“You have got to be kidding me.”

If I honestly wasn’t so tired and zazzed, I’d be as pissed as Jongin. But I was, so I just hid behind my best friend and watched him skillfully , reload and aim his gun with a single hand. My heart was beating loudly in my chest, so much so that I wished it could drown the raging footsteps I could hear from afar.

We were already at the parking lot. Jongin wrapped his arms around me firmly as we walked to his car. I could feel the exhaustion emanating from the both of us already, and we were just so adamant to get home and call it a day. But then came a couple bullets which missed us only by a few feet and the both of us instinctively crouched down and took cover. That was when Jongin got out his gun again and put me behind him.

“On the count of three, we stand up and you stay behind me. At all times. You understand?” He whipped his head to me with his eyes scanning our surroundings. “Wherever I face, you follow my back and stay. behind. me. Okay?”

I nodded, unable to do anything else. My best friend acknowledged it and started counting. “1……2…..3….UP!”

There were 7 shots. All with incredible precision. He fired 2 consecutive shots right as we stood up. Then he faced east and I quickly followed and stayed behind him as he fired one more bullet. Then he whipped us back and he let out 3 more, all with varying degrees and trajectories. Then he suddenly turned around in the next nanosecond, grabbed my waist with his other hand to get me behind him again and fired the last shot.

By the time it was over, there were no more footsteps; just men groaning in the distance. Jongin did that thing with his gun again where he checked his ammo with one hand before putting it away. Once both of his hands were free, I had all his attention again.

I wasn’t really sure what I looked like anymore, but whatever was on my face made Jongin visibly deflate – as if all the adrenaline left his system and he wrapped his arms around me. “Let’s go home.”

The whole the car ride was silent. I was feeling cold, to the point where my fingertips were going numb, but I didn’t dare look at –much less talk to– Jongin. My whole brain was still in some sort of haze. I was still feeling the shock from the attack that just happened, I didn’t know what to feel about the guy who did the nice gesture of giving me chocolate cake turning out to be an incredibly dangerous person, and I was still incredibly surprised at how involved Jongin was in all of this. My best friend for a good chunk of my life, holding a gun in his hand like it was his second skin. My Jongin had eyes that were made for shooting people with precision. He didn’t even tremble; not at all.

He has the ability to kill me if he wanted to.

Everything that transpired in the party had been forgotten at that moment. Only the last parts of my stay in that hotel (or outside of it, technically) remained clear amongst the haze of my thoughts and my feelings. I didn’t know what to make of it at all. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I knew I had to, somewhere, anywhere.

“It’ll just be a few minutes more and we’ll arrive at your place.” Jongin said beside me, his voice almost a whisper if it weren’t for the raspy-ness and exhaustion of his tone. We reached the last intersection before the street to my house and we were just waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

But I realized that that wasn’t where I wanted to go.

“I’m not going home.” I said while reaching for my phone in my pocket.

“What?” Jongin was evidently confused.

After sending a quick text to my sister that I’ll be staying at Jongin’s place, I faced him. “Let’s go to your apartment.”

“Look, you need some rest after–“

“I can rest there.” My words sounded a whole lot firmer than I thought they would. “But more importantly, Jongin? I need answers.”

I don’t care if he’s faculty, I’m ripping his balls off on Monday.

And you ing owe me, Sehun.

It seemed like he was going to owe a lot of people from then on, all for her. Seulgi was pissed about the commotion Baekhyun and his men caused inside the private room. He made sure to take care of the body and leave no stains behind. But that wasn’t nearly enough to make up for all the furniture and fixtures Baekhyun broke while fighting off the undermen who worked for the guy he shot.

After he handed over the girl to Jongin who whisked her away to safety, Baekhyun started knocking out men left and right. His favorite method was bashing their faces into the wall and slamming their bodies onto furniture and mirrors. It was all very effective, yes, but Seulgi also had all rights to be mad. They didn’t own that hotel, she (and Irene) did.

Don’t rip his balls just yet. We need him.

We?

He can do a lot of things. I’ll tell him he owes you all big time.

He’s also kind of a nut job.

Or else he’d still have your position in Seven Suns.

I’ll replace everything he broke. Don’t worry about it.

That seemed to placate Red Velvet’s leader. Sehun closed off his phone and tossed it on the counter as he drank the last of his vodka. He loved the slow burn in his throat. With nothing else in mind, he couldn’t help feeling settled by the fact that his plans were slowly being set in motion. Although he doubts that things will be just as smooth from here on out, he knows that as long as he has control over the situation, all of his expected outcomes will come true.

There was even more silence after my short conversation with Jongin. He didn’t say anything else after what I told him, and I thought he wasn’t going to give me what I wanted and just take me home, but we ended up not turning to my street and going straight to his. Once we were parked, he threw his gloves over at me before wearing his brown leather jacket.

Noticing my wondering glance at him, he meekly replied, “They’ve been cold since we left the hotel.” Somehow, even with the blatant cold, he could still make my cheeks warm up a little bit. I tried to ignore it as best as I can and observed a stern persona until we got to his door.

I’ve been to Jongin’s place before. Of course, being best friends have entailed that we become familiar to almost every single nook and cranny of each other’s lives. We’ve done sleepovers, dinners with and without our families, and every other event that transpires within our homes. Hence, I wasn’t surprised to see Jongin’s beige walls and dark wooden floor, his living room incredibly simple yet cozy looking with a worn out dark blue L-couch, the carpet underneath the coffee table that was softer than his poodles’ fur coats, and his minimalistic kitchen with a huge aisle which looked so clean it was obvious than he never cooked for himself.

The whole place felt warm and fuzzy, but the coiling in my stomach prevented me from completely relishing in the nostalgic vibes reverberating from the walls. Then in an instant, the events from the past hour or so came crashing back.  

Broad shoulders. Black hair. Guns. Lots of guns. Threats. Jongin.

I sat down.

I only noticed that Jongin disappeared to the bathroom when he was already on his way back to where I was, which was on his couch. Without any words between us, he bent down and took my legs before sitting next to me and placing my feet on his lap. He pulled off my socks and gently started massaging my feet – something he did when I was tired or when I needed to calm down.

Tonight, I was both. “Why did you never tell me that you knew how to use a gun?”

Jongin looked at me incredulously, as if asking why I wanted to start there with my questions. “I uh, I trained whenever I was in Busan. My uncle had his own shooting range.” Jongin switched to my other foot and started massaging it. “Then, I met someone.”

I stilled unexpectedly, and I knew Jongin noticed. He looked at my face thoughtfully, silently asking what’s wrong but I just shook my head. “And then?”

“His name was Kim Junmyeon.”

“His?”

“Yeah. But he goes by Suho hyung.”

“Okay.”

“You relaxed again.” I did?

Jongin laughed a little and had the nerve to smirk at me. “Did you think it was a girl?”

I could feel my cheeks warming up again little by little. I deadpanned, “Just keep going with what you were about to say. Who’s Junmyeon?”

His lingering gaze only stopped after a few seconds, and he finally continued. “He saw me doing my rounds at the shooting range and commended my accuracy. It was kind of weird, but I thanked him anyway and asked who he was. He insisted he was my uncle’s friend. Ever since