Safety was a lie; the walls were wolves in sheep's skin. It seemed to be a barrier against evil, but now it felt like a trap. Barricades of fortification. Fences against monsters. There was no way out of this space, and that made things ever more horrifying. A jail cell for two— meat clasped between thongs for the sea of piranhas. A sacrifice to demons.
Her JieMi needed space, he needed a can of oxygen to support his body—an item that was always available at their concerts. He needed medical support, a place to lie down, ice on his neck. He needed water. He needed air. What he didn't need was a tiny cubicle meant for one and hordes of people banging at the door.
His crazy fans were cruel.
And they would always be.
Amber watched as JieMi wheezed; his head was pressed against the plastic door, heavy with vertigo. He blinked a few times, eyes squeezed and opened as he tried to see. Then he swallowed air as if his life depended on it.
A struggling puff of oxygen that he gulped down again and again like a fish out of water. She was losing him to the inadequacies of his overtaxed body. And God, her mind leapt to horrific imageries of athletes, dead from exertion, heart attacks from marathons, death from overheat.
"Lean back," she beseeched, then she stood shakily, the pain rippled sharp and steady in her middle. It didn't scare her, because her mind jumping swiftly to JieMi. "N-No sit down."
He stopped her with a firm hand to her arm, patted it as he bent over, pale faced and sweaty. He managed a smirk and a heavy, reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. A soft noise of protest escaped his throat when she tried to give him her seat.
"JieMi, you look like you're going to keel over any second."
His skin was almost green, the red from exertion had vanished, replaced by a purpled blue, then a sickly green. She didn't think people were serious when they described the change of colour on skin. But she could see the hues of sick on his flawless face in the swath of light.
He was not okay.
"Y-you sit," he beseeched, thumbs rubbing against the scratch on her cheek. He coughed, closing his eyes to steady himself, then opened them again as he pinched the heaviness of tenderness from his neck. "You were on the ground." He knelt, hands moving up her sides, pressing and feeling. "Hurt?" he murmured out; words sloppy with exhaustion.
He dug deeper into her sides, fingers spanning her belly. She winced when a spot stung, flinched at that a burn that thudded from her belly button and sympathy radiated from his eyes. JieMi didn't seem to care that his eyes were glazed and blank from the lack of oxygen, or the fact that he was seeing green kaleidoscopes in the air. All he cared about was figuring out how many bruises she had on her body, and how much pain she was in.
But was she even in pain?
Amber could barely feel it with all that adrenaline pumping through her veins. The stitch weaving through her sides and the gong like chant of fans screeching from behind the wooden door distracted her from bodily issues. Some part of her subconsciousness told her that there was pain lingering within her somewhere. But she was sure it was just flesh wound, injuries from the accidental trips over her prone body.
She was fine, but JieMi was not.
A surprisingly miraculous statement that pumped her body with God-like energy. It was a minor blessing that the door was designed with the smallest of slits where it kissed the floor. The heavy wood was thick and large for privacy. Perfect for their situation. Otherwise, they would be seeing fingers and phones stuffed through the cracks for a glimpse of her soulmate, hands reaching for a touch.
The crowd outside didn't seem to relent despite the door. And Amber knew what they were thinking. The fans didn't care because they were in groups. They weren't bothered by the fact that they'd trespassed into the privacy of male biology because they were a herd. And in a crowd, they were unstoppable. The threat of incoming authorities would not shake them into surrender because as a mob they were anonymous, strong and free.
"Don't pass out on me, baby." Amber murmured and he shook his head, leaning back with a soft groan. He twisted his head, his attempts to pop the knots. "I feel fine, I'm okay. Take a seat," she insisted as worry stitched between her brow.
He didn't listen, continued as he rubbed at her bruises and moved into a deep squat, inches from puddles of vomit. It would have been disgusting if the situation weren't as dire. But at that point they both didn't give a fuck about the vomit, or the way it squelched beneath their shoes.
"The soul bond teleported me to you," he said, soft and eerily calm. He glanced up at her then, doe eyed and handsome with a jaw hewed and sharpened from steel. The muscles flexed at the sides; anger pulsated with each clench of teeth. A moment of energized heat. "It made me jump through the crowd to a spot where I could see you being trampled on and crushed by people. It forced me to go back." His fists clenched over the fabric of her jeans. "You are not okay. "
He said it with so much conviction and so much fear that it made her own heart falter. His own eyes so wide, she could see the pupils quivering. Muscles relaxed into slackened dread. Her eyes grew hot as she accepted the terror in his face and the way his fingers trembled with the image of what he had seen. His overprotection was unnecessary to her, but for what he had seen? It was vital.
She couldn't imagine what he'd seen but there were nightmares in his eyes, flecks of spiralling agony and the dripping bleed of red. She knew it was nothing short of what she'd seen in that crowd. Bile frothed in her guts as she struggled to swallow down the need to retch.
"And you are going to collapse," she said, her fingers rubbing the knots in his neck. It was in her nature to worry for him, just as it was for her. He let out a low huff that seemed like a mix between a laugh and a sigh. He leaned his head against her thigh, rubbing his head as he inhaled and exhaled. There was desperation in his eyes as he attempted to recover.
He needed to if he wanted to escape the mob quickly and safely.
"Nothing new." He waved it off with a smooth whistle, relief teemed in him with her humour. She could see it in his smile. To him, it meant that she wasn't as hurt as his soul had assumed. It meant that she was okay. "Collapsing is part of the job."
"Don't push it, youngest." A name coined by the others. She thumbed his jaw, caressed the edge until the tic vanished and the muscles grew lax.
"You're the youngest." He smiled through closed eyes. "My darling baby. So glad I caught you. Just give me…A moment to catch my breath." He breathed, quiet for a moment as he took another rasping gasp. "I pushed myself too hard."
He moved; his head dropped against her legs. It was an awkward position, one that she knew didn't feel good. But his dizziness threatened the spillage of vomit from his throat, and despite his words he didn't seem to feel so good. No one would at the speed he'd ran, and the distance he'd covered. Truly, a sprint that could rival the Olympics.
It was painful to see him like this.
"I…was heavy." A drop of shame enveloped her.
"A normal, healthy human being will be." He answered easily, phone picked from his pocket. The colours flashed over his face, a multitude of changing screens. And she stared as he squinted and cursed softly in his throat. "Could you try to call them?"
"Y-yeah." She waited as her phone rang for Casper but couldn't get to him. It blinked with a announcement of a busy number flooded with calls. She tried the others, and each beeped with the inability to get through. Odd.
"Kang Min." JieMi didn't hesitate, understanding swift in his eyes. Wisdom shone through.
"Right."
Their trusted manger answered in a flurry of panicked screeches. He wasn't with the boys but he was outside the venue dialling for backup. The police would be there to escort them from the toilet once they got the situation in control, he assured. And they would have another vehicle ready in due time. All they had to do was wait.
The others were already on their way to the hotel. Respite was attained when he promised that aside from paper cuts and scratches, they were physically fine. Mentally? Kang Min didn't answer.
"How could security leave?" JieMi bellowed into the phone, uncharacteristic of his nature. His anger radiated in the pitch-black darkness of his eyes. His lips curled into a growl, eyes darted back and forth. Raving mad. It seemed to cut right through his exhaustion and he was filled momentarily with energy. "Amber could have died!"
An exaggeration that JieMi genuinely believed. Despair clung to his voice; the wail of a broken prey in the arms of predators. She tried to assure him that she was fine, her hands rubbing his arms.
"JieMi—"
The static buzzed and Kang Min answered quickly. "It was planned. The security team dropped us on purpose."
"What do you mean—"
"We didn't expect it but Aurora Media violated the contract. They want out."
Amber's lips parted. The name of the company rang bells in her head. Casper's family business. Claudia's company. A strangled almost inhumane gasp ripped from her throat, stifled by a quick hand to her lips. A sabotaged security within days of her spilling the beans. Was this planned beforehand? Or was this simply revenge?
Don't tell them, she'd said. But Amber did, because Amber needed relief. Because Amber needed counsel. At what cost? Her voice was strangely quiet as she spoke, soft as JieMi ended the call with Kang Min. Monotonous as she repeated.
"Did you tell her that you know? Did all of you?"
JieMi's eyes snapped to her. "W-what?"
"Claudia. I told all of you not to tell her."
He blinked, eyes widening then he smiled holding her with his hands. But that smile was just as weak as the grip he had on her wrist. "She left on her own accord, don't worry about it—"
"S-she wouldn't leave like this—She likes all of you. Tell me the truth."
"We might have…" he paused, then sighed, "shown our dislike for her."
Fuck.
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