain want to make an effort to put a name to the face and remember who was who. So I just nodded gratefully as I twisted the cap off.

I can't tell them.

I don't want to put anyone else at risk.

"I just ran across that guy and he wanted to be funny, I guess."

Namjoon's eyebrow perked. He didn't believe me for a second, but it wasn't entirely a lie what I had just said.

"One doesn't simply run across Kim Taehyung. He either goes after you or... or he goes after you."

"I have no idea what you're trying to say Namjoon hyung." I dismissed, looking at the wall of the building behind him, pretending to find of utmost interest the two years old, thorn advertising flyers sticking to it.

We were out of Octagon now, beside the door I had first made my entrance through. The security guard excused us for a moment, at Namjoon's request. He wasn't too pleased, but since the later was a regular performer he already knew, and because he probably needed a piss break anyway, he agreed to step in for some minutes. 

Jimin, Jungkook and Jin stood nearby, the first leaning against the brick wall parallel to the door, the other two in front of him, facing away from us, but all three clearly overhearing the conversation.

"What I'm trying to say is, if you ran across him it is because you spiked his interest, somehow. And while you're outstandingly gorgeous, that's still a feat on itself. So what were you doing that brought him to you?"

"How do you even know so much about what interests him and what doesn't? Do you both sleep in the same bed at night?" I asked, a little more hastily than I had originally planned to.

Ain't nobody can blame me for being on the defensive side of the line, though.

I took a notice that my question made the other three shuffle uncomfortably and halt their murmured conversation.

"Don't change the subject." 

Namjoon said, clearing his throat. 

"Come to think of it, it's already weird enough that you're even here... working? I mean... you're dressed like staff but something doesn't quite ring well here, I just can't put my finger on what exactly."

I felt a headache start to develop again. In fact, these last days, I couldn't remember not having a headache. 

I wonder what not having a headache feels like. 

"And I'll be honest here, I kind of half expected to see you with Suga, the next time I laid my eyes on either of you. He seemed quite smitten, but don't tell him I said this." He chuckled, forgetting his frustration for a second.

I in a breath.

"What's come of him ever since, anyway? The douche hasn't been answering my messages or picking up my calls. We have a load of unfinished work to produce and its not like him to avoid it."

All of a sudden, everything came crashing down on me. Every single event that played in the last hours. I felt my legs wobble and nausea hit.

"Hey, are you okay? You look quite pale." 

I saw his face clear as day, his hurting body on the cold cement floor. I heard his voice, raspy, pained. 'Yuna.'

"Are you listening to me?"

I remembered the way my name rolled off his tongue, mixed with despair. I didn't want any of this. I wanted him to be okay. I wanted Hoseok to be okay. I wanted them safe. I wanted to feel safe myself.

Nothing of this is fair.

My heart raced. I felt dizzy and the extremities of my body numb. Sweat broke out on my back. I started breathing in harder, searching for oxygen that seemed not to fill my lungs properly. 

Am I having a panic attack?

Calm down.

Breathe, Yu-na.

I can't breathe.

It just wasn't fair. And it was all caused by-

"Min Daeshim." I stammered through my teeth, suddenly stormed by hatred.

A hand on my shoulder brought my attention back partially. Namjoon's face was distorted, his voice seemed to come from somewhere in the far distance.

"Yuna, calm down. What's wrong? Here, sit down."

I let him help me sit on the three step staircase by the door. 

"I need to go back!" I declared, fighting to stand up and rush back inside the club.

My attempts were useless against Namjoon's strong arms. I fought against his body, one on one. I probably looked ridiculous, like a rag doll trying to pass though cement. His friends didn't even need to help, choosing to stand and watch.

Two solid minutes passed until I started to feel like I was finally coming down to earth. My clouded logic begun to clear and my breath intake went back to its regular pace.

"Please Namjoon... Let me go back there... I need to... I have to talk to... I must..."

"You're not going anywhere until you calm down and tell me what's happening."

"I'm... S-Suga... Hoseok... W-We... K-... Kangj-" Tears pooled at my eyes and I couldn't keep them in. 

It was all too much. 

I was only a small girl in an awfully wide, cruel world.

I couldn't keep things inside of me, locked.

I couldn't let myself drown in silence.

It was too much.

"He's going to kill them." I bawled out.

By my own device, I stopped pushing Namjoon away and rather clung to his clothes.

"Who... What? Who's going to kill who?" Namjoon tried to get the words out of me, but all I could do was to cry my desperation on his shoulder, fat tears wetting the fabric.

I felt a