(Yanna POV)

"So..." I say after Yoongi explains some things to me. He's still standing in front of me, my knees pressed together underneath the t-shirt he changed me into, "You brought me here to keep me safe?"

"Yes." Yoongi nods.

I'm trying to process everything. Yoongi told me he isn't even really in high school. If he was in school, he'd probably be a Junior in college. But he was picked up off the street after running away from the adoption home and put into the program at the agency he now works for. His story is sad, if I'm honest, even though he says he's grateful for what happened to him.

"Tell me everything." I had told him.

This was his answer.

After a sigh, "I'm not a transfer student. I'm an agent sent to watch over you because your life is in danger. But the agency wanted to keep my mission under the radar, so I was forced to go undercover at your school." He rolled his eyes, "It wasn't my first choice either."

The way Yoongi explains the truth to me (I'm assuming it's the truth) sounds like he isn't happy about having to go undercover or whatever. He sounds frustrated with every part of the story. From when he helped me with my locker to when he fought Billy the bully.

He keeps explaining, "I was confused when I was assigned this mission. I've never been appointed to protect, but I'm doing the best I can to keep you safe."

"And how long have you been, you know, protecting me?" I want to know. I still feel weird knowing that this guy could have been following me for who knows how long.

He nods, thinking for a moment before finally answering, "Do you remember a guy bumping into you and knocking you into the snow last week?"

I nod.

Yoongi shrugs as if to tell me that was him, and he did that on purpose, "That was the first time I came into contact with you."

I can't help but bite my lip. I remember thinking that guy was the most incompetent person who turned out to be the cutest transfer boy to ever walk the halls with me. Now he's gone and changed on me again.

My pulse has calmed down a little, but I don't know how. One thing is still sitting in the forefront of my mind. That one moment I felt myself really fall head over heels. I know what he's going to say. He already told me everything he did was pretend. None of his friendship was real, and I'm still coming to grips with that, but If I ask him what I want to, and he says no, I might break, "So...when you ripped up that hate note and told me not to worry because you would protect me..."

Yoongi shrugs, "Part of the mission."

I start fidgeting with my fingers, and look down, "Yeah...right." I fight my tears. I've never had a best friend who would do something like that for me. Now the one person who ever befriended me and stood up for me is telling me he only did what he did because it was his job.

Yoongi pauses the story for a brief moment to ask, "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "Nothing." Of course, Yoongi isn't going to believe that, based on what he just told me about his true intentions.

On top of all that, I try not to think about the scene that was in front of me not too long ago. The image haunts me, "Just my house. Who did that?"

"Yeah." Yoongi looks down too, "I have an idea of who did that, but--as for your parents..."

"Does that mean you know where my parents are? Are you going to get them back?" I ask, maybe a little bit of hope coming back.

Yoongi crosses his arms and shakes his head firmly, "My mission is to keep you safe. I have no orders that require me to find your parents. As long as you're safe, I've done my job."

This is when I stand to my feet, "How can you say that! They're my parents!" Yoongi doesn't even flinch when I raise my voice.

"And?"

I clench my fists, fighting back the urge to spill more tears, "And...I love them."

Yoongi blinks as if caught off guard by my words, "And that means?" He looks confused.

I have to tilt my head at his expression. It looks like the gears are turning in his brain, but he's giving me the dumbest stare.

"Yoongi?" I ask, breaking him from his daze.

He takes a deep breath, "Doesn't matter. My mission is my mission."

I scoff and look away.

All of this is insane. I feel like I can't trust anything at first glance now. I mean, at first glance, Yoongi seemed like a normal high school student with a normal life. But no. He's no different than the lying bullies at my school.

I don't want any of this to be true. Please.

I look back at him and clench my teeth, "Prove it to me."

"Prove what?" Yoongi asks slowly.

I gesture to him, "Prove to me that what you're telling me is true. That you really are an agent sent to keep me secret because my life is in apparent mortal danger."

He just stares at me, "Prove?"

I cross my arms, "Unless you can't."

"Please tell me you can't?"

Yoongi looks around, thinking for a moment, "Well... what do you want me to do?"

What do I want him to do? If he's going to prove to me that he is what he says he is, I have to think of something that only an agent sent to protect me could do. My brain is so fogged up, I don't know what to even ask.

I sigh, thinking and thinking, until finally an idea comes to me, "Ah!" I lift a finger when I figure it out, "Tell me your first mission."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow, "My first mission?"

I nod, "Yes."

Yoongi puts his hands in his pocket and furrows his brow, "How will that prove anything? I'll just make up a story."

"Just do it." I insist, trying to sound firm, but I fail. I honestly can't think of anything else to ask him. Even though I'm asking him to prove that he is what he says he is, I'm internally begging him to not be able to. I want my best friend back.

Yoongi sighs. He shifts his weight back and forth before answering, "That's classified information."

I give Yoongi a firm "I don't care" look. Either he tells me what I want to know, or... I don't know, he just needs to say something before I have an attack. I have to know if the Yoongi I thought he was is even partially real. Maybe he was different before he was taken to the agency. Maybe, just maybe, the Yoongi I thought was real is in there somewhere. I feel like my heart would break if all of him was a lie. He couldn't have lied about everything... could he?

Yoongi was so sweet to me. Standing up for me, even if he did get in trouble with the teacher for fighting some kid. Either way, Yoongi was kind of a savior to me. I hated school until he started walking with me, talking to me, treating me like a human being instead of a target. And when he held my hand, I really did feel safe.

But now even Yoongi is telling me that I'm just a target of sorts to him. I mean nothing to him. I'm not anything more than a mission. It doesn't matter if I'm happy, as long as I'm safe, I guess.

Yoongi chews his bottom lip nervously, but after what seems like an internal conversation with himself, Yoongi replies with, "How about I show you something instead."

"What are you going to show me?"

Yoongi smirks, "Well you're just gonna have to trust me, now aren't you?"

(Yoongi POV)

I probably shouldn't be doing this. I definitely shouldn't be doing this, but how else am I gonna make this girl believe me? To keep her safe, I have to prove myself somehow. I don't know why Yanna doesn't just believe me when I tell her I'm a secret agent and trained assassin sent by a mysterious agency to keep her hidden from life-threatening danger. That's a perfectly reasonable explanation in my opinion.

Nevertheless, this girl needs more than that. So, I brought her here...

"This is my training room." I declare as I open the door at the bottom of the stairs to my basement. There's a smug look on my face when Yanna's eyes go bigger than the sun.

"Whoa..."

The room is a comfortable size. I've fortified it to be soundproof, and I enhanced the walls with metal plates. This room is fireproof, bullet proof, waterproof, you name it. This room is the safest in the house. It should be proof enough.

The basic use for this room is for me to practice and keep my body in tip-top shape. I have to keep my senses on point and be ready to take action against any incoming threat. Especially anything that could harm Yanna. She is my mission after all.

I'm not surprised that the far-left wall is the first to grab Yanna's attention. From ceiling to floor, I have various collections of weapons, guns, training pieces, and basically just the instruments I was provided with in case of emergency situations.

To me everything looks here and accounted for, just like it should. But to Yanna this room must look like something out of a movie.

Her breaths are shallow, and her steps are slow as she approaches the wall.

After a moment of letting Yanna take in the room, aka the "proof" she so desperately wanted from me, I clear my throat, trying to grab her attention away from the blood, sweat and tears stained training mats in the corner.

"So?" I ask with a stroll around the room, "This proof enough for you?"

"You're definitely not normal." She replies without tearing her eyes away.

"I am completely normal." I assure her.

She turns to me and points, "You know, normal people don't have a basement full of guns and weapons."

With a straight face I answer her, "I will have you know that every gun down here has saved my life at least once."

Yanna takes another look around the room, "What about that knife?" She points to the windowsill.

"Oh, that?" I shrug, "That's just for decoration. Really brings the room together, don't ya think?"

This doesn't seem to impress her very much.

She still looks like she's shaking.

She backs into the only free corner and put as much distance as she can between us. She takes another look around the room and takes a shaky breath.

I look up at her and furrows my brow, "What are you doing?"

She kinds shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her feet. Suddenly, she sheds a tear and covers her face with her hands.

I don't know what to say. She just started randomly crying. Why is she crying?

"Don't worry, you're safe here." I try to reassure her.

Yanna lifts her head, shakes it in disbelief, and laughs at-- to be honest, I don't know what she's laughing at. But her laugh sounds scared, and it's mixed in with her already choking sobs.

"I can't believe I ever liked you." Yanna whispers and crosses her arms.

I don't think she meant for me to hear that, but, oh well. I reach out and straighten the handgun on the wall, "You don't have to like me, Yanna. You just have to trust me."

"How do you expect me to trust you after everything you just lied about? This--" She motions to the stocked weapon room around her completed with a target and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, "...is not the room of a simple transfer boy from Daegu."

All of a sudden, I can see the impact my pretending had on her in her eyes. She feels lied to. Wronged. And she has every right to feel that way. I just wish she could understand the magnitude of the situation at hand.

I admit, "Maybe I lied to you about a few things--"

"Maybe a few things?!"

"But!" I finish with a sigh, "I never lied about protecting you."

Yanna looks at me with red eyes still filled with uncertainty and fear. She doesn't speak a word, but her expression says it all.

"Yanna, do you really not believe me?" I don't know why I suddenly want to tell her not to answer my question.

She shakes her head, "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of you."

My heart drops. I can see why she would feel lied to but she's... afraid of me? Why am I so upset about that? More than that, why does that make my chest feel so tight?

I take a step closer, so her eyes won't leave mine, "Look... I am your protector, whether we like it or not. I'm gonna be by your side because those are my orders. If I have to deal with it, so do you, so we might as well try to get along." I sound defeated, annoyed, but also sympathetic in a way. Yanna doesn't want this, and I understand that, but here we are. We have to make the most of this.

She looks past me at the room again, "I guess I have no choice but to believe you."

Yanna spoke as if saddened, but I try to smile, "That's the spirit." It doesn't help very much.

Yanna still frowns when I touch her arm to show support before awkwardly pulling away. Okay, I admit, I'm not very good at this.

She looks back up at me, "Yoongi, tell me something."

I wait while she finishes rolling her lips between her teeth.

"How long do I have to stay here?"

"Well," I rub the back of my head, "That depends. But I promise the second I get the notice to send you home, I will let you go."

She chuckles without a smile, "You make it sound like I'm a hostage."

"Not a hostage." I clarify, "Just very... very important."

Yanna shakes her head before lowering her gaze to the ground. She walks around me to the stairs leading back upstairs, "I'm nobody." Her smile is painful when she looks back at me. I... don't like that smile.

"I swear you're important, I just... can't prove it yet."

Yanna nods with flat lips, "Okay." She tilts her head towards the wall of weapons, "Thanks for the proof."

And with that she takes slow steps up the stairs until she disappears from sight.

I have an instant instinct to go after her for some reason, but I figure she must want to be alone for now to process things. It's hard, but I try to put myself in her shoes. Being taken from her now destroyed home and missing parents to a safe house she doesn't recognize with a boy who lied about being a secret agent sent to protect her--

Nope.

I sigh and grip my hair, "This girl. Please don't let her be the end of me."