#like twenty minutes before gametime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deluxewhump · 22 days

Text

Gameday

Early/middle-ish timeline Z2. Zee is taken to a football game and left out in extreme heat.

CW: BBU, deliberate neglect, collared, tied, overheating, heat exhaustion, alcohol, complicit caretaker

It wasn’t until Sunday that Alex would learn all the details of what happened the previous afternoon. He’d been with Claire all day on Saturday, until he left to go to the game. It was August— the start of football season. Fall classes started Monday, and he’d had Claire on his mind lately. He hadn’t seen much of her over the summer, but she seemed as eager to meet back up as he was.

Later, he told himself that was why Zee hadn’t been on his mind at all that day. It didn’t make him feel better.

He didn’t notice that Zee wasn’t there when he stopped off for a change of clothes at the house. He decided to leave his car and Uber, giving him free rein to drink.

He got to the stadium twenty minutes before the game was set to start, the Panthers versus New Sovereignty. It was nearing ninety eight degrees without so much as a gentle breeze to alleviate the oppressive heat. The sun beat down on his head the moment he stepped out of the car, and he could feel a sheen of sweat on his face only a few steps later.

Outside the stadium was a large fountain that was dyed green every St Patrick’s day. Around it, grassy squares were sectioned off with sidewalks. Despite kickoff approaching, there were still throngs of people walking towards the entrance, in line for the various food trucks, and tailgating near their vehicles or under canopy tents.

Paul had texted him that they’d be under one such tent until gametime, and gave him vague directions to find it. He almost walked right by it, but recognized Tyler’s matching set of hot pink camping chairs that usually sat outside on the back porch. It looked like everyone had already cleared out for the game, except some guy he didn’t recognize who was sitting directly next to a bluetooth speaker, beer in hand. He looked wasted, sunglasses askew on his head and his face red from the inescapable heat of the afternoon.

“They head in?” Alex asked him, gesturing to the stadium.

The guy nodded along to the music, but more exaggeratedly so, as a yes to his question. He wouldn’t have seen Zee at all if he hadn’t stopped to open one of the coolers and grab a beer. When he did, he dropped it right back into the cooler. That it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been was only due to the fact that he’d arrived when he had. Another hour or two and it would have been much worse.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping outside the canopied shade and into the direct heat again. He bent to his knees beside Zee.

Zee flinched away.

“Hey,” Alex said. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

Recognition filled not only Zee’s eyes but his entire posture. He was sitting on the ground, in the sun, wearing long pants, a thick jersey, and a football helmet of all things. Alex pried it off, noticing how his hair was as drenched as if he’d just stepped out of a shower and how red his face was. He had on his thick collar, and a slim cord of climbing rope was tied from the ring to a stake in the ground.

He tried to pull the stake but it didn’t budge. He gave that up quickly, going instead for the knots around the collar. They were tight, and his fingers were slick from the drink he’d taken out of the cooler. He wiped them on his pants and tried again, leaning in and using his teeth to start loosening the knot. He was beginning to wonder if by some miracle he’d find a knife anywhere when it came loose, and he was able to untie it. The rope fell from the collar and he stood up, dragging Zee backwards under his arms into the shade of the tent.

“What the hell is this?” he asked over his shoulder. The only other occupant of the tent was still drinking, still oblivious to everything but his music. He looked their way and shrugged innocently.

Zee lay on his back as Alex reached into the cooler and pulled out a handful of ice. He opened Zee’s right hand and placed it inside, bringing it to his face for him. Zee got the idea and held it against his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. His whimper of relief made Alex’s stomach lurch with useless anger. He rummaged in the cooler for water, but found none. He opened a second one and dug through the ice with the same results.

“Is there nothing but Coors goddam lite in here?” he asked the straggler, who leaned forward and pointed at a third cooler underneath a folding table. He opened it to the blessed sight of bottled water. After pulling Zee back to a sitting position he held it to his mouth to let him drink. Zee dropped the ice and grabbed at the bottle, squeezing it inelegantly so water went not only into his mouth but down his chin and the front of his shirt. Alex peeled the thick polyester jersey from his ribs and up over his head. Zee seemed glad to be rid of it, and leaned back against one of the coolers, half naked and breathing deep deliberate breaths.

"I couldn't get that knot untied," he said. "It was too tight."

He knew better than to ask Zee any questions. He’d likely not get much of an answer. After his first few admissions regarding Cam, he learned quickly that sharing details among the brothers resulted in arguments, and that discord always returned to him eventually, with him painted as some sort of snitch.

“You’re okay,” he said instead. “You’re good now, Zee. It’s okay.”

Inside the stadium, the band began to play. The words of the announcers were too far to make out, but they echoed across the hot air. He picked an icecube off the grass and circled it over Zee’s face. Zee closed his eyes.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re still sweating,” he said, and Zee nodded as he took another swig of water. He let Alex feel his pulse with untrained fingers, unsure exactly what to look for but compelled to do it anyway. It felt fast. He got up and cast a glance around the tent. The remaining guy was probably too drunk for the game, and volunteered to stay behind with Zee and everyone’s belongings. Zee wasn’t much of a guard on his own if he was tethered to the grass outside the tent like a dog. Except if it was a dog, he thought bitterly, some passerby probably would’ve noticed and helped it by now.

“Hey!” the would-be guard frowned as Alex began rummaging through belongings.

“Shut the fuck up,” returned Alex.

After searching two bags of items that were no use to him, he pulled a handheld mechanical fan from a third. He returned to Zee and held it in front of his face, the tiny blades whirring and blowing his sweat-drenched hair with cool air. For the first time since he’d found him, Zee looked at him directly. A mixture of relief and something else was in his eyes. What that other thing was, Alex wasn’t sure. It might have been where were you? Or perhaps I told you so. Maybe he imagined it entirely, because with his next breath Zee thanked him so earnestly he found himself shushing him and getting a new piece of ice to run over his skin.

“There’s an ambulance by the entrance,” he said, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than Zee was shaking his head weakly. Alex held the ice midair.

“I can ask them to look at you,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go anywhere with them.”

Still Zee shook his head. “M’okay,” he whispered. He took another swig of water. After second thought, he dumped the rest over the top of his head and closed his eyes. Alex kept the fan on him.

“Do you feel sick?”

“Not now. Just hot.”

When Alex took out his phone to call another Uber, he noticed two missed calls from Paul, probably asking where he was. He had no doubt Paul was one of the ones in the tent who abandoned their boxboy in the heat to go inside. He ignored them, and chose the soonest available pickup. He couldn’t bring himself to put Zee back in the thick jersey he’d found him in, and told him to wait while he walked to a nearby vendors tent and bought him a cotton tshirt. He didn’t think Zee would appreciate being paraded through a crowded event shirtless with that thick collar locked around his neck, even just to get to the curb for the driver. He couldn’t say he would relish the attention, either.

In a crisp New Sovereigns tee, he walked dutifully beside Alex to meet their car. Alex opened the door and let him climb inside first before going into the backseat after him. Zee sat in the middle and slumped over into the far seat, his head pressing against the door.

“Hey,” Alex muttered automatically to the driver. To his dismay, the driver looked in the rearview and turned around, beaming.

“Alex!”

He recognized Alexander Katz from biology lab and forced his mouth into a friendly smile. In that class, Alex was Clair and Alexander was Katz. “You’re missing the game,” Alex said, automatically making casual conversation. It made the entire situation feel worse, somehow.

“Ah, I need a few extra bucks,” answered Alexander. “You’re gonna miss it too, though, by the looks of it.”

Yeah, boxboy duty. My friends left him tied to a stake in record-breaking heat. “My buddy’s drunk,” he lied. “I volunteered to take him back to the house.”

Alexander rolled his eyes knowingly. “Heard that,” he said, and consulted his side mirror before pulling out into the street. He had to stop for a throng of polo-wearing boys and their cowboy-booted counterparts to cross, headed for the stadium. Alex took the opportunity to check on Zee like one might check on an egregiously drunk friend. He was awake and breathing normally now, and Alex noticed he had pulled his new shirt up to hide his collar.

After fifteen minutes of slow gameday traffic and painful smalltalk with Alexander, the car arrived on their residential street near campus, only a mile and a half from the stadium.

Alexander reached back for a fistbump and offered a helping hand with his drunk buddy. Alex declined, saying he was still good enough to walk, just blacked out. Zee played his part, keeping his shirt lifted to hide the collar and looking like a wasted college student might as he stumbled out into Alex’s arm and let him guide him to the front steps. He dropped the shirt the moment Alexander was out of the driveway and stood up straighter, decidedly less drunk-looking. Alex felt more shame than gratitude that he’d played the part he was assigned so willingly. Even in the state he was in, after what he’d just been through. Just to save him some hypocritical sense of embarrassment.

The house was cool. The airconditioning was on, and fans spun lazily in the high ceilings. Zee headed straight for the shower, but Alex asked him to wait. He did so, staring stone faced at the floor as Alex took the stairs two at a time. He returned with his copy of the key he’d negotiated from Cameron, and unlocked the collar so it fell away from Zee’s sweaty neck. He rubbed at the indentation it left, but said nothing.

“Go,” Alex nudged. With his permission, Zee continued to the downstairs bath and turned on the shower.

He sat on the couch for a full five minutes with his elbows on his knees, staring at the muted television. The game they’d just left was on. He couldn’t help but watch for Dominic.

Zee came out of the shower and sat on the sofa, on the opposite end, as far as he could have possibly sat from him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Alex asked gently.

“You saw it,” he said blamelessly.

“Who tied you out like that?”

He was reluctant. “…Does it matter?”

Alex couldn’t look at him. If he pushed, Zee would tell him. But he was right. It didn’t matter who specifically. It was a group effort. He watched the Panther’s coach spat on the ground and make a frustrated hand gesture in the direction of the field. Not one quarter in and the home team was pulling far ahead, just as Alexander had predicted in the car.

“I guess not. Where is Cameron?”

Zee shrugged. With both Alex and Dominic gone, Cameron was Zee’s last line of defense, as dubious as that was. It seemed to be working lately, as much as Alex hated to admit it.

“You can catch most of the game if you go now.”

He forced himself to look at their boxie. He looked better now, if tired and a little sunburned on his forearms. At least that heavy jersey they’d had him in had protected him from more of that. “I’m not going to the game.”

“I’m fine now. Thank you.”

“I’m staying here, Zee. I don’t care about the game.”

They watched in silence as the camera panned the crowd.

“Do you want to come with me tonight? I’m going to Claire’s house.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t need to be babysat. Cam will be back soon.”

“That’s not why I offered. Claire likes you. I thought you might want a change of scenery tonight. I’d like you to come with me.”

Zee laid sideways on the sofa, much like he had in the back of the Uber. “Okay.”

Alex stood up. “You need some gatorade, or a snack or something.”

Since it wasn’t a question, Zee offered no reply. And as always when it came to Alex, no resistance.

#bbu #heat whump #complicit caretaker #fits alex better than carewhumper i think #alcohol mention #Alex and Zee #I never give my whumpees medical attention because I don’t know what I’m talking about <3 #you understand #I just fixed like eight typos that didn’t exist before I swear

61 notes · View notes

oceanotides · 8 years

Text

Sᴄɪɴᴛɪʟʟᴀ

Pʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ

« “Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjust his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

“Kooks, you need some fresh air?”, you asked tensely, aiming at the doors your rival gang was supposed to come out of, testing what weapon you’d use, “’cause you’ll get a whole lot of it.”

“Y/N, cut it off. I swear to god, I’m going to kill you all if we get out of this alive.”, and again, quiet chuckling was audible through the comm – until the defeaning, irritating sound of the sirens boomed through the streets, shaking through your body as they drowned out everything else. »

ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ: yoongi x reader

ｇｅｎｒｅ：gang!au, thepurge!au, angst, fluff

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： mentions of blood and death, a LOT of statements inspired by movies and books, content may be confusing

ｉｎｓｐｉｒｅｄ　ｂｙ： @lets-go-north ‘s the purge vine, lover, fighter and meet me on the battlefield by svrcina, bts x the purge by saera kim, bts // the purge by polarisdreams & bts x monsta x by datjimilly

ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ： 8,532

ａ／ｎ： i really recommend watching all the videos and listening to the songs mentioned above - just so you get the vibe!

remember back in spring ‘16 where i had announced i’d write some thepurge!au? no? well, anyways, i’ve finally done it and here it is. be prepared because i didn’t take a second look at it, so there may be a few grammar mistakes. btw, i’m dead, i’ve written this on a single day and the way it ends is kind of awful, so let me know if you’d want me to write an alternative ending and, as always, what you think about the whole story. if anyone even reads that damn long oneshot, lol. anyways, here you go!

A fresh breeze whistled around your ears. The petrichor; the world’s smell caused by the sky crying its eyes out, lingered in the air. The soft rain dampened your face and your eyelashes tickled your eyelid crease as you rolled your eyes and laughed out loud at the joke Jin had just made which actually wasn’t funny at all. Life was more tolerable for a moment.

The small backyard you were sitting in had always seemed calming to you. The high and grey brickstone wall entrenched you and gave you the small amount of privacy you needed whenever you felt like being alone, spending your noons organising your thoughts – in case you found time to do so in between all the things on your to-do list.

The rusty lawn chair Taehyung was sitting in made a nerve-wrecking noise as he got up, walking towards the brick house the backyard belonged to and you thought about following him but thinking about what day it was made you stay in your place, messily scribbling things you thought of as essential for tonight down onto a piece of paper.

Clanking noises which sounded suspiciously like the beverage bottles existing in abundance at the headquarter’s kitchen came from inside, reminding you of how thirsty you actually were and of how you’d need to stay hydrated for the event nearing.

“Tae? Bring me a desperados, will you?”, you called.

It didn’t take long for him to answer with the ‘When will you finally learn that you veritably have your own legs’ that was ridiculously characteristic of the currently brown-haired guy you happened to call a best friend of yours. Consequently you weren’t exactly surprised as he crossed the threshold, entering the yard again with some bottles in his hands.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on getting drunk.”, you said, looking at the seven bottles he was putting down on the small table you, Jin, Jungkook and Namjoon were sitting at. The lemonade he had been holding under his arm in order not to go twice followed suit and he fell back into the black chair he had claimed as his.

“Correct”, Namjoon agreed, putting the files he had been reading onto the brown ebony. Some drops of sweat covered his forehead, barely noticeable, yet somehow sticking out to you. It was a unusual hot day and the sun was illuminating the firmament with its last rays – spring was nearing its end and summer was to follow.

“Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin said they’ll be here soon,”, he opened his bottle, the label reading pepsi, took a huge sip and flipped his hair back, “at 6:30, to be exact.”

His eyes settled on you when you crossed your arms and leaned forward, furrowing your eyebrows in thought as you took a sip, too, then focusing on what you had written down till now.

Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok were a weird trio: one of them was most sarcastic person you had ever met; the other one probably the cutest; yet most dangerous person in this town while the latter managed to be the most positive human being in spite of his job as an assassin. Yoongi was a year older than you and you had become friends in your junior year when the both you were paired for a chemistry project.

Min Yoongi, the most intimidating guy out of all the people in your grade – scratch that, in the whole school. He didn’t even bother to give a shit, neither about other’s opinions nor about his grades that had caused him to repeat the junior year. The only reason for him not getting kicked out was Mrs Peterson, and, to be completely honest, you hadn’t been able to unterstand her back then. Maybe it was his ultra sarcastic attitude she relished – but had that been reasonable?

No, not at all. You hadn’t known him that well and at that point, you didn’t really want to, either. Your brother was his age and consequently shared a few classes with him. From what he had told you, Yoongi was no guy who liked to make friends. “He doesn’t even like to meet people.”, your brother said on a Friday evening when the two of you had been eating dinner together, watching one of your favorite series. You had helped him finish an assignment earlier that day since your parents weren’t home, as usual. But let’s not talk about that.

However, being absent thinking about what you had used to think about Yoongi, you hadn’t noticed him, Jimin and Hoseok entering the backyard.

Only when he draped a black hoodie around your shoulders you blinked, recognizing the three boys. Jimin looked at you with an excited smile on his face which partially disgusted and partially amused you.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Today was different from all the other times the eight of you hung out together. The mood seemed chill but you knew better than that, being close with the boys for more than a year now. What seemed to be joyful actually was gloomy; what seemed to be carelessness was worry about what was going to happen today, about what was going to happen tonight – tonight defined as the period of time starting in less than a hour. Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ, 7:00ᴘᴍ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ Aᴘʀɪʟ 22ɴᴅ, 7:00ᴀᴍ. America’s 7thPurge was going take place tonight.

You looked at the dark brown haired boy you had grown to respect and like so much sitting across the table, unfolding a map on it. The dimples he caused to show up when he was smiling were a perfect cover for what, who he actually was.

At the age of twenty-one, he was ruling one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Angeles, and whole LA to be honest. Rumors had it that he had cameras installed around the whole city and knew what was happening everywhere before anyone else was even capable of doing something. Of course the whole camera-thing was not true – well, not completely at least. And moreover he was not nearly as hostile as everyone thought, but incredibly smart and powerful instead.

Powerful was his voice as he spoke up to tell you about tonight’s plans, taking a look at his watch attached to his wrist.

“It’s 6:37pm.”, he said, giving the three boys who had just sat down a stern glance, before continuing. “However, we’re left with 23 minutes to discuss and prepare for tonight which is not a lot of time at all so I’ll just wrap it up.

I won’t have to tell you guys that us being a gang of more or less criminals makes us an outsticking target. Adding to that, Taehyungie here has taken it upon himself to defy Dom..inic at school which makes it highly likely for his gang to aim their guns at us tonight.”, he smirked, adding “what I would’ve done, too, by the way.” before making the boys turn toward you who had just pulled everything you’d need onto the table.

Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ 6:48:34ᴘᴍ, 11 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀɴᴅ 26 sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴜʀɢᴇ

The car ride to the place Hoseok located Dom’s gang to be was as silent as the streets outside, the only sounds audible Jin and Namjoon going through the plan over and over again and Jungkook and Jimin chewing bubblegums while guiding Hoseok through the city.

It was rare to see all the downtown places that were usually busy all day and night deserted like this. There was not a single soul walking on the pavement or hiding in a dark alley. Normally you’d have enjoyed the view – you didn’t like crowded places, but knowing the reason for the emptiness was much less satisfying. Different from most of the people you were out tonight because you had to; and, on top of that, you’d never let any of your friends go out on their own, not tonight.

So there you were, leaning against somebody’s side, nervously playing with the ripped threads of your denim jacket, not caring about how it was just causing the holes to get bigger and bigger; you were just trying not to make up any horrible scenarios that could happen to any of the seven guys you were sitting in the black van with.

You couldn’t afford losing any of them.

“You scared?”, Yoongi’s voice finally broke the heavy silence, sliding into your thoughts as smooth as a feather.

You scoffed in an attempt to seem more relaxed, but there was no point in that, obviously not.

“To say the least. Of course I am.”

He shifted under you, a skinny arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“I am, too.”

There was a short moment of silence (again) before he spoke up again.

“But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

And to be honest, in any other situation you would have believed him, but right now you weren’t sure whether he was saying that to convince you or to convince himself. Yet though something, maybe it was the way he gave you the feeling of being protected by wrapping his arm around you, made you relax a bit.

You were squatting, taking cover in a small alley behind a trash dumpster. Visible in front of you was an abandoned warehouse downtown. The place looked totally rundown, but there were gleaming silver chains latched to the huge doors and you were pretty sure this is the place. You eyed the doors warily as you mumble “Where are we?” while holding your hand to your ear, speaking over the comm system attached to it.

It didn’t take a single second for Jimin to answer as he murmured “I don’t know, but whatever this is, I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Yeah well I’m good. It’s nothing”, Jins voice was dripping with sarcasm so obviously, you could literally hear the drops falling.

You identified the next voice speaking as Taehyung saying, “Oh honestly. Come on guys, it’s not that scary.”

The speakers attached to each and every of LA’s inersections made a somewhat creaking noise.

“Yo Y/N, you’re freaking out over there, ain’t you?”, Namjoon chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “No.”

“Yeah you are.”, Yoongi and Taehyung agreed simultaneously and you didn’t need to look at their positions on the opposite side of the street and on top of the old cinema to see that they were grinning.

“I said no.”

“Listen, man, it takes-“

“Woman.”, you corrected him.

“What?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Well whatever. However, it takes a grown man-“

“-woman!”

“…to embrace their feelings. If you want to cry, just go ahead and cry.”

Quiet laughter and chuckles were shared through the comm, and, once again, you felt a bit lighter.

“No but listen Y/N, as your friend you know I’m concerned about your well-being –“

“Oh listen can’t you just chill out, man?”, you imitated his habit of adding man to every sentence when Hoseok spoke up.

“Listen guys, I’ve seen some crazy shit but among all the things we’ve done, this is definitely an outcast so let’s just try to keep it as lowkey as possible. And always remember – oh my, honestly Tae? You’re playing crossy road right now?!”

There was a moment of silence and, indeed, the typical crossy road noise of the chicken bumping into a truck - boof! – was audible, making you shake your head as you actually smiled because oh my god, this kid.

“So obviously Tae’s not as tense as me right now, but would somebody mind to walk me through what we’re supposed to be doing?”, Jungkook snapped.

“Oh come on Kooks, this was your plan, you gotta embrace it.”, you said, now finally relaxing and preparing for what was going to come.

“No, jumping off a rooftop onto Domincs – emphasis on Dominic – was not my plan. Taehyung –“

His sentence was cut off by the booming, penentrating bass sound of the speakers you had grown to hate so much and from that moment on, all of your senses slowly returned to you and your heartbeat increased incredibly fast.

Blue light was illuminating the streets as the projection screen at the crossing lit up, displaying the oh-so-familiar text of the purge’s announcement. You unintentionally whispered the words yourself as the cold voice of the woman sounded through the alleys and streets down to venice beach.

“This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of ᴛʜᴇ Aɴɴᴜᴀʟ Pᴜʀɢᴇ sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ. All other weapons are restricted.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7am when ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ concludes.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.

May God be with you all.”

“Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjusting his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see all of them getting into position – Jungkook and Jimin on the warehouse’s rooftop, Tae on the first door in the parkade next to it, Hoseok and Jin adjusting their snipers and Namjoon putting the black mask you all wore on to cover his face. It had kind of become your special trademark, the soft fabric giving you the artificial feeling of personal privacy and anonymity. You knew it wouldn’t last for too long, the siren had sounded for the 4th time now, 2 times to go. In just a few seconds the streets would be filled with gunshots, screams and, most of all, blood. Even the smallest mistake; a wrong movement or a moment of negligence could be the cause for you to be buried tomorrow. You were aware of the fact that you were slightly exaggerating and just making your heart beat faster and faster, but you couldn’t help it.

The rush of adrenaline pumping through you made you feel invincible and as the siren boomed for the 6th and last time, the doors of the warehouse burst open.

Just to make things more clear, you thought you had been prepared for any and everything possible – fist fights, gun fights, a wild chase – but you definitely didn’t expect Dominic and the rest of his gang to drive a..how to describe it?

The thing they were driving out the doors with resembled a team bus but it was longer and higher and it’s tires were the ones of a truck but twice the size, at least. It’s license plate read 1-800-FUCK-OFF instead of any valid number and, to be honest, you thought of it as a little bit funny, but right now you had much more important things to care about, for example a man covered in black sticking his head out of one of the black mirrored windows, positioning a MG3 machine gun.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”, you heard yourself saying as you ducked in order not to get shot, “Jungkook, where are you!?”, you screamed, firing your gun once, twice.

“What!? You want me to jump on a fucking killer truck!?”

You considered explaining the situation to him but, seeing how Jimin pushed Jungkook to the warehouse’s edge and then jumped down with him, it wasn’t necessary anymore. More importantly the truck with Jimin and Jungkook on it was threatening to speed away while Namjoon was giving orders. You need to do something, you told yourself before an idea popped up in your head and you cut Namjoon off.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but we’re going to lose them if we continue hiding like this! I’m going in right now”, you shouted.

In the next second you were jumping over the dumpster, securely landing on the concrete of N Los Angeles St; your weapons safely tucked away in your backpack, the silenced sniper rifle’s material cold against your cheek as you tried your best to stand still and slow your breath.

“Fuck this.”, you sighed in defeat as you angrily threw a stone against the target you were supposed to hit with your bullets. 50 minutes had passed and the bost shot you’ve made had hit the target’s nonexistent hair. Great, even the stone didn’t miss it – but you, attempting to shoot it with a sniper rifle? Never. Never ever were you going to get this.

“Fuck what?”, Yoongi appeared next to you, crooked his head and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to answer.

You pointed at the 480 cheytac dangling off your shoulders, to the target and then to you, “all of this.”

“Well, as welcoming that invitation is, I’d rather not sleep with you in a…training center.”

You sneered, “very funny. It’s just that I can’t seem to get a good shot and I’ve been trying for about an hour and ugh.”

“Yeah, well, you have never used a sniper rifle before, either, not to mention a 480 cheytac which is fairly hard to handle.”

“Oh, wow. Yoongi, this is the literal first time you’ve been kind toward me.”, you said out loud. Realising what you had just confessed you quickly managed to continue speaking, “what about shooting that target over there –“, you pointed at one which was pretty far away, all the way on the other side of the gym,”and showing me how to do it?”

He chuckled, “sure.”, and took the rifle out of your hands, his right eye closed as he turned to the side. Despite his character, his looks were …wow, they were amazing. The sharp jawline of his, his pale skin in contrast to his pink lips – a silent swish stopped you from keeping to drool over him and you watched the silver bullet smoothly hitting the target’s brain as he turned to you, the satisfaction of his success prominent in his facial expression.

“Told you.”, he said mockingly; caused you to roll your eyes.

“See, all you have to do is hold it like this.”, he put the rifle down only to take your hands in his, wrapping them around the sniper, aiming at the fake body in front of you. His warm breath tickled the side of your neck as he explained, “control your breath and focus on nothing else but the target.”, he watched you do so. “A sniper is characterized by their few but precious and unerring shots. If you shoot, you have to strike whomever you want to kill or hurt, whatever. There’s no such thing as a second chance – it’s like this all or nothing shit. So stay concentrated.”

You nodded, correcting your aim while you kept your left eye shut. The target’s head was the only clear outline right now, everything else being blurry. The small target cross covered the target’s brain, “now shoot.”,

and with a last glance at whoever henchman of Dominics and Owens gang that was, you pulled the trigger.

It was as though someone had pressed the slow motion button on their IPhone when the tiny bullet hit the shooter’s left shoulder and he fell back into the truck-bus-something. Confidently you threw the 480 cheytac over your shoulder and inhaled. Hoseok’s voice saying “now that was a real shot.” popped up next to you and with a smile shared between the two of you, you started to run.

Turning left and right in order not to get attacked by someone else purging you felt the urge to vomit. Every corner and place your gaze wandered to was decorated with signs of cruelty. It took a while for you to realize that a slogan to your right reading ‘h e a r t b r e a k e r – l o v e f a k e r – n e v e r g o i n g t o w a k e h e r’ had been mistaken for spraypaint by you when it was actually written in the blood by the female body hanging next to it. You were sure the girl must have been beautiful before but now the long, blonde strands of hair covered her face, her once white dress now blood-stained.

Quickly looking to your left as your stomach turned, your gaze fell upon a couple being beaten up by four short men, their faces hidden behind suicide squad masks, their hands swinging baseball bats – wait, were those children?

It was weird; the downtown being this alive when it was basically dead just minutes ago – the silence had been replaced by gunshots and screams and crazy laughter, the streets wearing red.. it was disgusting.

You were about to continue letting your mind rant about everything the Purge did as you turned your head straight once again and, suddenly, the truck was gone. It was just gone. There was no sign of it having ever existed, even when you did a sharp u-turn – there was nothing but other people chasing each other and, out of all sudden, you felt tricked, standing in front of the dead end. You felt scared somehow.

You knew the truck had to be somewhere near you, but there was nothing, the doors of the buildings around you as locked as they had been before. And besides, the truck wouldn’t even fit through any of them.

“What the fuck..”, you murmured, not caring that you were interrupting the heated and breathless conversation that had been going on through the comm system.

You heard Yoongi trying to answer when another familiar voice filled the air with laughter. This time it wasn’t coming from the headset attached to your ear, it was louder and you figured it was coming from a speaker which soon proved itself to be true.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” (GUYYYYYS I’M SORRY I JUST HAD TO INTEGRATE THIS;; DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW THAT VIDEO?? IN CASE YOU DON’T GO WATCH IT NOW)

By the time you looked up you found yourself surrounded by Hoseok and Yoongi and it took you not even a mere second to recognize the person standing on top of the two-story parkade straight ahead.

You were damned for him to show up here, tonight, and recall everything you had buried under dozens of happy memories and work and assignments and plans and college courses. The last months you hadn’t even wasted a single second thinking about him, you were sure you were over it and, to be honest, you hated admitting that you got emotional right now when it was the literal worst time to get sentimental or caught up in thoughts, just because you saw certain brown eyes boring into yours.

They caused all the memories to come to your mind again. You remembered all the late night sessions where you stayed up late to help him with several assignments and presentations, and on your worst days you did miss him, indeed. It hit you at the most random moments; when you walked out of the house in the morning or when you saw a jeep, or when the midnight air crept through your window and nipsped at your cheeks. Whenever you listened to Cole’s songs you remembered everything he had told you, each and every detail and you wanted to rip off your head. He had never meant anything to you and you haven’t to him, either, you’d tell yourself – and it was the truth. Even though you were hurting when you thought about it, you missed it, but it always ended with you realizing how easy it was for the both of you to throw it all away because in the end, you didn’t care about the other at all, you just didn’t want to be alone.

That was what life was like in high school and you accepted it, yet still, seeing him reopened a door to your past and you hated getting flashbacks from things you didn’t want to remember.

“I see you’ve brought your personal guards. Didn’t know I was so difficult to take down.”, you said in an attempt not to show him he had the upper hand, your head nodding at the people standing on the pavement after they had realized they didn’t have to hide anymore.

You felt Jungkook’s and Jin’s presence behind you and your mind started to fill with relief on the one hand, worry on the other hand.

Chris, or Tej, his name in the business, looked at his henchmen and shook his head, faking a chuckle while anger started to fill your body, “nah, I could take you without wasting a single bullet. These”, he pointed at the assassins positioned on several rooftops, “are for your oh-so-beloved gang leader and the members that actually pose a threat.”

You snickered. “You’re just playing. Are you going to fight or do you want to spend the whole night talking shit?”

Yoongi took a step closer. “Y/N, I’m not saying we’re in danger but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”, he murmured.

“I know,”, you replied, “but I have to do this.”

Gun shots echoed from the walls as Tej shot into the night once, twice; looked at you threateningly. Immediately you felt the pearl handle of your gun in your palm, several clicks of other guns cocking audible behind you. Still hidden behind your back, your fingers curled around the trigger.

Once again, everything else was blocked out by your ears. You knew as soon as the five of you’d lift your weapons to shoot down as many fiends you possibly could, they’d open the fire, too, and more than a few lifes’d be ending soon.

You weren’t exaclty sure who drew his weapon first, but in a matter of seconds you found yourself among a crowd fighting like it was a matter of living and death – quite ironical since it indeed was. Yoongi was standing his ground in front of you. Jungkook hit one of their heads and you quickly looked away, firing your gun here and there as you did your best in helping Hoseok and Jin to keep the steadily raising number of enemies at bay. Luckily, Namjoon and Taehyung soon joined the 5 of you fighting, Jimin appearing out of nowhere taking out men from the top of an empty car. You shot another one into the leg but his companies charged so quickly that you soon found yourselves preferring the methods of a fist fight. A text example of a street fight, your brothe would have said if he were to take part in it.

Eight on you-didn’t-know-how-may was definitely not favorable, you decided as you slammed your fist into someone’s stomach, then looked around in trying to find Tej’s head in the midst of the brutal brawl, immediately regretting it as you earned a punch straight to your previously-injured shoulder and cried out in pain. Little did you know the wound had reopened as you gritted your teeth and blocked your attacker’s view with your hand, easily causing him to fall backwards, afterwards battering him with the handle of your gun.

Oh how much you hated fistfights.

They were way too personal, no doubt, you’d choose a gun over your fist anytime. You were tempted to run and just join Jimin on the car’s rooftop in taking them down smoothly from afar, just so no one important to you was exposed to danger anymore but you knew fully well that, for the next hours, you’d be living dangerously.

Just when you were about to help Namjoon fight off his two attackers a certain green fabric flashed in front of you and without a second glance you recognized the guy dressed in a green bomber as Chris, but that wasn’t exactly what stopped you from fighting.

It was rather the wired box he had left standing on the concrete and the small, almost invisible device in his hand, better known as detonator. Apparently you weren’t the only one who had noticed the approaching danger ‘cause just as you uttered a loud Oh, shit! thin fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were pulling you around the corner and down to the ground, a body promptly guarding you by embracing you close to its chest.

It was then that the detonator was being pressed, the detonation present in a dazzling flash, illuminating the dead end in red, white and yellow; a loud Bang!; the unmistakable, abominable stench of burned flesh and you felt your gastric acid raising in your throat. You wanted to vomit, to cry out loud, break something to cleanse your nostrils from the bloody smell, your hands from the blood covering them; but there was obviously no time for that in view of the hands that pulled you up. You finally recognized your savior as Yoongi when he shouted at you to run since you weren’t out of danger yet but his voice sounded distant, reverberating in your brain. It felt like you had been thrown into a well or something; yet still you followed his instructions, jumped to your feet and ran.

Your body was moving on its own, you yourself completely unable to do anything about it. Looking down to the ground, your red platforms connected and disconnected with the ground, not coming to a halt until Yoongi, who had been holding your hand the whole time, pushed you into a inconspicuous side alley, sliding to the pavement right next to you.

For a minute or two neither of you spoke a word, the air filled with the sounds of two people catching their breath. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak, it was rather the fact that you were unable to, both due to shock and exhaustion. You wondered where you were, but there was no point in asking since you both had just ran and ran, without the slightest bit of a plan – which was fine with you, you had just needed to free your mind, yet you didn’t exactly feel lighter.

You let out a noise, a mixture of sighing, groaning and inhaling as you passed your hand over your forehead and turned to your right, opening your eyes to the sight of a battered Yoongi and you sat up straightaway, groaning with pain at the headache you were having.

“You look horrible.”, you managed to say, even though it was a rasping sound rather than a human sound. With shaky hands you reached up to cup his face, your hand tracing the outlines of several still bleeding scars and cuts on his cheeks.

“I could say the same.”, he whispered as he watched you reaching into your backpack for the first-aid-kit you had luckily taken with you, the backpack’s contents now displayed on the asphalt. He let you take care of his wounds and calmed down whenever your fingers touched his skin. The both of you were still panting and you did your best to ignore his hot breath against your collarbone as you reached behind him to adjust his jacket, afraid that he’d get sick given the fact that he was sweating and the air was not just a comfortable breeze.

Acting normal too, Yoongi let his gaze wander over the different items laying in front of him. A comparable huge amount of different ammo, spraypaint, a lighter, a knife, a map, a black hoodie, tissues…what caught his eye was a small, plain black journal, ‘YOUTH’ written on its cover with silver ink.

With you still patching him up he reached for it, palm brushing over the envelop previous to opening it, a small polaroid instantly falling out.

He turned it around, the caption reading oceans and without thinking about it, he confronted you. “Oceans?”, he asked.

You stopped in your action, letting go of his left wrist you had been wrapping up with band-aid. Your eyes fell upon the shiny, small image and you furiously shook your head, a little too fast.

“Rip it. Just – it’s nothing.”, you said, snatching the paper out of his hands and tore it apart.

The two of you were climbing over a fence, again. You had been strolling through alleys and streets and over railways for what seemed like ages, nothing relevant happening. Yes, there were a few not-so-pleasant encounters with people purging, however you were on the same page with not wanting to throw any more punches tonight, instead taking down each purger with one bullet, and one bullet only. You hadn’t talked much, pretty much due to the fact that neither of you felt like it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company, though. You were relieved you weren’t out on your own and you were quite sure that he was the person you’d most likely choose as a companion tonight, just because…you couldn’t explain it, yet still you didn’t doubt your thought. So you both just walked next to each other in silence and you were fine with that, and, on top of that, you were partially doing it for the safety’s sake. Somewhere between two trains, one of them burning, and voices followed by gunshots you took his hand and never let go of it, not until he started to speak.

“What’s on your mind?”, he said, pushing branches out of his way.

“Huh?”, you murmured, snapping out of your trance to look around and see if he was talking to someone else until your realised that you were pretty much the only person he could’ve talked to, silently cursing you for your stupidity.

“I..”, you kicked a stone, “..don’t really know. Pretty much everything.”

He looked at you, an expectant facial expression prominent on his face, urging you to continue which you never did.

Sighing, he shook his head.

“Listen, I know I’m probably not the person you wanted to be with tonight –“

Oh, if only you knew, Min Yoongi.

“ - Don’t.”

He abruptly stopped walking when you cut him off. “What?”

You smiled, seeing as he was the stupid one now, copying his movements as you shook his head.

“I said don’t.”, you stopped breathing for a second, “’cause you weren’t telling the truth. I’m just worried about the others – you know, leaving them behind was not the right decision.”

You could literally see him rolling his eyes although you were looking to the ground.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that we would have died if we hadn’t done just that.”

“Yeah,”, you exhaled, “I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.”

“They’ll be fine.”, he said, clearly avoiding eye contact.

“You’re saying that to convince yourself.”

“Partially.”

The dry branches made a crunching sound when you stepped over them, then you turned left to get to a street where you’d – hopefully – find some kind of a vehicle.

“I simply don’t like the fact that we left them behind with him.”

“So I was right? I knew you knew that fight-obsessed oh-i-am-so-powerful freak.”

You were biting back a smile at the names he called him, “Yes, congratulations. But you were right, indeed, I used to know him, we were..friends?” It was more of a question than a statement, you realised after finishing.

“Well, back then he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’s now, I guess.”

“You guess? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have befriended him if he was.”

“That’s a point.”, you nodded, then you fished the polaroid out of your pocket. You hadn’t thrown it away yet, you hadn’t had the heart to dispose it yet. Assembling the two shreds, you pulled out the old, rusty silver lighter Namjoon had gifted you at your accession to his gang.

“Funny how pictures never change but the people in them do.”, something in the back of your mind was telling you you had just quoted someone, but that didn’t matter right now, “But that’s just how it goes, you grow older and your best friend becomes your arch enemy.”

Yoongi let out an understanding sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, checking the street before he led you through a hole in the fence that marked the end of the containment area you had been walking on in order not to come across some murderous purgers.

“That was quite poetic.”, he chuckled, “still, it’s the truth. People erase you from their lives because they’re too damn lazy to try and work things out.”

It was then that you both stopped walking and you turned around to face him, making eye contact. There was no real reason behind your actions, but something within you made you take your time to study his face, and, most of all, his eyes.

They were the first thing you had ever noticed about him. The ones he hid under his hair or behind his glasses; he called boring, brown. He always wanted any color, any other pair of eyes except her own. At first you had found it strange, it was a fair contrast to his i-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude; but you soon learned that he cared more about others and their opinions than he’d ever admit. However, you loved them. You loved how they lit up when his brain produced another brilliant idea. When he laughed his happiness wouldn’t be prominent in a smile or a grin, you’d notice it in the way his eyes started to sparkle and dance.

You had stared into them and he had stared right back into yours, like you should have kissed and made love and laughed and hurt together so many times that you didn’t even bother to count it anymore, but you had chosen to stay friends instead. Both yours and his eyes had been glistening back then, yours in tears and his in anger at himself.

And just the same, they’d dull and blur and lose their joyful aura when he was being bothered by something. They were the only thing left of his dark and ugly past, they were hiding something and you were eager to find out just what exactly it was that he was trying so hard to forget.

You were wondering what in hell he must have witnessed that made him the person he was now, you wanted to know what made him so desperate and hopeless that he became responsible for the ugly, knife-shaped scar extending from his artery to his collarbone he made sure to curtain with whatever top or hoodie he was wearing. You had only seen it once, but that was enough for the question persistently floating around in your head.

What happened to him?

It wasn’t the question that bothered and stressed you, it was you being aware of the fact that you’d never be to find the answer. He wasn’t going to open up to anyone, you knew it.

And now you were looking into these very eyes as you took a step forward, his fingers still intertwined with yours. His eyes were overflooding with emotions, mostly dark and sad ones, but so were yours as you both looked at each other with what if’s and could have’s and hearts and souls full of regret. For a moment your gaze travelled down to his red lips, sore as he had been biting them all the time, but then you got a grip on yourself and pulled away, your fingers no longer filling the gaps between his as you, once again, pulled out the lighter, flicked it and watched as the polaroid caught fire, whirling to the ground.

“Geez,”, you breathed, stomping onto the leftovers, “should’ve done that long ago.”

When you turned to Yoongi, his eyes were dull again, no emotion visible, his facial expression empty once again. He didn’t speak a word other than “let’s go” after you had thrown all the other polaroids displaying Chris to where the first one was still smoldering, a small fire developing.

You only shook your head, staring right into the flames illuminating the night, drowning out his words. Everything you remembered was Chris telling you that “beautiful, you’re playing with fire” and you took that quite literally. He was the fire and if you get too close to the fire you’ll get hurt, that’s just how it is.

The smoke was burning in your eyes and stinging in your nose and soon you attempted to turn away and go, but apparently Yoongi bet you to it.

You remembered hearing a “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” that sounded distant in your head and a gun being fired right after. Your head was snapping up and through the smoke you made out a quartet consisting of men, all of their heads covered with – you actually screamed at that – clown masks. Then, a small, silver object – a bullet – was just barely missing your left thigh with a hiss.

It took another gunshot, this time brushing your jacket, which was – thank god – oversized, for you to finally snap out of your stone-like state. You were firing your gun before you even realised that you were reaching for it but it was obvious that you couldn’t beat them since you’d have to reach into your backpack for ammo – in your foolishness you hadn’t grabbed the sniper that was still securely tucked away in your backpack and, with a glance to your right your suspicion about Yoongi, too, having grabbed his handgun instead of something more powerful was confirmed. In any other situation you would have rolled your eyes, but this was dead serious – literally.

So you quickly decided to do what you were best at; you grabbed his wrist and ran. The fact that they were looking like clowns scared the hell out of you and you completely forgot to look where you were going, leaving the route up to Yoongi who stumbled as a bullet brushed his upper arm. In your rush you didn’t waste a second thought on it, suddenly changing your mind as you took the lead again, turning left, right, running down a street before you took a sharp turn into a smaller, barely visible alleyway.

You were about to slump down when suddenly, you were pushed back, the cold brick wall of the building behind you touching your back. Your reflex was to slap whomever was touching you right there and make a run for it but, hell, this was Yoongi pinning you to the wall, one hand at your iliac bone, the other one at your shoulder, his eyes reflecting anger and frustration, but most of all something you could only decipher as worry.

“Do not”, he stopped due to his heavy panting, “do that ever”, now he was licking his lips and all you could think was oh hell, min yoongi, you’re going to be the death of me, “ever again.”, he finished.

You almost thought he was pulling away when he came back with full force. And then, he was slamming his lips into yours in a desperate attempt to convey all he never said because there were simply no words for it and, to be fully honest, he succeeded in that mission. Right now, in this small, hopeless alleyway, Min Yoongi was giving you all you had ever hoped for, you were letting out all the emotions you had bottled up and tried to keep hidden in this one, literally breathtaking, kiss.

And honestly, you could have kissed him all day. You could have swept back his mint, thin and loose strands of his hair from his eyes and spent the hours that were left just like that. Perhaps it was because there was so, so much sadness and pain in his heart, but he kissed like he needed to be kissed, like he was aching all over, and you knew he was. And you were willing to lend him some kind of comfort as you cupped his face with both hands, deepening the kiss as you traced the prominent cheekbones of his.

That you were, in fact, all lovey-dovey instead of hiding on the Purge’s night didn’t seem to get through to you and neither of you stopped until your palm brushed against his elbow and a thick, dark liquid started to cover it.

“Oh my god”, you breathed, panting from both running and the kiss, pulling away. His left sleeve was blood-stained and you didn’t even bother listening to him when he told you that “Y/N, it’s nothing”, instead pushing him down to the floor, all the way while rummaging through your bag, grabbing what you’d need to patch him up.

“The bullet..”, you murmured quietly, repeating it louder when he didn’t answer, “Yoongi, is the bullet still stuck?”

He shook his head with a “No, it was just a graze shot” and you let out a long, relieved sigh because oh, you would have killed him if you had had to take the bullet out. You had done that once and, to be real, it was kind of the most disgusting thing you had ever done. Raking around in the wound was a necessarity and goodness, there was no way in hell anyone’d ever like to do that.

“We’ll have to praise god for our damn luck tonight.”

A deep, silent chuckle rumbled through his chest you were leaning on in order to be in a better angle and you stole a glance at his dark orbs, enjoying the sight of the stars they were reflecting – or his eyes simply consisted of stars, you couldn’t tell.

“I’d love seeing you do that without even being religious.” You groaned, forcing back a grin. “Oh, watch me. You’ll see.”

You dampened a compress with antiseptic and scrunched your face at the acrid smell that started to fill the air with the action of removing the bottle’s cap.

“This is going to hurt.”, you said guiltily, but Yoongi just shook his head.

“Just get it done and over with. And, if the pain’s too much to bear, I’ve still got the gun. You know, just in case.”

He grinned as you hissed and dared him never to make jokes about such serious things ever again. You had almost had an heartattack when you recognised the damage the bullet had done; like he said, it had only been a graze, still, he was losing a lot of blood to the point where you started to wonder how in hell he was still able to crack jokes like that.

Perhaps it was because he had already been going through so much pain that a bullet was just an annoying pain in the ass – nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t know. Still, he grabbed your jacket and stuffed the hem of his shirt between his lips in order not to scream. After all, you didn’t want to be found.

When you pressed the compress to the wound, he silently hissed and you truly felt sorry when you saw the pain filled expression on his face. However, you continued since you knew it’d be best to finish to fix him up as fast as you possibly could, wrapping another bandage around his arm, careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

As you visibly exhaled and turned around to stuff the things you had taken out back into your backpack, he caught your wrist and stopped you.

“No. Just –“, he never finished his sentence, he just opened his arms and right then you couldn’t help but willingly give in, letting go of whatever you were holding and wrapping your arms around his torso. While you were still seated on the pavement he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, so tight that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You felt like some cliché girl in a cliché book the moment you breathed in and instead of inhaling air, you inhaled his scent. He wasn’t wearing his blackberry fragrance tonight, but still, despite the iron smell of his blood and the sweat there was something else that didn’t go unnoticed by you and, after a few moments, you became aware of the fact that what you were smelling right now was no cologne or perfume or shampoo, it was just him.

And godness, he smelled good. Like something wild and untamed yet angelic, like the ocean does when the waves crash onto the beach, but not those soft, gentle waves but the bigger ones. He smelled like rain on a hot summer night, like milk and honey when you couldn’t sleep at night, like a thunderstorm you were watching on a balcony. It didn’t made sense at all, but you couldn’t describe it any other way, so you just settled down with not trying to describe but enjoy it instead.

It was weird how his embrace made you feel like home, even though you had rarely hugged before. Your head fit into the crook of his neck better than it did into Chris’, your figures hugged each other more passionately, you were two magnets attracting each other.

His lips pressed against your scalp and you were feeling him smile as he did it, you were filled with a sudden warmth and triumph, for you knew then that he was yours. It was damn cheesy and you were cringing at your own self, but right now, that didn’t matter. And you loved him, and it was something that you had known somewhere within you all the way until now.

Why did you love him?

You didn’t have a set answer for that, but you guessed it was just how you felt around him, how he was never leaving your mind, the vibes he gave you and the laughs you got from talking to him. You loved that you knew him so well that you knew what he’d answer before he even said something, you loved his attitude, his looks, his eyes, freshly-added; you loved his scent, you loved the way he’d never fail to comment something sarcastic and you loved that beyond the cold guy, there was a guy caring for all the people he loved, but most of all, for you. And, as you sat there, a déjà vu from just hours earlier crossed your mind, where you had been sure that you’d never be to find out what he was hiding, that he’d never open up to you, but little did you know he was.

Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ

24 notes · View notes