the spy life is the high life | k.yg + bb

nineteen

Jaebeom rushed Jinyoung in as blood rushed down his left cheek, like a tear. The younger man had a hold of the other side of his face. "I guess I... fell?"

Yugyeom stood completely still by Bambam. He could tell, from the way Jinyoung moved, that the injury wasn't too threatening. It wasn't necessarily rare for one of their members to get injured, either, so he wasn't too alarmed at what had happened as compared to what could have happened. Jinyoung had been alone- Yugyeom considered him lucky to have received only a minor head injury (he now saw it was a scratch across his forehead, one that would scar).

Behind him, Mark finally peeked out his head with wide eyes. "Oh, no," he whispered, mostly to himself, "if we hadn't separated, this would never have happened." Bambam pouted, (quite adorably, Yugyeom might add) and squeaked "Awe, no way!" to Mark. Yugyeom knew one of Bambam's most basic desires was to be a person capable of comforting anyone. While Yugyeom found him to be the best medicine, Mark's unresponsive behavior implied that Bambam might need a little more practice before mastering this 'skill'.

Jinyoung, now more alert, rolled his eyes dramatically at the once again receding Mark. "Don't say that TV drama bull crap. If you had been there, you just might have gotten hurt too. It's a relief that I was alone."

Bambam rose and paced to Jinyoung, sitting beside him on the bed where Jaebeom was cleaning his wound. "What happened?"

Jinyoung cast his eyes upward, in deep thought. "I suppose it could have been an ambush. It might have been an accident just as easily, though." He shook his head. "I don't want to think about it. There's no valuable information to take from it, so don't even try to pry."

Mark came out from under the table and hoisted himself up to sit on top of it, his small frame not causing much distress on the weak legs of the furniture. At about the same time, Youngjae stirred and poked his head out from under the blanket, a drowsy, lost look on his face.

"What happened?"

Jaebeom rushed to Youngjae's side and explained things to him as the younger rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Jinyoung, meanwhile, was twiddling his fingers with deep contemplation written over his features. Yugyeom couldn't tell if he was worried, scared, indifferent, or anything else. 

"It's gone to hell in a hand basket around here..." Bambam muttered, raising his hand to gesture Yugyeom toward the open spot beside him on the bed. Yugyeom complied obediently, relaxing beside Bambam as if it was second nature. And it was.

He couldn't-- wouldn't-- didn't want to think about how things had gone to "hell in a hand basket". He had gradually gotten used to the feeling of a teammate coming back partially injured, or even drastically as he had been, but being with Bambam made him feel different. Before they had revealed their identities, Yugyeom had felt comfort knowing he could go home and temporarily forget all the pain with Bambam.

Now, that wouldn't be possible.

Bambam, seemingly reading his expression, tilted his head in such a position that he looked at Yugyeom more directly. "Hey," he said, "You okay?"

Yugyeom put a hand to his forehead and nodded. "Yeah. Just... overwhelmed." He knew, reasonably, that things had been worse. There had already been times where there seemed to be no hope on missions before. But this one felt different. He felt that every detail he didn't know- Mnet's plans, Jackson's true intentions- would contribute to another lost life.

This was a big deal they had been entrusted with, and he was beginning to feel that they weren't ready. If Jinyoung could be so dazed, if Mark and Bambam could be so easily charmed by Jackson, maybe they weren't ready to be South Korea's super heroes quite yet. Maybe the battle against corruption would have to wait.