A weekend at home was more like a confinement for the 17-year-old teen. Because of his sprained ankle, his parents refused to let him take as much as a footstep outside of the house. Namjoon suspected that if they could get their way, they would restrain him to his bed and feed him every six hour or so. But instead of being worried about him, they were more concerned about the furniture around him. Namjoon didn't know whether he should be relieved or distraught about it.

His sleep unfortunately had been disturbed one day.

He grunted in his half-conscious state, annoyed at the stream of light dawning on his face, which was covered by a blanket. He wondered if he actually had left the light on during his late-night reading when he heard the faint rustling of papers and a deep sigh. He ripped the cloth out of his sight.

He wasn't completely surprised to see a pale skinned apparition occupying his study desk.

"Oh, you're finally awake," stated Yoongi, his eyes didn't leave the screen of his portable computer and his forefinger stayed propped on one of the lines in his book. "You look terrible by the way."

Namjoon ignored the older boy's insult and went after a digital clock on his nightstand, squinting his eyes at it. Sure enough, the green digits stared back at him, showing that it was almost seven. There was a short pause in the room before Namjoon yelled.

"WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE, HYUNG? WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!" his voice boomed, startling Yoongi to the point of him kicking a dustbin with his toes. Yowling, the senior dropped to the carpeted floor with a thud.

"I love you and all, man but I'm not going to have so much as a scratch on my school record!" addressed Namjoon to the curling Yoongi as he lunged for his towel.

Ignoring the ache shooting up his nerves, he jumped past Yoongi. He knew that he would be on the receiving end of Yoongi's glare and yelling after this but he would've to worry about that later.

Just as Namjoon slammed the door to the bathroom shut, Jimin came up the floor landing with an orange juice in hand. The younger boy arched his eyebrows when he saw a glimpse of his older friend looking every bit like a mad man, his eyes wild, and there was a dried trail of saliva on his left cheek. Jimin wondered if this was another latest trend his hyung was experimenting because if it was, girls were insane for digging into it.

"What's up with him?" asked Jimin as he walked into Namjoon's bedroom, glancing down at Yoongi, who had a big scowl on his face as he rubbed his sore toes. The older boy didn't bother replying to the inquiry as he continued tending to his toes, muttering, "Bloody vandal."

Jimin hummed in response as he went over the laptop with an enthusiastic skip in his steps, drinking the orange juice and leaning forward to read the typed words on the screen, apparently accustomed to the situation. It was how the friendship between the two older boys worked—Yoongi would called Namjoon a cumbrous fool, and the exact words would jinxed him back as he suffered the aftermath of Namjoon's astonishing capability.

Jimin's eyes wandered around his senior's utensils that occupied the surface of the table; the books laid opened with small pin-up notes at every corner of the pages and eraser dusts scattered across them. His fingers started to trace the lines of the keyboard, feeling the heat of the smooth metal that usually came after a long use.

Sometimes, he wondered if all of his hyung's efforts was worth it when he missed so much for a guy his age.

"Ok, what did I tell you about not touching my stuff?" said Yoongi, pulling Jimin by the back of his collar and dumping him on the unmade bed. "I don't need another idiot accidentally delete my work again."

"Oh? Do you mean Yongjun?" asked Jimin with an incriminating tone as he snatched a completed rubic cube beside the digital clock and examined the toy, subconsciously wondering how on earth Namjoon could finish it.

Rip!

Jimin lifted his head to look at the cursing Yoongi as he threw a torn blank paper behind his back, causing the other boy to snigger uncontrollably.

If everyone was to have an Achilles heel, Yongjun would be Yoongi's.

Sighing, Yoongi rested his back against the chair and took a long drink from Jimin's glass, disregarding the sound of disapproval coming from Jimin. "He is being more annoying."

"Why is that?" asked Jimin mindlessly, uninterested. He had interacted with the mentioned man long enough to know that his intentions meant well. Yoongi pretended to not notice it though.

"Dunno," said Yoongi with a shrug, his hands were working quick at tidying up the desk and throwing away the stray papers he deemed useless. He didn't see the point of studying if he couldn't concentrate properly anyways; something had been nagging at the back of his mind from morning, but whenever he tried to ignore his twisted mind, it would only came back powerfully and distracted his studies.

Maybe I've been working too hard, he thought dismissively.

"Hey, where are you going?" called Jimin, lifting his brows in question at Yoongi, who was already at the door.

"Fresh air." said Yoongi simply without a look at him, and Jimin nodded in understanding, sinking back down on the wobbly mattress as he let his hyung be.

Once the younger heard the sound of the door clicking shut, he shot up from his current position to lean his ear against the wooden door, waiting for the sound of footsteps moving further away from the room. After a while, he hurried to the window and saw his senior at the front yard, closing the gate and making his way for the other side of the street. A sly smile crept on the watcher's lips.

"Sorry, man; I thought it was morning already—oh, Jimin?"

Namjoon stood half- with a towel around his waist, surprised to find Jimin at his desk instead of Yoongi. Did they swapped places or something?

Jimin turned to Namjoon with a foolish grin, beckoning him over. Curious, Namjoon walked over and looked to the laptop on Jimin's lap. If he remembered correctly, it looked exactly like Yoongi's. A thought popped into his mind, and he gave the grinning idiot a look.

"Dude, that's Min Yoongi's laptop," he emphasized on the said boy's name.

"Exactly," piped Jimin, swiping a hand across the keyboard, as if it was his precious item to success. "Who knows what he keep inside this, hmm?"

Namjoon had to admit that the offer was tempting. He had never seen Yoongi doing anything but studying and completing his student body presidential tasks. As far as he could see, Yoongi could be the only one who wouldn't spend his day fooling around and downloading illegal videos to satiate their inner needs.

Which reminded him...

"Hellooo?" Jimin snapped his finger under Namjoon's nose. "Earth to Namjoon-hyung. What are you standing, gaping around for?"

The taller boy struggled to form a coherent word, swallowing down his saliva as he tried to vanquish the terrible, terrible thoughts from his mind.

"Uh, nothing important," coughed Namjoon. Clearing his throat, he weakly inched his way for the drawer to grab a random choice of wardrobe.

Neglecting the weird response, the other boy focused back on the screen, manipulating the arrow around and pressing the Internet Explorer. He tried to look through the history chart, and much to his disbelief, he found nothing there except latest news articles and music downloading sites.

Goodness, he shook his head, how nerdy can he be?

However, he wasn't going to give up yet, and so he resorted for the Google page, and much to his luck, Yoongi had logged in his email account. Therefore Jimin didn't waste a second and clicked on the inbox icon. Fantasies of his hyung having an online dating swam inside his head as he skimmed through the list of received messages.

"Give it up, will you?" called Namjoon from his place on the bed, fully clothed this time with his arms supporting the weight of his head.

Jimin scoffed, indicating a disagreement, his shoulders were hunched over the device and his eyes were wide in search for any juicy info. Not long after, he let out a long irritated huff, dropping his arms to his sides and was about to announce his defeat when a notification appeared on the screen, indicating that he had received an email.

"I got mail," declared Jimin as he stared intently at the name of the sender; a swirl of glee and curiosity in his eyes.

"Exciting," commented Namjoon nonchalantly.

"And it's from Chanmi-noona."

That caught his attention. He propped his elbows up and share the same doubtful expression with Jimin. Regardless of that, they both reacted differently to it as Namjoon opened his mouth to protest while Jimin simply clicked the mouse.

"You know you just made your death wish, right?" grumbled Namjoon, palming his face.

"And you're being dramatic," retorted Jimin with a roll of his eyes. "But since we both know that you're curious too, I'm going to read it out loud."

Ignoring the annoyed muttering coming from the older guy, he leaned forward and read the words carefully, his eyes broadening as he tried to connect the dots in his head. Chanmi did indeed send an email but he was certain that she didn't write it and of course that didn't mean that he wasn't unnerved by it.

My name is Ahn Mari. I love playing hide-and-seek with my friends. I would always be the winner. When I became ten years old, they had forgotten to call me out from hiding and accidentally locked me in my hiding place—a box. After hundreds of years, I still like to play the game but this time, I get to take my friends' eyes.

And at the below of the chilling words was a message from the sender herself:

Apparently you should send this to 13 other people or your life will be haunted by this 'Mari'. Quite interesting, no?

Easy for her to say when Jimin was already sweating in anxiety. He could practically feel another being breathing down his nape.

The being, however, was Namjoon, and he was squinting his eyes at the screen, scoffing at it. He wasn't the most courageous man out there but he still had enough common sense to not actually believe it.

"Yo—" he reached a hand for Jimin's shoulder.

Smash!

"Oh...shoot."

Despite the fact that the entertainment site had been closed for the night, two suspicious beings had yet to leave the premise, performing some sort of ritual in the dead of the night.

"Just a bit more."

A sharp hiss of pain quickly followed after that.

"This is going to hurt."

"OW!"

"Oh, shush. You're making a big deal out of this, Jumie-shi. You know what they say—Pain means beauty."

The girl's jaw went slacked at the stylist, regretting her prior decision of letting the co-worker experimenting her newest make-up style on her. God only knew how she had never thought of taking care of her facial details.

Jumie was about to reach up a hand to scratch an itchy spot on her face, when the stylist slapped it away, ignoring completely the girl's cry of pain. "Didn't I tell you to not pick on your pimple before?" she scolded.

"I'm not!"

The woman stopped her work and gave the girl a stern look. "Well, if you don't, then why is your face getting worse to look at?"

The girl reluctantly admitted guilty as a sheepish smile stretched the corners of her lips.

The woman sighed and continued pulling the stray strands of Jumie's eyebrows; authority oozing out of her tone. "You really need to start growing up, Jumie-shi. Besides, what is a girl without a face?"

Hesitating, Jumie knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "A girl, you mean?"

It wasn't long after when the back door swung open as the two ladies emerged out. The younger of the two spun around, facing the clearing, her awkward posture clearly stated that she was waiting for the other as she locked the place up. Even though both wouldn't be walking home together, Jumie still thought that it was the least she could do after the torture—facial treatment she had received.

She hugged her arms, holding tightly to the sleeves of her blouse. She felt different. For the first time, her hair was pinned up, revealing the back of her neck for the first time to the cool air.

"Finally!"

The sudden, loud male voice shocked them. The usually calm stylist dropped her keys while Jumie looked around in confusion. Who on earth would be walking around at this hour? They grew alarmed to see a male stampeding towards them, looking quite frightening with his pale face illuminated by the dim street light.

Jumie always told herself that she wasn't afraid of anything in this world. But the way she skittered behind the woman's told her that she was terrified...

...and hurt to see Min Yoongi's face.

I'm sure that a lot of you are mad at me. Hehe. Bear with me, people!

I swear Bts-Run is a masterpiece. I would like to read a fanfic that depicts the MVs. Do share with me if you have any fictions in mind...And somehow, troublemakers Bts is making me blush...haha

I haven't done this before but let's wish Kim Seokjin a wonderful 23th birthday!