"Why?"

It's all you can say, all you can think.

Why?

Why?

Why did they give you that tattoo?

If it's so freaking important, and it links you to them forever, and they don't even want you to have it, then why do you?

Why?

You press a hand to your forehead, not understanding.

Are you missing something?

Or are you just stupid?

"I don't get it," you say finally, peering at Namjoon in a way that makes your confuddleness very clear. "You don't want me to have the tattoo?"

"I wish you didn't," says Namjoon, picking casually at his nails.

"But Hoseok insisted I get it," you continue.

"He did," Namjoon replies.

You throw yourself back in your white chair and splay your arms wide, palms up, indicating to him that he's making no sense and they're all a bunch of idiots to have let you get the tattoo.

"Obviously, I'm missing something," you grumble in frustration.

"Obviously," the man says in return, a slightly teasing tone slipping into his chocolate-cream voice.

Stumped, you retract your arms into yourself and wait for him to explain. His face gives you no indication of whether he's willing to or not; it's like he's wearing a mask.

Namjoon smiles. "Hoseok is very...special. In some ways."

Tilting your head, you consider him with slight distaste. "You mean other than his exuberant personality and excessive voice volume?"

"Other than that, yes." Steepling his fingers, Namjoon's face blossoms into childlike excitement. "Do you know Harry Potter?" He asks eagerly.

Psh. "Who doesn't," you scoff in indignation. "It's only one of the best book series ever written."

His grin is wide, a bigger smile than anything you've seen from him so far, and a dimple pierces one cheek with the action.

Oh.

Your heart softens the tiniest bit.

"Okay, you know when Harry takes the potion that gives him luck?" Namjoon says. "And he just happens to always find himself at the right place in the right moment? And he always just knows where to be?"

"Yeah," you say slowly, curious as to how this example will play back into your tattoo.

Satisfied with your knowledge, Namjoon claps his hands together and points at you. "Exactly. That's how Hoseok is all the time."

What?

"I'm not following. Are you saying he's just lucky?"

Your confusion knows no bounds.

"Eh, kind of," the brown-headed man eeks out. "But it's too consistent to be just luck. He knows things. It's almost like instinct, like a premonition. He gets these feelings, these urges to do something that, later, ends up benefitting us."

"Just...out of nowhere?" You imagine the lean brunette wandering around, following the instructions from imaginary voices in his head, and shiver. "That's weird. Are you sure he isn't sick? You know, mentally?"

"No way." Namjoon shoots down your suggestion so quickly, and with such offense broiling in his face, that you snap your mouth closed.  "Picture this: we're on a mission. It's me and Hoseok and Jimin. We've done our job, gotten done what we needed to get done, and now we're trying to get out. But, someone tipped off the security guards that something was wrong."

"Okay," you mutter, playing through the scenario in your mind. "You have to get out. So you're running now."

"We're running now," Namjoon confirms. "But we have to take an unplanned route out. Problem? We've lost all communication with Jin hyung and Yoongi hyung, who were guiding us out of the building. We come to a hall that splits in two directions."

They don't know which way to go.

"You just have to guess," you say, furrowing your brows. "Pick a direction and go. That's the only thing to do."

"Wrong." Intently, Namjoon leans forward across the table, his gaze drilling into yours. "Because Hoseok can look at those two hallways, and know which way to go. He's knows the safer path, even though he doesn't know where we are."

That's impossible. Nobody can just know things like that.

You say as much to the man across from you.

"You're right," Namjoon agrees quietly. "It should be impossible, but here we are. Hoseok's saved my life with his premonitions more times than I can count on one hand."

"That's insane," you mutter. The wheels in your brain are turning. "So when I got that tattoo..."

Namjoon grins again, and you take that as a sign that you're headed in the right direction.

"He'd been feeling the need to pin that sketch up all week," says the man. "Even though Jungkook kept taking it down, Hoseok would put it right back up. Because he knew that it needed to be there. And then you strolled in the shop that day, and picked it right off the bat."

"Jungkook didn't want me to have it," you whisper. "-but when Hoseok-"

"When Hoseok said it was yours, he had to relent," Namjoon finishes. "Because Hoseok's never wrong."

Your head is spinning with the force of this new information.

So what?

Is this supposed to be some kind of fate?

Everyone just believes that you're supposed to join a gang of black world assassins because one person felt like you should? 

"I can't logically believe that," you say, shaking your head in denial. "That's impossible."

Namjoon simply watches you with observant, knowing eyes. "We'll see," he says. "Spend enough time around here, and you'll believe."

He stands, and moves toward the door.

"Wait!" you call. There's still a question that you have, one that he hasn't answered.

Inquisitively, he turns around.

"You said someone hired you," you whisper. "Who? Who hired you to take out the other guy?"

He smiles then, a slow, slow smile that sends chills down the length of your spine.

And when his velvet voices echoes are puns the desolately white room, the words ring in your ears. "Don't you know, Ms. Song? Your daddy's looking for you."

He yanks the door open, revealing a tall, bulky figure in the doorway.

"Hyung?" Jungkook says with a blink. "What are you doing here?" His arms are full of various objects; a plastic grocery bag, a lamp-shade, and a neon pink flyswatter among them.

You're momentarily distracted from Namjoon's statement by the strange assortment of household items.

What exactly was he planning to do with those?

Namjoon sighs and grabs the youngest by the arm, guiding him away from the open door and swinging it closed behind him.

Through the last crack of the door, his low voice sounds again.

"Leave her alone, Jungkookie. She's got a lot to think about."

Yeah. You could say that.

In the loud silence of the room, you put your head down on your hands and try to process everything that's just been revealed to you.

So your father is hiring people out to find you. The real question is whether he wants you back or wants you dead.

Just how angry is he?

And if he does want you dead, why aren't you? Actually, even if he just wants you back, why the heck aren't you on your way back to Busan by now?

Why are the Bangtan Boys keeping you around? What ulterior motive do they have to restrain you here instead of taking you back to your father?

You squish your bottom lip under your finger, thinking hard, but you still can't come up with a reason.

Namjoon's little interview hasn't answered very much.

In fact, it's raised even more questions than you started with.

[A/N]
Severely unedited
Like I haven't looked over it a single time so there are probably a billion typos
And it's kinda short sorry 😭😭
School's kicking my butt
If there was anything you didn't understand, comment here so I can try to clarify later
❤️pocketbangtan