You're left alone for a bit when Namjoon goes to retrieve his medical bag.

His footsteps echo on the mosaic tiles as he exits, and he allows the heavy wooden door to drift closed in his wake.

The soft shudder of the door stopping in its frame echoes, too.

Instantly, you miss him.

Not because your trust Namjoon or associate him with safety, but he was someone in the room with you. His absence makes you take a second look around the room. After the short presence of Namjoon and his radiant comfort, this room that was exciting and new beforehand now presses in on you with strange coldness.

It's empty, and large and hollow and alone.

Those feelings are starting to burrow into you.

You think suddenly that you haven't ever been quite this alone before.

Although the flight from Earth to Servus chained up in Thing's spaceship should have felt worse than this, there's something inexplicably terrible about sitting safe in this room, staring out the window at an yellow sky and alien land.

As you're observing, a soft coo sounds from outside the balcony. A bird floats by on the breeze, and glides down to casually perch on the gold-rimmed marble balcony. It's smallish, the size of a cardinal, and colored a pale cream with a plume of shimmering black. It's like someone has plucked a strand of the Cosmos from space and braided it into the bird's feathers. You look closer, because something about the shape of the bird's face is striking you as off.

When you realize the thing is odd looking due to the second, smaller beak resting beneath its eyes, you clamp your mouth shut and look away.

The bird coos again, flying away from the balcony.

It's so strange.

The bird.

The people.

This place.

Feeling introspective, you clasp the bed draping loosely in a fist. It tries to escape you, effervescent silk against your palm.

You are possibly the only human on this entire planet.

What is your family doing right now?

Do they even know you're missing? Wracking your brain, you try to recall the minimal information you know about space travel.

You've watched the movie Interstellar, the one where Matthew Mcconaughey slips through a wormhole in space and eventually makes his way back to his family, only to find his daughter is now an old woman while he hasn't aged. That's all you can currently think about - the possibility that if you ever do make it back to Earth, your family will be long dead and gone.

The not knowing is an odd feeling.

They could be dead already. Namjoon did mention that the planet you're on is very, very far from your own.

Shivering at the notion, you pull your legs up onto the bed, huffing slightly with the pain of jostling your bullet wound. Setting your chin on your knees, you look around the marble cavern you're in, the whistle of the breeze ringing in your ears.

You wish Yoongi hadn't left you.

Anger at him is a distant pulse in your chest, but it's accompanied by a sorrowful ache. He was the only one who felt near to you, even though the two of you spent a few hours together at most. But he was closest to home.

Now, there isn't anything close to home. Everyone here is bright and different, purple and gold,  and you wish you could fade out like a shadow on a cloudy day. It's utterly scary to know that they aren't like you, and to not know what they are like. That classic human fear of the unknown swoops through your stomach, a fierce dragon raking talons of tinged panic along your insides.

You cringe, hands around your cramping stomach.

When did you last eat?

Is it hunger or the abrupt onslaught of panic that's sending spears of pain through your abdomen?

A rushing sound starts to ring in your head, fogging your brain and your vision.

The quiet press of loneliness isn't so quiet anymore.

Namjoon should hurry.

There's something inside you that's roiling, rising up to the surface of your visage even as you try to tamp it down. The thing is a panicked, wriggling blackness devours your breath and body heat.

You're going cold, even though a light sweat is forming on your brow.

You're breathing heavily, even though your body feels like it won't move.

The white marble is beginning to tinge with darkness in your vision.

You're so alone.

And you're afraid, even thought the feeling has been suppressed. It's emerging now, weighing more than your mind can hold.

It's sinking you.

You sit still and stiff on the bed, trapped by your own consuming sense of panic. Logic and reason is massacred into a jumbled horde of what-ifs, sharp teeth and sharper confusion. It's hard to remember your own name, your own situation, but everything is blaringly horrifying and wrong. You feel out of control, wild, but you can't move a muscle.

"Y/N?" The voice is distant in your ear. You can hear it, although you can't really acknowledge it. You're being smothered alive by yourself. "Y/N, can your hear me?"

"Is it okay?" another voice says. "Why's it look like that? It's shaking"

A soft curse as your eyes are locked on that yellow sky, and then you can feel the strange and scary sensation of a hand on your cheek.

Unfamiliar voices.

Unfamiliar faces.

Your body flinches away on instinct.

"She's having a panic attack. Can you get me some water, Jin? There's a pitcher on the counter there." Voices are talking again, and they're a little clearer than before. Maybe it's your panic becoming aware of another existence in the room - it's staring to reluctantly creep back to the corner from whence it came.  "Hey, Y/N, I've got you okay? You're safe. It's okay. Just breathe."

The gentle voice is helping the recession of your emotions, guiding them away so that your control can reunite with you.

"We're going to take a deep breath. Can you do that with me? Deep breath in, then out."

The sound of the voice inhaling prompts your mouth to open, your chest spreading in rhythm with it.

Clarity whispers to you that Namjoon has returned. He's kneeling on the floor in front of you, hands out in a placating manner, gentle eyes concerned. A medium-sized leather tote bag rests limply on the ground beside him.

There's a person beside him, too: a man with hair the color of a chlorine pool, and blue-green scales dotting across his cheekbones like a smattering of freckles. He's in a silky kimono-type garment, peering at you with curious eyes.

"Is it okay yet?" the kimono man asks.

"Hush, Jimin," Namjoon scolds lightly. He reaches out gingerly, taking one of your hands between two of his. The warmth of the contact makes you exhale in relief. "Hey, there. Welcome back."

"Ah," you whisper. You can move again, and think again, and your head feels like it's about to split open. "Hi. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I can't imagine what you must feeling right now." Namjoon clasps your hand tightly, sighing.

He glances up, to the side, and you sense a third person moving towards you.

Peeking to the side in an attempt to not move your throbbing head too much, you catch a glimpse of the man with pearly skin and cherry blossom hair, one of his hands clasping a painted cup.

"Here, water," says the pink-haired man in a sweet-toned voice. He's very princely-looking, in a high collared, royal green doublet and short-heeled boots.

You take the cup gratefully, sipping some water into your parched mouth. The sweat on your brow is making you cold when combined with the breeze coming  from the balcony.

You shiver.

"Jimin, shut that outer door, will you?" Namjoon lets your hand go to draw the discarded bag to him, digging around in the contents. There are a few soft clinks as object in the bag collide.

The man in the kimono, Jimin, stands gracefully and crosses the room in a swirl of  patterned silk. This time the garment has tiny, long-necked birds skimming a cresting wave printed across the fabric.

Jimin takes a hold of the folding screen door and pulls, unveiling a lovely, carved screen of paneled dark wood. The door slides out beautifully along a track in the marble that you hadn't noticed.

It closes off the balcony with a gentle shuff, halting the incoming breeze.

A tap on your wrist draws your attention back to Namjoon. He's now wearing a black glove on one hand, leaving the other bare as he slides his fingertip over the pulse point in your wrist. "How are you feeling right now, Y/N? Better? Any dizziness?"

"No," you say. His gloved hand moves to rest on your forehead. "Not anymore. My head hurts, though, and I'm hungry. And tired."

"As expected." Namjoon glances to the pink-haired man. "How's she looking, Jin?"

Jin is holding a small, thin device that looks sort of like a tablet. "Vitals are looking fine," comments Jin. "Her pulse rate is a bit high, but slowing. No fever. Dehydrated and malnourished, and we should close that wound up."

Namjoon seems satisfied with the answer. "No fever means no infection," he intones with knowing. The gloved hand moves down to prod at your wound, spreading so that Namjoon's palm rests over the injury. "I'll close the wound now. You'll feel a bit warm, but that's completely normal."

As Namjoon says this, you calf begins to tingle slightly. A mellow heat flares to life, sending out small waves of warmness around the gullet wound in your calf. It's a pleasant feeling, and you're so exhausted that your eyes begin to droop.

It's only a few minutes more before Namjoon removes his hand, smiling, and thus stops the warm.

He does the same to each of your wrists, where the skin is raw and red. You watch with similar amazement as the hurt disappears.

"All finished," Namjoon murmurs after, nodding. "You shouldn't have any problems or scar tissue. You can move freely."

Following the direction, you stretch you leg out in front of you.

Nothing.

There's not pain, not even a twinge. Tracing your fingers along your calf reveals only smooth skin. The wounds have been completely healed in a matter of minutes.

"Incredible. It's like it was never even there," you comment, amazed.

Peeling off the glove, Namjoon sends you a rather stern look. "Drink the rest of that water, and we'll get you a meal, a bath and some rest. You'll be in much better shape then."

"Much better," emphasizes Jimin. "Should I go to the kitchens? It looks starved."

The repetition of the pronoun irks you. "I'm not an it," you say, not aggressively. "I'm a biological female. I'm a she."

"Oh, are you?" Jimin slinks forward. "I wasn't sure. Do you give birth as well?"

The question befuddles you. "Do I- well, yes. I'm a female! That's what I said. It's the same thing."

Namjoon pauses in his actions, letting the bag he brought along droop to the floor. "Oh, not here. I mean, in the Intergalactic Union. Some species have a third gender separate than male and female, that carries the fertilized egg and gives birth."

You blink.

Oh.

So it's an alien thing.

Namjoon continues on. "There's a non-intelligent species on Jimin's planet that has the third gender. Just for general clarity, some will ask whether you are the birth giver or not. It isn't meant to be offensive."

Ah.

That explains how they coined you at the auction: as a child-bearer. On Earth the term would be offensive, but you suppose you can't hold a bunch of aliens to your Earthly standards.

"It is still..." you grimace. "Nobody is an it."

"You're very right," scolds the pink-haired man, side-eyeing Jimin. Jimin pouts at the words; his eyes grow beautifully soft and round with the expression.

You feel an instant pressure to forgive him.

Namjoon interrupts the pressure by handing your a small pill and urging the cup of water towards you. "This will help with your fatigue and headache. After you take it, we'll go find you some food while you bathe. Then we'll answer all of your questions. Does that sound alright?"

You take the pill, giving it a momentary hesitant glance before tossing it back with a gulp of water.

If this pill kills you, you can't say it would be too much of a bother.

"I can show you to the bath house," Jin offers.

You're instantly relieved.

So far, Jin has been the least invasive alien you've met.

You agree to his offer, climbing to your feet and trying your weight on the newly healed leg.

Parting from the other two, Jin leads you out of the room and down a cavernous hallway that's equally as sumptuous as your room. Marble floors gleam and swirling mosaics of royal colors dance along the walls.

There are other dark-wooded doors dotted along the hallway, sparsely. You assume that the doors lead to chambers similar to the one you came from.

Jin notices your observation. "This is a guest wing," he comments. "Most of the rooms are empty, so we thought it would be the best place to keep you. Probably no one will notice."

You blink. "Am I not supposed to be here?"

The soft clinking of Jin's bolt heels silence as he stops to look at you. You pause in your step as well.

Jin's face has a pretty sort of sereneness about it, but currently his brows are creased to deepen the line of his eyes. "It isn't that. You're human - more particularly, you weren't born in Oasis. Or on the Planet of the Sands. There's known to be a bit of an elitist culture here, so it's easier for us foreigners to stay out of view."

"'Us foreigners'? You aren't from here?" you ask in surprise, following him as he resumes your pace.

Scoffing, Jin sends you a slight grin. "No. Even though I do admit that i have a bit of an advantage over you, regardless of me being a foreigner."

The end of the hallway nears, yielding to an even more massive, round center room. You gape are the skylight spanning the ceiling, a crystal starburst that paints the grand room with golden light.

You almost have to peer against the illumination.

Small groupings of couches and gold-gilded chairs pepper the room. It appears as a room of in-between; the seating is for people who are waiting to move on, traveling from one place to another. Other hallways form dark arches against the sepia-stained walls; you count seven in total.

They line out in a circle around the center room.

"What's your advantage?" you ask to dispel your touristic awe. "Let me guess - it's the pink hair."

Jin laughs. He spreads a long-fingered hand against the delicate embroidery on his doublet. "I am a political ambassador. I represent goodwill between The Sands and my own planet."

"Your own planet, which is..." you hedge.

"The Glades," Jin responds.

The Glades.

Another very obvious description of a planet's landscape. You wonder if the translator in your ear is making some beautiful alien planet name into the most basic, understandable Earth translation possible.

You imagine that, like the desert landscape of the Sands, the Glades takes up its namesake with a planet made of forests and sunlight.

It's fitting for Jin. He looks like a fairytale prince that's come from a sunny forest glad, where he lounges the day way with his woodland friends.

That brings back memories of how he saved you from being trampled by a buffalo in the chaos after the Servus auction.

Maybe he actually can communicate with animals - a real, albeit alien, woodland prince.

You chew on the thought as Jin chooses a new hallway. You cut across the resting room to get to it, dodging a small cluster of gold brocade chairs.

"The bathing chamber is down the third hallway to the right," Jin informs you. He points past two dark archways that span the distance between the hallway leading to your room and the hallway where you are headed.

Abashedly, you confess, "It's a little confusing. They all look the same."

He nods, strands of cherry blossom hair shifting into his eyes. "It's a palace, so it's built to be confusing. That way intruders would have a bit of trouble finding their way around."

Ah, the palace - this explains the grandeur and sumptuousness of literally everything. You can't imagine how you look right now, filthy and barefooted walking through golden halls.

You really need that bath.

This second hallway dead ends with a huge open archway that takes up the entirety of the wall. A gentle, steamy fragrance is drifting out of it.

Jin leads you inside, where you discover another sitting room of dark wood benches and tasseled cushions. A small atrium houses blue-tipped bushes waxy plants that grow up to your waist, dripping with orange and goldenrod blooms. A timed fountain trickles water at the center of the display.

A dark wood door rests on each side of you, gold words painted both in a strange, boxy language. Although your translator allows you to understand verbal language, the written version is unknown to you.

"The women's chamber is to the right." Jin outstretched a guiding hand towards the right-hand door, then crosses back behind him. "I will wait for you here. You should find everything you need to wash inside the chamber."

Nodding in understanding, you push through the chamber door. As you pass through the frame, you have a tiny moment of fear that you'll have another panic attack while you're alone.

But then you look down and see how grimy and disgusting you are, and another panic attack isn't so scary.

There's dirt and dust caked around your ankles, and your hair feels stiff with filth.

You really, really need a bath.

The inside of the bathing chamber is filled with a soothing-scented steam which fogs your vision a bit. Wading through the semi-transparent mist, you find a large rectangular pool rimmed with gold. Tiled steps lead down into water that's steaming with delicious heat.

The large chamber is empty except for you, so you waste no time in shedding your ragged clothes and stepping down into the bath.

The water comes up to your waist, incredible warm, and there are benches built along the sides to sit in as you wash. You find an alcoved shelf lining the back wall of the bath with rough rags, loofa-like sponges and clumps of fragrant soap.

It's never felt this incredible to be clean.

Luxuriating in the warm water and clean scents, you may back in the pool and close your eyes.

If you clear your mind enough, you can almost pretend you're in the bathhouse in your hometown.

It's tempting to never open them again, so you won't have to come to terms with what's beyond the chamber door.

In the end, though, you open your eyes.

You slick your wet hair back from your face, and take a deep breath.

You prepare to return to the alien world that's awaiting you.

[A/N]
Unedited

A week ago I had to fly back to Texas after helping to move my younger sister to her university in Florida (mask on the entire time, socially distanced, GermXed to the max). When I put my phone with my boarding pass on the scanner at the airport, the girl working security asked me who was on the back of my phone (I have a picture of orange-haired Hoseok behind a clear case, with some cute stickers  holding the corners of his picture down). I replied offhandedly that it was a member of a Kpop group, since in my past experience questions like that lead to some type abuse about my admiration of Korean music. I wasn't really in the mood for that. The girl insisted again, and asked me, "But what's his name?" Bewilder by the persistence, I replied, "Well, he's J-Hope." My boarding pass finished scanning, and I began to walk away to the security check. As I went, the girl called, "My bias is Jungkook." I laughed and grinned at her as I left. She wasn't looking out to harass me for liking Kpop, as I first assumed. She just wanted to see if I was really a fan of a band she also loved. She really made my day, and reminded me to not judge a person's motivations without knowing them.

There's a lot of horrible, crazy stuff going on everywhere right now, and an extra dose in the country of my origin. I've seen a lot of Americans spewing hate, and a lot of people of other nationalities beginning to say they hate Americans. I'd like you all to remember a few things before saying offensive things towards anyone, regardless of their nationality or political view: any words that I type are going to impact another human being. So am I going out of my way to make that impact positive, or negative? It's all in my power. Also, you can't judge an entire nationality, race, or political party by the actions of few. If you're outside the United States, or even inside it, the people you see on the news are, for the most part, people with radical viewpoints. Meaning, they do not reflect the opinion of the majority. Most American citizens are disgusted by the violence, and scared as crap about the things happening right now. Leaving comments under every post and video on the internet about how horrible Americans are is absolutely ridiculous and, honestly, totally ignorant. I'm sorry to use such strong language but it's incredible that you can see such a small majority of the population do something horrible and decide that all of America is the same. That perspective is of someone trying to cause more conflict rather than looking to solve it.

I just want y'all to take a second look before you send out that tweet, or leave that YouTube comment, or repost that hateful spiel. Americans included, it's almost always better to try to compromise and think about others. Please don't be selfish. Please be aware of your impact. Please don't promote hate.

Please make the right choice, guys.

Hope y'all have a great year, and stay kind, healthy, and safe.

❤️PB