Although it's been at least five minutes since you've (reluctantly) taken over the wheel from your gun-loving buddy, you haven't stopped screaming once as you clumsily steer the vehicle through side streets and narrow roads, following your procrastinating GPS woman.

"Continue straight for two miles," the voice chirps. Usually monotone, you can almost hear a spark of cruel amusement in the GPS lady's voice as she guides you.

Freaking technology.

"Can you please shut up?" Yoongi barks through the open window. He's on his knees in the seat, turned to face backward with the upper half of his body leaning out of the car. "Your squealing is making my ears ring."

Immediately after, you see him dart his body back into the car just as a metallic ping! bounces off your eardrums.

Yoongi laughs and mumbles something under his breath about poor aim and amateurs before sticking his head out again, popping off shot after shot at the trailing vehicle.

"Yeah,%#*¥&$! eat it you &*%*#^s!" His voice is a raspy growl, his words burning your cheeks at the vulgarity

He's enjoying this way too much.

You, however, try to ignore him for the most part as you focus on not impaling the very expensive car you're maneuvering onto a light pole. Although you do manage to avoid making yourself a car kebab, you don't avoid clipping someone's trash bin that's laying too close to the street.

You wince at the hard thump of the plastic container against the corner of your car, watching trash and old food roll up the windshield and shoot into the air, a disgusting show of flying garbage.

An old banana peel latches onto the back of Yoongi's head, clinging there like a determined octopus.

"What the-?!" Yoongi growls and swats it off his head as a crazy giggle works it's way up your throat. His expression is one of complete and utter disgust, small nose wrinkled up into a tiny mound.

Ah.

Good times.

If you survive this, you won't ever forget the look on his face.

Another bullet ricochets off the frame of the car, causing Yoongi to retreat momentarily through the window.

"Okay," he says. "I'm gonna take out their tires. You good?"

"Nope," you reply.

"Good," pops back the black headed man. He sticks his head out the window, peering back at their pursuers. "I think we better hurry back to the house. They can't be the only ones."

"Why do you say that?" you ask through gritted teeth, stomping down on the gas pedal when you glimpse the other SUV abruptly lurch forward.

Taking this opportunity, Yoongi flings his upper body back out into the vulnerable space and directs both handguns at the SUV.

Pop, pop, pop. Pop pop.

There's a sound that's kind of like a balloon exploding, but much louder and more screechy. The vehicle following you wavers in your rear view mirror, jerking off the the side and crashing over the curb.

You turn your eyes away from the wreck, not wanting to see what kind of damage the car has done to the buildings there.

Satisfied, Yoongi retracts himself from the outside, sliding casually into the seat and rolling his window up, as if this whole time he's just been viewing the scenery with admiration.

With your shaking hands still clasped like glue around the steering wheel, you take a glance a the man beside you.

The excitement has drained from his face, leaving it once again at that boredly blank stage. His long fingers snatch up the cell phone from the dashboard, temporarily silencing the GPS as he hits a button, bringing the device to his phone.

"Joon," he hums into the speaker. "Get everything ready to leave. We've been compromised. Arrival in approximately," -there's a pause as Yoongi glances up at the road, looking for a road sign- "twenty minutes."

Without waiting for a response, he flips the phone closed and looks at you. "Step on it. We've got places to be."

Obediently , you stomp your foot down on the gas and shoot the two of you off through the dim streets.

***

Yoongi has you pull the car up almost into the doorway of the house, with the front hood blocking as much of the available space possible to the point where you have to squeeze inside single file.

When you give him a strange look, he simply says, "They can only get in one at a time."

Ah. Smart.

"How do you know there are more coming?" you ask, sucking in your tummy to scoot through the narrow gap.

"Easy." Yoongi doesn't have to do any sucking in; he slips through like an eel and turns back to you expectantly, watching you struggle. "They weren't chasing us; just following. They didn't start chasing until we started running. That means that they've either got more eyes on us or they're watching the house. My money's on the house."

The forbidding words send a chill down your spine, making you look around at the forest in silent fear. The calm fierceness in his words don't do anything to calm you. Even though you're sure that this is no big deal to a group of assassins, your skin is crawling at the notion of malicious eyes peering out at you between the branches.

Then Yoongi pulls you inside, and your vision of the woods is cut short. Inside, a watchfully still atmosphere permeates the giant entryway, the kind of quiet that speaks of concentration and guarded preparedness.

Quiet footsteps on the stairs draw your attention to Taehyung, who's got a black backpack flung over his form. He pauses in the steps when his eyes met the two of you.

"Ah, hyung. Jungkookie is-"

"Where's Namjoon?" Yoongi cuts the younger off, striding up the stairs with determined steps. "I want you to stay with Hoseok, Taehyung. Bring Y/N with you."

You blink at the older man's voice, all steel and hard orders and military-like command. It's a voice that would make the most unruly soldier straighten and salute.

"Namjoon hyung's upstairs," says Taehyung with an air of quiet obedience.

Wordless, Yoongi passes the younger and disappears down the hall.

With a beckoning look, Taehyung pivots on his heels and starts back up the stairs. You wonder vaguely if he blames you for Jungkook's injuries also. You wonder if he feels about you the same way that Jimin does.

Remembering the look in Jimin's eyes makes you wince.

Taehyung leads you up the staircase and to the right, back to the room where you visited the unconscious Jungkook earlier. Hoseok is inside, pacing back and forth on the carpeted floor like a caged animal, while a figure on the other side of him sits on the bed with his back to you.

The black-haired figure is bent over, slowly and painstakingly buttoning up a shirt.

When Hoseok sees you peep out from behind Taehyung, he relaxes a little and says, "Oh, good. You're here. We can go now."

At the words, the figure sitting in the bed turns around slowly, refueling Jungkook's exhausted face. You almost choke at his appearance. His skin isn't quieter back to its original color, still a shade too pale, and the obvious frailty of him causes you to bite your lip.

He looks incredibly tired.

But, something else is different.

Something in his eyes.

In the place where hate and distinct distrust used to burn and light his eyes, there's a softer glow.

A gentle glow.

"You," says Jungkook, in a voice as minuscule as a whisper, underlined with unmistakable breathiness.

And as Hoseok slings a backpack over his shoulder and moves to help Jungkook stand, breaking off the line of your gaze, you stand frozen and wonder exactly how hard the man hit his head on the way down from that tree.

[A/N]
Extremely unedited
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