Thunder crashed overhead and shook the very walls of the Sharehouse.

I curled up tightly in the blanket I'd burrito-wrapped myself in on the couch. I'd briefly tried turning on the television, but the thunderstorm limited the channels I could watch, and I wasn't in the mood to watch some fishing show, which was my only other option besides the news. And the news was a mess of reports on the recent tragedies and now the Pure Reformists

Rain beat against the windows and rattled on the roof. I'd always loved the sound of rain dribbling on the roof. There was something almost comforting of the sound. As if on cue, a loud crack of (discomforting) thunder shook the very walls of the house.

I winced at the sound, tucking my head deeper into the fluffy blankets. While the sound of the rain on the roof was nice, the thunder wasn't.

My head popped back up when I heard the rattle of the front door. A second later it swung open and a sopping Jimin waddled in, wet shoes squeaking a little across the ground.

"What on earth?" I immediately left the comfort of my warm blankets. "Jimin, I thought you were wearing a raincoat."

I swore when I saw him leave earlier this morning for his work he'd had a rain jacket on. I wasn't entirely sure since I'd been distracted by the cute kiss goodbye he'd given me before leaving.

Ever since the night in the kitchen, the mood had shifted between us. There were still plenty of small, practical jokes we pulled on each other— the latest having been me taping every article of Jimin's clothing on the ceiling of the bedroom including his socks and boxers.

Did I have too much time on my hands? Yes.

Did I regret anything? After seeing Jimin yelling at me for taping up his convenient store bought electric blue polka-dot boxers directly in front of the window for any passerby to see, no. I regretted nothing.

However, all practical jokes aside, there was a new atmosphere. It was a sweet kind of affection shared between the two of us. Nothing like the wild, hot romances often seen in movies. Our kisses and touches consisted of sweet nothings and playful teasing. The heat and fiery passion could come later.

Speaking of heat and fire, Jimin looked like he desperately needed both. He shivered in his soaked clothes. Even his silver Marks' glow was muted, as if trying to maintain as much body heat as possible.

"I did have a raincoat," he said stiffly.

"And?" I prompted.

"I don't have it anymore."

"Hang on." I grabbed his arm and dragged him from the dark threshold of the door into better lighting. I stared at him. "Are those bruises?"

My silver Outworlder roommate had several faded yellow splotches dribbling down his jaw that looked like bruises at the end stages of healing. And because of his regenerative healing, that meant he'd just recently received them and the healing factors were still at work.

"Maybe?" He grinned sheepishly.

I glowered at him. So it was going to be one of these nights, huh? A night of elusive, answer a question with a question, nights. I saw how it was.

"Stay there. I'm going to grab some towels. Also, take off your shoes. I don't want you trailing water all over the carpets." With that, I whirled around and bounded up the stairs.

By the time I was back downstairs with towels, Jimin had already taken off his shoes, socks, and was just finishing peeling off his shirt.

I tried not to stare too long at his well muscled torso. His silver Marks wrapping around his waist and ribs, rippling along his abdominals every time he breathed.

"Here." I shoved the towels at him.

"Thanks partner."

Jimin leaned in for a kiss but I batted his still damp body away. "Stay away! You're cold and wet."

"Give me two minutes and I'll make sure we're both warm and wet," he purred.

"If you think seducing me will keep the questions at bay you're sorely mistaken," I replied, unfazed.

Jimin shrugged and began drying his hair. "It was worth a try."

"So?"

"So?" Jimin glanced at me, eyes sparkling ludicrously.

"What happened? Where did your raincoat go? And why do you have bruises on your jaw?"

I should've said 'had' instead of 'have' since the bruises were now barely visible.

"A group of humans decided they wanted my raincoat."

I stared at Jimin, comprehending the implications of his word from his nonchalant tone. "You were mugged?!"

Jimin winced a little at my shout. "Now I wouldn't exactly say mugged—"

"Park Jimin!"

"Alright, alright." Jimin exhaled defeatedly. "I was on my way back and these drunk guys came out of nowhere. Cornered me in a small street. Got some of their angry volatile spirits out on me and then demanded I give them my raincoat if I wanted to go home without any more injuries. And since I did want to go home where my lovely Sharehouse partner lived, I obliged."

I wasn't swayed by the last, flirtatious words he shot me. "Did you see any of their faces? We should call the police."

"Wait—no, Jiyeon." Jimin's tone immediately sobered and he caught ahold of my arm. "Don't worry about it okay? I'm alright and those guys were drunk. Their punches weren't even that bad."

"How can you say that?" I gaped up at him. "No! I'm not letting some stupid morons off the hook, drunk or not. They beat you up!"

"They did not beat me up. I know how to defend myself."

"Then why didn't you?" I demanded.

"I did."

"No you didn't. You just let a bunch of guys mug you!" I struggled to keep my voice steady as frustration and anger coursed through me. "You're a military trainer. Why didn't you fight back?"

"For the same reason why I'm not going to let you call the police."

"What?"

I wanted to throttle whoever had hurt Jimin. I wanted to throttle Jimin himself for being so mild about the entire situation. Did he ever get tired of being pushed? Did he ever get tired of being called insults? For once I wanted to see him lose his temper and fight back; see him kick serious ass like he had that night with the assassins.

Jimin gently pulled me to him and I allowed him despite his skin still being cold. "Think about it Jiyeon," he murmured. "Right now everyone hates Outworlders. If we called the police, do you really think they'll sympathize an Outworlder above a human?"

"But the police are supposed to protect—"

"The police," he cut in, voice flat. "They protect whoever the person paying them wants them to protect. And right now Outworlders are not under the payer's protection. You know why."

There had been no more large scale attacks ever since the aircraft crash and then the bomb in the business building. However, there had been little things as more and more incidents began pouring in from all over the country: fires, robberies, even a couple murders. And all the evidence was pointing to Outworlders.

I didn't believe a single word of it though. It was too coincidental; a ploy to win the public over to the Pure Reformists.

The ploy appeared to be working too. People were beginning to sympathize with the Reformists and agree with the ideals that Outworlders should be exterminated from the planet that they didn't belong in.

"It's not fair," I mumbled. "You've done nothing wrong."

"To some, my skin alone tells them I've done everything wrong."

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