It didn’t take Junho long to realize that you possibly had nothing on under the clothes you borrowed. With your arms wrapped around his neck, hands fisted in his hair, your borrowed sweatshirt begins to rise. Hands that were once on your hips are now migrating up to a now bare waist. You aren’t sure which of you moaned, it might have been both. You were beginning to feel light headed for a whole new reason. With a groan he pulls away and steps back. His eyes are almost fully dilated and the sight sends an aching response from your body. He closes his eyes, pulls his hands back from you and locks them behind his head. When he re-opens his eyes, the heat hasn’t left but he seems more in control. “My clothes, no underclothes, just you… it’s going to kill me soon,” he states while looking directly in your eyes. He then sighs, “The police will be here soon, your clothes better be done before that, you are not seeing them undressed this way.” He wanders over to the medicine cabinet and gets out antiseptic and large band-aids. Taking your hand he pulls you into the bedroom and seats you on the bed. He kneels before you, “Let’s get these redressed.” With gentle hands he spreads the antiseptic, than carefully applies new bandages. He reaches behind his head and unlatches his Buddha. He brings it forward and re-latches it around your neck, leaving a kiss on your bandage. “Mine.” He states as he holds the little Buddha and looks directly at you. “Yours,” you confirm and close the distance between you. Just as your confirmation kiss starts to head in another direction, the doorbell sounds. He pulls away and stands up, “I’m going to be dead before the night ends,” he mumbles to himself. He adjusts his pants, smoothes back his hair, and walks out the door with a heavy sigh. You can hear mumbled voices downstairs, then footsteps heading back up. Junho enters the room with your clothes in hand. “Just in time,” he states as he hands them over and heads back to the door. “The police are here, I’ll give them my statement while you dress,” and he’s gone again. Dressed and as presentable as possible, you make your way down the stairs. Junho meets you part way, making sure that you don’t fall as you descend. The police stand and greet you, one of the detective winces when he gets a good look at you. He makes the standard joke, “Should we worry about how the other guy looks?” No one laughs so he clears his throat and begins asking questions about the previous night. “Why would you walk through the warehouse alone and in the dark?” “If the ghost light is on, than security has already made their rounds, I should have been alone.” “But you weren’t obviously….” You give the obnoxious detective an un-amused glare; “obviously.” He has the decency to cough and his partner takes up the slack, “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt you? Has something happened lately, unusual from the regular day to day?” “I work in the entertainment industry; lots of people get jealous over petty things. I’ve never known it to cause anyone bodily harm though. It’s normally confined to nasty looks, whispers behind your back, nasty pranks.” You reach up to play with your Buddha. None of the men in the room miss the movement. “You found your necklace?” the elder detective asks as he looks through his notes, then back up at you. “It states here that it was the only thing stolen, ‘ripped from your neck’ in fact.” “No,” Junho answers for you, “I gave her mine.” Both detectives raise their eyebrows. “They are our couple jewelry. We started dating a week ago.” “A week ago?” the younger detective laughs. “Didn’t you just arrive from the states almost 10 days ago? That’s pretty fast.” You can’t tell if the detectives are impressed or thinking that the two of you are complete idiots. Junho releases your hand and slides you closer to his side, leaving his arm around you. “You have a problem with that detective? I didn’t realize relationships had timeline rules.” The elder detective looks over at his partner again, shakes his head and takes over. “I apologize for my partner today; I’m not sure what’s gotten into him. So the relationship is new, could that be the cause of the attack? Is there a jealous ex on the set for either of you?” “Everyone on the set if from the states,” he begins. “Any ex’s I have were ended mutually. We are civil when we work together or see each other.” You shake your head then realize you shouldn’t do that. “No, I don’t date where I work.” Your comment gets raised eyebrows from both detectives as they look directly at Junho. You roll your eyes, “Within my company, I don’t date co-workers it causes complications.” The detectives nod, close their books, “Do you mind if we take a picture of the necklace? It is identical right?” You both nod and the elder detective leans forward to snap a picture with his phone. “Thank you,” he replies as they stand to leave, “I think that’s all for now. If you can think of anything else or there is another attack, please contact us at once.” They bow to you and Junho shows them to the door. When he sits back down he pulls your back up against his chest. “You really don’t think they’ll attack me again do you?” you ask timidly. “I still don’t know why I was attacked the first time.” You lay your head against his shoulder and he starts to stroke your hair. “I couldn’t handle it if you got attacked again; however, it is a possibility but I don’t want to think about it.” He kisses the top of your head and reaches for the TV remote. After a couple of shows you sit up and admit you should probably head back to the hotel for the night. He stares at you a few minutes, then nods, “Probably best, you’re still recovering. I’ll drive you.” He parks his car at the hotel entrance and comes around to let you out. He walks you to your room as you dig for your room key. Once found he takes it from you and opens the door. You turn to him before going in, “Would you like a drink before you head back?” He smiles, takes your hand and walks through the door with you. Lost in your own thoughts about what your “nightcap” will entail, it surprises you to hear him start to swear violently. When you look up you gasp, your hotel room has been torn to shreds. Your suitcase has giant slits, your clothes are strewn everywhere, most ripped and torn. No damage was done to the actual hotel furniture; it has just been flipped upside down as if whoever did this couldn’t leave anything sitting normally. You walk numbly into the bathroom only to see your make up smashed, and thrown around the counter. Anything that was liquid has been poured or splashed into the tub. On the mirror they left you a message: You should have died bitch.