Namjoon was a busy person. I got that. From the tailored suits for every event to the perfect slicked back do he maintained at all times, he was seen as a force to be reckoned with. And it gave me some kind of pride knowing that he was willing to cut time from his busy schedule to watch over me, have meals with me and give me advice on life. It was as if he was this omnipresent being that guided me through all the tribulations in my life.

Except, of course, when it came to V. In which case, all of the above no longer applied to that man and he just became the busiest man in town. Big Boss couldn’t even compete with this guy.

We had headed home right after our encounter with Jungkook. He'd told me that we’d go looking for him first thing tomorrow, then tomorrow came, and well. It’d been a week.

Every time I approached him, it was the same smile, the same “He’s going to be okay” talk, and next thing I knew, he was out of there.

And of course. I had to do everything myself.

                                                                   ***

“I know you know where he is.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

I watched him leaf through the pages of his ancient book. Unbothered.

Suga’s concentration didn’t even falter when I set foot in his library, which was already a shock in itself, and sauntered over to the grand table where he sat. There were numerous piles of aging reading material of varying heights surrounding him, rough looking manuscripts that had yellowed over time scattered across the table. I craned my neck to read the titles of some of them. Big, splotchy words headed the cover, in a language I thought to be Spanish. There was one that was entirely in cuneiform.

“That guy is like a dog,” he continued, “doesn’t matter what kind of beating he’d get, he will always end up running off to the same place. But then again, he sort of has this radar on him that lets him know if we’d actually look for him. Or, the more logical answer, he’s fully aware of the fact that none of us will ever be bothered to go there.”

He closed the book with a sigh. Studied my face.

“But I guess he forgot about you.”

                                                                                                                   ***

If anyone were to look at that old, run down building located at the lesser known, abandoned sleeve of the city, they’d have figured it was vacant—well, apart from the bums and other questionable creatures scowering about. And they’d be right, if they omitted room 5021, where a distressed dangerous young man had taken refuge.

I began climbing the stairs.

Back at the house it was understandable for Hoseok to try until his wit’s end to reason with me and discourage me from seeing him. He eyed me worriedly and I tried to not let that get to me. I told him I was going to be gone only for a few hours, squeezing his shoulder gently. Not that it comforted him in any way. He just gave me a look, with his brows furrowed and lips pursed.

“This wasn’t even my idea.” And I wasn’t lying.

Suga was partially responsible for my plan. Seeing how V would respond if I were to pop up to his little hidden burrow intrigued him. And whatever way I could get a green light for this, I'd accept it.“Look around the place for dead bodies if you feel the need to. You never know with that psycho.”

I set foot on the 4th floor and I had to grab onto the railing to catch my breath. I was almost embarrassed at how out of shape I was. After all, this was a huge shift from my sedentary lifestyle that I had adopted for myself back at the mansion.

I was internally coaxing myself to not sound too out of breath when I felt something light hit my head. A squeezed juice box was what bounced into view on the ground. I lifted my head, to see the person who was throwing their rubbish from above floors, only to be met with a stare from the distressed, dangerous young man that I knew all too well.

V perched his elbows on the railings. Rubbed his nose. “Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Did that hurt?”

“A bit.”

“Good.”

I idly rubbed my head. “Can I come see you?”

“Did the hobos follow you?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

There was a pause. Then he disappeared from the balcony and I heard him say, “Come see me then.”

V, in a worn out white shirt and sweatpants, held the door open for me as I entered his little apartment. The place looked very well-kept, and I was pleasantly suprised. The curtains were drawn giving it a more comfortable and cozy feel, there were even a few candles burning on the kitchen counter. It was as if I had entered a whole other building.

“Did you have someone over?”

He made a face and looked at me, amused. Ah, yes. Mental note of the day: people in hiding don’t usually prefer visitors.

And, as a complimentary side note: I wasn’t supposed to be there.

The small living room was smartly furnished with two chairs placed adjacent to a leather couch,  and a glass coffee table, almost making me feel under-dressed, only being clad in a grey hoodie, stressed jeans and sneakers.

V went to sit on the couch, beckoning me over.

I gingerly sat beside him, making sure there was ample space between us.

The silence that followed brought in a calming atmosphere rather than an awkward one. I could hear his slow breathing and he had his eyes closed. We didn’t need to talk just yet. I didn’t need to ask him when he’d b