SeVen Uncaged

12: A Wound Never Heals So Well That a Scar Cannot Be Seen

Behavior:

/bəˈhāvyər/

noun;

all the little things we do because of fucked up situations 

"I know it does. Everything seems so shady, you know? Yoongi practically bit my head off when I tried to ask him how he knew to work the shower here, unlike Jungkook or Taehyung." Your voice dropped an octave as you moved the phone from one ear to another, echoing off the bathroom walls more than you'd like. "I haven't spoken to the others yet, but none of them have actually bathed besides him. They’re probably hobo bathing out of the sink or something. I'm going to assume I'll need to teach them how the shower works as well."  

Pinning the phone with your shoulder, you reached down to pluck the washcloth out of Taehyung's sudsy fingers that were in the midst of practically shredding the white fabric with innocent curiosity. Ignoring his protesting growl, you had to shoo away grabbing hands, holding the soaked fabric away from his persistent reach before the tiger let out a huff of deflated breath through his nostrils and sat back in the chest-deep bubble bath to pout.

A bubble bath you both had to compromise for. 

The stubborn hybrid refused to partake in any hygienic activities, even though you continuously reassured him until you were blue in the face that a bath would be different. In the end, he would only agree if you stayed in the room, which led to your own rules that he kept his boxers on and stayed for longer than five minutes at the least. The eight inch blanket of bubbles was an extra layer of precaution, for both your sanity and his modesty.

Twisting the cloth to ring out any excess water, you listened to Milly's response while watching the droplets fall back into the suds where his legs would be; his tail slithering up occasionally from the water along the edge of the tub like a water snake. The orange and black fur slicked together into triangular patterns, baring his white undercoat and a bit of the pinkened skin beneath. It reminded you of when you were doing charity work, washing pets in college.

The distinct rattling of a bag came through the receiver, breaking your concentration. “When I get home, I’ll ask my hybrids if they were treated similarly. Honestly, I just assumed they didn’t know how to work mine since it’s a new bathroom for them.” She paused, audibly taking a bite of her lunch, reminding you that you were interrupting her break at work. “Ya’know, like faucets are all different depending where you go. But what’s more concerning is Jungkoook said he was drugged?”

"Not his exact words, no. Just the way he said it, Mills. He said he woke up in another room with them scrubbing his ears and hair without him remembering anything. Or how he got there. As for Taehyung.. he's terrified of the spray." Turning away from the bathtub so the tiger couldn't hear you, you whispered into the cellphone, chewing on your bottom lip. "Jungkook thinks maybe they hosed him down the way they would the play areas.”

Her gasp gripped your heart. “He can’t mean those power—”

The sloshing of water behind you drowned out whatever she was about to say. Taking a quick glance over your shoulder, you found those increasingly familiar topaz eyes boring into your back. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you noticed him leisurely watching you with his chin on crossed arms, draped over the edge of the tub with peaked interest. There was no mistaking the fact he was listening in on the conversation now.