I'm continuing the flashback thing so yeah don't get confused pls

x-x-x-x

"Jorge?" You mumble later the same night. There's some shuffling and a grunt before he answers you with a huff.

"Yeah?" He says, his voice tired and heavy with sleep.

"Why did you sign me up to this bullshit?" You ask, not even angry. You're honestly curious.

"I can't leave you here and without you I'll probably just get myself and all of them killed" He says, shuffling and going back to sleep. You watch under hooded eyes as his figures relaxes on the other side of the room. You can't sleep and you feel annoyngly hopeful since you finally have a goal in mind.

You wake up after what felt like a 15 minute nap and quickly freshen up before collecting your things and walking around the makeshift camp in the ruined house, searching for any of the new boys and checking if anyone has awaken yet. There's an unsteadiness in your heart beat that feels a lot like nervousness, but you try to ignore it and pretend you don't know why you feel giddy all of sudden.

You hear a few voices, two male and one female and you curse yourself for the excitedness you feel. One of the male voices seems a bit off, like they have trouble speaking. You think this is the asian fella.

You walk in, leaning against the door frame for a beat, watching the three of them as Teresa abd the other (you already hate him) boy try to steady the asian boy. You feel sorry for him. His clothes are ragged and bloodied and his face is swollen and red, almost purple in a few spots.

"I'm sorry for Jorge" You say, just loud enough for them to hear on the other side of the room. They all look at your direction. Well, the asian boy does the best he can to do it.

"That doesn't help, does it?" Says the annoying one, and you have to hold yourself from rolling your eyes. Teresa just stares at you curiously, not letting out a word.

"For what it's worth, I think the beating he took was more from the lightning than anything else" You risk. The asian boy scoffs, but it doesn't go beyond that.

"You've got guts to come here and say that" He says, moving forwards with a little help. You're afraid he might punch you in the face before he shrugs and extends his bloodied knuckles for you to take "Name's Minho"

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look of shock on Grumpy Pants and shake his hand.

"Brenda. But you already know that" You say, momentarialy switching to look at the raven haired girl as you say the last words. She hasn't said anything, and is still staring at you curiously, and you could swear there's the ghost of a smirk forming on her lips "I'm Jorge's babysitter" You add, just for the hell of it. Minho cracks a smile. You like the boy. Teresa sighs with a chuckle.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Off we go" says Jorge, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder and flattening his shirt. You shoot him a playful glare before tying up your hair. You start walking, the pack of boys behind you. They all look strangely excited, though their war-scarred eyes tell an untold tale. You wonder just how the hell they've gotten here, though neither you or Jorge dare to ask.

The sand waste is long and hot and although it spreads for miles in open air you feel claustrophobic under the scorching heat and imminent danger of those things, the thought that you aren't even sure where you're heading only making it worse.

You feel eyes on your back, but you try to concentrate on the sound of the sand crushing beneath your feet and start up a conversation with Jorge, ignoring the searing look, knowing exactly who it belongs to. You have no idea how, and no idea why it feels so very intimate to be around that girl. You haven't even exchanged words, but her intensity is burning and hot and you can't help but crave it.

"You should apologize" You mumble to the older man. He scoffs, though the glare you throw his way makes him cower a bit.

"I had to let them know what I can do" He explains weakly "I can't let anything happen to us, Brenda. I didn't enjoy it" He says, and you know the last statement is a lie. He doesn't even try to improve it, catching on your desbilief but ignoring it. You know he enjoyed it. You understand his reasons, but you still feel sorry for Minho. He seems like he's been through enough.

After what feels like hours, sweat running down your back and your scalp feeling like it's going to melt at any given moment, you hear screams. Pained, crazed screams, and you know exactly where they come from.

"Shit" Jorge mutters before barking out a "Run!" to the group behind you. You look behind you, locking eyes with Teresa for a second before looking further down and sighting what seems like a group of 10 or maybe a dozen cranks. Some of them have rudimentary weapons with them, bloodied and rusty knifes and others have pieces of debris and rocks.

You all run, the only sound being the screams getting louder and the pounding of blood in your ear. You curse yourself for going out in the open, without even hiding. You either hide or fight, now, and neither seem like a very good idea.

"Brenda" yells Jorge "The sewers! Scatter them" He orders, and gestures for half of the boys to follow him, leaving the rest of them for you. In your small group is Teresa, but Minho and Grumpy Pants have gone with Jorge. You yell at the group, throwing a few insults, and run to the opposite direction, knowing exactly where you're going.

Your lungs few like they might give out when you hear a thud and a barely there whimper, recognising the only other female voice in the group and coming to a halt.

Behind you are the group of boys, still running, though some are slowling down, looking back.

Teresa falls to the ground with a silent noise, a big piece of what looks like cement and a brick landing near her. "fuck" you mutter to yourself as you quickly consider your options.

A group of maybe 5 cranks are still after your group, not nearly as far as you wish they were, and you yell at the boys to "hurry-the-fuck-up-damnit!" before running back, cursing under your breath as you pass through their cofused faces and head to the limp body of the girl.

Your feet screech against the sand, dust flying everywhere as you brusquely change directions and stop just by her side, quickly grabbing her limp right arm and pulling it over your shoulder, taking all the strenght you've got to hoist her up.

"TERESA!" You yell, praying for her to come back to conscience. You start moving, ridiculously slow as the limp body is being dragged by your side. Every move feels like a battle, you being too tired and there's just too much weight but you force youself to keep going. You watch as a boy comes back, the blonde and serious boy you've seen before, and you thank the heavens as he hoists her other side up and helps you carry her, both of you struggling to keep up the pace. You feel her moving, regaining her conscience, but you know she can't move much more than her head. She smells of blood.

You don't even pay attention to the feeling of her skin as adrenaline curses through you, your ragged breaths mixing with the blonde boy's ones, both of you silently exchanging directions and agreements. The other boys are not too far, some of them even trying to lure the cranks away, a few succeed.

You don't feel your limbs anymore, only the ache of your lungs expanding as you make it to the long-abandoned subway stations, aka The Sewers, and it's only when you are sure that you're safe that you tell them to stop, the blonde boy having stopped his help long ago. You appreciate his help so much, even more when you notice the slight limp he has. He must have done the best he could. When you stop, still with the barely conscient body of the girl still hanging by your side, and no one else helping, you take care to put her down first, barely registering as you put your backpack under her head and in an instant you're passed out by her side, the few boys scattered around the station. "I need to find Jorge" barely registers as you drift off, the feeling of a warm body close to yours being stronger than it.