❝You taste like oranges❞
A boy with a peculiar obsession, an illness that ivolves around him and his sudden urge to eat, or taste, oranges.
A girl with a challenging heart and a curious mind, who's nothing less than complicated, and so is he, tho...
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Sora
My eyes settled upon the woman that stood a couple of steps away. A woman I knew, not too well, but pressumed she would not be all too happy to see us. Not here anyway.
My grip tightened on the arms of the chair. “Mrs Jeon” I muttered.
The woman turned to look at me, a cross smile appearing on her face. “Sora, Taehyung” Her gaze switched to the man sitting on the other side of the room. She looked at him with a sour expression, one of question and hinted hatred, as if asking, what are you doing here? A stranger in the waiting room, and he was waiting for her Son.
She shot him a dissaproving stare. “And you are?”.
He stood immediately. It was a form of etiquette, and with the blue suit he was wearing due to the fact he caught us on the way to the station, it perfectly fit his persona. He put his arm out. The woman shook it hesitantly. “Kim Namjoon”.
“I'm going to need more information than that boy” She rolled her eyes. Then, walked to the empty seat next to his. “So...” She patted the chair, signalling for him to go over. “Spill”.
It was anxiety that over took me at that moment. Taehyung too. We had known that Jungkook's mother was going to find out eventually, but it was too soon. Way too soon. The problem wasn't telling her, not at all, it was leaving her out of the case, because as much of an emotional bound we had made to protect the boy, we couldn't afford any trouble. I had not a single doubt about how strong Mrs. Jeon was, but Namjoon still didn't want her in. What we would do when the time came, when we would have to face certain people, certain situations, it would have to remain a secret. Mrs. Jeon couldn't be a part of that.
My heart skipped a beat when Namjoon spoke. “I'm a private investigator” It was an answer given by pressure. Namjoon tried to disclose as little as possible.
“A P.I.?” Her gaze lingered to the floor. We could sense the anger rise. The air turned heavier. “What do you want with my family?”.
Namjoon looked at her deadshot, straight in the eyes. If she was a target, the arrow would have hit red. I could sense it, feel it; It was red. “I'm sure you know quite well Mrs.”.
He'd hit a nerve, and he'd done it without losing a tinge of his profound kindness. That's what killed her inside, what made her blood boil. “You-”. She pointed a finger, but was —to our luck— interrupted by the doctor that walked into the room.
I stood.
Taehyung grabbed my hand.
“How is he?” I rushed to ask.
The doctor gave me a calm smile. “He's stable”.
The burdain on my shoulders lightened. “He's awake?”.
