I attempt to roll my eyes as Jungkook hops onto his feet, trying to look bored and uninterested. But even though I'd never admit it, I can't help but listen in as he starts talking.

"Okay, since now you know his real name, I can tell you some pre-precautions."

"Why do I need to hear this again?"

"Because, Noona." He says, waving my question away. "You promised not to interrupt me. And you'll probably have a hard time without my experiences."

"Experiences? Like what?"

"So the first time I met V hyung, believe it or not— I was kind of, um, shy. You know, I was good at killing and all, but I wasn't good with people and socializing. I still am, actually."

A question tingles against the tip of my tongue, but I didn't want to interrupt the maknae when he sounded so serious for once. Besides, this was interesting— I couldn't imagine Jungkook being shy.

"V hyung changed, too. He didn't use to be like that, you know. All cold and bipolar."

Oh, so Jungkook knew, too.

"What do you mean?" I unconsciously scoff, recalling V's polar mood swings. One moment he was all cute and cuddly, and the next he was all like "Don't touch me, you peasant."

"That's why it's hard to believe. He used to be really sweet— you probably wouldn't believe me though, when I say that. He was the one who broke me out of my shell. I'm not joking when I say that he used to hug the hyungs so much that they had to put a daily limit."

My mouth hangs open at the surreal description. There was no way— V and hugging was just not two words that went along with each other.

"But then he had his first attack."

Oh.

Jungkook tucks his chin in his hands as he stares at the ground. "When he woke up, it was like everything had changed. He didn't talk for a week after Hoseok told him that he was dying. He hasn't hugged anyone since— well, nobody that I know of."

He gives a knowing glance at me, and I try not to flush as he continues.

"His personality froze over so harshly that he'd start pushing us away, too. Now is a lot better than a few months ago, you know. He used to have only one expression— which was no expression at all. It was frustrating, really."

I hadn't realized that his terminal illness had such an effect on him— enough to make him go from south to north. But I didn't blame him, having a similar sickness myself.

The world was just cruel to the wrong people, sometimes.

"And then thankfully, after you came, things became a whole lot better!" Jungkook says delightedly, folding his hands behind his head. "I actually doubted if he was the same person, you know, because he became so cheerful."

That? If that was considered cheerful, then I didn't really want to know his before. How cold had his personality gotten?

"But Noona," He says, back to trying to look serious again. "You need to understand that he'll be a very bipolar person in a relationship."

Why am I talking to the maknae about this?

"I think I've noticed that already."

"No, Noona. I'm saying super super bipolar. Sometimes he'll be so nice and sweet, right? And then all of a sudden, he might become, um, really confusing."

His unfocused expression tells me that he's speaking from personal experience, and that he didn't want the same thing— whatever had happened— to happen to me.

"What happened, Jungkook? There's a reason that you're telling me this, aren't you?"

His lips purse together, and he seems to consider telling the truth before he gives in and nods.

"What happened?"

When I gently press, he crosses his legs together on the lone bed in the room. His features are clouded with a memory— a memory that he believes that might happen to me and is trying to prevent.

"So— remember how I told you that V hyung was the one who broke my shell? When he started to cover himself in with the same one, I couldn't believe it. I couldn't accept it— I kept thinking that he was just going though some phase— I don't know. Anyways, back then I didn't know better."

I listen intently as he blows out a sigh.

"I still regret what I did— but when he ignored me too many times, I broke." The maknae's shoulders bunch together as pain flashes through his furrowed brows.

"I told him some really bad things— things that I knew would get him furious. Back then, I just wanted just any kind of reaction from him, even though it would be his anger. He was just too— dead. I couldn't take it."

"What did you say?"

Jungkook fidgets for a while before shaking his head. I don't press any further— he was already out of his comfort zone by telling me this.

"Anyways, V hyung left. He didn't come back for two entire months— and when he did, it was only because I found him by luck and dragged him back crying. I was scared to take my hand off of his sleeve— scared that he might disappear. By then, I was— not myself, Noona. It was terrible. It was worse than anything I'd ever been through— I swear I would've mass murdered just to see him for a second. At the time, we were being especially hunted because of our success in assassinating the CEO of a globally known drug company— which meant that it was much more dangerous if any of us were out there unprotected and vulnerable. We didn't even know if he was alive, and it was all my fault."

Unconsciously, I think of the immobilized boy just a few rooms
away from me— the boy that I had immobilized. Jimin.

He seems to know what I'm thinking as my eyes dart towards the direction of the infirmary.

"It's not the same— at least you can see Jimin hyung, face to face. Since then we've all learned, from my mistake. You do not want V hyung to leave. It'll destroy you."

It will.

"Thank you, Jungkook." I say, grateful that the maknae uncovered his painful past for mine and V's sake. When I see a glistening in his eyes, I pull my sleeves down and carefully press them against his tears.

Jungkook stays still and stiff as I feel wetness seeping through the cloth and touching my skin.

It must've been so agonizing— not to know if someone you caused to leave would be dead or alive. Not to know if they were hurt or sick, or bleeding out somewhere in the streets. Just the thought of it sent the fade spiking up my heart rate— I couldn't imagine how it would've come down on the delicate maknae.

And he was so young, to have been through so much.

When I take my sleeves off of his eyes and embrace him comfortingly, any restraints that he seemed to have forced upon himself breaks away like glass. His figure trembles against mine in silent sobs as I pat his back in consolation.

Even deadly assassins needed a good cry sometimes.

He'd been holding his emotions down for too long, and I was more than glad to help him get them out. Being only seventeen and having been through so much had taken a toll on him— he was still a child, no matter how strong and skillful he seemed.

We all were, in different ways.