Trashy But Classy

“You need to listen to me very carefully, because this isn’t going to be easy to explain”, Namjoon’s voice was grave, and Jin  had no choice but to sit up and pay attention.

“Go on”, he’d pressed.

Now, he’s seated at the tiny dining table in the rarely-used kitchen on the ground floor. There’s a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, but he hardly needs it. Namjoon’s news had been like a bucket of ice water to the face. He’s wide awake, and his brain is in full-throttle. He debated on waking the other boys, but he figured that too many faces would be overwhelming for the girl. Plus, it would be easier to explain the situation to the boys when they were awake and fully-rested.

There’s footsteps up the stairs, and a bleary-eyed Jimin appears from the darkness of the basement, his feet dragging on the hardwood.

“Why are you even awake?” He mumbles, his eyes still closed, his streaky brown hair sticking up wildly. Jin shrugs, clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d do some writing or something”, he lies simply. Thankfully, Jimin is too tired to notice or care, so he just nods and stands there for a moment. Despite the atmosphere of the room, Jin can’t help but laugh lightly.

“Go back to bed”, he orders, and Jimin nods again, before turning and disappearing back down the stairs. With a sigh, Jin rests his head against the concrete wall. With tired eyes, he studies the scribbles of words and poems and songs on the walls, years of various pens and markers covering it like paint. For a moment, he wonders if she will hate it. But then he remembers the conditions of her visit, and he doubts she’ll care at all.

Namjoon can’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at her, checking to see if she’s still alive. She’s been slumped against the passenger side window since they left, and she hasn’t touched her bag sitting next to her. Apparently, she and Lia had been headed out for a weekend road trip when they got hit. The police had found two duffel bags, a tent, a cooler full of food, and various maps of the country in the trunk of Lia’s totalled car. Namjoon got clearance to take the girl and her belongings with him to his place, at least until something could be figured out for her. Turning a corner, he peels in and parks in the underground garage beneath his apartment. Jin, Yoongi, and Hoseok’s cars all parked in their normal places and Taehyung’s bike is leaned against the wall, meaning everyone is home tonight. With a sigh, Namjoon leans his head against the steering wheel. His mind wanders to Lia. Poor Lia. It had been a long time since they last talked. Two, three months maybe? And yet the kid had still called Namjoon her sister’s best friend. Lia must still have talked about him to her. Despite everything that had happened between them. With a groan, Namjoon turns in his seat to see her, only to find her staring at him already. He’s startled, but studies her. She’s got some cuts on her forehead and cheeks, and there’s a matted clump of blood in her hair where her biggest gash is, but other than that she seems fine. What bothers him is the blank, almost impassive look on her face. As if it were a normal evening. As if she wasn’t just in a massive car accident. As if her sister hadn’t just died. As if she weren’t homeless. With a sigh, Namjoon unclicks his seatbelt and opens his door.

“The boys are home, but we’ve got a place for you to stay for now”, he says comfortingly. Her expression stays the same, but she nods, and gets out of the car, taking her bag with her.

Of all the things going on around you, all you can focus on are the walls. Why is there so much writing on them? Your mother would skin you alive and hand you your ass back as a hat if you pulled something like that at home. Lia probably wouldn’t be too happy either. Oh, Lia. When your brain screams at you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to banish the image of your sister’s slackjawed gaze from the wrong side of the windshield. There’s a hand in between your shoulder blades.

“You alright?” An echoey voice asks you. You squint through the dark at the source. It’s Namjoon. He looks concerned, and it makes you feel bad. You nod, even though it feels like someone is drilling on the inside of your head.

“Namjoon?” A separate voice calls, and another boy appear from around the corner. He’s pretty tall, with wispy brown hair that he keeps pushing away from his eyes.

“Hey, man. Sorry to wake you. I just didn’t want it to be a massive surprise”, Namjoon whispers apologetically, and the other boys shrugs. You recognize him, but your brain is too fuzzy to piece everything together. He catches your eye, and smiles sympathetically.

“Hey, Y/N. We met when you were pretty young, so you probably don’t remember me. I’m Seokjin”, he says, shaking the hand you didn’t realize you’d reached out. Jin’s eyes go somber. “I’m sorry about your sister”, he adds, and you swallow. There’s nothing to say, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Where are we going to put her?” Jin asks Namjoon quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to hear. People have been doing a lot of that tonight.

“It’s not great, but the attic is big, and Jungkook’s old bed is up there. There’s a window, and we can move stuff up there if she needs it”, Namjoon explains, but Jin hesitates.

“An attic, though? That seems a little harsh”, he reasons, but Namjoon sighs and pinches his nose.

“There’s not much else. I’m not making her sleep on a couch, seeing as she has a pretty bad concussion. And I’m certainly not making her sleep with one of us. Plus, the attic is double the size of any of our bedrooms. It’s a good place for her”, he argues. Jin pauses and thinks, before sighing with a nod.

“Alright. How long is she staying?” He asks, before leading the way to the staircase at the far end of kitchen. Namjoon leads you along softly.

“I don’t know. Until something is figured out”.

You follow them up the stairs that are hidden in the back of the small kitchen. The staircase is so tiny and narrow that Jin has to pull his arms in close and Namjoon has to duck. Oddly enough, the wall writing has stopped here. Namjoon, who’s leading the way, pushes open a small, hobbit-style door at the top, and holds it open as Jin leads you in. It’s still dark, but the blackness has turned to a dusty grey as morning approaches. You study the room; It is, as promised, an attic. But there’s not boxes or rats or dust. There’s simple an old, iron-framed bed tucked into the far corner, flush against the north window, piled with woolen blankets and some pillows. There’s a simple white bedside table with a lamp. On the eastern wall, a large window makes up the overhanging ceiling, and appears to lead out onto what may have once been a balcony. An elaborate attic. Jin rubs his neck sheepishly as you move and sit on the bed. It’s soft, but you feel stiff as a board.

“I’m sorry, it’s the best we could do on short notice. We’ll fix it up some more if you like”, he explains hastily. You want to smile reassuringly, but your face won’t respond. You’re fixed with a permanent blank gaze.

“It’s enough. Thank you”, you whisper. Namjoon and Jin glance at each other, glance back at you, and then turn to leave.

“I have to wake you up every two or three hours for the next few days. I hope you don’t mind too much”, Namjoon warns you, but you simply nod. He purses his lips.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispers, barely audible, before he disappears back down the stairs. You simply sit there, staring at the door.

There’s a lot of noise, but your brain is oddly quiet. There’s a nurse sitting next to you. One of her hands is resting on your hair. The other is holding a piece of something soft to your face. There’s also a doctor crouched in front of you. He keeps telling you to do weird things, like close your left eye, then your right eye, then follow that stupid penlight back and forth. He’s treating you like a little kid, and it’s kind of annoying. Your ears are ringing, and you’ve got a pounding pain that seems to radiate from your head. The edges of your sight are kind of fuzzy too.

“It’s alright sweetie. Everything is going to be fine”, the nurse says soothingly. You don’t know why she’s saying that, or why she sounds so sad. You turn to look at her. She’s pretty, with short black hair and wide eyes. When she sees you looking, she gives you a kind smile. The annoying doctor starts snapping to get your attention again, and you turn to glare at him.

“I need you to answer a few questions for me, okay?” He asks, pulling out a clipboard and pen. You nod.

He asks your name.

You tell him.

He asks your age.

You tell him.

He asks if you’re in a lot of pain.

You shake your head.

He asks if you remember what happened.

You pause.

And then you start to scream.

Namjoon jumps when he hears the screaming. He finds it eerie that the kid’s shrieks started at the exact second that the Code Blue was called overhead. He shakes his head with a sigh, returning to the paperwork in front of him. His recent patient, a pregnant women with complaints of early contracts, was released two hours ago, but there is still a ton of paperwork for him to complete. Thankfully his shift ends in twenty minutes. He gets up to put the folder in the filing cabinet, but takes a step back when the resuscitation team races past him, towards one of the patient rooms. He shakes his head. That is never a good sign. An ambulance came in about half an hour ago. One of the other nurses told him that it was a pair of sisters hit by a drunk driver in one of the worst accidents she’d seen. Namjoon had felt a flash of anger. All these laws, and yet some fuckers still managed to slip under the cops radar. He has a feeling that the emergency team is for one of the sisters. Which means she probably won’t make it. Code Blues almost never end well. Once the hallway is clear, Namjoon makes his way towards the filing room. On the way, he passes the bench where the screaming kid is. The doctor who’d been with her has disappeared, probably part of the Code Blue. She’s stopped screaming, and has curled herself into the side of the nurse. She’s rocking back and forth, her long hair matted with blood and dirt. As he puts the file away, his heart beats painfully for the kid. With a heavy heart, he moves closer to them, sitting next to her. He makes eye contact with the nurse, who gives him a pitiful look.

“Concussion”, she says softly, as if trying to stop the girl from hearing. Namjoon purses his lips. She’s the lucky one. She’s covered in blood and dirt, and her clothes are torn and covered in broken glass, but she’s alive. That’s probably more than what can be said for her sister. And judging by the slow walk of the returning doctor, and the solemn look on his face, Namjoon senses that he’s right.

“Miss. I’m sorry. She didn’t make it”, the doctor says curtly. Namjoon flinches, expecting the screaming to start again, but there’s only silence.

“Okay”, comes a tiny voice. The girl lifts her head, and pushes the nurse’s hand away from her face, where she’d been pressing a piece of gauze. There is a deep gash just above her hairline that is seeping blood down her face. With a start, Namjoon realizes he knows this girl. He says her name in disbelief, and she turns to look at him. But there is no recognition in her pale eyes. In fact, there’s nothing there at all. Suddenly, Namjoon’s heart lurches and he feels sick. This means it was Lia. Lia is the dead sister. With a trembling hand, he reaches over and presses it between the girl’s shoulder blades. The doctor starts talking again.

“Because you are without a home right now, we will arrange for the police to take you into custody. Because of your concussion, it is crucial your are not left alone for the next forty-eight hours. Your parents will be contacted immediately, and we will have you sent home”, the doctor explains.

“No”, Namjoon cuts in. The doctor and nurse look at him questioningly. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“I know her. The sister, Lia, she was a close friend of mine. I’ll take her in for now”, Namjoon offers.

“Is this true, miss?” The doctor asks. There is a pause. The girl looks up briefly.

 Well, not actually piss each other off. Nobody hates anyone, and fights are uncommon. Actually, you love each other very much. But it’s one of those friendships that is based off of constant teasing and poking fun. Luhan takes every opportunity to lock you out of your apartment, but it’s okay because sometimes when he needs to shower, you’ll briefly turn off the hot water tank and giggle like a fool when his high pitched screams echo from down the hall. One time, when Luhan embarrassed you in front of one of your professors, you got back at him by saran-wrapping the entrance to his bedroom. You were lucky enough to snap a photo just as he ran head-first into it. It’s always been playful, harmless pranks, and whenever one of you is having a bad day, you can simply count on the other to make you feel better.

 You’re lying on your living room couch, wrapped under a fuzzy blanket and watching a romcom when Luhan shows up. You don’t even bother turning around, he has a key and pretty much lives in your house as it is. Your eyes are still watching the film, but your ears are naturally trained on him, always subconsciously looking out for him. He drops his stuff by the door and moves into your kitchen, and you silently thank god that you had the presence of mind to go grocery shopping today. Luhan literally eats everything he can find. But you only hear the tap turn on and a glass being filled. 

 “Do you have any Advil?” He calls.

 “Bathroom cabinet, top shelf!” You call back, not even thinking. Luhan pretty much lives here (you call your guest room his bedroom), so you don’t mind him having to go through your own room to get to the main bathroom. You hear him shuffle away, and you huddle further down under the blanket. After a few minutes, he comes back, and perches on the arm rest of the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s oddly quiet, but then he starts trying to shimmy his way under the blanket too.

 “Make room”, he grumbles, but you just laugh and push him off.

 “No way! There’s hardly enough room for just me!” You fight back. But to your surprise, Luhan simply pulls himself up and storms away, leaving you tangled in the blanket and utterly confused. Why didn’t he fight back? Luhan takes every chance he gets to play fight with you. What worries you even more is the sound of his door slamming shut down the hall. You flinch, and pull yourself off the couch. You’re in shorts and a t-shirt despite the weather, so you wrap the blanket around you even more to stop the shivers. You quietly move down the hallway, past your room to the guest room. Tentatively, you knock twice. There’s no answer, not even a rustle of bed sheets. Troubled, you crack the door open, peering in. The curtains are closed and the nightlight has been torn out of the wall socket, cloaking the room in grey darkness. You can see Luhan’s form on the bed, rolled away from you and the covers kicked away from him. 

 “Lu?” You whisper hoarsely, but there’s only a grunt in response. At least he’s not asleep.

 “I’m sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t think I pushed you that hard”, you apologize quietly as you slide into the room, quietly closing the door behind you.

 “You didn’t”, he croaks softly, and you know instantly something is up. You hurry over to the bed, and slide onto the unoccupied side, sitting on your knees.

 “What’s wrong?” You whisper, reach out to touch his shoulder. To your surprise, he doesn’t recoil are push you away.

 “Nothing”, he replies stubbornly. You sigh internally. Luhan is your best friend, and you love him more than anything, but you know that when he gets like this, not even you can pry him out of his shell. You haven’t seen him like this in almost two years. 

 “I’ll leave you alone”, you whisper, almost inaudibly as you move to slide off the bed, but Luhan suddenly whips around are grabs you around the waist. He’s half-sitting up, with his face buried in the curve of your hip.