(Yanna POV)

(present time)

I slowly turn the knob as I close the bedroom door. I sigh and lean my forehead against the wood as my thoughts run wild. I woke up in this strange room this morning truly terrified, but now this room is the safest place I know to be right now. Didn't Yoongi tell me he brought me here to keep me safe? I feel more like I'm being kept captive.

Yoongi. Min Yoongi. He's not who I thought he was. Not even close. He says he didn't lie, but to me... it sounds like he lied about pretty much everything. My mind spins like someone locked it in a washing machine. Everything Yoongi just told me and showed me, scares me. I used to feel so safe around him, when he would hold my hand and sit next to me. Now just being in the same room with him sends chills through my bones.

More than that, all I feel like doing is crying my eyes out. Keeping back the tears proves harder than I first anticipated.

There's no point. Tears are coming whether I want them to or not. You know what, why shouldn't they come? Don't I deserve to let out a little stress? Don't I deserve to shed a few tears over my situation?

Well... more than a few, I guess.

With the door closed, and sheets thrown over my head, I let my tears out. They fall and fall and fall until I can't feel them anymore. My throat can't speak. My chest can't relax. My hands can't stop gripping the sheets. Everything is falling apart. I am falling apart. I feel weak. I hate feeling weak.

My body is tired. Even though I haven't physically been through enough to make me pass out, my mind and heart feel like shutting out the world.

I cry myself to sleep.

(Yoongi POV)

She cried herself to sleep. I know. I listened. With my back pressed to the wall outside her room, I sat there and listened. To every sob and every gasp. It was hours before she silenced herself with sleep. I peak in to make sure she's still alive. I sigh when I see her small body curled up with the sheets, her cheeks buried with stains.

Silently, I walk to the side of her bed and look down at her. She looks... weak. So, I pull the covers over her shoulder and tuck her in. Hopefully, she'll sleep through the night again.

"I'm sorry." I tell her even though she can't hear me, "But things are like this now. You're here for who knows how long. We should both learn how to coexist harmoniously. And I'll do my best to-" My words quickly hush when she shifts and sighs in her sleep.

"Crap, did I wake her? No... no, I think I'm okay. Why was I randomly talking anyway? I'm so sleep deprived myself that I'm talking to Yanna in her sleep. Wow, I'm insane."

I hold my breath and step back from her bedside until I can close the door and leave her in peace. Better let her sleep. While she can.

(Yanna POV)

I wake up, and it's now dark outside. The one window in my room is black like the sky. There are no stars. Why are there no stars?

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, and sit up, the blankets that had been curled around me fall off the bed. I stand and throw them back onto the mattress before looking to the window.

I want to see stars. Why are there no stars?

I sigh. Nothing is going my way anymore. And not to be selfish or anything, but can't just one thing go my way? I mean, after being finally treated like a normal human being for the first time in my school life, my house gets demolished, my parents go missing, and I'm brought by some madman to a house in the god knows where wilderness.

I gasp when the realization hits me. I could be anywhere. He could have smuggled me out of the country if he wanted to! Who knows how long I was drugged?

I look to the door. I wonder if he's asleep. Does he sleep? I guess if you're an agent, you don't sleep on the job, right? Maybe he's in that training room he showed me before. If that's the case, I should be able to sneak out the front door.

Yes! If Yoongi is in the basement, I can just walk right on out of the house, and he'll never know! Okay, I hope this is my chance.

I don't have any shoes, but I'll have to take my chances in the night if I want to get out of here. Honestly, I feel safer taking my chances out there than I do staying here in a house with a hitman and a room full of weapons.

Carefully and as silently as I can manage, I open the door. The soft click of it closing behind me can't possibly be heard in the soundproof training room downstairs, so I don't regard it.

Step by step by step, I make my way down the stairs. I think I'm safe so far, almost there. The front door is in my sights. Quickly, I make a run for it, my steps still muffled by my small, sock feet.

"Hey." He says nonchalantly, not even looking up from his bowl.

I instantly freeze and turn to stare at him with wide, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. I gasp nervously. He's sitting at the kitchen table, a book in one hand and a spoon in the other.

He looks up at me, "Do you want cereal?" He takes a bite of what I'm guessing is fruity pebbles. It's colorful. I never would have guessed him to be the kind to eat colorful cereal at 11:50 at night. Or at least, that's what the clock on the wall says.

"No, thank you." I say sternly, crossing my arms. No way am I accepting anything he offers me.

I look around the room, and my stomach growls. Yoongi stops chewing and tries not to smile, "You sure you don't want any?"

I blush. I don't make eye contact, instead deciding to look at the floor, "I said no thank you." I say and take a step back from the front door. I am so hungry, but for some reason, I don't want to admit it.

He points with his spoon, "Cereal is in the cupboard. Milk is in the fridge. Have at it."

My steps are slow. I don't want to seem overly eager to accept this guy's cereal. Every time he looks at me, I look away. And every time I look at him, it's like he's a different person. I hate that. I wish he was the Yoongi I met at school. The nice one who carried my books, and fought bullies, and fixed my locker.

Now he's nothing but a kidnapper.

I just walk to the table and carefully take the seat across from him. His eyes are glued to his book. He doesn't look at me.

"What are you reading?" I ask just to fill the empty silence in the air (and to distract me from the empty pit in my stomach).

He keeps eating, "A book." He answers.

I roll my eyes, "I mean, what is your book called?"

He swallows, "Fallen Arrangement."

I raise my eyebrows and try to lean over to see the page he's on, "What's it about?" I ask curiously.

I jump back when Yoongi quickly slams the book closed and pulls it away, "Nothing." He says quickly returning to his cereal.

I shut my mouth and sit back with a disappointed frown.

"Okay, I have to ask," I finally say after a good three minutes of absolutely nothing happening. I'm sorry, but I hate awkward silence, "What do you do here? I mean, besides reading and eating?"

Yoongi looks up at me for the first time in a while, "Train."

I sigh, "Okay, besides that."

He shrugs, "I keep you safe."

This sparks my interest, "You said that before. What are you keeping me safe from exactly?"

He shrugs again, "I guess... more like I'm keeping you secret."

I repeat, "Keeping me secret? Why?"

"I have to keep you secret." He explains. Although that wasn't much of an explanation.

"You have to?" I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm needed to be kept safe or secret or whatever in the first place.

"Yes." Yoongi says, taking his last bite and standing to take his dish to the sink.

I slump back in my seat and scoff, "Sounds like the plot to a cheesy teenage novel." I mumble.

Yoongi drops his bowl in the sink, and turns to lean on the counter, "Well, it's my job." He says with a sigh.

I shrug, "You could change careers." I try to sound optimistic. Besides, that means I can leave if he ditches this agency or whoever he works for.

He shakes his head, "Actually, I can't. Also, I've been in this business for years."

"And how happy are you?" I have to ask.

"Happiness doesn't matter as long as my duties are carried out." He says flatly, all emotion gone from his voice.

I narrow my eyes. Just what does this agency teach their agents? "Happiness matters everywhere you go. What doesn't matter is what it costs you."

"Cost is always important." Yoongi defends.

"Why?" I ask, standing as well and crossing my arms.

"Because cost determines value." He says plainly as if that should be obvious.

"What do you mean?"

Yoongi takes a step and puts his hands in his pockets, "The more you value something, the more you are willing to pay for it. That includes happiness." He looks to me and raises his eyebrows as if I'm supposed to not have an answer to his statement.

"You can't measure happiness in value. It's priceless." I say.

"That's a shame." He clicks his tongue.

"How come?" I uncross my arms.

Yoongi licks his lips and takes the last three steps before he's standing directly in front of me. He looks down at me, and there goes my heart again. Ugh, no! Why is my heart racing? I don't like this guy, not after what he did. I shouldn't like him... why am I still feeling things when he looks at me like this?

"Because I only protect that which is valuable." He says softly.

Oh. So, he wouldn't be here if he didn't think that what he's doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Is that what he means? I thought he was just carrying out some orders like a robot sent to kidnap me.

"Am I valuable?" I ask slowly.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and lets it go, "Yes." He admits.

"How valuable?" I ask, blinking my eyes in fear of hearing an answer I don't want.

Yoongi's voice returns to that emotionless robot that I'm slowly but surely learning to hate, "I was instructed to keep you alive at all costs, so that's what I'm doing."

I roll my eyes, "Here we go with the costs again. You know, you could win an award for being the most stubborn kidnapper in history." I argue with a shake of my head.

Yoongi shakes his head too and steps away from me, "I'm not in this for the awards." He explains.

"I don't want to be in this at all." I nod. Why all of a sudden a tear decides to fall, don't ask me. But I quickly wipe it away and keep the rest of the waterfall to myself.

"That's too bad." Yoongi mocks me and turns around to wash his dish in the sink.

For some reason, all this fire builds in my gut, and I feel like exploding. Maybe it's from being taken away from everything I know, maybe it's from being lied to, or maybe it's just Yoongi himself, but I can't shut myself up, "No, you know what's too bad? The fact that you can't be happy with something unless it's valuable to someone else."

"That's not true." Yoongi grits his teeth without looking at me.

I scoff and raise my voice, "Oh, it's not? Then tell me why you're so quick to risk all the trust I had in you to follow some ridiculous orders given to you by someone who claims that I'm in danger?"

He doesn't move or say anything, so I let the rest of my thoughts about his little kidnapping orders be known.

"And you know what else? I'm glad you're not a simple transfer boy from Daegu, because god knows I would have been the perfect target for you to spoil!"

Yoongi drops the bowl in the sink with a loud crash and whips his finger around to point it at me, "First. You don't know a thing about me, so stop acting like you can make judgment calls about who I am or what makes me happy."

His words catch me off guard, not to mention his tone of voice, "I--"

He interrupts me, "Second. I'm not here to be your blame toy, and I'm definitely not here to spoil you. I'm here to carry out orders, and if you don't agree with the way I run things around here, well sorry not sorry, but that's the way things are gonna be. Suck it up and deal with it before you see what I really look like when I'm frustrated!"

I take a step back when I see his fist. I don't think he even realizes how high he's raised it. I thought he said he's supposed to protect me! I suddenly feel more threatened than I do protected by this guy. I don't even know who he is anymore.

Yoongi's eyes go from rage to regret when he notices me staring at his fist in the air.

He sighs, and quickly hides his hand behind his back, "Yanna, listen--"

But I cut off his words with my own, my voice practically dead, "I want to go home." And with that I wrap my arms around my frame and walk up the stairs until the bedroom door locks behind me, and I can once again let out tears until I drown.

I'm so weak. Why?

(Yoongi POV)

"Yanna..." I try to stop her from leaving so I can explain in more detail about what we said to each other, but she isn't listening.

I sigh and slam a fist on the counter top. I screwed up. Again. I know I did. Why can't I talk normally to this girl? Every time I try to be myself, I end up sounding like someone I don't even know.

That whole conversation, everything that she said just sparked an anger inside me that made me want to explode! I don't know how she does it, but something about her makes me... feel things, and I don't like it. I want it to stop!

There's this... pain in my chest when I look at her. I know I did her wrong. I guess it hurts more because I know Yanna doesn't deserve any of this. I feel guilty. I've never felt guilty for lying before, so why now? Why her? Why Yanna?

Here's the thing. Even though I'm not undercover anymore, I'm still responsible for Yanna. She's still under my protection, and I have to make sure nothing happens to her. Part of that means she has to trust me when I say I know what's best for her safety. Even though I'm not the sweet, transfer boyfriend type now, Yanna still has to trust me. And upsetting her by saying things like what I just said is not the way to make that happen.

I lean over the sink and splash my face with some cold water. I let the water drip down my nose and chin while I try to clear my head.

I can see her. When my eyes close. She's always there. Seeing her smile on the back of my eyelids only hurts because she's never smiling when I open them anymore. She makes me feel things... things I've never felt before, and I hate that I don't know what they are. It's like she has some kind of power over me. How do I run away from her and keep her close at the same time?

I know what I need to do, but I've never done this before, what if I just screw it up all over again? I take a deep breath and dry my face with a hand towel. With soft steps I make my way to the top of the stairs, a bowl of cereal in my hand.

Her door is closed and probably locked.

"Alright. I can do this."

I knock on the door, "Yanna? Look, I just wanna talk things out. Can I come in?"