Chapter 9: Glinting

((Double update! Make sure to read Chapter 8 first…))

Sehun

            Jackson talked quite a lot.

            He also didn’t enter my apartment through the front door – he was always waiting beyond the glass of my bedroom window, his wolfish smile spread across his face. It had grown to become our routine, even as I gradually introduced the others as friends to my family through the conventional entrance. (That being the front door.)

            My father – my fake father – didn’t speak to me after that incident in the kitchen, which to be honest was a fact I rejoiced in. I was starting to get recurring headaches, and they were not very helpful when dealing with the homework that came with attending college.

            Training and classes consumed most of my life; what little free time I had left was dedicated to my friends – Baekhyun and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo and Jongin and Mindae. I eventually forgot about the tattoo on Haerin’s wrist. It didn’t seem important, anyway – over time, it had faded to a dull grey, so pale it almost blended into her skin tone, even when I was around. It didn’t bother her, either, as far as I could tell.

And so, I gradually fell into a carefully scheduled, rhythmic life.

            That was, until Jackson wound up in my bedroom with blood all over his shirt.

            It had been about a month since I’d first met the seven that were supposed to protect me, and our relationship had grown until, at the core, we were just a group of friends who shared a plethora of inside jokes – supernatural affiliations aside. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, studying for my upcoming exam with Jinyoung, while Jaebum was on my computer testing out the composing software he’d downloaded. It was early in the morning, and yet again my family had left a few hours ago with flimsy but unquestioned reasoning.

I was in the midst of reciting yet another definition when a series of sharp knocks, as fast and insistent as gunfire, sounded on my bedroom window. Jackson had no sense of discretion whatsoever, and usually swung into my room unannounced and usually uninvited. The fact that he was knocking was already a large indicator that something was very wrong.

That premonition was confirmed as Jaebum walked over and opened the window, and Jackson tumbled through, falling unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor with a strangled groan. He immediately curled himself into the fetal position on his side, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. When Jinyoung scampered to the light switch amidst Jaebum’s muffled swearing and flicked the main light on, I noticed a dark stain blossoming on the fabric of Jackson’s shirt, so large I wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

I slipped off the bed and walked over to where Jaebum was crouched next to Jackson, having already barked a list of medical supplies at Jinyoung. His ear was tilted towards the wounded guy’s mouth, and a look of worry, fear and intensity swirled in his eyes.

He stood up abruptly once I got within hearing range and fixed me with a glare of resolve. “Call the others,” he commanded, pointing towards where my phone lay on my bed for a brief second before reverting his attention to the bleeding boy on the ground.

“Haerin, too?”

“No,” Jaebum said firmly, so low the word came out an animalistic growl. “I know you two made a deal, but this is too dangerous to get a regular civilian involved. Hurry.”

I picked up my phone and proceeded to call Bambam, Yugyeom and Youngjae. By fluke, they all picked up – and, once they’d heard how wounded Jackson was, had agreed to be at my apartment in five minutes tops.

After Yugyeom hung up, I looked over to where Ji