17: Premonitions and Instincts

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"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."

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