Taste of Ink

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/4502748.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen, M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V
Character: Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V, Park Jimin (BTS), Min Yoongi |
Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Kim Seokjin
| Jin
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gang Violence, Drug Use, Underage
Drug Use, Drug Dealing, Violence, Mild Gore, Strong Language, Angst
Stats: Published: 2015-08-05 Completed: 2015-08-28 Chapters: 12/12 Words:
128177

Taste of Ink
by sugamins (orphan_account)

Summary

Jungkook is a drug runner for the largest gang in the whole of Busan: the Sam Yong Pa.
One day he bumps into a runner for a rival gang in the next district that has trespassed into
their territory: a Geum Sung Pa boy called Jimin. Jimin has a friend, a goon for the rival
gang.
Taehyung beats people up for a living, and boy, does he look good when he’s doing it.

But their blossoming friendships reignite old gang flames and causes the most brutal gang
war the country has ever seen.

Dragons destroy and stars explode.

Notes

Some information about the gang references used in this fic:

Sam Yong Pa: Three Dragon Mob (trans) Gang Jungkook runs for
Geum Sung Pa: Gold Star Mob (trans) Gang that Jimin runs/Tae goons for

Tattoos are very important in gang culture in South Korea, all gang members must have one
and they must reveal them during gang-related confrontations. Therefore tattoos are very
important to this story and carry a lot more weight and significance than they do in some
other cultures.
 Run Run Bunny Run

Credit to the trailer goes to the wonderful Tipsy-on-Jin

“Hey…”

Jungkook buried his head further under the blanket in the hopes of being able to block out the
man’s voice but it was useless. He was already awake enough to hear that the entire den was filled
with people: loud voices and laughter, the sound of chairs being pulled out and things being
slammed down on tables. Even at this hour he could smell the unmistakable scent of cheap beer
and he wasn’t at all surprised. The building was always filled with the tang of booze and the sour
notes of other things too. Pot, much like what would be getting shoved inside his backpack a few
minutes from now. But regardless of this fact he didn’t really want to get up. The broken settee
wasn’t really comfortable but he was used to it and at least he had managed to get into a nice
position; legs tucked up in front of him and one arm folded underneath his single pillow. He was
warm and snug and he would happily lie like this for a few minutes longer if he could.

“Hey kid, wakey wakey.”

He mumbled something at this and managed to pull the blanket all of the way over his head so that
he was no longer visible under the knitted woolen shroud. When he took a breath it was also warm
and he could smell the detergent it had been washed with trying to cover the stink of booze. It was
a nice scent, powdery and faintly floral and-

“Come on, get your ass up, kid!”

A hand grabbed hold of the blanket and rudely wrenched it off him. Jungkook tried to snag a
handful of it but his fingers closed on nothing but air. Then his shoulder was being shoved hard a
few times and it was enough to make him open his eyes. The first thing he saw was black and it
took him a few seconds to figure out that it was someone’s trousers, the material wrinkled from
wear and clearly not ironed. His eyes wanted to close again because his eyelids felt so heavy but he
forced himself to blink a few times and lessen the need. He shifted and managed to sit upright after
a little effort, hearing the settee groaning from the movement as he did.

“Urgh…what time is it?” Jungkook asked as he reached up and rubbed at his eyes roughly. He
rubbed so hard that he saw little galaxies of stars under his eyelids and he didn’t even try to cover a
wide yawn that escaped. He dropped his hands back onto his lap and looked up to see who had
woken him up.

It wasn’t hard to recognise the man for Jaebum always wore shades even when there was no need
to. He was almost convinced that the man would wear them at night time too, and when he went to
the bathroom. The thought was enough to make him snort to himself and behind the shades he
could picture the man’s eyes narrowing at him in confusion. He wasn’t wearing his jacket - which
would be equally as creased as his trousers - and his white work shirt was undone to reveal his vest
underneath. The sleeves were rolled up too and Jungkook could see his tattoos in stark relief
against the white cotton. The head of one dragon was visible over the top of his vest, the tail
curling up near his upper ribs, and he knew that the other two were hidden behind the vest. Jaebum
had several more smaller ones on his arms but they were all more or less the same things: dragons,
fangs, fire, anything related to their gang. But despite him having nearly ten tattoos on his upper
body he wasn’t even the most heavily tattooed member that Jungkook had met. Even Yoongi had
more tattoos than that on his single arm.

“Time for you to get the hell outta here, kid,” Jaebum said as he lifted an arm and cocked his
thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the storefront. “You got a job to do.”

“I know, I know, but seriously, what time is it?” The man sighed and lifted his wrist to eye his
watch. Only then in his sleepy state did Jungkook remember that he had his own watch. He told
him that it was 10:13am and Jungkook shifted on the settee to collect his blanket from the floor
where Jaebum had carelessly dropped it. “Did Yoongi leave a key?”

“Yeah, left it and told me to wake your ass up before he left again so here I am. Hurry and get
cleaned up, boss wants you circulating as soon as. You’re already running late right now.”

“Yeah yeah, drugs won’t sell themselves,” Jungkook muttered as he got to his feet and hugged his
pillow to his chest. “I’ve heard that one before.” The man pulled a key out of his creased trousers
and held it out to him, little silver piece dangling from the plastic fob. “Give me fifteen minutes
and I’ll be ready, no problem.”

Jungkook accepted the keys and hastily crossed the room in the direction of the stairwell. He
wasn’t in the storefront right now, where all of the other members were sitting around drinking and
talking and working out deals on phones, he was in the back area where there was little more than
broken furniture and a back door that led into the alley. The building was a small converted
apartment block and quite a few members of the gang stayed in it when they were stuck in the
district. It wasn’t like the police were going to storm the place and arrest anyone. Not after the
amount of money they had flowing in every month in bribes for immunity. He took the stairs two
at a time and headed up to the third floor before fumbling with the lock on one of the doors. After a
momentary struggle he managed to slip the key in and unlock the door so he shoved it open and
stepped inside.

The first thing that hit him was Yoongi hadn’t cleaned up…again. His friend had been out all night
working and he often crashed with him in this dingy little apartment room, but the idiot had taken
his keys with him last night and as a result Jungkook had been demoted to sleeping on the settee for
the entire evening. Had he had the time he would have attempted to clean it but he was in a rush.
So he just forced the door shut again and stepped over the discarded clothes and empty cartons of
food. Maybe when he returned this evening the place would be in better condition but he doubted
it. The other man was always too busy working and he hadn’t seen his face for three days now.
Hopefully he would finally see him, seen as his friend owed him three bowls of Nongshim ramyun
after losing a joke bet last week and he still hadn’t presented the goods. The idea of ramyun right
now was enough to make his stomach rumble but he didn’t have time to think about food. He
needed to get showered and dressed and be out of the den in the next fifteen minutes or he would
be in big trouble with the boss and he didn’t want that.

The shower wasn’t in the best of conditions because the fixture on the wall was rather broken.
Jungkook was used to it however and he managed to get it to work well enough for the stream to
come out in more than a soft patter of droplets. The hot water at least helped his brain wake up and
he brushed his teeth even as he was getting dressed: slipping into a pair of jeans and a loose black
tee. He laced his sneakers up, chin balanced on his knee and red toothbrush sticking out of the
corner of his mouth and then he went back into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. In the
reflection from the mirror mounted onto the medical cabinet he could see his hair was still damp
but the summer heat would see it dried in no time. There were still the faintest hints of purple
visible but the colour was starting to fade and he reached up to brush a damp tangle of hair back
off his brow so it wouldn’t hang down in front of his eyes and irritate him. It revealed a pair of
large eyes that Yoongi had often teased him about, had called him all kinds of weird nicknames
that only made sense to his friend: in particular ‘Deer Boy’ had seemed to annoyingly stick to him.
His friend might like to make fun of him but it was his face that worked in his favour. He looked
too young and too innocent to have anything to do with gang activity.

The same could not be said for Yoongi.

Yoongi often had a scowl on his face most of the time, only seeming to disappear when he was in
the room with him. If he had any of his left arm on display, even just a tiny slip of shirt that showed
his lower forearm, then everyone would see the beginning of tattoos that stretched all the way up
to his shoulder. The one sure-kill way to showcase gang affiliations were tattoos and Jungkook
currently had not a single one to his name. Too young, only eighteen year olds were allowed to
take that one big step into the gang by getting inked up and he was still three whole months away.
No eye-catching piercings either, just his ears. He had once joked about getting an eyebrow
piercing to Yoongi to see how he took it and his friend had told him that it was a better idea than a
nose one. “You don’t need to draw any more attention to that kid,” he had said with a wide smirk,
“it’s impossible to miss that nose.”

Well, at least he could wear short sleeves without having people cross roads to avoid him.

Jungkook left his toothbrush on the side of the sink and went back into the rest of the room,
grabbing his black bomber jacket and slipping it on as he stepped out into the hall and slammed the
door shut behind him. He locked it and bounded back down the stairs, sneakers pounding on the
bare wooden steps as he went down. When he got to the bottom he tossed the keys at Jaebum and
the man managed to catch them.

“I’ll see he gets ‘em, if he even comes back today.”

“Better had, he owes me.”

“Cash?”

“Food.” Jaebum grinned at his reply as he shoved the keys into his trousers.

“Seungyoon’s waiting for you in the front, get to kid.” Jungkook went over to collect his
skateboard from where he had left it, leaning against the side of the settee he had been sleeping on.
He carried it by the wheels as he crossed the room, sliding the door back to step into the main area.

It had been an entrance at some point, had likely only contained a desk and maybe a little bench.
Now it was filled with low tables and floor cushions all over the place, no check-in desk in sight.
Right now there had to be at least twenty men all sitting around and there was a single woman
serving drinks and answering calls on a landline phone. Sunmi caught sight of him and so she
gestured with one hand, pointing a pen across the room at the table in the corner. Jungkook
followed her gesture and then he thanked her with a thumbs up.
Seungyoon was on the phone himself, currently barking orders down it in an accent so guttural that
he struggled to understand him. He wasn’t from Busan but rather Daegu and he slurred his words
in a way that he didn’t seem to take a pause. The man had his hair slicked back and he could see it
greying at his temples and lines startling to settle in around the corners of his eyes. Underneath his
light growth of facial hair he could see laughter lines too, a sign that the man smiled more often
than scowled. Not like Yoongi. Yoongi would have wrinkles only on his nose and brow that
showed his constant disdain. The man was tapping chopsticks on the low table in front of him and
there was a plate shoved out of the way with the remains of pancakes still on it. When he caught
sight of him he waved him over so Jungkook weaved around the low tables and then hunkered
down beside the table.

“…Yeah yeah asshole, just see that it gets done, a’right?” Seungyoon ended the call with a hard
punch to the dial pad with his thumb and then he shoved the mobile into his shirt breast pocket.
“Fuckin’ goons, eh kid? Can’t read, can’t do anythin’ that ain’t breakiin’ noses and smashin’
windows. How you doin’ kid?”

“Good, Jaebum said that you’ve got the info?”

“Uh-huh, sit down sit down.” Jungkook lowered himself onto one of the cream floor cushions and
the man held the chopsticks out to him. Normally he wouldn’t chase after scraps like a pet dog but
he was hungry so he accepted them and grabbed a chunk of the pancake. “OK kid, you’re gonna
head off down to Jwadong-ro. There’s a little café there, quaint, right by a high school: Buhongko.
You’re gonna wait for the drop and then you’re gonna distribute to all of the locations on the list.
The bag’s gonna be dropped by a black Daewoo G2X, flashy car. Can’t miss it. List will be in the
lower outer compartment of the bag, just like always. Nothin’ new to worry about.”

“What am I running today?”

“Pot, that’s it.”

“‘Cos last time I went to Jwadong-ro there was more than pot in that bag, the envelope was marked
with coke. You know if I get caught I’m looking a stint in a correctional facility for carrying pot
alone. With coke I might just end up in actual prison.”

“Nonsense, you’re still a minor.” Seungyoon started tapping his fingers on the table and he knew
that he was overstaying his welcome. The man likely had a hundred more goons to yell at. “Did
you get your ass arrested when there was blow in the bag last time, huh?” He shook his head and
the man grinned at him, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “Then no problem. Get goin’, I’ll put a
good word in with Lim if you keep workin’ like this.” Lim was the current boss of this local
syndicate and he would very much like to be on the man’s good side. So Jungkook shoved the last
piece of pancake in his mouth and nodded to let him know that he was going, getting to his feet and
crossing the room. He had only pushed the door open when he heard Seungyoon yelling down the
phone again and so he stepped outside and dropped the board. Seconds later he was rolling down
the street at a nice speed.

Jungkook had been running for Sam Yong Pa since he had been twelve years of age. He had
started with simple things, messages that couldn’t afford to be sent by phone or email lest the
police managed to catch wind of activity and trap dealers out. He had moved around Busan on a
skateboard with manilla envelopes tucked into the front of his jeans, hidden from wandering eyes
by the lengths of his tee-shirt. When he had hit fourteen they had decided that he was trustworthy
enough to start running more important things than messages, and he had done his first drug run
just three days after his birthday. Miraculously he had managed to do it without fucking up, which
had been a notable achievement seen as he had been shaking so badly that he still couldn’t believe
that he hadn’t gotten arrested that day. It hadn’t taken him that long at all to adjust to the method
because he didn’t actually broker any deals. No, he just transported goods and collected the agreed
cash in envelopes. If he came back a couple of thousand won short it wasn’t his ass that was in
trouble, it was the sorry son of a bitch that had tried to cheat themselves out of a deal that did: and
with marked envelopes it wasn’t hard at all to figure out who had done so.

Sam Yong Pa was the largest gang in Busan and also the most notorious in the entire country. They
had deals with local law enforcement in nearly every region and they had roots in other countries
too: Russia, Brazil and China. Their territory covered several districts in the Busan region but his
syndicate called Haeundae-gu their territory. It had the highest concentration of population in the
region; drawn to the wonderful beaches and massive amounts of shopping centres and historic
temples. And with this bustling throng of tourists came lots of addictions: drugs, prostitutes,
gambling. There really was no better district in the region but the main syndicate was in Busanjin-
gu. Jungkook had never been over to that district for he liked Haeundae-gu enough to not want to
move. There was no trouble in this district, they had no rival gangs on the streets trying to cause
trouble like the rest of the region. They were relatively cut off from trouble and he liked it that
way. It meant travelling across the district was a lot safer for a start, not needing to worry about
any hired goons trying to attack him for wandering too close to their territory.

Yes, he liked Haeundae-gu a lot and it was the closest thing that he had to a home.

Jungkook had ran away from home just a four days before he had ended up in Sam Yong Pa. With
an alcoholic mother and a father that had never been home because he had been too busy working
and spending time with three other girlfriends, he had just decided one day to just jump a bus and
see where he had ended up. As luck would have it he ended up down in Haeundae-gu but his luck
had ran out very quickly. Back then it had been winter and he recalled spending a great many hours
loitering in coach stations and subway lines just because there had been heating on inside the
buildings and he hadn’t had to be out on the streets. For the first two nights he had been saved from
the deathly winter nights by kind security workers that had ignored him on their routine checks, but
then he had ended up on the streets on the third. The third day had been Christmas Eve and he had
been freezing his ass off on some stupid park bench thinking that his plan had failed pretty
spectacularly when a young man had sat down on the other end of it. At first Jungkook had ignored
him but after sensing his gaze on him for longer than considered polite he had turned to look at him
and that was when he had met Min Yoongi.

The young man had been bundled up in many layers, woolen pea coat over a denim jacket, the
thick wrapping of a scarf visible and wrapped around his lower face. His black hair had been
peeking out from under a beanie hat and he had only really seen his eyes staring at him. Thin eyes,
somewhat older than his his years as he would later discover him to be only seventeen. Jungkook
had stared at him and had waited to see what he had had to say and the man had shifted and pulled
his coat off. Then he had leaned over and placed it onto his shoulders instead.

Jungkook was to find that Yoongi was a strange man indeed.

Yoongi had had no need to approach him at all that day, but he had. He had had no need to give
him his coat, which had clearly cost him a lot of cash, and he had had no need to ask him when he
had last eaten something. But he had. Jungkook had also had no reason to talk to him or even trust
him but he had done so so fast that it had been rather embarrassing. He might have been twelve
years old at the time but Jungkook had been taught well enough about stranger danger, and the
kind of person that would approach a kid and show such kindness must have had some strange and
twisted reasons behind their smiles. But Yoongi had given him a coat, a warm coat that had
smelled like cologne and cigarettes, and he had offered him an actual hot meal and he had rather
rashly jumped on the offer. So the young man - that had still been a teenager - had escorted him out
of the park and down the streets of the unfamiliar but somewhat enchanting district and they had
ended up in a restaurant.

It had been in there that Jungkook had started to notice something very interesting about Yoongi. It
had been the tattoos at first that had caught his eyes when he had slipped his denim jacket off, for
he had never seen someone in reality with real tattoos before and not just fake ones in films and
magazines. Back then it had been just a few on his inner elbow: the outline of a dragon that would
later be inked in green and red, Hangul in a font so ancient that he hadn’t been able to read the
words on his skin at all. Now he had a lot more than that. Yoongi had spoken in an accent that had
revealed he wasn’t from Busan and he had spoken in a way that sounded a little rough to his ears.
Yet he had had cash, lots of cash, and he hadn’t sounded nor looked educated enough to have been
in a CEO position. Over bowls of kimchi jigae and side dishes of japchae and kalbi Jungkook had
took note of other things too. He had observed how the only people inside the building had been
male and they had all been dressed rather finely: all in suits with the exception of Yoongi, all had
had watches on wrists and sunglasses tucked into jacket lapels. Yet he hadn’t really cared about
this and had just concentrated on the young man that had been his literal saviour.
After the meal had come the promises of somewhere to sleep for the night, somewhere that wasn’t
a coach station. He should have assumed bad things at this, at a stranger promising him a bed for
the night after everything that had happened but Jungkook had been so weary and tired as a result
of the previous days that he had followed after him without a single care. Yoongi could have been
a pervert, a serial killer, but he had turned out to be something else instead.

Min Yoongi worked in Sam Yong Pa and his specialty was extortion. He knew how to get cash out
of absolutely anyone and he didn’t always need to break kneecaps to do so. He wasn’t a goon
because he had brains. He didn’t have the stature nor the weight to make him look threatening but
there was something on his face that showed he wasn’t to be messed with, and as a result he often
got the cash rather easily. Club owners, local pimps operating without gang connections, backstreet
dens and abortion clinics, he had a list of clients that he liked to refer to as his ‘assets’. Yoongi just
knew exactly what to say to make a person start sweating and though he had never personally
experienced him working he had seen him bickering with other members of their gang that
outranked him in years and height and every single one of them backed down when he opened his
mouth. So Yoongi had taken him back to the den that night and the next day he had been an
unofficial ‘member’ of Sam Yong Pa and not that long after he had started running messages and
had since moved onto drugs.

It had been nearly six years since he had saved his ass off the streets and Yoongi still hadn’t asked
him to pay him back for that first meal.

Jungkook hopped the board off the curb and jumped back down on it as it rolled along the wide
road. With not a single car in sight he could afford to skate right down the centre of it for a
moment, attracting a few stares from passing pedestrians as he did. Some looked amused by a
teenager having a little stupid fun, others looked a little concerned that a vehicle might come flying
around the corner and mow him down but Jungkook had been on this road enough times to know
exactly when to anticipate traffic. At the junction at the end of the block he saw cars starting to roll
along the adjacent road so he hastily swerved the board back onto the curb and carried on sailing
down the pavement instead. He always stuck to the outer side so that no one could possibly
complain about him being reckless, and no cops would pull him over for causing a disturbance. As
it so happened he had only really had conversations with a single cop and he didn’t need to worry
about getting arrested by him. No, he had somehow managed to win this young officer over
without even needing to bribe him and that was a massive bonus.

A quick glance at a passing street sign showed him that he was getting closer to Jwadong-ro and he
would likely be there in just a couple of minutes if he kept this pace up. So Jungkook kept his gaze
straight ahead and he kicked off a few more times nice and hard so that he could go a little faster.
The skateboard wheels clicked and rattled as they ran over little pebbles and cast-off cigarette
sticks. On the slight breeze there came the distant drone of traffic from a highway that cut across
the district and the occasional shop that he passed had music blaring out of it. Most of the small
restaurants had folk songs playing and the clothing stores had idol music that sounded like
someone had smacked a synthesiser a few times and repeated it over and over for three solid
minutes. The air had the scent of grilling meat wafting from open windows and the tang of the
ocean that was always present in Busan, particularly in the summer. Ah, the weather was warm but
pleasant rather than oppressive, and he just knew that the majority of the population would be at
Haeundae Beach or one of the countless parks enjoying small festival shows. Less trouble for him,
he wouldn’t have to worry about packed streets in the smaller commercial areas.

When he finally saw found himself on Jwadong-ro he made sure to slow his pace down and scan
the long stretch of street for the building that Seungyoon had mentioned: Buhongko high school. A
small café, quaint, was supposed to be around it. It wasn’t the best description but he sighted one
after a minute of skating and so he made a note to come back if he couldn’t find any others in the
immediate vicinity of the high school. He couldn’t and so he completed his circuit of skating
around the building and came to a stop at a bus stop just a few feet away from the café in question.

The sight across the road was the dirt yard that was used for gym classes and lesson breaks and it
was currently empty. That was good, he didn’t want to attract the attentions of any kids that might
look over and see someone that looks the right age to be skipping the last few days of school for a
longer vacation. After studying the four floor brick and metal building he turned his attention back
to the café. ‘Milk and Sugar’ it was called, colourful bubble font Hangul painted onto the glass
windows and similar white and pink striped veranda hanging over the front of the store. Hmmm…
quaint was the right word he supposed, if Seungyoon found pink things weird. Cute was the word
that popped into his mind upon seeing it and maybe that what was the man had meant. He didn’t
know, he could barely understand Seungyoon most of the time anyway.

“Quaint…cute, doesn’t really matter,” Jungkook muttered under his breath as he dragged his eyes
away from the storefront. “All that matters is how nice the food tastes.” Maybe one day he would
sample something, see if they had any food that could be taken away, but right now he needed to
just wait for the drop. It would happen at exactly 11:30am. A glance at his watch: Michael Kors
Channing in Gunmetal that was probably the most expensive item he possessed, showed him that it
was 11:19am. The little gold finger ran smoothly and yet it seemed to go so slow to his eyes.

Eleven minutes to waste.

Jungkook placed his skateboard on his lap and he decided to tap his hands on it impatiently, as if it
was a drum. He whistled to himself and stared at the empty street in front of him. After a minute or
so a flood of traffic rolled down it and so he eyed cars without really paying attention to what
models they were. The one that he was looking for was easy enough to spot: convertible top and
rounded body, a sports car that wasn’t too flashy because it had been painted black instead of the
standard cherry red. He had seen enough G2X cars to not mistake it for something else for he must
collect bags from that model bimonthly at least, if not more often. So he just kept his eyes trained
on the road in front of him to not look at all suspicious to anyone passing in their vehicles. At
11:23am a bus rolled up to the curb and stopped right in front of him and he saw a couple of people
getting off. He got to his feet to help an elderly lady with a rather bulky trolley and she thanked
him before staring at his face and asking why he wasn’t in school, so Jungkook gave her his best
smile and lied about his high school finishing for the summer a few days early.

Why were old people so full of questions?

After the bus pulled away he eyed the spot that it had been in before wandering over to the check
the schedule on the board. He didn’t want another bus pulling up at the stop just as his partners
were dropping the goods for him. That would cause trouble. Luckily for him the next one wouldn’t
arrive until 11:34am, giving him enough time to collect the bag and get out of the area if his
partners showed up at the exact time. If not, well he guessed that the bus would be a minute or two
late. It was a bus after all. So he sat back down and tried to not fidget too much.

When the car finally appeared at the end of the long stretch of road he dragged his eyes away from
the traffic lights and instead just looked at the school. After a minute the lights changed and the
next flow of traffic came down the road and he waited with bated breath. The black car drew closer
and closer and then one of the men shifted to lean over the side of the open top and toss a bag onto
the curb. It landed a few feet away from his sneakers and Jungkook stayed seated until the slew of
vehicles stopped. Then he bent down to retrieve it and left the bus stop, shrugging it onto his back
as he did. He dropped his board and skated onto the adjacent street before stopping at a bench. He
sat down on it and opened the front compartment. To anyone passing on the street by vehicle or
foot he would simply look like he was looking for something inside, his iPod or a bus card
perhaps. He pulled the zip back and slipped the sheet of paper out to unfold it.

01) Sesil-ro: female client at a Starbucks. 11:35-12:00. DO NOT BE LATE!

Jungkook furrowed his brow and figured out the quickest way to get there from his current
location. It would take roughly five minutes and as he folded the paper up and shoved it into his
jeans pocket before jumping back onto his board and sailing down the street. When he got to Sesil-
ro he saw a young lady already sitting at an outside table on her own and he gave her a quick sign
to let her know that he was the runner: reaching up to fix his backpack straps. She didn’t show that
she knew him and instead just moved slowly to collect her handbag and got to her feet with the
Styrofoam container in hand. He carried skating until he reached a small alcove between two
closed stores and he stopped and waited.

“Hey, it’s the kid again. Jung…something right?” she said as she stepped into the alley.

“Yeah, Jungkook,” he replied as he shrugged his backpack off. After a quick scan of her face, the
large eyes and button nose and caramel brown dyed hair, and a name popped into his mind too.
“Hani, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” She took a sip of the coffee and he unzipped the main compartment before
sorting through the envelopes inside and finding the one with her name emblazoned on it in thick
black ink, a small order number underneath.

“See any cops in the area today?” Jungkook asked as he pulled it out and held it out to her. He
recalled that Hani wasn’t actually a user but that she worked in a gambling den and she picked
orders up for extra cash. He had to learn a little about the clients he was going to meet just to
ensure that he would have no trouble from them. He had yet to have a client pull a blade on him
and threaten him for their goods and he counted himself very lucky in that regard.

“No, the only cop I saw was on the way here. I was on a bus,” she explained as she opened her own
handbag with her free hand and started rooting through it, “passing Songnim Park. Plenty of
cruisers driving around but only one beat cop.”

“Oh, I know who that’ll be.”

“He work for you guys?” Hani pulled her own envelope free and shook it at him so he took it from
her and shoved it into the backpack. He explained that he didn’t but he knew the officer very well
as she accepted the envelope of goods and stashed it back inside her handbag. “There’s about…10
million in there I think. Boss is paying back interest on something, I don’t know he didn’t tell me,
just told me to mention interest.”

“My boss will know what that means,” Jungkook said as he pulled his list out and scanned it for
the next location.

“Careful, beat cops or no beat cops you don’t want a cruiser pulling you over.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been doing this for years,” he retorted with a grin and the woman exited the
alcove and started walking down the street. Jungkook stayed back in the alley, making sure to
count to a hundred before emerging to not arouse any suspicion.

02) Yangun-ro: male client with facial hair parked at gas station in a silver Honda NSX. 11:50-
12:30pm. BE CAREFUL OF CCTV IN AREA.
Jungkook sighed as he shoved the list back into his pocket and he jumped his board and headed off
down Sesil-ro in the direction of his next drop point. There were fifteen clients on his list today
and the hours stretched from 11:40am all of the way to 6pm. That was a large window and he
knew that he could make all of the locations well within the time frame. The trouble was counting
on the clients to not run late on him and behave in a fashion that didn’t alert attention.

The gas station drop proved more simpler than expected because the man that he was passing
goods to was smarter than the usual client. He had slowed down when he had started drawing close
to the station, languidly rolling down the length of the street and the silver car had pulled out of the
lot and overtook him. So he had discreetly followed him down to an empty street and the man had
unrolled a window and left his arm on clear view out of it. So Jungkook had collected his own
envelope out of his backpack and when he skated past they quickly exchanged envelopes and he
carried on down to the end of the street without needing to stop. Really smart, he had to hand it to
the man he made his job a hell of a lot easier. His seventh drop took him to Dongbaek-ro but he
was a whole half an hour ahead of the time schedule and he couldn’t just wait around for the client
to show. He knew that man from a few drops and he knew that he was always late and caused him
grief so he decided that he could take a little break. It was 3:15pm and he just knew that a certain
officer would still be patrolling the area around Songnim Park. So Jungkook sailed down the
streets, backpack considerably lighter than it had been when he had collected it, and within ten
minutes of constant skating he caught sight of the sprawling park drawing close: the unmistakable
sight of the banks of trees.

Not too far from the entrance of the park there was a small kiosk that sold coffee and small snacks,
cigarettes and newspapers, and he could see the police officer sitting at the end stool like usual.
This was probably the third time he had visited the kiosk for he had bumped into him at earlier
hours in the past. The last few times he had seen him the young officer had been walking the area
rather than sitting still but right now he was taking a break.

“Officer Kim, keeping the streets safe one coffee at a time~” Jungkook called out and the man
shifted on the stool to look at him.

“Oh look who it is,” Kim said as he folded his arms on the counter of the kiosk. “It’s the tardiest
hooligan in the whole of Busan. Ditching once again I see.”

“Ditch? That’s a good one man, a real good one.” Jungkook kicked his board up into his palm by
standing down hard on the back, the wood hitting his palm hard. He tucked it into his elbow for
safekeeping and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “To ditch you’ve gotta be going to school
in the first place, right?”

“Yeah kid, I guess you do.” The officer picked his Styrofoam container up and took a small sip,
still twisted on the stool to look at him. Jungkook felt the strongest urge to scuff his sneaker on the
curb and he managed to suppress it.
To say that he and Officer Kim were friends wasn’t exactly the truth. The word carried heavier
connotations than what described their situation. Perhaps it was better to say that they were
mutually acquainted. Jungkook had no doubts about the fact that the officer knew that he was
doing something illegal because he couldn’t possibly have gotten away with his behaviour if he
didn’t. Tardiness was enough to see him get dragged to a high school - not that he actually had one
that he went to of course, but that wasn’t the point - and it certainly resulted in a bag search for
sure. Yet for the past five months he had seen the man on a nearly daily basis and despite the fact
he was obviously not in school the officer hadn’t once called him in over it. Which was good
because a bag check would see him get in so much trouble: envelopes of cash and marijuana,
maybe even cocaine or heroin hidden away under the pretenses of him thinking that it was just
marijuana. He had yet to end up in a correctional facility but he had heard enough about them to
know that he very much wanted to avoid them. He didn’t need bible study and Pilates and the
occasional smack on the hand with a ruler to learn how to be a good boy. He just needed to not get
arrested and that was good enough for him.

Jungkook often found that he didn’t think Kim looked like a cop at all. The young man didn’t have
a hard face, didn’t give off an air that made him seem threatening, but he was authoritative enough.
He spoke in a way that hinted at intelligence but also a little something like compassion, something
that Jungkook had always been told that the police greatly lacked. He wouldn’t go as far as to
claim that he was a ‘good guy’ or even a ‘nice guy’ but he would admit that Kim was ‘alright’ and
that was good enough for him. He knew that a great deal of people would probably call Yoongi a
piece of shit, say that he was the most meanest bastard in the entirety of Busan and yet to him he
was an older brother: supportive and funny and not at all mean except in a light teasing manner. He
wasn’t stupid, he understood that people had more than one side to them and he just happened to be
on the officer’s good side for now. Maybe in the future he would see if he really was a good guy or
if it was just a nice mask that he wore when he wasn’t feeling particularly righteous.

“Pull a seat up kid.”

“You know, I read somewhere that only baby goats are called kids,” Jungkook retorted as he fixed
his backpack straps and moved to sit at one of the stools. Not the one right beside him of course, he
kept one empty just to not get too close. The police officer shook his head at this but his lips lifted
in a smile. Nice smile, real friendly. Seungyoon had a friendly smile too and he had seen him stab a
guy in the eye with a chopstick once. A smile didn’t mean shit.

“You clearly didn’t read it in school.” Officer Kim’s accent wasn’t from Busan but clearly from
Seoul: educated, no slurring or clipping of consonants. He had dark hair cut short on the sides of
keep it regulation and it matched very well with his tanned skin. Unlike his eyes - deer eyes as
Yoongi would joke - the officer had thin eyes that were likely described as crescent shaped. Slight
nose too. Jungkook’s features were more prominent and somewhat immature, Kim’s were softer
and more matured.
“I did go to school at one point,” he replied with a grin.

“Yeah, and I went to the moon at one point too.” The man gestured at the owner of the kiosk and
the lady turned around to start messing with a instant coffee machine, a tall box machine with little
buttons to press. “So what’s the baby goat’s name then?”

“…Jungkook,” he said, feeling no need to lie to the officer after everything. It wasn’t like him
knowing his first name would change anything. After all it had been nearly a half a year and he
hated getting called kid. “What’s your name, officer?”

“You know my name, it’s on my shirt.” Kim gestured to his light grey NPA uniform shirt: at the
silver badge pinned to the left breast pocket. Jungkook turned his head to look at him dryly and the
man raised an eyebrow at the expression on his face. The owner of the kiosk placed a small
container of coffee down in front of him and he looked down to see that it was a milky mixture: a
latte. “Fine, stop giving me that look and I’ll tell you.” Jungkook cocked an elbow on the counter
and studied him as the officer took another sip. “Namjoon.”

“I never thought that I’d know a cop on a first name basis,” Jungkook said with a grin, and
Namjoon corrected him by saying that he was an officer and not a cop. “Uh-huh and I’m not a baby
goat.” He lifted the container up and took a sip of the coffee, the liquid still hot enough to burn his
tongue. Yes, a latte with caramel added to it that reminded him of Hani’s hair.

“You go on and on like one,” the officer remarked as finished drinking his coffee and shifted to
slip his wallet free of his work trousers. He flipped it open and Jungkook eyed the worn leather as
he pulled a note out and placed it down on the counter. The lady accepted it and a moment later she
was handing him a couple of coins in change. “You’d make a good politician.” Jungkook snorted
at the joke. “Maybe a lawyer.”

“You know lots of crooked politicians and lawyer?”

“No, since when have you been crooked?” Jungkook didn’t reply to this question and instead he
just took another sip of the latte: the free latte that the officer had bought him even when he had no
need to do so. “Just stay outta trouble kid.”

“Sure thing cop,” he replied with a wink as the officer got to his feet, wallet shoved into his back
pocket securely once more. Wasn’t a good idea to carry it there where it could get picked but he
doubted that anyone would attempt to steal off a beat cop on duty. That was stupid even for lowest
of lowlifes in Busan. He shifted to watch him start walking down the street and then he turned
back to the lady behind the counter. She was in the act of wiping up a slight dribble of coffee from
the machine and she looked at him. Pretty but in a mature way, maybe in her thirties with her long
hair pulled back into a bun so a few wispy pieces fell forward.

“One day you’ll buy your own coffee,” she said with a soft smile. “Or at least say thank you to
him.”

“I’m thankful,” Jungkook said as he fixed his backpack and got off the stool too, stretching his
legs. “I’m thankful everyday that he doesn’t arrest me.”

As he had assumed client number seven was late by ten minutes and he spent the time standing on
Dongbaek-ro before deciding to sit down on a bench by a pizzeria. When the man finally showed
up he was visibly drunk and seemed to find no problem with trying to drop the goods and cash right
in the middle of the street so he had needed to drag him down a side street and chastise him
angrily. He had had some stupid clients in the past, usually first-timers that didn’t want to cause a
scene and accidentally drew too much attention to themselves when trying to be discreet, but this
was something new. He had worked with the man in the past and he couldn’t believe that he would
be stupid enough to show up in a state like this.

“Yeah man I know, I know, I just had a tough day, y’know?” Jungkook eyed him wearily as he
pulled the envelope out: Hongsuk. Ah, here was the coke that Seungyoon had lied about not being
in the bag. The envelope was marked clearly enough with the dosage amounts for cocaine and not
marijuana, marked clearly enough for him to know that there was going to be a lot of cash been
shoved into his hands in a moment. “Girl left me…again.”

“I mean it, next time if you show up wasted I’ll cut the deal. It’s too dangerous. I’ll take the shit
off my boss if it means I don’t get my ass arrested.”

“Sure thing man, sure thing I won’t do it again.” Hongsuk smiled at him and one of his eyes
twitched. Jungkook studied his disheveled appearance before reaching out to accept the envelope
off him. Then he shoved the other one in the man’s hands and he watched him tuck it down the
back of his jeans and pull his tee over it to hide it out of sight. Then he was exiting the side street at
a very quick pace so he slipped his list out and scanned the next drop location.
Gunnam-ro. Then Jungdong 1-ro. Then Jwadongsunhwan-ro. It was client number ten that saw him
have to backtrack all of the way down to Dongbaek-ro again. It was enough to make him sigh in
annoyance but he was nearly done and he had enough time to make it there. As soon as he was
done he could go all the way back to the den and rest his aching body and hopefully Yoongi would
be back with the ramyun that he owed him. That way he could eat all three bowls and then sleep in
an actual bed rather than on a broken settee. He was so distracted by his own thoughts that when he
caught sight of someone loitering around the area he was jolted back to reality and so he kicked off
his board and caught it in his hand. He had never seen people hanging around on this area because
it was a wide open road that eventually led onto a main highway to get into Suyeong-gu. There
were no bus stops in sight and the person, a young male, was hanging around not too far from
where he was to drop his goods: a small cul-de-sac parking lot. Jungkook carried his board in the
crook of his elbow and he walked the last stretch of sidewalk and that was when the male shifted to
look at him.

“What’s a Sam Yong Pa punk doing around here, huh?” the kid announced as he cut in front of
him, hands shoved into his pockets and head held up to look at him. He had to hold his head up
because he was a couple of inches shorter than him but Jungkook saw that this made him more
spunkier, more upfront. He thought that it was pretty stupid that this kid - who looked all of
nineteen maybe - was blocking his way like this and he was too surprised by the fact he knew that
he was a gang member than mad about this inconvenience.

Dongbaek-ro was their territory. What was this kid talking about?

Jungkook stopped dumbly in front of him and stared at him. His hair was a rather bright red shade
that demanded attention, messy and combed back off his brow in a way that looked to need to be
annoyingly pushed back by his fingers every now and again. It stood out drastically against his
clothing: white vest and black fitted jeans. He had been wearing a jacket at some point but he had
knotted it around his waist in the heat of the day, a checked one that was the same red as his hair.
There was a black backpack swinging in the grip of his right hand rather than on his shoulders.
Jungkook eyed his hand to see a tattoo on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger: black
and simple but loud enough to his eyes. Oh boy, he hadn’t just ran into a stupid kid, he had ran
right into a runner for Geum Sung Pa. There was no doubting it because there was another star on
his inner arm too just like where Yoongi’s dragon was. It was the outline of a star and he could see
initials in it: KTH PJM.

“Look I’m just trying to drop some goods off,” Jungkook said as he shifted to fix his backpack.
“I’m not a Sam Yong Pa punk, I’m just doing my job.”

“Maybe I’m doing a job too?” He studied his face to see that he was passably attractive in a way
that he expected to see him on one of the stupid idol MVs that played on the billboards near the
centre of the district. The kid had almond eyes and a delicate little nose with a point to it, pouted
mouth that looked a little spoilt to his eyes. He looked the kind to throw a tantrum if he didn’t get
his way, Jungkook was sure of it.
“Oh yeah? Then go do it and let me do mine-”

“Whoa whoa hang on,” the kid’s hand went up and he walked right into it, hand slamming into his
upper chest. Jungkook took a step back and sighed heavily under his breath. “You’re just gonna
walk away?”

“I’m not a goon, I’m a runner. You are too I can tell looking at the bag,” Jungkook said and the kid
looked down at his own bag and then back up at him. After a few seconds of silence he shifted to
look over at the road, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair like he had imagined. There
gave him another flash of a tattoo behind his right ear, a gold star with black details to create a 3D
shape to it. “If you wanna fight then we can fight but to be honest, I’d rather just drop the goods
and leave. Call me a fucking pussy I don’t care.”

“…Nah man, you’re not a pussy.” The boy moved out of his way and waved him off. “I just
wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna jump my ass.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Good, my friend would kill you if you tried it.”

“Yeah? I don’t see your friend here right now,” Jungkook remarked as he made a show of scanning
the road in front of them. He was thinking that this kid’s friend might just kick his ass but he would
stand no chance against Yoongi. His friend would break both of his kneecaps just for looking at
him the wrong way. He expected the kid to get pissed and start bragging but he just laughed at the
theatrics and flashed him the middle finger.

“Fuck off punk, go drop your shit and get outta here.”

“Nice meeting you too dickface.”

Jungkook jumped back on his board and skated down the street to the parking lot, ducking under
the low barricade so he could carry on up the slight ramp. His client pulled up to the curb a few
minutes later on a motorbike and she drove right up onto the curb so that they could exchange
envelopes without her needing to kill the engine, her face hidden under the helmet. She slipped it
away inside her leather jacket and then flashed him a thumbs up and he watched her go before
checking his list. Cheongsapo-ro. Great, another long skate to reach that road. He ducked back
under the barricade and looked down the street to see that Geum Sung Pa kid still hanging around
and he laughed to himself as he jumped on his board and headed to his next destination.

The den was practically empty when he entered it again at exactly 5:31pm and he wasn’t at all
surprised. Today was Friday and it would be prime time for most the members to be hitting up
clubs and getting new clients, looking around for any prostitutes in need of a pimp, causing
mayhem pretty much all over the district if they could help it. Seungyoon was nowhere in sight but
he found Jaebum chilling in the back room playing poker with a couple of goons and a few very
attractive young women that were probably prostitutes but he wasn’t entirely sure. Judging from
the clothing on the floor one of them had to be an officer worker but sitting there in her pink lacy
underwear it was hard to tell.

“Yoongi here?”

“Yeah kid, crashed and burned about two hours ago,” the man replied, free of his own shirt and
vest but not his tie for some reason. His fighting dragons tattoo was finally on clear display for
once rather than hidden out of sight. “You drop all of the shit off?”

“Yeah, got the cash here.” Jungkook crossed the room and shoved the backpack in a safe built into
the wall just beside the doorway. “When you see Seungyoon tell him that I’m pretty sure all the
clients paid up but Hani said something about added interest and Hongsuk was fucking drunk and I
don’t trust him to not get my ass busted.”

“Uh-huh, sure got it.” He stared at the man and saw that his words had probably went right over
his head. The current hand of cards were placed down and ample squealing resulted from it and he
crossed the room and went up the stairs before more clothing could be thrown at his feet. He didn’t
bother knocking and instead just opened the door and walked right in to hear the sound of snoring
coming from somewhere in the room. After a moment he located it in the bathroom and he stuck
his head in to see Yoongi slumped on the floor beside the tub, dressed in his underwear but with his
hair still damp and a towel around his neck.

Jungkook went over and bent down to shake his shoulder roughly and his friend woke up and
mumbled nonsense at him. It took him a few attempts to grab his upper arm and pull him to his feet
but he managed to succeed and he dragged him into the other section of the room and over to the
bed.
“Shit…” Yoongi reached up to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sat down on the
edge of the bed, the mattress creaking as he did. “One minute I’m putting underwear on and the
next…fucking unconscious.”

“Three days of constant work will do that to you,” Jungkook retorted as he scanned the room to
locate a plastic store bag on the tiny kitchen counter area across the room. He went over and
opened it and pulled stuff out: bowls of instant noodles, packets of vegetables and rice balls. “Did
you buy anything that has nutrition at all?”

“Fuck nutrition,” Yoongi muttered as he heard him shifting to retrieve his jeans off the floor. He
rooted around in them whilst he filled a kettle with water and plugged it into the wall. Then his
friend was lighting a cigarette as he tore the tops off the bowls of noodles. Nongshim, four bowls in
total. He was owed three of those but he would happily give all four to Yoongi if it meant that he
would eat them.

“Interesting life motto…” Jungkook got glasses out of the cupboard over the tiny sink and filled
them with water. After a moment of waiting the kettle finishing heating the water with a series of
loud whistles. He poured the scorching hot water into the bowls and then carried them over to the
small coffee table that served as a dining table. “Food.”

“Fuck you too.” Yoongi got to his feet and wandered over to sit at the adjacent side to him, towel
still around his neck rather than on the bathroom floor for once. Jungkook stabbed at the nest of
noodles to try and make them break up and cook quicker and his friend just puffed away on his
cigarette and stared at the murky contents in front of him.

“When’re you gonna get that purple shit outta your hair, huh?” he asked as he slipped his cigarette
free with one hand and gestured at his own damp hair with the other. He squinted at him through a
mouthful of smoke.

“Never, seen as you hate it so much,” Jungkook retorted with a grin, accepting the cigarette off him
and taking a pull on it. “When are you gonna dye your hair? Or will it stay as black as your soul?”

“Don’t have a soul, kid.”

“No, of course you don’t.” Jungkook took another deep pull and then Yoongi was plucking the
stick out of his fingers and sticking it back between his lips, settling back down without the
comfort of seat cushions. “You know, you’d look cool as a blond?”
“Yeah, I’d look like one of those hookers I see every time I need to go to Lee’s Strip Joint ‘cos the
pervert’s behind on tributes.” His friend smirked and a dab of ash fell down from the end of the
stick and landed on his lap so he hastily brushed it off.

“Tributes? That’s a poetic word for blackmail.”

“I’m a fucking poet kid,” Yoongi finally picked up his chopsticks and tapped them together
between his fingers.

Over the course of the small meal - that was likely one of the few things his friend had eaten in the
last three days - Jungkook thought about telling him about the run-in with the kid back down on
Dongbaek-ro. Was it important enough to tell him that a runner for the Geum Sung Pa had been
encroaching on their territory when he should have only been in Suyeong-gu? If he did would it
cause a lot of trouble? It wasn’t like the kid had done anything bad to him, hadn’t beaten him up or
anything like that. He had just made a joking threat and nothing more, so should he really cause
trouble over it? He eventually decided not to because his friend looked too tired to possibly make
him worry over something like that: something minor and a total non-issue. So he just ate his meal
and got a quick shower before deciding that sleeping at 7pm sounded like heaven to him. His friend
was already ahead of him for when he stepped out of the bathroom Yoongi was already lying on
their joint bed staring up at the ceiling as if it were as interesting as a TV screen.

“I’m thinking of getting a new tattoo,” Yoongi said as he sat down on the bed and shifted to lie
down on the other side. Jungkook folded his arm under his head and managed to get a lot more
comfortable than he could on the broken settee.

“By the time you’re finished with these things you’ll look like a walking art gallery…” Jungkook
remarked as he ran a finger down Yoongi’s bare upper arm, fingertip tracing the swirling bank of
clouds on his shoulder and down the distant jag of mountain until he was right down to the dragon
in the crease of his elbow. He gently ran it along the spine of the green creature and followed the
curve of the tail. His friend made a soft noise and twisted his head to watch him do this. “You hide
them away all day too.”

“That’s ‘cos I don’t want people staring,” Yoongi explained as he moved his exploring finger
down to his forearm, down past the waves of water to the boat caught bobbing in the current. He
stopped the descent when he reached the anchor on his inner wrist. Jungkook knew that the work
that had went into this tattoo was monumental: near Mona Lisa levels of effort and pain but there
was a major difference. His friend looked a hell of a lot more cooler than that stupid piece of art.

“In any other country this would be normal, you know? You’d be able to show them off and no one
would know that you were in a gang. No one would see that dragon and think “shit, he’s one of
those Sam Yong Pa motherfuckers,” and you wouldn’t need to hide them away.”

“Maybe I like people thinking that when they see me?” Yoongi retorted. “Makes ‘em move outta
the way and not ask me stupid questions.” Jungkook thought this over for a moment and then his
friend was shifting to look at him more clearly, rather than just stare at the top of his head. “Hey
kid, you’re gonna need one of these when you hit eighteen too. Don’t think you’ll get out ‘cos
you’re like the gang mascot.”

“Can’t I wear a mascot uniform instead?”

“Nah, you need ink to show you belong to the gang: to the family.” Yoongi reached down to take
his hand and he turned it over so that he could circle his inner wrist. The contact was slightly
ticklish. “Something small at first, not like your nose-”

“Ha-ha.”

“But you need a dragon. Maybe you should get a baby one? Hatching outta an egg.”

“Yeah, that really looks like a gang tattoo. Real menacing.”

“What’s it that Seungyoon would say? Quaint. That stupid fucker says that about everything. I
should buy him a dictionary.”

“What’s the next piece, huh?” Jungkook asked as he lifted his head to study his friend’s face. He
thought this over for a moment before the corners of his lips lifted up. “What?”

“Our initials.”

“…What?” Jungkook repeated again, smirking at him because he thought that his friend was just
pulling another joke on him like always. “What’d you mean our initials?”

“I mean I’m gonna think of a badass tattoo with our initials in. What, you falling asleep on me or
something?”
“No, it’s just…it’s not a dragon or anything like that.”

“JJK and MYG somewhere on my body,” Yoongi continued talking, voice and expression serious
in a way that made him want him to laugh but he had a strange feeling that he really wasn’t pulling
a joke on him right now. “I’m thinking my chest, right over my heart. But something badass
y’know? Not like a fucking pink heart or anything like that. Something badass.”

“I heard you the first three times you said badass…”

“No one’s gonna see it there. It’ll be a little secret. Not like this,” Yoongi lifted his arm and looked
at it, at the colourful sleeve of ink all over his skin. “People won’t stare at it and think…look at
that piece of shit hoodlum with shit for brains.” Jungkook looked at his arm and then back up to his
face. Was there something like melancholy on it? It was hard to tell in the dim light of the
streetlights coming in from the window across the apartment room. “Is that weird?” Jungkook
asked him what he meant by the question and his friend lowered his arm back onto the bed. “Is it
weird that I don’t want people seeing something like that? Just a couple of letters on my skin but it
feels like…like something more important than that.”

“You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve,” Jungkook said after a moment of thought, eyes
starting to close on him because he was so tired. Yoongi made a soft noise under his breath at this
as he slowly sank down into blackness and the last thing he heard was him softly speaking.

“More like on my skin.”

 Seeing Stars

It had been so long since Yoongi had actually cooked something that Jungkook was stunned by the
sight of a steaming pan of rice porridge on the kitchen stove. When he had been in the shower he
hadn’t heard his friend pottering about in the kitchen area and so he was both shocked and
pleasantly surprised, more so by the fact that Yoongi was still physically inside of the apartment
room too. He had expected to have woken up and found himself abandoned like usual, woken by
the pounding of someone’s fist on the door telling him to wake up and leave the den to carry on
running goods, but that hadn’t happened. Instead he had been woken up by his friend’s voice,
mumbling to himself rather than actually talking to someone, and when he had opened his eyes he
had seen him cleaning the room up.

It was starting to turn into a strange day indeed.

A quick glance at his watch showed him that it was 9:10am and he was wide awake today unlike
yesterday. He wouldn’t have Jaebum nagging at him to get his ass out of the den and the horrible
rush of devouring scraps rather than actual food. After examining the watch face he looked over
the room and he couldn’t help but feel amused at the sight. It felt like forever since he had last
actually seen the apartment room floor underneath layers of clothing and random shit: newspapers,
empty bags, food cartons that were luckily empty and didn’t have rotting remains stuck to the
plastic and card containers. Had his friend finally gotten tired of all of the mess and decided that he
would do it? Jungkook had been waiting it out to see if he would seen as he had always ended up
cleaning the place, and it seemed to be the case. He could see the light wooden flooring and it
gleamed because it had been swept down with a brush. It matched well with the white walls and
light wooden furniture that was in the room. Apart from the bed there was the single long coffee
table, two dressers - one on the wall by the door and the other on the adjacent wall by the bathroom
- and there was a desk by the window. He hadn’t seen his friend use it in quite some time but in the
past he could recall seeing Yoongi sitting at it rapidly typing away on a laptop, fingers moving
without ever seeming to stop.

“Wow, this is new,” Jungkook announced with a wide grin as he looked over the interior. He could
smell something piney that had been used to clean not only the floor, but also the coffee tables and
kitchen counters. They nearly sparkled and it was enough to make him briefly wonder if he was
dreaming.

“This place was so dirty that I’m surprised you didn’t get sick,” Yoongi retorted as he stirred at the
contents. There was a thick cloud of steam coming from it and he could smell the mixture, the
creamy scent of broth and chicken coming from the pan. “I felt sick just looking at all of the shit.”
“I was waiting for you to come back home and clean it.” Jungkook crossed the room to get to the
window, popping it open and leaning out of the small gap to look across the horizon. The sky was
the shade of faded denim and there was a small scattering of clouds just visible drifting across it -
often hidden behind the towering apartment blocks. He was surprised that he couldn’t smell
exhaust fumes when he took a deep breath but rather just the brine of the sea and nothing more. It
was a fresh, clean breath of air and he enjoyed it greatly. “I always do the cleaning so I thought,
hey maybe Yoongi should do it for once? And look, you did. I’m so proud of you.”

“Kid, I blackmail creeps and break a couple of bones. I don’t wear maid uniforms and dust.” He
glanced over his shoulder to look at his friend and Yoongi glared at him. The sight was enough to
make him start laughing and after a few seconds the corners of the man’s lips twitched. “Keep
laughing, I’ll break your bones too.”

“Maybe my toes, you’re not tall enough to break my nose.”

“Kid,” Yoongi pulled the ladle out of the pan and held it out menacingly at him. “Even friends
need a hard punch to the face every now and again, don’t think you’re safe.”

“Duly noted.” Jungkook shifted to sit on the edge of the windowsill and he crossed his arms over
his chest. Right now he was only dressed in the tee from yesterday and his underwear. He didn’t
want to get dressed just yet, seen as he still had an hour or so to kill before he needed to hit the
streets. Right now he could relax a little longer and stay comfortable, but he saw that Yoongi was
dressed. That wasn’t necessarily a sign that he was leaving however. He was pretty certain that his
friend wouldn’t leave the house in a pair of denim shorts anyway, it wasn’t exactly the right look
for extortion. It was then that he noticed that the clothing wasn’t on the floor. “Where are all of the
clothes?”

“In the cleaners down the street,” Yoongi explained as he stuck the ladle back into the pan.
“Sunmi’s gonna bring it back when it’s all clean and dry. I tipped her for it. She won’t wear a maid
uniform either, trust me I made that joke and she seemed to consider strangling me with the phone
cord.” If Sunmi wasn’t in the den right now it must be a slow day, seen as she took calls and
organised meetings for everyone. “Sit your ass down this is nearly finished and I didn’t spend an
hour cooking this for nothing.”

“Yes mom,” Jungkook remarked as he crossed the room and sat down on the floor by the coffee
table. He heard the sound of him sighing heavily but his friend didn’t even bother glaring at him
this time. He ran his finger along the surface of the table and he found that it really had been
polished, no more sticky residue of soda and soup stock stuck to the wood, no faded circles from
the bottoms of glasses. Yoongi might just need to start wearing a maid uniform after all if he
cleaned this well. He could really tidy the den up: clean the shit that the other members left lying
around and wipe the footprints off the floor from countless pairs of shoes tracking dirt everywhere.

“Heard some fucker gave you trouble yesterday,” his friend said as he flicked the stove off and
grabbed the ladle, hastily scooping the porridge out and into bowls. Jungkook dragged his eyes
away from the coffee table and he asked him what he meant. “Some client messing around with a
drop and nearly got your ass in trouble.” Oh, that’s what he was talking about. For a moment, just a
brief one at that, Jungkook had almost thought that he was talking about the kid that he had
bumped into on Dongbaek-ro; the Geum Sung Pa runner kid with the red hair and star tattoos. But
as quick as the thought had entered his head the quicker it had left because there was no way that
Yoongi would know about that. He hadn’t even told him about it so he wouldn’t have heard it off
anyone else, and Jungkook trusted no one else with such knowledge.

“Uh yeah, a client I’ve had trouble with in the past actually. He always runs late even when I’m on
a tight schedule. Once or twice I’ve nearly missed a drop ‘cos of his lazy ass but nothing like
yesterday.”

“What happened?” Yoongi moved over to place the bowls on down on the coffee table and then he
was going back over to the kitchen area to collect glasses from the overhead cupboard. Jungkook
watched him getting fruit juice out of the fridge and pouring it into the two tall but worn glasses.

“He showed up drunk.” His friend closed the fridge door hard and it made a thudding sound as he
crossed the room and shifted to sit down at the table with him. “He showed up late and drunk. He
was running behind by ten minutes, I got tired of standing around waiting for him so I sat down at
a bench outside some kinda pizza place. Next thing I know he’s staggering over and trying to do
the drop right there on the street in front of the restaurant, in front of the traffic and pedestrians out
of the street. I’m talking literally had the envelope out and was waving it at me, so I had to drag
him down a side street.”

“Never deal with drunks,” Yoongi muttered.

“Or coke addicts either,” he added as he took a sip of the juice. Orange and tart. “That’s another
thing, Seungyoon told me I was running pot yesterday and there was three envelopes with coke in
and I told him I don’t run that. I can’t risk getting caught with it but he lied again.”

“What’s the client’s name, huh? I should find him, should scare him into behaving.” Jungkook
rolled his eyes at this but the comment made him smile softly. Of course the first thing Yoongi
said about hearing about him nearly getting into trouble was to offer to beat the shit out of someone
for him: typical. He could see by looking at him that he wasn’t joking though, just like the tattoo
idea last night that he had told him about.
Even now, after sleeping on it, Jungkook struggled to believe what he had said to him. He knew
just how much the tattoos on Yoongi’s skin meant to him. Most members of their gang that he
knew didn’t care much about the tattoos, they just got one or two because it was part of their
culture and they needed to have them; maybe a single large dragon or one or two smaller things to
fit in. But not Yoongi. Yoongi had gotten the required dragon and so much more. He had filled his
thin and pale left arm with colourful ink that would be right at home on a canvas: a Hokusai
woodcut. The great waves of blue on his lower forearm, the mountain range and banks of clouds
that reached up to the curve of his shoulder, it was a piece that showed great pride and love and not
just a compulsory thing. So to have his friend look him right in the eyes and tell him that he was
going to get his name on his body - even just his three initials - was something that he struggled to
believe. It was crazy, what kind of person got names tattooed on their body? Wasn’t that the one
thing to never do, for fear of the person leaving and their name still remaining permanently on the
skin?

Yet that Geum Sung Pa kid had had a pair of initials tattooed on him too, right on the inside of his
forearm in that silly star outline. What did that say about the red haired stranger he wondered? Did
he have integrity? Was he obsessive? Jungkook had no way of telling but he also wondered which
one of those fitted Yoongi too.

“Seriously, if you need me to kick his teeth in I will,” Yoongi continued as he picked up his spoon
and prodded at the contents of his bowl: the sticky rice porridge and the chunks of fragrant chicken
and spices mixed in it. “Running might be easy but it’s risky. You don’t need anyone causing more
trouble than needed.”

“Did you ever run in the past?” Jungkook asked, surprised that it had taken him all of this time to
even think about asking him such a question. He had just always known Yoongi to deal with
extortion so he had never thought of the chances of him doing something like that.

“Nah, my face isn’t trustworthy enough,” his friend said. He thought that he looked trustworthy.
He must have looked trustworthy for him to have followed him out of that park all of those years
ago. “You gotta pick youngsters, gotta go for the ones that looked innocent and can pass police
without arousing suspicion. That ain’t me, I’ve been stopped in the past for looking a little
suspicious even when I wasn’t working. Plus, I’m too lazy to do all of that, I mean racing around
the entire district in just a few hours? Fuck that, give me a bat and a crew and I’ll beat the shit
outta anyone but don’t make me run.”

“You thought I looked innocent back then?”

“Yeah, you were twelve back then, an actual kid. How was I to know you’d grow up and turn into
an asshole?” Jungkook snorted laughter at this and then he decided that it was time he started
eating before the porridge got too cold. It might have been quite some time since his friend had
cooked something but it tasted fantastic, a hell of a lot better than instant ramyun and leftover
pancake scraps. His joke last night about real food seemed to have gotten through to him because
they were eating an actual breakfast for once. The rice was sticky and the chicken tender and it
didn’t take him very long before his spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl.

“Hey Yoongi?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Geum Sung Pa don’t work around here do they?”

“Geum Sung Pa? Nah, those motherfuckers stick to Suyeong-gu and Nam-gu…sometimes even
Dong-gu if they can get away with it before our guys kick their asses out. Why?”

“They have stars right, star tattoos?” Yoongi spooned a mouthful of the porridge and studied him.
His friend’s expression didn’t give anything away but he could see that he was very intrigued by
these questions as he chewed the food.

“No, they have fucking kittens - ‘course they have stars kid, you know that. How many times have
you heard the goons bragging about ‘em, about making the fuckers ‘see stars’ when they knock
‘em out?” Jungkook made a soft noise under his breath at this, suddenly recalling all of the stupid
jokes he had heard in the den about the other gang. “What’re you wanting to know about Geum
Sung Pa for, huh?”

“Nothing important, just thinking.” He dropped his own gaze to his own bowl of porridge, nothing
left other than a few pieces of sticky grain stuck to the porcelain. His friend didn’t ask any more
questions and instead just finished eating the remains of his own before collecting the dishes
together and moving over to the sink. Yoongi started cleaning the bowls and glasses through and
Jungkook had only just gotten to his feet when there came a knock at the door so he got up to open
it. Sunmi was standing on the slight landing with a black trash can bag in her hand and she shoved
it at his chest before he had even opened the door fully.

“Tell Min that he’s got work in three days and that I’ll get the details to him as soon as, also you’re
up for the today Jeon.” He managed to not drop the bag of clothing and he looked at her over the
top of it. “10am, so you might want to wrap breakfast up as quick as you can.”

“Uh, sure thing I’ll head out as soon as I’m dressed.” She dropped her gaze to study the fact that he
was still in his underclothes, eyes rolling from under the ruler straight cut of her fringe and then she
sighed.

“Don’t leave all of your dirty clothes all over the floor next time and maybe you won’t run out.” He
said that that sounded like a good idea. “Check in with Woosang, he’ll be here in five minutes if
the traffic is good.” Then she was turning on the heel of her plimsolls and going down the stairs at
a quick pace, bobbed hair bouncing with each step. Jungkook closed the door over and dropped the
bag on the floor, hearing it thumping loudly as he did. It was pretty damn heavy and he was a little
surprised that she had carried it up the stairs unaided when he could barely carry it a few feet.

“Three days and you’re back in business.”

“Thank fucking god,” Yoongi declared theatrically as he moved the last bowl onto the metal
drainage board. “I’ll go nuts stuck in this den, I swear I will.”

“Hey, you could always play strip poker with Jaebum and the rest of the goons,” Jungkook joked
as he dropped to one knee and quickly sorted through the bag to find some clothing.

“I’d rather you just strip my skin off, that would be more fun.” He managed to locate a tee and he
pulled it out to see that it wasn’t one of Yoongi’s. It was white and had a logo on it, a cartoonish
scribble that he didn’t really recognise but looked cool enough. Then he managed to find a pullover
too so he shrugged them both on: the olive green material hiding the tee from sight and
emblazoned with floral letters across the chest. “Think I’ll visit Kim Bistro and talk Jin into giving
me free samples again. I might need to bring my bat this time though, he wouldn’t relent last
week…” Jungkook was in act of getting into a pair of black jeans when Yoongi turned to study
him.

“What?”

“You’re just running in this district right?” he asked in a low voice and it took him a moment to
figure out why he was asking that question. After he had asked about Geum Sung Pa it was only
natural that his friend had started to wonder why and it seemed that Yoongi thought that he might
just have been entering other districts.

“Yeah, nothing further than Dongbaek-gu.”

“You see anything weird yesterday?”

“…No,” Jungkook answered after feigning a moment of thought. If he answered too quickly it
would reveal that he wanted to avoid the topic, so if he pretended to think then Yoongi would
hopefully not press any further. And it worked as his friend went silent as he moved over the room
to collect a pair of his sneakers.

“Be careful out there OK kid,” Yoongi said as he shifted to grab something out of the closet.
Jungkook was in the act of knotting his laces up so he just kept his eyes on his fingers as he looped
the thin laces together. “If some asshole starts acting funny you cut the deal and you don’t risk the
cops showing and catching you. Trust me, I’ll cover your ass if Seungyoon or Siwon or fucking
Woosang starts chewing on it.” He had just finished knotting his laces when his friend shoved a
cap on his head so he reached up to take it off and see what it was. It was the black and gold Last
Kings Bricks Strapback, which had been bought all of the way up in Seoul because that was the
only place to get goods like this in the country.

“This is yours,” Jungkook said as he eyed the white stitched logo on the front. Yoongi ruffled his
hair roughly and then took it out of his hand to place it on his head again, backwards this time.

“Nah, it’s yours now, kid. You’re always wearing shit until it falls apart, always buying cheap and
wearing cheap. Boss will never get you in a suit.” Jungkook pulled on the brim to get it more
secure and then he grinned at him.

“Neither will you.”

“Only when I’m dead will you get me in a fucking suit.”

The bag was dropped right in front of another high school: Yangwongo. Jungkook didn’t pick it up
like usual, having to wait for a car to pass and dump it for him, rather it was stashed in the nook of
a tree for him to collect. He had done drops like this before and he found he preferred them a lot
more to dealing with passing cars. After all there was no telling when a squad car might come
round a corner and catch him in the act of collecting the tossed bag. At least with a stashed bag he
could wait until the area was clear of traffic and pedestrians and collect it, and as luck would have
it it was there when he got to the building. So he dropped to his knees at the base of the gnarled
chestnut tree and he dragged the bag out, brushing leaves and soil off it as he opened the main
compartment.
The school building was on Yangun-ro but there were no clients on the list that were located on
that street at all. He saw several roads on the list that were a long way away, meetings outside of
markets and marked apartment blocks and even a pharmacy - the irony was not lost on him.
Daecheon-ro and Dalmaji-gil and even Haeun-ro, the major subway line. That would be a fun drop.
But the one thing he noticed was that he had Dongbaek-ro marked on the client list too: the fourth
delivery on a smaller list of just nine drops.

Interesting.

Jungkook studied the list for a moment before shoving it into his pocket and he was about to get
back upright when he caught sight of a chestnut on the grass right by his sneaker. He picked it up
and hefted it a few times before hatching a grand plan in his head. If he saw that stupid Geum Sung
Pa kid today he would be sure to toss it right at the back of his head. That should get his attention
for sure. So he shrugged the backpack on and jumped onto his board, the chestnut clutched tightly
in his palm and a grin on his face.

Nine drops was the smallest list that he had done in months and he couldn’t believe it. He would be
finished before 3pm if he made the times and didn’t fuck anything up and that meant he had most
of the afternoon without having to worry about work. The last time he had had a short list there had
been a catch. Just two drops to make but a hell of a lot of trouble to do so. He had needed to make a
personal delivery of heroin to a Chinese business partner that had been in their district. He had not
been able to be a single second late for that; and on the same day he had needed to deliver a large
batch of morphine down to Marine City for it to go right onto a ship. Not his idea of fun at all, seen
as he had nearly gotten arrested for that one. Illegally entering port areas was bad enough,
smuggling morphine onto passenger cruise ships for the rich to get numb on was even more illegal.
Which was why he had backtracked and stuck to only simple drops from that point onward.
Anything that wasn’t a simple pass and collect was not an option. In any other gang he supposed
that his refusal to do such deals would see him get the shit kicked out of him but not in Sam Yong
Pa. No, his skills in running without a single arrest for several years had gotten him on the boss’
good side and he had been able to turn down the deals in favour of safer ones. In terms of lucky he
was pretty certain that it was the most luckiest outcome he could have hoped for; at least he got to
keep all of his teeth even if it meant getting less pay as a result.

Today Jungkook found that he recognised less clients than usual. He often knew four or more on
the list by sight and so he had never needed to get names off them before handing the goods over.
But as he worked his way through he found that he didn’t know a single one until he hit the fifth
client. His first drop was prescription meds - which he didn’t mind passing along so long as they
were soft - and they went to a young teen that was clearly passing them onto classmates for a little
profit for they were Ritalin according to the write up on the envelope. The second drop was a
whole ounce of marijuana and that went to an elderly lady. He hadn’t asked her why she was
collecting the envelope but she sneakily told him that she was an acupuncturist and that her clients
often found they relaxed even better when they were stoned. Jungkook thought that he would have
to be fucking stoned too to let someone stick needles into his skin and he just collected the large
envelope and quickly moved onto the next. His third drop was a book store on the outskirts of a
college campus to deliver a small envelope with various pills in. That went to a twitchy professor
that seemed in great need of a palmful of downers to mellow out for the day. The fourth drop went
to a teenage girl that was getting some ‘cool shit’ as she put it for a party of some kind. She said
she was going to make space cakes and even invited him back to her house because her parents
would be on a business trip for the weekend. She looked all of fourteen in her pink summer dress
and sandal wedges and though it was sweet of her to offer he took the little card she gave him and
knew that he wasn’t going anywhere near said house. Ever.

How a kid that young had gotten wind of their gang was beyond him but he was pretty sure that her
parents must have had deals with someone for her to find out about them. Or maybe she had a
brother working in the gang? Either way she was the youngest client he had had so far and he
didn’t really like handing the envelope to her at all but he had to do it. He wondered what Yoongi
would think if he told him about her, about this young girl with a baggie of marijuana in her
designer tote bag and braces still on her lower teeth? His friend would have probably shattered the
kneecaps of whatever asshole had informed her of their gang and he wouldn’t complain: he would
likely hand him the bat.

The fifth client turned out to be an elderly man he knew of only by his surname Choi. Despite not
knowing his first name he knew that the man supported his wife’s chemotherapy along with a nice
treatment of marijuana. It was just one of those little facts that he stored away over the years of
running and it was probably the nicest reason behind trading the drugs for cash. There had been
several questionable drops in the past, for worryingly large orders of opiates and things like
Rohypnol. Oh Jungkook wasn’t stupid, he had learnt to memorise medical terminology and he
knew that benzodiazepine meant Valium or Rohypnol - something powerful enough to knock
people out flat for sure. He had had enough creeps collecting that shit to know that he didn’t want
to see them again after the first trade. Often that sadly turned out to be the case. His sixth client
saw him passing around Songnim Park and he made sure to salute Officer Kim, now known to him
as Namjoon, as he skated past.

“Baby Goat’s got somewhere to be?” Namjoon called as he skated down the street. Baby Goat?
That might just be worse than Deer Boy. He was tempted to pull the chestnut out of his pocket and
toss it at the officer but he had reserved it just in case he saw that Geum Sung Pa kid. He really
wanted to see his reaction if he managed to hit him square on the head with it. He was willing to
bet that it would be classic and so he just resorted to glaring at the officer and telling him that he
owed him not only another latte but also something chocolate related on top. “Sure I do…”

The client turned out to be a small group of navy men who were on leave and planning on a fun
time. Jungkook handed along the goods and headed off towards the seventh drop point all the way
at the very north of the district on Jaeban-ro. That was hell and it took thirty minutes of solid
skating to get to the location. It didn’t matter because he got there well within the time frame and
there were no problems with the clients for once. There was more marijuana passed along but at
least not to teenage girls with grand dreams of cool parties that would likely end in hospital
visitations. Then he had to go more up north to Seonsuchon-ro and all the way back down to
Centumdong-ro to finish his drops for the day. Then he jumped a taxi to ride back to the den
because he didn’t want to have to travel all the way back on his board.
When he got back he made sure to hand the backpack in to Woosang and the man had opened it
and searched the contents, just to make sure that he hadn’t missed a drop seen as he had been so
fast. He had only worked for Woosang a few times in the past and he knew that the man wasn’t
that fond of him at all. Maybe it was because Yoongi had broken his nose once in the past for some
reason that he had yet to figure out.

Woosang didn’t look like the rest of the dealers that he had worked with. He wasn’t like
Seungyoon and his greying hair and smile lines, like Siwon and his bald head and gut that he often
slapped when he was laughing hard at some stupid joke. No, Woosang looked like he had walked
right out of college and he had a face that looked rich and snooty. He had a terrible habit of looking
down his nose at people and Jungkook was aware of the fact that he knew he was handsome. It
showed for he clearly thought that he was better than everyone else. He wore his hair like a
member of some terrible idol group and he had a perfect complexion that looked to be the result of
dermatologists and maybe even makeup but he wouldn’t admit to that of course; he needed people
to think that he was flawless naturally even though he was as fake as North Korea’s nuclear
weapon claims. He wore suits that were unmistakably designer and he would hazard a guess at
Gucci but he couldn’t be sure. Either way the shoes on his feet cost more than Jungkook’s entire
wardrobe and it seemed that he liked spending cash rather than saving it away. Even Jungkook
wasn’t that dumb - though he knew the man thought he was - and he had most of his profits going
right into a savings account.

The cash would go towards a house in the future, somewhere cut off from all of this where he
could spend the rest of his life without having to look at another Daewoo G2X ever again. Maybe
Yoongi would still be in the picture too? He didn’t know but he would greatly like it to be that
way.

“Anything to report?” Woosang asked, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. He was pretty sure
that there was pencil on it.

“No trouble.”

“Sir.”

“Sir,” Jungkook repeated as he stared at him. “No trouble at all but did you know one of your
clients is a teen?” Woosang had been in the act of opening an envelope and he looked up without
moving his head, rather just rolling his eyes. “Must have been fourteen if that…”

“Good,” the man said as he pulled handfuls of cash out, “start them young.” Woosang shot the
goons standing behind him a look and then they were all laughing at him. Jungkook set his jaw in
annoyance and decided that it was time to blow the den before he tossed the open bottle of soju on
the table all over the man. He had had him skating all over the damn district and he was looking
down on him and making jokes about his concern.

Fuck dealers like him.

Jungkook exited the den to the sound of him and his goons talking quite openly about him. Let
them, he would like to see Woosang last five minutes running drugs instead of his mouth. He knew
that Yoongi was probably at the Kim restaurant right now just because his friend wouldn’t want to
be on the same block as the other man never mind the same building so it made perfect sense to go
for a little skate around for fun.

It wasn’t like he was…looking for that stupid Geum Sung Pa kid.

So he jumped on his board even when his stomach was empty and rumbling under his ribs for food
and he kicked off hard and fast to get rolling down the empty sidewalk. Without the bulky
backpack on his shoulders he felt a lot better. Maybe he would see that kid, it wasn’t like he was
never going to see him again. It wasn’t impossible, after all Suyeong-gu was just a few roads and a
highway away from Dongbaek-ro so the chances of him being in the area again were pretty good.

Maybe too good.

It might not be a good idea if he did see him to even approach him. He had seen the way that
Yoongi had reacted to the thought that he might have been out of their territory and around the
other gang. Was it wise to risk hanging around a Geum Sung Pa kid in case something bad did
happen? What if the kid had went right back to his own respective den and told everyone that there
was a little Sam Yong Pa fucker skating around running drugs? What if he got to the area only to
see a gang of goons waiting to beat the shit out of him? That could happen, but he thought that
there was a chance that it wouldn’t. After all he hadn’t snitched on him for being in their territory
when he really should have. Would the kid risk snitching on him in case there was retaliation?

As he drew closer to the stretch of road that he was on yesterday he caught sight of a motorbike
pulling up into the parking lot alcove and he slowed down and jumped off his board to start
walking down it instead. A minute later a male emerged and he was still wearing a helmet but he
saw clothing that looked right to his eyes. No checked shirt this time but rather an open black and
white pinstripe one under which he could see another vest. This was paired with black jeans and
deep red platform creepers. When the male reached up to remove the helmet he caught sight of the
tattoo on his hand and Jungkook could only smirk to himself. He reached into his pocket and
retrieved the chestnut and sure enough the Geum Sung Pa kid was too distracted removing his
helmet to even see him. He hefted it twice and felt it hitting his palm and then he tossed it. The
little chunk flew and connected right with the side of his head and the boy made a shocked noise
and nearly dropped the helmet. Then he twisted to look at him and he saw the comically stupid
expression on his face.

“You little…” The redheaded boy stopped talking and dropped his eyes to try and locate what he
had thrown at him and after a quick search he hunkered down and scooped the chestnut. “A
chestnut? You threw a fucking chestnut at me? I take it back, you are a pussy.”

“Ouch, that hurt my feelings.” The boy slipped his helmet strap close again and let it hang from the
crook of his elbow like a handbag as he shoved his hand into his trouser pocket. There was
something like amused disbelief on his face and he couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“Where’s your bag, punk? I don’t see any drugs on you today.”

“Already finished, try and keep up.”

“Ah, this punk seriously…” The redhead turned to look at the wide road beside them, his own
backpack on his shoulders. “Where’s your tattoo, little punk? A kid like you could get hurt really
bad playing around.”

“Don’t have one.”

“But you’re Sam Yong Pa, right?” Jungkook asked him how he knew. “You look the type. Only a
Sam Yong Pa runner would be crazy enough to skate around like that. You’re practically asking for
the cops to grab you, or goons.”

“I know a cop, I’m pretty much immune,” he half-lied, half-joked. “But I could say the same for
you. What’s a Geum Sung Pa punk doing in our territory?”

“Your territory? That’s cute, kid. Real cute.” The stranger actually smiled at him and it made his
eyes wrinkle at the corners. Jungkook saw another nice smile, much like Namjoon’s. “I live in this
district. Just try and kick my ass out.”

“Shouldn’t you live in Suyeong-gu?” The redhead just shrugged in response. “I’m just saying. I
don’t want you getting beaten up, you know?” He asked him why and Jungkook reached down to
fiddle with the wheels of his skateboard with his free hand, making them spin round and round.
“‘Cos I don’t like that kinda shit. I don’t beat people up. I have a friend that does but I don’t do it.”
“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I tend to…run away from fights if you know what I mean.”

“Pussy.”

“Look who’s talking,” Jungkook retorted and the boy ran a hand through his hair, that had been
messed up from the helmet. Then he started laughing under his breath. “What?”

“I run away too,” he said in a quiet voice and after a moment Jungkook started laughing too. “What
a pair of gangsters we are, huh? Running away from trouble and not even having tattoos. Why
don’t you have one?”

“Too young.”

“Shit how old are you, man?”

“Seventeen.”

“Ha! I got two years on you, punk.”

“I got two feet on you.” The redhead glared at his retort and his grin just widened to annoy him
even more. “I thought you were a kid.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll break my no violence rule.” He studied the road and then cursed
under his breath. “Shit, there’s my client in that fucking yellow car. See it, the fucking Nissan
370Z?” Jungkook followed his gaze to see a car zooming down the highway right towards their
location and he visibly winced. What kind of idiot would ride a bright yellow car to pick up drugs?
“I’m gonna set my friend on his ass, I swear to god.”

“I once traded with a woman in a bubblegum pink Madza RX-7 and she had three chihuahuas in
the back. I think she was a celebrity. Maybe a porn star.”
“I wish my clients were porn stars,” he muttered as the car finally slowed down and did a fast and
most certainly illegal U-turn into the parking lot where he had left his bike. “Hang on.” The
redhead jogged down the street and onto the lot and Jungkook stayed where he was. It crossed his
mind that he was waiting for him to come back and that was kind of strange. After a minute or two
he was jogging back out and he waited until the car was out of sight before turning to him. “No
chihuahuas but get this, a prostitute and her baby.” Jungkook felt his mouth drop open and then the
stranger was laughing. Sweet laugh, made him seem even younger. “Fucking classic. I couldn’t
imagine that if I tried.”

“I don’t wanna imagine it, it’s weird.”

“Hope the baby wasn’t part of the deal-”

“Oh god! Stop it, man!” Jungkook reached out to shove his arm roughly and it just made him laugh
even harder. “Call me a pussy all you want, don’t joke about that.”

“Speaking of pussy, I’ve gotta beat it.” The boy grinned at him and he was too dumbfounded to
even react to this. “Clients won’t get stoned without my help so sayonara, punk.”

“It’s Jungkook. Adios dickface.”

“It’s Jimin!” the redhead called as he darted into the lot to get onto his bike. He waited around until
he was pulling out and as the boy - who was now really more of a young man - got onto the road he
made sure to flash his middle finger at him again. He returned the gesture like a strange childish
wave and then he was back on his board sailing down the streets of Haeundae-gu.

In the space of the next three days Jungkook would find that he didn’t see Jimin as often as he had
been hoping but he did see him once: on the third day. He knew that he was working pretty much
as frequently as he was and that meant that he was probably driving all over the district on his bike
just like he did on his skateboard. Perhaps at some point in the future they would crash into each
other on another road that wasn’t Dongbaek-ro but he didn’t think that they would. He was sure
that Jimin would have only stuck to the very outskirts of the district to avoid trouble. He might
have lived in it, just like him, but even a Geun Sung Pa asshole knew that it was dangerous getting
too far into Haeundae-gu; a runner would especially not take that risk. Jungkook would never step
foot in Suyeong-gu and he didn’t even have any tattoos to give him away because he was still
scared that he would get cornered by a gang of goons and get his ass beat.

He didn’t have much choice about doing anything else other than being on the streets however as
Yoongi spent a lot of time sleeping or not in the apartment room. With Woosang back in the district
for the next few days his friend would jump through hoops just to avoid him. It was strange seeing
him act that way when Yoongi was always the one to confront people but he didn’t want to really
ask him about it. If his friend hadn’t directly told him why then it was best to assume that he really
shouldn’t know about it; like how he hadn’t informed him about meeting a Geum Sung Pa runner
twice and talking to him rather than ratting on his ass. Yes, Yoongi could keep his secrets and he
could keep his too.

So for the first two days he stuck to finishing his drops as fast as he could and reporting back to the
den with the backpack full of cash. Woosang remained his boss for the two days and he saw that
his disdain for him didn’t lessen in anyway even when he did everything he asked for without a
single mistake. He guessed that some people were just assholes and nothing could change that fact.
Jungkook spent the late afternoons skating around the area and trying to locate Jimin but to no
avail, and his evenings were spent in the apartment room with Yoongi: eating and sleeping and
talking a little but not a lot. It seemed the dealer being in the building put him a bad mood and so
Jungkook couldn’t wait for him to hurry up and leave, and luckily enough on the third day
Woosang did. That was the only day that he didn’t actually have any goods to circulate and it was
also the same day that Yoongi ended up back on the circuit. He asked his friend how long he
would be gone for this time and he said that he didn’t know, but he promised him that he would be
back as soon as and Jungkook accepted the promise and just hoped that he wasn’t going to go on
another week-long bender like last time.

Jungkook ended up crashing into Jimin in the strangest of places: a convenience store. To be
precise, the ice cream aisle of said convenience store. He had been in the act of crossing it to get to
the drink fridge when someone came around the corner and walked right into him.

“Hey, it’s the little Sam Yong punk,” Jimin declared.

“Oh god, it’s the baby prostitute,” he retorted. Jimin had a bag of flavoured rice crackers that were
already open in his hand and the owner didn’t seem to care that he was eating them whilst
browsing the aisles. He had been in the act of eating one when Jungkook had said this and he
snorted and nearly choked on it. “You’re getting brave, all the way up here in Sesil-ro.”

“Brave or dumb, which one is it I wonder?” the boy asked as he bent down to slip the freezer cover
open. “Probably both.” He grabbed a pair of Melona bars out of it: strawberry and mango. “But I’ll
let you in on a little secret.” Jungkook asked him what he was talking about and he grinned at him.
“My auntie runs this store, so I think you’re the dumb one coming in here.”

“Why? Is she gonna kick my ass ‘cos you won’t?”

“You won’t be joking when she gets the broom out.”

A few minutes later Jungkook found himself sitting on a low brick wall just a few feet away from
the store, sharing sodas and ice cream bars with the other boy. It was a coincidence and yet Jimin
had bought his favourite flavour. A great coincidence seen as Yoongi always bought the banana
one for some reason because he thought that he liked it when he hated it. It seemed that he hadn’t
been lying when he had told him that his auntie owned the store for the woman on the till certainly
knew him well enough and he noted that they were charged a hell of a lot less than the amount
they should have been.

“What’s a baby dragon called?” Jimin asked suddenly as he unwrapped his strawberry bar and
stuck it in his mouth, the wrapper sticky and getting stuck to his fingers. He shook his hand a few
times before pulling it off. He asked him why he wanted to know and he tried to grin around the
bar. “‘Cos you’re a baby dragon that’s why.”

“I dunno, they’re not real.”

“Kookie, I’m fucking stupid but even I know that.” Kookie? Yoongi didn’t even call him that but
he found that he didn’t really mind at all. “What’re they called, huh?” Jungkook shrugged and he
reached into the pocket of his black shirt and slipped a phone free. It was a Samsung Galaxy Note:
big phone. The boy typed a few things and then paused. “…Fuck, there doesn’t seem to be a word
for it.”

“I told you, they’re not real.” Jimin glared at him and Jungkook shrugged as if to say ‘what did I
tell you?’.

“Why aren’t you running, huh? You slacking off today?”

“Day off,” Jungkook explained as he took a bite of his own ice cream bar and chewed it, sticky-
sweet and creamy melon melting on his tongue. “I don’t slack off.” The redheaded boy smirked at
him and said that he didn’t believe him. “I’m the best runner that Sam Yong Pa ever had, I’ve been
told that by my boss.”
“You been told that by the boss?”

“No, never met him, only the local boss.”

“Then how’d you know that you’re the best man?”

“…Fuck you.” Jimin laughed at this retort and a blob of his bar fell off the stick and landed on the
pavement, a big milky pink cream gloop sitting on the dirty asphalt. “What’s that for, huh?”
Jungkook gestured at his inner arm. “The tattoo you’ve got there? I saw it a few days ago but didn’t
think to ask.” The boy shifted to slip his denim shirt off and revealed the star outline on his inner
left forearm. “The letters?”

“Park Jimin,” he said slowly, sounding out each of the initials, “Kim Taehyung.”

“Your friend?”

“More like a bro to me,” Jimin explained as he knotted the shirt around his waist, his vest
wrinkling as he did. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together but he’s always pulled through, you
know?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, all the while thinking of Yoongi in his head. “Yeah, I know what you
mean. I’ve got a friend like that too. He’s kinda like my brother after everything.”

“Hey, are you busy or anything?” the boy asked suddenly, perking up considerably. Jungkook
studied his expression for a moment before telling him that he had no plans at all. “You should
come to my place - well I mean our place, for a little while. Kinda…hang out.”

“I thought that your friend would kick my ass?” he joked and Jimin grinned at him.

“He probably will.”

Jungkook had never rode on a motorbike before. He hadn’t even rode on a subway line in the past
for he had buses and taxis, or his trusty skateboard, and he had to admit that the idea seemed a little
daunting to him because it didn’t look very stable. The bike was slim and looked rather light to his
eyes, almost as if it would topple over with too much weight on it. Jimin popped the leather seat up
to reveal a storage area and he pulled his own helmet out and then handed him one that was clearly
reserved for his friend. It wasn’t bright red like his one (and his hair) but rather just black and there
was a decal sticker on the bottom area to look like the grinning teeth of a skeleton. Pretty sweet. He
slipped it on and found that he hated how heavy it felt on his neck and how it squeezed around his
cheeks with the padding inside, but at least he wouldn’t risk killing himself if the boy decided to
try and show off. So he hesitatingly climbed onto the back and that was when Jimin loudly
announced that he had to hold onto him so he didn’t fall off. Jungkook sighed into the helmet and
wrapped his arms around his waist and then the boy twisted one of the handlebars and kicked the
pedal hard and the bike pulled away from the curb.

Jungkook was more than convinced that he was going to slide right off the bike and land on the
road but he found that he didn’t; mostly because he squeezed his arms around Jimin’s waist so
tightly that it must have been uncomfortable but the other boy didn’t show it. Jimin just expertly
weaved down main roads and side streets and Jungkook thought about how useful it would to have
one of these bikes himself. It would really cut down on the chances of being late for a drop.

It took maybe fifteen minutes of travel before Jimin was driving the bike up a slight ramp on a
sidewalk and killing the engine outside of a run-down building. It looked like it might have been
student housing at some point, a few floors for a small group of people to live in and share rent, but
it didn’t look to occupied at all from the exterior judging from the condition it was in. The
windows on the ground, first and second floor were covered with thin metal bars and there was
cracks in the plaster that ran up the sides of the walls like crevasses. There was even a growth of
ivy on the side that looked to be thriving. Jungkook climbed off the bike and handed the helmet to
the other boy and Jimin kicked the stabilisers so that it didn’t topple over. Then he was shoving the
helmet inside the seat compartment along with his own, locking it securely.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to fix his unruly hair. Jungkook
didn’t even want to know what his looked like. “What time’s it?” Jimin glanced at his watch
briefly. “Ah, 4:50, yeah Tae will be here. Probably.”

Jungkook wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to meet this friend, this ‘Tae’ that according to Jimin
had no qualms about kicking people’s asses. It wasn’t that he was worried that he would kick his
but rather that the friend might just turn out to be a dick and he didn’t want to awkwardly pretend to
like him to not upset Jimin. That would suck. But he thought that the chances were he wouldn’t
have been a dick if he was friends with Jimin because it wouldn’t make sense for him to be so
close to someone like that. After all the other boy seemed to be pretty cool from what he had
discovered about him so far. He might have been his gang rival and yet he had shared food with
him and had even given him a nickname after nothing more than three encounters. He thought that
that was a good sign that Jimin was a pretty good guy, just like Namjoon might be a good guy too.

Jimin started humming under his breath as he went down the slight ramp and around to the front of
the building, pushing the door open because it had been left unlocked. Jungkook followed after
him and eyed the interior to see that it was most certainly abandoned. The carpet had been stripped
to show bare flooring underneath, the wallpaper torn and hanging off the walls like palm fronds.
He eyed all of this as he walked down the hallway to a staircase that went down to a basement level
and their shoes bounced off the stone steps with an echo. Then the boy was pushing the door at the
bottom open and he stepped inside after him to see something rather unexpected.

The rest of the house might have been abandoned and falling apart but the basement was most
certainly not. Jimin and his friend had turned it into something close to an apartment room expect
it was a lot larger than the one he and Yoongi shared for sure.

The walls were plain brick and not painted at all, giving it a rustic feeling that went well with the
bare concrete floor underneath. The ceiling was high and a tacky chandelier that was undoubtedly
plastic was hanging from the light fixture and he stared at it dumbly before running his eyes along
the walls. There was random shit stuck all over them. He saw posters of musicians and basketball
players and a large canvases covered in the most strangest slashes of colour he had ever seen. He
couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a screaming face or some kind of abstract thing but he hated it
and he dragged his eyes away after a moment of study. In the large room there were two leather
settees that had been used and abused to the point of the stuffing coming out in parts, and a single
large bed was shoved away in one of the corners along with random modern furniture. Cheap
plywood and plastic shit. He was so distracted by the sight of the interior that it took him a moment
to notice that there was someone sitting perched on a black and silver tulip chair just a few feet
away.

Well, sitting wasn’t the right word really.

The boy was lounged back in it with one leg cocked up on the seat and the other out in front of
him. He was distracted by something and so he wasn’t looking up at them and he took a moment to
study him. He was wearing a black band tee that had the words Joy Division on the top and a
swirling pattern of waves underneath it, and a pair of black and white pinstriped trousers that
reminded him of the shirt that Jimin had worn a few days ago. His feet were not bare and he was
wearing boots. It took him a second to figure out that the boots were hobnailed but not with the
nails in the soles to keep them on. No, the nails were sticking out of the soles and he felt the most
pressing urge to swallow a lump in his throat at the sight of the little sharp nail heads. The boy had
dark brown hair that had a few random highlights running through it and it fell over his brow in a
mess. On his tanned skin he could see two tattoos on clear display: a star outline like Jimin’s on
the back of his left hand and something else on the side of his neck. If the boots were strange
enough the sight of a grenade inked onto the side of his neck was even more so.

A grenade?

What the fuck?

“Hey Tae, this is the little Sam Yong Pa punk I was telling you about,” Jimin declared and that was
when he looked up and Jungkook locked eyes with him: with Taehyung. He had large eyes and
thick lashes that could have been emphasised by the fact he had eyeliner smeared all over his lids;
along with a long nose with a rounded tip and a pretty mouth that was currently doing something
close to scowling at him.

Jungkook quickly figured out that he might just be wrong about that ass kicking after all.
 Praying (Better Start)

Jungkook had met only a few gang members in the past that had made him feel uncomfortable,
made him feel something akin to fear in their presence. Despite Yoongi’s sharp tongue and habit of
breaking bones his friend was not one of them, but there were a few goons he knew by name or
sight that he found intimidating. Usually it was the men that were taller than him by a few inches
and wide with muscle rather than just fat, the ones that never had bruises and yet were always
working. Sometimes they had tattoos on their faces, on clear display so that no one could possibly
mistake their affiliations and he noticed that they barely seemed to speak. Looking at most of them
he wondered if they even could speak in anything more than grunts and growls, or if they stuck to
using their fists alone to get their messages across. It was never something strong enough to call
‘fear’ but rather just a wariness that made him want to not get too close to them, to not even look at
them. He had seen perhaps three Sam Yong Pa goons that were like this and he knew one of them
wasn’t even Korean but was actually Japanese. He had never heard his name said ever, it seemed
that he went by the title ‘the Japanese’ as if he was some kind of superhero villain and he wasn’t
even that large or threatening. There just seemed to be an air coming off him that told people that
he was not to be messed with and so Jungkook had sampled the air and decided that it was wise to
avoid him. He had never been scared of another human being before, except maybe his drunken
mother.

He had smuggled drugs into dens packed with foreign trade partners, he had had a few close run-
ins with police in the past and he had spent several days on the streets when he had been practically
a child and he had survived the deathly winter cold. People didn’t scare him at all yet he had to
admit that he felt something in the pit of his stomach when he locked eyes with this boy: with Kim
Taehyung.

The boy didn’t have a threatening face at all, that was what he found so very strange. He had a face
that looked like it could be very friendly in the right circumstances. He wasn’t a towering presence
with shoulders like a linebacker and a grizzled look to him. Holding his eyes however he found that
he was threatening in a different kind of way. His gaze was strong and unflinching and he realised
that this was what it was like being on the receiving end of Yoongi’s wrath. His large eyes looked
at him, like a big cat eyeing up prey, and then they seemed to look right through him. He was not
like Jimin, who had put on a show to try and look cooler and intimidating, no Taehyung had an
effortless air around him that he didn’t need to force or fake.

“What?” Taehyung asked suddenly, voice deep and an accent not from Busan. He would need to
hear him talking a little more to figure it out. His eyebrows shifted ever so slightly and they
disappeared under the fall of hair on his brow.
Why had Jimin introduced him as the Sam Yong Pa punk? Why had he thought that it was a good
idea to introduce a rival to his friend rather than just give a name instead? Jungkook didn’t know
but he felt like maybe he should throw another chestnut at him for his stupidity. Maybe even deck
him across the back of his head with his skateboard instead to help get the point across. He would
have never introduced Jimin to Yoongi by telling him he was in Geum Sung Pa because he didn’t
know exactly how his friend would react to it. Maybe his friend would get pissed, maybe he would
be too shocked to get mad, but whatever he might have reacted like he still wouldn’t have told him.
Had Jimin done it on purpose to see how he would react, or had he maybe told his friend about him
in advance? If so…what exactly had he been saying?

“Why’re you staring at me?” the boy asked as he shifted in the seat. Jungkook suddenly became
aware of the fact that he had been staring at him like an art exhibition and he mentally chastised
himself. “Is there something on my face?” Taehyung lifted a hand to touch his face and he caught
sight of what had been in his hand: a manhwa book. Judging from the cover it was set in a high
school, for he could see male characters in white and grey uniforms with crazy hair in colours of
orange and yellow.

“Uh…no I was just…” Jungkook stopped talking and dragged his eyes away to look at the wall of
posters instead. Why had he suddenly lost the ability to speak? When he had first met Yoongi he
had had no problem speaking to him when he had been little more than a child. Even crashing into
Jimin had seen him able to trade quick insults and inventively crude nicknames. Yet looking at
Taehyung he suddenly found that all stupid nicknames quickly escaped his mind along with his
ability to give answers to simple questions.

“Minnie, your friend’s fucking weird,” Taehyung muttered as he carried on flicking through the
book. The pages made a soft sound and he was clearly not interested in it for his eyes didn’t move
and the pages turned much too quickly.

That was it? That was the grand introduction that he had been waiting for, maybe even worrying a
little over? It was enough for him to feel a little dumb and Jungkook glanced back over at him to
quickly study him once more. What was it about Taehyung that made him feel a little
uncomfortable? He couldn’t seem to figure it out and he didn’t like this fact. It seemed that it might
be the obvious sight of his boots, with the nails sticking out of the soles like strange football studs,
but he didn’t think that it was. Yet he couldn't seem to figure out what it was right now.

“Yeah, he’s real fucking weird,” Jimin agreed with a wide grin and so Jungkook elbowed him hard
in the ribs. The boy made a loud whining noise and then reached up to touch the spot. “Hey, I’m
just telling the truth. You throw chestnuts at people, you’re fucking weird.”

“Chestnuts, ha,” Taehyung snorted and then started laughing to himself and he saw that his scowl
was now replaced with a smile instead. It showed that his assumption about him looking friendly
was correct but it didn’t help alleviate the fact that he felt that discomfort lingering in his stomach.
“That’s a good one, seriously a real good one.”

“Don’t encourage him, it hurt.”

“So what’s a Sam Yong Pa kid doing down here, huh?” Taehyung tossed the manhwa book across
the room and it landed on the floor with a series of rustling noises. Jimin told him that he had
invited him and the boy starting bobbing one of his legs up and down. The nails on the soles of his
boots tapped on the floor and it took Jungkook a lot of willpower to not stare at his foot. “Got any
drugs, kid?”

“Nope, it’s my day off.”

“Hmmm, that’s no fun.” He pouted his lips and crossed his arms, still lounged in that tulip chair. It
was retro and he wondered if it had been bought and cost a lot of money, found in a thrift store, or
salvaged from the abandoned building. Judging from the rest of the furniture it was the third
scenario. “At least I know you can talk now and not just go…duhhhhh.”

“For a goon you sure can talk, usually they just go duhhhhh.” Taehyung’s lips twitched at the
remark and Jungkook wondered if it was wise making fun of him even if it was obvious that it was
a joke. “It’s a surprise.”

“No arguing,” Jimin announced. “We’re gonna talk and nothing more. No fighting either.” The
boy reached up to fix his messy hair and then he unknotted his jacket and tossed it onto one of the
settees: a deep brown leather one with scuff marks all over it.

“You’ve never been in a brawl before have you?” Taehyung asked suddenly as he got to his feet, as
if his friend’s words meant nothing. He crossed the room to retrieve something from the floor by
the double bed and when he span around it was a baseball bat. Not a wooden one, it was a metallic
silver one and there was a thick layer of friction tape around the handle to stop it from flying out of
his hand when he swung it. The boy held it out so that the end was pointing right at him and
Jungkook eyed the length of scuffed metal and then lifted his gaze up to his face. Taehyung was
grinning at him.

“No,” Jungkook replied honestly. “I don’t brawl, I’m not a goon.”

“I know, you’re a runner. I can tell just by looking at you.” Taehyung shifted so that he could
balance the length of the bat on the back of his neck; one hand on each end and his arms cocked at
the elbows. The pose made his tee rise up a few inches. A quick glance down showed that his
navel had a tattoo around it, a black star with sharp pointed tips, and the lightest curling trail of hair
went down and out of sight behind his low trouser waistband. Jungkook quickly lifted his gaze to
his face again.

“For a goon you don’t look too ug-big; you don’t look too big at all.”

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung moved the bat again and instead hefted it between hands. “Don’t need to be
big, just need to be quick and hit hard like-” He swung the bat as if hitting a baseball and mimed
watching it fly; shielding his eyes with a grin on his face as Jimin imitated a cheering audience
with his hands cupped around his mouth. He cocked his head to look at him and his grin widened.
“I don’t run kid, I crack skulls.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Literally,” Taehyung started pacing up and down, curling his wrist as he did so that the light
played off the metal. He looked like an animal in a cage, stalking and just waiting to pounce. His
boots made clicking sounds with every step like twisted high heels.

“He’s not joking,” Jimin added as he moved to throw himself down on the dark brown leather
settee. “Tae’s busted noses and kneecaps, cracked ribs and skulls.”

Jungkook thought this over as he looked between them both. He knew that Yoongi dealt in
extortion and that he had assaulted guys in the past, just never enough to cause serious damage. It
was bending fingers back until people caved, snacking someone in the face with their own
telephone receiver and maybe breaking a nose or chipping a tooth. It was not like this. At his worst
he knew that he had busted kneecaps too but only on really bad fuckers that tried to cheat him.
Yoongi had never mentioned cracking skulls before and he briefly wondered if he was
exaggerating about knocking people out to sound cool. Yet he had a feeling that Taehyung was not
exaggerating at all. He could very much believe that he had swung that bat hard enough to fracture
skulls and he had probably been grinning from ear to ear when he had.

“Wanna know the sound a skull makes when you break it?” Taehyung asked in an offhand manner,
as if talking about the weather rather than something as morbid as that.

“…Not really.”
“Sounds like glass getting crunched,” the young goon continued and the thought was enough to
make Jungkook wince. “It’s a wonderful sound. So wait, if you don't brawl and you run…where
the fuck are your tattoos, huh?”

“He doesn’t have any,” Jimin explained as he settled on the settee and laced his hands behind his
head like a pillow. “He’s too young to have one. Isn’t that cute?”

“How young we talking?”

“Seventeen.” Taehyung stared at his friend before he turned his attention back to him; smirking at
him for some reason he couldn’t figure out.

“He’s right, I don’t have any tattoos,” Jungkook agreed with a nod. “Can’t get one until I’m
eighteen but when I do I’ve gotta get one: a dragon of course.”

“Well well well, we should change that.” The boy tossed the bat aside and it landed on the floor
with a loud clattering sound, making him jump in surprise. “Minnie, you grab his legs and hold him
down, I’ll tattoo his face. Tattoo a cock right on his forehead.” Jungkook laughed at this, trying to
cover his shock so they wouldn’t think he was a wimp. “Don’t laugh kid, I’ll fucking do it. I’ll
even make it a dragon cock just so you’ll fit in with the rest of the Sam Yong Pa motherfuckers.”
Taehyung actually feigned at him but luckily he managed to not flinch or take a step back.

“Fight me.”

“You’re on, kid.” Taehyung reached up to snag hold of the back of his tee and Jungkook suddenly
wondered if he had made a mistake. When clothing came off it meant tattoos were going to be
displayed and even if it was just a joke he knew that such a display ended in fighting. That was
how gangs worked and Jungkook had been lucky to avoid being on the receiving end of such a
pompous display of masculinity so far in his life in the Sam Yong Pa. He had, however, seen a
great many goons stripping their shirts and vests when they were drunk and wrestling one another
for fun in the den storefront. The boy tossed his tee at him and it landed on his sneakers, the scent
of cologne and something that might have been pot coming off it. Then he held his arms out wide.
“Come at me.”

“…I think I’ll pass,” Jungkook muttered and after a moment of silence the two boys were laughing
uproariously at him. He had really dodged a bullet with the joke and he couldn’t help but breathe
out in relief at the fact the boy had also been joking with him. Taehyung retrieved his tee and he
took a quick moment to study his newly revealed tattoo.
He had already seen the outline of a star in the back of his left hand, the top corner reaching the
knuckle of his middle finger and the other legs stretching out like splayed fingers on his flesh. Just
like Jimin he also had a black star - located around his navel - but there was no gold stars in sight.
Clearly the star alone was enough to show his affiliation without the colour. But they were both
rather boring in comparison to the two others: the neck and chest tattoo. Taehyung had a crucifix
tattoo on his left breast and it was situated just above the nipple. It wasn’t large at all, just a few
inches in size, but it was intricately inked onto his tanned flesh in a wonderful way. Looking it at it
reminded him of how wonderful Yoongi’s dragon had been before he had added colour to it; the
series of thin and perfectly formed lines and details. There was no Christ on the cross but rather it
was bare. It was made up of swirling ivy-like lines that created an overall filigree design that
looked rather gothic to his eyes. Had there been a Christ on it the figure would have been
screaming in agony, he was certain of it. But even the crucifix tattoo was nothing to the grenade on
his neck. That one was in colour and it was an olive green with red details between the grooves and
pin. They were the kind of tattoos that seemed to having meanings and so Jungkook asked him
what the meanings were.

“Geum Sung Pa,” he gestured at his navel tattoo and then held his hand out to show the matching
outline on the back. “This one right here,” he pointed at the crucifix. “This one’s special. You see,
the last thing I want my rivals to see before I crack their skulls is this. They can realise that they
made a big mistake fucking with me; let ‘em pray on it.”

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” Jimin intoned from the settee, rapidly crossing himself and holding
his hands up in front of his face. The display made Jungkook smirk and he wondered just how
many prayers the boy knew. “Let the fuckers pray.”

Not many it would seem.

“What about the grenade? What’s that mean?” he asked as he watched him shrug the tee back on.
Yoongi’s tattoos didn't have any meaning to him, they were just art. Only their initial one would
have a meaning if he ever got it. Yet this boy seemed to have a story for every single one.

“Ha, that was Minnie’s idea.” Taehyung pulled down on the ends of the tee and then fixed his hair
absentmindedly. “He said I’ve got a bad temper and I explode all of the time. Maybe one day this
will explode instead and my head will fly across the room?” He ran his finger down the grenade
tattoo and Jungkook watched this intently.

“That’d be funny,” Jimin commented as he stopped praying and shifted to sit up. “Hey Kookie,
you any good at cooking?”
“Uh, I guess…” He looked at the other boy and he saw a relieved expression on his face. “Why?”

“Tae can crack skulls like nobody else but he can’t crack fucking eggs.”

Jungkook had expected a few scenarios to come about as a result of him going into Jimin and
Taehyung’s basement room ‘den’. The first had been that he would get his ass kicked out - or
kicked - by the other boy because he was Sam Yong Pa and only an idiot would let a rival member
into their home. That hadn’t happened. The second had been that he would stay for a few minutes
and then politely leave to dispel the awkward air that his arrival would cause. That hadn’t
happened either. The third and final scenario was that he might just befriend Jimin’s friend and…
well he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening in that regard.

Jimin had jokingly said that he should cook food and the boy seemed to have thought that he
wouldn’t do so but Jungkook did. He went over to the small kitchen area across the wide basement
room and he started messing around: washing vegetables, scanning the fridge for anything that
could be used in a meal. Yet he found the stock of food random and hard to make into an actual
meal.

“You know, I could totally poison your food,” Jungkook remarked as he started dicing vegetables,
struggling to do so with the blunt knife he had found in one of the drawers. When he glanced over
his shoulder he saw that Jimin was doing something on his phone and Taehyung was back in that
stupid tulip chair looking right at him. Even across the room he felt the weight of his eyes and he
quickly looked away again.

“Kookie, it’d still taste better than Tae’s cooking,” Jimin muttered as he tapped the screen with his
thumb. “Poison’s not your style, you’d stick a chestnut in it so we’d choke to death.”

“Damn, there goes my plan…”

On the stove the noodles were still cooking, the water not yet bubbling. As soon as he was done
with the vegetables he would toss them in a small pan with the few scraps of meat that he had
managed to find. It wasn’t the greatest meal but it was the best that he could do with limited
supplies. He was used to it after all, it was just like being in his shared apartment room all over
again. Yoongi never stocked the kitchen well at all.

“He’s brave for a Sam Yong Pa bitch, ain’t he?” Taehyung’s boots continued their incessant
rapping on the flooring and he couldn’t help but turn to look back at him.

“That’s funny, ‘cos I heard that Geum Sung Pa were a bunch of motherfuckers.” He raised an
eyebrow at him and he saw that the goon didn’t smirk this time.

Jungkook found that Taehyung was not as easy to get along with as he had first thought. The boy
seemed alright but he couldn’t help but feel that he was edging around him whenever he spoke. He
had no such feelings with Jimin, for he felt that he could say anything to him whether it be a stupid
joke or something honest. But with Taehyung he felt the constant need to keep his tongue in place.
Even when he was smiling at him and joking he couldn’t shake that strange sensation in the pit of
his stomach. It was unease, he was certain of it and he was at a loss to figure out why he felt it so
strongly; especially when Taehyung looked at him for longer than a second.

Yet every time he thought to himself that the boy would take offence and get angry at him he
didn’t. He would just hold his eyes with that same intense gaze as earlier and maybe he would
smile, maybe he would joke about kicking his ass. Was Taehyung doing so to avoid causing
trouble for Jimin, maintaining a facade and not exploding like he had said that he did? Or did he
find his words amusing and nothing more? And why exactly did Jungkook feel the need to edge
close to the invisible line just to see what would happen before jumping back? It was weird and he
found that he hated the fact he kept doing it even when he knew it was stupid.

“Did your mom tell you that?” Taehyung asked in a deadpan voice and Jimin snorted but still kept
his eyes glued to his phone. Jungkook hadn’t seen her in near six years and this attempt at a slight
didn’t bother him at all. “Tell her I said hi.”

Like he hadn’t heard that one before.

“What exactly does being a goon entail?” Jungkook asked as he tossed the vegetables and meat
into the pan, the oil sizzling and spitting at him.

“I beat people up for a living.”

“What kind of people?”

“Fuckers that get in my way,” Taehyung retorted as he got to his feet and crossed the room. He
could hear his annoying boots drawing close. “Doesn’t matter who, they get in my way and they’ll
regret it.” He poked at the colourful mess in the pan with a spatula and it carried on spitting at him.
“Are you gonna get in my way, huh?”

Jungkook turned to see that he was standing just a few feet away from him, close enough so that
their arms practically touched. Taehyung was looking at him in that same unflinching manner and
he found he could hold his eyes for only a moment before dropping them back to the stove.

“Don’t get in mine and I won’t get in yours,” he said as he stared at the pan and he felt Taehyung
leaning closer to him. He could almost feel his chin against his shoulder.

“Brave and stupid,” the boy muttered and Jungkook tightened his grip on the spatula. “I’m serious,
stay outta my way and we’re good. But get in it, or get in Minnie’s way, and we’ll have a
problem.”

“You know Tae, not everything has to end in a fucking fistfight,” he replied, keeping his voice low
so that Jimin wouldn’t hear him.

“…No,” Taehyung said after a moment of thought, “it doesn’t but it’s more fun that way.”
Jungkook stared at him dumbly and then the boy reached up and ruffled his hair hard, a lot harder
than Yoongi did; he felt his fingers snagging painfully tight.

The unsettled sensation in his stomach seemed to get even stronger.

After a couple of minutes he was finished with the cooking and they were all sitting around a low
table that he hadn’t noticed earlier. It had been stacked up against one of the walls and so Jimin had
retrieved it and placed it down on the floor. It was just like his and Yoongi’s coffee table except it
was dark wood instead of light and the legs were short and thick rather than tall and thin. The
surface wasn’t glossy from cleaning but deeply pitted with scratches from age and wear. There
were three bowls of ramyun and various plates with kimchi and fried meats and vegetables on. The
scent coming from everything seemed pleasant enough to his nose but that didn’t mean that it
would be pleasant to the taste.

“Shit, you should dump the Sam Yong Pa and come work for us,” Jimin joked after sampling a
mouthful of noodles. Jungkook rolled his eyes at this and he saw that the boy was grinning at him.
“Don’t run drugs, run a restaurant.”

“Do you guys have a restaurant, like, does Geum Sung Pa own one?” he asked as he played with
his own noodles. Jimin glanced over at his friend and seemed to have a silent conversation with
him.

“Nah,” Taehyung shook his head. “I don’t think we do, I’ve never been in one before. Does Sam
Yong Pa?”

“Yeah, Kim Bistro.”

“That massive place on Gunnam-ro? The one with the red verandas and the guy on the door?”
Jimin asked around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah. The family have ties in our gang so we pretty much own the place. I’m kinda friends with
one of the chefs there but he doesn’t really care for the gang thing.” Jungkook grabbed a chunk of
kimchi off one of the plates. “We’ve got links everywhere: restaurants, schools, cosmetic surgery
clinics.”

“Sam Yong Pa ain’t a gang, you all act like fucking chaebols.” Taehyung muttered under his
breath as he carried on eating his own ramyun. Jungkook studied his face for a moment before
looking over at Jimin. The redheaded boy seemed to be too busy eating to register their
conversation and he decided that it was best to not respond to it.

Let Taehyung voice his annoyance at his gang. It wasn't Jungkook’s fault that their gang was the
biggest in the entire country, that they could afford to invest cash into business and double their
capital. Geum Sung Pa might have been ‘good’ but they were nothing on his gang and that was the
truth. He wasn’t bragging about it all, he didn’t particularly care about which one was bigger or
more influential, he just wanted to stick to his job and keep out of trouble. Therefore it seemed
smart to not bite Taehyung’s bait and instead be the mature one.

“Do you have links to the idol industry too?” Jimin asked suddenly, dispelling any tension from the
air. Jungkook nodded and explained that they did: that there was a flowing trade of all kinds of
drugs and vices in the industry. He knew that there were prostitutes on speed dial for most of the
major companies, that coke and pills were being consumed on a constant basis to keep to
schedules. The boy stared at him in amazement at this and even Taehyung had looked up at him
from his food. “Holy shit that’s crazy! No wonder they all get nose jobs after snorting all of that
coke!” Jimin burst out laughing and the sound made him smile.
“You could blackmail ‘em,” Taehyung said after a moment of thought. “Get a list together,
threaten ‘em. Leak blind-item posts, really get ‘em sweating.”

“My friend does that,” Jungkook explained. “He does extortion and he blackmails people all of the
time. One time he got millions of won from a company CEO that was a abusing trainees and two
weeks later the police were dragging his ass to prison.” He felt a surge of pride just thinking about
how Yoongi had handled the case, oh how he had not only gotten the cash but also got his ass
busted because he had been behind on payments for the drugs he was circulating to his trainees.
Yoongi didn’t have time for shit, especially when said shit meant kids were suffering. “He brawls,”
he added, just to make a point to Taehyung.

“Bet I could kick his ass.”

Taehyung knew exactly what to say to get under his skin…

Jungkook knew that Yoongi wouldn’t be in the den. He knew this because even on his shorter
binges he was gone for at least three days. His friend didn’t believe in working hours and rest. No,
he would work without rest for as long as he could before collapsing and then he would take a
small break and repeat. Jungkook had told him hundreds of times that it was bad for his health and
that he would make himself ill yet just to spite him Yoongi never did get ill. He bounced back from
each binge and then he was repeating the cycle without stop and so Jungkook had long since given
up suggesting he stop.

If he went back to the den he might just find that his friend had left the apartment room keys with a
goon and that he could sleep in their bed. He might just find - like last time - that he had forgotten
to do so and he would be stuck sleeping on the broken settee whilst the rest of the gang cavorted in
the storefront: drinking, smoking, gambling and arguing like always. Jungkook didn’t want to
travel all the way back to end up on the stupid settee so when Jimin made a remark about how he
should sleep over he actually accepted the offer. What difference did it make, sleeping on one of
their settees or sleeping on the one in the den? At least he didn’t have an army of goons to worry
about keeping him awake all night.

It turned out that there was no bathroom in the basement room but there was a perfectly usable one
in the other section of the building. He had expected it to have been in as terrible a condition as the
rest of the interior but when he stepped inside he saw that it was not the case. The bathroom was
spacious and clean and the sink and shower worked perfectly well; better than the one in his and
Yoongi’s apartment did. The room was entirely white with tiles and linoleum and he saw no dirt or
mold growing in the little gaps between each tile. He wondered which one of them did the cleaning.
He had no clothing to change into, no towels or toiletries, so he had no choice but to leave his
shower until tomorrow when he got back to the den: splashing his face with water and resorting to
stealing a mouthful of acid strong mouthwash to clean his mouth out with.

“You ever have a sleepover before?” Jimin asked as he tossed a pillow at him. The boy had already
cleaned up before him and he seemed to sleep only in his underwear. In the current heat he couldn’t
blame him, but Jungkook stuck to wearing his tee too. He didn’t feel comfortable walking around
in his underwear when he didn’t really know either of them. It would be like walking around the
den in such a way.

“A few times when I was a kid, I think?” he replied as he tried to fluff it and get rid of any lumps.
“You?”

“Nope, unless sleeping on the streets and subway lines counts as sleeping over?” The remark
reminded him of his own experiences and it was just another aspect of Jimin he found himself
liking. Jimin had been in situations just like he had and he knew a little more about him. And yet
he knew virtually nothing about Taehyung.

“Don’t think it does, I did that too.” Jungkook sat down on the black settee because he had tried
both and found he liked that one the most, a lot more comfortable. “Only a few times but a few
times was more than enough.”

“I agree, talk about fucking rough right?”

“Right. Hey did uh…did Taehyung do shit like that?” he asked suddenly, trying to seem casual and
like he wasn’t a little nervous asking such a question. But it seemed like Jimin sensed it on his
face.

“Why don’t you ask him, huh?” the redhead asked with a small smirk. Jungkook held his gaze and
then looked at the wall of posters instead. This made Jimin laugh and he wished that he didn’t feel
a strange wave of embarrassment at this. “What? Do you really think Tae would kick your ass?”
He didn’t reply to this. “He won’t, you know? He’d have kicked it hours ago if he wanted to.”
Jimin didn’t answer his question and he figured out it was because the boy wanted him to ask
Taehyung it instead. But Jungkook couldn’t do that. It wasn’t just a matter of him thinking that the
other boy would kick his ass - which he might but that didn’t worry him too much - it was the fact
that it was a very personal question to ask and he couldn’t ask him something like that. Jungkook
struggled to hold eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. How could he ask him
something personal if he could only look at the floor when doing so?

He was so into his thoughts that it took him a moment to realise that Taehyung had walked back
into the basement room and when he looked up he saw that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He was
in the act of drying his hair with a towel and humming a random tune under his breath and
Jungkook dragged his eyes away and found the wall just as interesting as he had a few minutes
ago.

“Let’s play a game called…will Doojun call me at 3:30am and demand I run all the way to
Suyeong-gu? Or will he wait until the more civil time of 6am?” Jungkook thought that Taehyung
could learn a little game called ‘dress up’ and he kept this witticism to himself.

“3:30,” Jimin said. “It’s been a week or two since it happened so he’ll strike again.”

“Thanks for jinxing me.” There was a light thumping sound and when he glanced over he saw
Taehyung’s hitting Jimin with the damp towel. The length smacked him on the head rather hard
and messed his hair up. The other boy whined at this and reached up to try and fix his hair.

“Fuck Doojun, I’m sleeping,” Taehyung announced before settling down on the bed with a groan,
burying his face into his pillow. “I’m sleeping all day long.”

Jungkook was awoken by a noise and when he forced his eyes open he saw that the lights were still
off and there was no sunlight coming in through the small window. It was still night and yet a
sound had woken him up and so he lifted his head off the pillow for a moment, mind foggy and
eyes squinting because he couldn’t keep them fully open. The basement room was silent however
and he was about to put his head back down when the noise sounded again and he figured out what
it was. It was the sound of someone moaning, unmistakably in their sleep and in the midst of a
nightmare.

He shifted to sit up and his jacket slipped off him and onto the floor with a soft rustling sound. His
eyelids were so heavy that he had to rub them roughly a few times to open them.

“…me, don’t fucking touch me.” Jungkook cocked his head and he realised that it was Taehyung
mumbling to himself, voice heavy with sleep. Why was he having a nightmare? There was a soft
creaking and he heard someone shifting, presumably Jimin rolling over. “You piece of shit, you-”

“Tae,” Jimin said in a low voice. “It’s just a dream, shut up man.”

“You fucker, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll-”

“Tae,” the other boy had to raise his voice because he was talking a little louder now, not exactly a
shout but close to it. “It’s OK, shush, go to sleep.”

“I’ll kuh-kill you…” Taehyung gasped and then Jungkook heard something close to a sob. More
shifting, the rustling of sheets. After a few of these breathless sobs the boy seemed to wake up as
he made a surprised noise. "Huh, Minnie wuh-"

“You had a nightmare, it’s OK, go back to sleep.” Although Jungkook couldn’t see in the darkness
of the room he could imagine him stroking Taehyung’s brow with his fingers: just like Yoongi had
done to him all of the nights that he had woken up crying in the night when he had been a young
teen.

“Suh…shit, sorry.” Taehyung’s voice was husky in a strangely pleasing way. Jungkook settled
back down on the settee and grabbed his jacket to shrug it back on like a blanket. “I was…was
thinking about my dad.”

“Don’t think about him,” Jimin said in a soft voice. “He’s not here anymore so don’t think about
him.”

He left the den at 8am. Taehyung had already long been gone at that point, leaving shortly after
5am after his phone blared obnoxiously and woke him up again: a rock song that sounded like the
guitars were turned all of the way up to eleven and the singer was screaming until blood speckled
the mic. Not a bad song actually, but a bad thing to wake up to for sure. So he hadn’t really fallen
back at sleep but had rather napped for a few more hours before getting up and leaving. Jimin had
still been curled up in the bed, deep in his slumber and lightly snoring with his face pressed into his
pillow. Jungkook had left him sleeping rather than disturb him and had just hastily gotten dressed
and left, jumping onto his board and sailing down the street of Haeundae-gu.

His eyes felt dry and the lids heavy, so he reached up to rub at them roughly. As he did he rolled
onto a road and a car horn blared at him. Jungkook just kicked off a little harder and flashed his
middle finger at the driver. The light was amber, not red, so the fucker could wait. He jumped the
board up onto the next curb and he sighed heavily. He was tired but he knew a shower and hot food
would fix him up. He already had plans to visit Kim Bistro and enjoy a perfectly cooked breakfast.
Seokjin would be there like always, cleaning up the kitchen and dining area, and he would let him
in if he pressed his face against the window and fogged it up with enough breath.

It had been some time since Jungkook had had a nightmare. He knew that he had suffered from
them for a very long time upon first ending up in Haeundae-gu; the result of being a twelve year
old runaway quite some distance from home. He couldn’t really remember what the nightmares
had been about, only that he had woken up crying and shaking and sweating most nights. Luckily
for him he had had Yoongi there to calm him down, to run his fingers through his sweat-clumped
hair and say soothing things as he had buried his face against his chest and breathed in the scent of
his cigarettes. Taehyung had that too, had Jimin to keep him safe from his terrifying thoughts.

Taehyung had bragged about cracking skulls and beating people up for a living and yet he had
nightmares. Vivid ones from what he could tell. What did that say about him exactly?

Jungkook skated for fifteen minutes before he ended up at the den and he jumped off his board and
went inside. Storefront packed full of goons and dealers, talking loudly down phones. He scanned
the interior before locating Sunmi. She was in the corner on a landline phone, tucked against her
ear by her shoulder, and she was in the act of pouring out herbal tea on a serving tray.

“…Uh-huh, hang on. Jeon, you’re up at 1pm. Don’t go wandering, be back 12:30 at latest.”

“Sure thing, who’s the dealer?”

“Yang.” Yang Seungyoon. Good, no more Woosang to worry about.

Jungkook crossed the storefront and went into back. He retrieved the keys off Jaebum like always
and dashed upstairs to go in the room and get cleaned up. After a scorching hot shower he
vigorously brushed his teeth and got dressed, finally feeling clean. He slipped into blue jeans and a
white polo shirt, matching sneakers. He was about to shrug his black bomber on when he caught
sight of a blue checked shirt lying on the top of one of the dressers. It was Yoongi’s and he picked
it up and sniffed the collar. The scent of cigarettes and cologne was trapped in the material.
Looking at it reminded him of Jimin, Jimin and his checkered shirts too, and it was then that he
decided to slip that on instead. He grabbed his wallet from the bottom drawer of the dresser where
he stashed it and he grabbed a handful of notes before leaving, locking the door and shoving the
keys and cash into his jeans pocket.

There was more skating across the district on his board, along the massive stretch of Jwadong-ro as
he traveled to get to the restaurant. It was now the summer break and he saw that the streets were
packed with more people than usual: children with mothers that were too young to be alone, older
children in large gangs and teens in smaller groupings. No one really looked his way at all now,
now that he wasn’t the only teen out on the streets when he should have been in school. That was
good, for it allowed him to blend into the crowds a lot easier and he could worry less about squad
cars slowly following him down the street until sirens started blaring at him.

Jungkook drew close to the restaurant and he slowed down his pace as he did. Kim Bistro was a
large building that it took up most of the street. It was made of rich coloured brick and glass, gilded
frames around the windows and a golden push handle on the door, the red veranda hanging above
the window just like Jimin had described. There was a slight porch that a door man would stand on
when the restaurant was open, ensuring only gang members, politicians and rich patrons got inside.
There was even a drive on the side that led to a private parking lot in the back for the patrons to
park their expensive cars in. A quick glance at the lot showed him a single black Jaguar F Type,
sleek and smooth and in perfect condition. He recognised the car and grinned to himself as he
jumped off his board and walked up the street to get to the window. He didn’t even need to press
his face against the glass, shielding it with his hands so that the sun didn’t glare at him, because
Seokjin was on the other side cleaning the large window.

“No.” Jungkook couldn’t hear him but he could see his mouth moving. Seokjin could have spoken
or mouthed the word at him. The man shook his head to further reaffirm this point.

Jungkook had known Seokjin for almost as long as he had known Yoongi. As a result he knew that
his family had links with Sam Yong Pa. He had never gotten direct answers from him and he had
never asked, but he was pretty sure that the man’s grandfather had been related to the current head
of the gang; maybe through marriage, maybe through blood. Whatever the case he knew that
Seokjin didn’t associate himself with the gang. His family had links but that was all, he had none
except maybe his personal links with him and Yoongi. He didn’t look the type, he didn’t act the
type and it was of no surprise to him.

Jungkook knew that gangsters weren’t necessarily evil. They broke the law and they hurt people
but that didn’t make them evil. He had met men with families, happily married with honour roll
students. He had met men that went to church and wore crucifixes - just like Taehyung’s tattoo.
They were smart, polite, intelligent, but Seokjin was something more than that; all of those things
and more.
To put it quite simply, Seokjin was just too kind to be a gangster.

When Jungkook had first met him he had found that he had liked him. It didn’t take very long at all
until he liked him as much as Yoongi in a strange way. It wasn’t just because of his appearance,
neat and attractive, but also the way he held and presented himself. Seokjin spoke in a soft voice
rather than the booming ones that he heard in the den. He was older than Yoongi and yet he didn’t
act that way at all. He often let his friend talk over him and not address him as an elder, to poke fun
at him. Seokjin would just take it all in without even the slightest hint of annoyance on his features:
his handsome features, large eyes and a pouted mouth that was made for smiling and not scowling.

“No?” Jungkook repeated with a grin. “Why not?” Seokjin just shook his head several times as if
that was an answer. “I’ll breathe on the windows!” he retorted as he gestured at his nose and then
the window. The man lowered his hand from the window, yellow cloth held tightly between his
fingers, and he furrowed his brow at him. Seokjin had already cleaned the exterior from what he
could see and that meant that he would have to do it again. And Jungkook would be sure to really
breathe all over it, leave breathy fog that would mar the perfect glass. After a moment of thought
Seokjin visibly sighed, wide shoulders lifting and falling, and then he moved to get to the door,
unlocking it and pushing it open.

“Why did Yoongi adopt a monkey?” he asked as Jungkook crossed the last stretch of street to enter
the building. The man shifted to let him inside and then he closed the door and locked it again.

The interior of the restaurant was large and filled with tables, all of them placed around to allow
room for waiters to move and to not make the patrons feel too crowded. The flooring was a dark
wood that shone from the light coming in through the window, and the walls were red. The tables
were polished black granite and the chairs were wooden and leather. On each table top there were
leather menu holders but they were currently stacked in a tower on the counter as he had been
cleaning them. It was quite possibly the most expensive and classiest restaurant in the entire of
Busan and it was no wonder that a lot of dealers came here, held important business meetings with
local and foreign business partners.

“A monkey? Haven’t heard that one before…” Jungkook replied as Seokjin moved to get to the
window. “You seen Yoongi the last few days?”

“Yesterday, he was here for a few minutes before he left. He came in through the back door whilst
I was working and then left again. He seemed like he was in a rush, just like always. He didn’t
even grab a mouthful of food before leaving.” Seokjin carried on wiping at the window and he
looked over at his shoulder at him. “You haven’t seen him?”
“Not for a couple of days, no. Did he seem alright?” The man nodded and turned back to the
window. After a moment he stopped cleaning and sighed.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll go make some food so sit down.” Seokjin gestured at one of the
tables as he crossed the dining area but Jungkook decided to follow after him instead, going into
the kitchen. The other room was almost as massive as the dining area: walls covered in massive
stoves and sinks nearly the size of bathtubs. Everything was granite and chrome and sparkling
under the high watt white bulbs on the high ceiling. Pans and pots hanged from fixtures over the
stoves, knife blocks of thick wood were placed here and there, and bottles of oils, salts and spices
were beside them.

Jungkook moved to sit on one of the counters and he saw the man looking at him disapprovingly
but he didn’t tell him to move off it. It wasn’t comfortable but it allowed him to swing his legs
back and forth.

“Is everything OK?” Seokjin asked as he drizzled oil into a large pan and let it heat up, rolling his
wrist so that it coated the bottom. There was already rice cooking in a deep pot. Jungkook looked
over at him but he didn’t reply, instead watching him cross the kitchen to open a large fridge that
kept fresh goods in rather than go into the cold storage. When he came back he did so with a plate
with a thin steak and perfectly julienned vegetables to the side. He asked him what he meant and
Seokjin held his gaze. “Is everything OK with you and Yoongi?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Like always.” The man placed the plate down whilst he waited for the oil
to heat up. “Why?”

“Yoongi seemed worried about you,” Seokjin replied nonchalantly. He did so as if this was
something minor and not at all unusual, but it was to Jungkook. He hadn’t expected to hear this and
he was actually surprised. Yoongi had said something to him? Yoongi had entered the restaurant
just yesterday for a mere couple of minutes and one of the few things he had said had been about
him. He stayed silent and then Seokjin was transferring the steak to the pan. He pressed down on it
with his fingers and then retrieved a thin spatula, placing it beside the plate. “He didn’t explicitly
say that of course, but he asked me to keep an eye on you if you came here and lo and behold, here
you are.”

“That’s…weird,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. “I wonder why he said that.”

“There’s a lot of trouble going on on the streets right now.” Seokjin said, pressing down on the
steak softly so that it hissed. The scent of it cooking was enough to make his stomach rumble.
“Seems that Sam Yong Pa is having trouble controlling other gangs. Dealers and goons keep
finding trespassers. He said that he caught someone trying to broker deals in a nightclub just a few
nights ago, right in the open. Tried to get him kicked out, the owner wouldn’t do it. I think he’s
scared that you might bump into goons one day when you’re running and get hurt.”

Jungkook thought about Jimin and Taehyung and his fingers curled up tightly against his palm so
that his nails dug into his flesh. He had ran into other gang members but they were nothing like
what Yoongi was worrying about.

“Have you seen anyone like that?” Seokjin asked as he got a dash of sea salt and he tossed it onto
the steak.

“…No.”

“Because if you have you should tell him.” The man left the meat to cook and the pan of rice was
starting to bubble across the stove. “You know that he’s busy working all of the time. He’s always
worrying about something. He might not tell you but he does. He worries about money, health -
both yours and his, gang troubles.”

“He doesn’t tell me those things,” Jungkook said quietly. “But it seems he tells you it all.”

“Jungkook.” Seokjin always called him by his full name, the only person he knew that didn't call
him by his surname or a stupid nickname. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything, anything at all.
But if you know something…” He stopped talking for a moment and then he turned the steak over
and pressed down on it. He saw that the side that had been cooking was now a rich brown rather
than the pink it had been. “Just tell him something that will put him at ease.”

Jungkook deeply contemplated on this as he watched Seokjin finishing with his cooking. The man
hadn’t told him to tell Yoongi the truth, but rather that he should just tell him something to make
him stop worrying. It was good advice but he couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t right to do so.
Shouldn’t he be honest with his friend? Yoongi might not tell him things like he did with Seokjin,
his worries and things like that, but he still told him many things. Yoongi had pretty much saved
his life all of those years back and he felt that he owed him the truth. Would he be so mad to learn
that he knew of two trespassing Geum Sung Pa members but they weren’t troublemakers at all?
They were friends, not enemies. But Jungkook still felt like he was breaking a sacred vow of sorts,
breaking the Sam Yong Pa brotherhood by even talking to a rival gang member.

“Bon appetit~” Seokjin announced when was finished, soft smile on his face that didn’t at all show
that he had told him to lie to his best friend just a few minutes ago.
The meal might have been something simple and yet Jungkook knew there was a reason Seokjin
was a chef and not a dealer and gang member. It was cooked to perfection and even the simple
slice of steak was the most exquisite thing he had tasted in forever, meat tender and nearly melting
on his tongue. He ate it seated on the counter and when he was finished he cleaned up the mess
that the man had made for him. When he left the restaurant several minutes later he saw that
Seokjin was still polishing the tables down and he saluted at him like he always did with Namjoon.
It made his friend laugh and then he was exiting the restaurant and jumping his board to skate
down the street.

He was waiting at a set of traffic lights when two ambulances went past, sirens blaring and lights
flashing as they flew along the packed road and out of sight down the block. Jungkook watched
them go and didn’t think anything of it at all. He often saw ambulances in this area for Jwadong-ro
was a long road always packed with traffic. But when three squad cars quickly followed after them
he felt his brow furrowing. That was new. As soon as the lights went red he carried on skating
along the road and after a few blocks he completely forgot about the vehicles.

He had a few days before he would get to see Yoongi again. That was plenty of enough time to
think about whether he should tell him the truth or not. In those few days he would probably see
Jimin and Taehyung again and that would help him formulate an idea on what he should do. He
might resort to asking Seokjin for advice, he might just try and figure it all out on his own instead.
This was the first time in a long time that he had something like a secret and he wasn’t entirely
comfortable with the sensation of carrying it around with him. It felt like having an anchor in his
stomach, just like the little one right on the inside of Yoongi’s wrist.

When he got close to the den he saw that there was a small grouping of men outside smoking, all of
them looking harried and worn down and he found the sight new and unsettling. No one waited out
on the curb like this, had no need to exit to smoke because they could do so in the den. So why
were they all out now? Jungkook didn’t recognise a single one of them and so he didn’t ask and
instead just made his way around them to enter the building and once he was inside he realised that
something was wrong. The storefront was packed with people like always but there was an
atmosphere in the air that felt…strange. Everyone was yelling on phones or anxiously calling and
waiting for people people to pick up. What was going on, he had no clue, but he knew that it was
something bad.

“Sunmi?” Jungkook called out as he saw her quickly weaving through tables. “Hey, what’s going
on?”

“Someone crashed a deal a few minutes ago,” she explained rapidly, not seeming to pause for
breath as she spoke. “A bunch of goons from some gang. Tore the place apart, beat the shit out of
our men. We got a call saying we got casualties.” He could only stare at her dumbly. “Someone got
out and reported back, he’s on his way here. Everyone’s making sure that their dealers and runners
and goons aren’t in trouble too.”

“…Thanks,” he muttered as she disappeared into the back room. Jungkook started fiddling with his
shirt sleeves and the scent of Yoongi wafted from the material. Yoongi. He darted across the room
to grab the landline and rapidly dialed his cell number. He felt his fingers tightening around the
receiver painfully tight as he listened to the dial tone. But after nine such tones there was no
pickup, no static crackle on the other end of the line. That wasn’t unusual, Yoongi barely ever
answered his calls when he was working but now was not the time for him to be so busy. He
needed answers and right now he wasn’t getting any. He dropped the receiver in the cradle and
carried on pulling on the cuffs, pulling so hard he was surprised that he didn’t rip the buttons free.

Seokjin had seen him yesterday. He was perfectly fine, no need to worry. Yoongi could take care
of himself. Sunmi had said a deal. A deal could mean extortion, but it more than likely meant
drugs instead.

Jungkook started gnawing on his lip and he forced himself to sit down in the corner of the
storefront before his legs unhinged on him. After ten painstaking minutes said man stumbled into
the building and he saw that it was Jaebum. He was stunned speechless by the sight of the man,
blood pouring from his mouth and one hand clutched to his ribs, clothing wrinkled and torn in
parts.

“Get the man some fucking soju!” Siwon’s voice sounded from across the storefront and even in
his state Jaebum managed to laugh, the sound laboured and gravelly. A few goons darted over to
grab him and they tenderly eased him over a table and helped him sit down.

“Fucking ribs are cracked, I can feel it, man.” Jaebum grunted as he accepted a bottle from another
man. He got the cap off by sinking his teeth into the thin metal and popped it off before taking a
massive swing of the liquor. “Fuck…” His shades were nowhere in sight now and Jungkook could
see that his eyes were glazed with shock and pain.

“The fuck happened, brother?” Seungyoon asked, three phones on the table in front of him. “This
deal was solid, been sorted for months. What kinda motherfucker would crash our deal?”

“Crazy fuckers, that’s who.” Jaebum pointed at him and a slosh of soju landed on his trousers. He
shook his head and then took another swig.

“What gang?” Sunmi asked as she reappeared in the storefront with a medical kit, large white and
green one that she had to carry with both hands. “What gang would have the fucking guts to do
this?”

“Geum Sung Pa.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Siwon’s voice was filled with surprise and it seemed that everyone
else was shocked too.

“Three of ‘em,” Jaebum muttered. “Three against six and they fucking destroyed us. I think…nah, I
know that Hong’s dead. I know it.”

“Dead?!” Seungyoon asked and then the den was filled with angry, confused, shouting voices.

“I heard it! I heard him get smacked so hard man and I swear his head caved in!” Jaebum hollered
to be heard over them all. “Fucking lunatic kid did it! Some crazy motherfucker with a bat, he went
for me too. That’s why I know my ribs are cracked ‘cos I saw him break Hong’s skull like fucking
egg!”

Jungkook felt his skin go freezing cold and he couldn’t help but let his breath out in a moan. He
had been terrified for Yoongi but right now he was terrified for another reason entirely.

“I swear that fucker was crazy! Fucking nuts! He was laughing the entire time and he fucking
killed Hong alright?”

“Geum Sung Pa? They don’t use kids as goons, they barely even have any kid runners. No one
wants to join that piece of shit gang,” Sunmi said as she started wiping at Jaebum’s face, cleaning
blood off him with a cloth.

“He was a kid,” Jaebum sighed and then winced. “Crazy fucker walked in without his shirt on, had
the tattoos - had stars on him. I remember this clearly. He said: better start praying.”
 Take A Hit For The Team

Jungkook saw Namjoon walking the area like he did most days and he stayed seated on the low
brick wall rather than move. Right now he felt like he could sit here for hours and hours and not
move, for there was a terrible weight on his chest that he couldn’t possibly budge. He felt sick and
he thought about how Yoongi had joked about him getting sick from the dirt in their apartment
room but he had ended up getting ill from something else. Officer Kim walked with a confidence
that was completely at odds with how he currently felt and he watched him patrolling the opposite
road across the wide stretch of road. His skateboard was hugged against his chest, legs stretched
out in front of him to take up quite an amount of the street. A few passing people had looked at
him almost as if they thought he should move his legs and not obstruct the sidewalk but he didn’t.
He didn’t even look at them because his eyes were glued to the park gates.

Jungkook hadn’t been given a job this morning because the entire den was still recovering from the
chaos of the previous day and he had woken up to find that the building was suffocating to be stuck
inside. Everyone had been sitting around in the storefront working away without the usual sound of
laughter, no alcohol scent hanging in the air but enough cigarette smoke to nearly choke him when
he had stepped into the room. It had been clear that everyone was still struggling to fix the
problems that the single brawl had caused and Jungkook had rapidly discovered that he didn’t want
to stay in the building for longer than a moment. So he had went to Sunmi and had asked who he
was running for only to have been told that the dealers were a little busy for the day sorting out
personal connections and that she would get back to him in the evening if there was a change. She
had looked rather haggard after yesterday and he had not been surprised by this. The poor woman
had had to fix up not only Jaebum’s sorry ass but also a few other goons that had managed to make
it back to the den before the police had showed and hauled their asses out of there. She had given
stitches to split eyebrows and lips, had set broken noses and fingers with little pieces of plastic and
layers and layers of bandage, and she had also been juggling phone calls and meetings whilst she
had been doing so; telephone in the usual position in the crook between her neck and shoulder as
she had barked things down it and had worked on the battered men’s faces. She had coped
surprisingly well with the situation and he was not surprised for she had fixed up quite a few of the
goons in the past when their injuries didn’t require hospitalisation.

After finding out that he had had no drops to make he had located Jaebum in one of the apartment
rooms where he was currently resting for a foreseeable week or two until his bruised and aching
ribs allowed him to get back into action. Jungkook had found it so very strange looking down at
the man and seeing him lying on a bed rather than on his feet working. Jaebum wasn’t the type to
lie around in the daylight hours, yet he had no choice because he had taken enough hard blows to
his ribs to crack at least one of them. In the past the man had always came back from brawls with
the occasional markings on his skin: a graze from someone’s ring splitting his cheek open, a
closed-over eye that would go black by the next morning, a chipped tooth that would quickly be
replaced by whoever had hired him. He did not end up lying in bed having other men running
around for him because he couldn’t move at all. Yet despite this fact the man had spoken to him
about what had happened yesterday in more detail than the shouting goons and dealers had wanted
to know when he had arrived.

Jungkook had asked him about Yoongi and had been told that his friend was very much still
working away but the other man didn’t have a clue where. All Jaebum knew was that he wasn’t in
the building with him when the place had been stormed and people had had the shit kicked out of
them so that was a good sign. It didn’t greatly lessen his panic but it made him feel a little better
about it. Everyone had found out from connections that Hong really had died as a result of the blow
to the head that he had sustained. According to the dealer they had a nurse working in the local
hospital, and the woman had reported that his body had been brought in with two critically injured
men. Hong had went straight into the morgue: massive cranial damage that had caused
hemorrhaging from several blood vessels. Not a pleasant way to go at all but he was pretty certain
that Hong had been knocked clean out the minute the bat had cracked down on his skull. They had
one dead man and two in the emergency room with life-threatening injuries. The dealer he knew by
the surname Jang and he had slipped into a coma from his own injury and a goon he had seen
enough times around the den called Yesung had punctured a lung several times and suffered severe
concussion and a fractured orbital lobe. Jaebum it seemed, along with the other goons, had gotten
off very well even with his busted ribs and split lips.

There was a Sam Yong Pa goon dead in a morgue, another and a valued dealer in the hospital, and
the entire gang had come to a standstill because of it all. No one did this tonSam Yong Pa. They
were the untouchables, the kind of gang that didn’t resort to petty brutality to keep themselves
afloat. Yet yesterday they had lost a man and could very much lose another because someone had
decided that they weren’t so untouchable after all. And of all of the gangs that had done it…it just
had to be the Geum Sung Pa.

Jungkook would have laughed at the irony if he didn’t feel sick to his stomach.

Right now Yoongi was nowhere in sight and he didn’t have a soul to turn to beside Seokjin. But
Seokjin didn’t deal with gangs. He wanted nothing to do with it all and he couldn’t possibly disturb
his life by dragging everything up to him and making him feel responsible. The man had told him
to lie to Yoongi to make him feel secure and yet yesterday things had been a hell of a lot less
serious. Yesterday he had been worried that his friend would be pissed at him for befriending a
runner and a goon for the Geum Sung Pa because they were rivals. In his head he had already
prepared all of the things he could say: they’re just kids like me, they haven’t done anything bad,
they haven’t hurt us, and yet today… Today he could use none of those excuses. Getting Yoongi to
accept the fact he liked them both was a hard thing to do anyway, and now he had no choice but to
lie to him. He was friends with two Geum Sung Pa members and one of them had beaten one of
their members to death.

There was no use in him trying to possibly deny that it was Taehyung that had stormed the meeting
place because Jaebum had told him everything this morning, not just minute details but a solid
description. A kid with dark hair and weird clothing, a kid that had been laughing and hooting and
swinging a metal baseball bat around as he had swept across the room like a hurricane; smacking
and cracking and destroying in his wake. He had mentioned those stupid boots, had lifted his vest
to show a hideous graze on his stomach where he had taken a hard kick to the gut that his shirt had
barely protected him from, little puncture holes over his skin in the unmistakable shape of a boot
sole. As if that wasn’t enough he had the tattoos burnt into his mind, the two stars and the crucifix,
the grenade on his throat that Taehyung had joked about with him just a dozen or so hours earlier
in the basement room that Jimin had taken him to.

Taehyung had beat the shit out of Jaebum, a man he had known for four whole years, and he had
told him to pray on his tattoo before shattering another man’s skull with that stupid bat of his.

Oh, Jungkook was sick alright, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He kept telling himself that he should have said something to Yoongi those days back when he had
asked him. He should have told him about Jimin and the run in on Dongbaek-ro but he hadn’t.
Why? Because he liked Jimin and if he had done that then he would have seen the boy getting hurt
because he had snitched on him. Jimin had just been doing his job, running drugs throughout the
district just like he did. Was it right to get him in trouble, even if he had been in Haeundae-gu and
not Suyeong-gu where he should have been? Did territory really matter to him? Jungkook had
never cared about it in the past for he had had no need to, but right now there was no denying the
fact that letting anyone into their area was a big mistake. Seokjin had told him about Yoongi
worrying, about an increase of trespassers getting into their district, and he had buried a secret
about two Geum Sung Pa members living not too far away from their den. It was stupid and it was
dangerous and most importantly it was edging dangerously close to something like betrayal. That
was what it would look like, wouldn’t it? The fact he hadn’t snitched on them meant that Jungkook
didn’t see a problem with Geum Sung Pa stealing their streets and clients; meant that he didn’t
really care about Sam Yong Pa at all. He was a backstabber and a stupid kid that caused so much
shit by not letting anyone know about Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook was just as responsible for Hong’s death as Taehyung was. He might not have handed
him the bat and told him to hit the man so fucking hard but he had allowed him to stay around long
enough to do so. What would Yoongi think if he told him that he had a murder on his hands? How
would Jaebum feel if he told him that he knew the kid that had hurt him and he had shared food
with him, had slept in the same building as he had?

Jungkook sighed and felt his stomach getting unsettled again. He hadn’t eaten at all today because
he felt nauseous at the thought of putting food near his mouth. Every time that he did he thought
about Taehyung telling him that when a human skull cracked it sounded like crushed glass and
how Hong’s brain had pretty much exploded like that stupid fucking grenade tattoo of his and
unsurprisingly he felt his gorge rising. This wasn’t melancholy over the fact that Taehyung had
killed the goon, this wasn’t a sadness that he might just not get to talk to Jimin again even though
he kind of liked him; the sensation that filled him was that of horrified self-guilt. He hadn’t told
anyone about the pair before this tragedy had happened and even now, after a man had died, he
still hadn’t said a single word about them both.

Why hadn’t he just told someone? Why he was carrying this secret around when he felt sick to his
stomach just doing so, he wasn’t sure, but he was. There seemed to be a reason behind it even if he
couldn’t figure it out just yet. Was it perhaps a little doubt that it was Taehyung that had done it,
even when Jaebum had told him that it had been a trio of Geum Sung Pa goons that had stormed
the building; even when he had giving him a vivid description of the boy? Hell, even Taehyung
himself had bragged about cracking men’s skulls just the day before last…why didn’t he want to
accept the fact that he had done it?

“He’s a kid…” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

That meant nothing and he knew it. He knew that kids had caused a lot more trouble than that at a
much younger age than his. Taehyung was nineteen not nine. He could be held accountable for his
actions as he was nearly an adult and no matter how hard he tried the ‘just a kid’ excuse didn’t fit
well at all. Jungkook himself would be offended if someone used that to try and make him shirk
responsibility for his mistakes and so he shouldn't use it for Taehyung either. But without that
shitty excuse he quickly found out that he didn’t have a single one for him. For Jimin he had quite
a few: he had had nothing to do with the death because he was just a runner, he had told him
multiple times that he didn’t like violence too, he had likely been working somewhere else when it
had all happened. Jimin didn’t deserve to get in trouble or get hurt because of Taehyung’s actions,
and if he told someone what he knew Jungkook knew that he would be hurt a lot.

Maybe that was it? It was a good enough excuse for now anyway.

Across the street Namjoon was still walking at his usual pace, not fast and not slow either. He was
wearing his short sleeved uniform shirt like always for the weather was too warm for anything else
and he had his cap on his head to block the horrible sun from getting into his eyes. Jungkook
wondered if he knew anything about what had happened yesterday, about the gang brawl that had
resulted in emergency room visitations and a single death, and he found that he didn’t know the
answer. The officer was a beat cop, not a homicide investigator. He would probably know no more
on the case than an average member of the public did, probably got his information from
newspapers just like everybody else. But just because he might not know didn’t mean that he
wouldn’t have good advice. If he didn’t want to burden Seokjin with his troubles, and he was too
scared to tell Yoongi a single thing, then why couldn’t he try and talk to the man? Namjoon might
have been a cop but he hadn’t arrested him yet and that was a good sign, and he might just have
something very helpful to say to him.

So Jungkook got off the low brick wall and he jumped on his board to skate down the street and
beat the young officer to the kiosk outside of the park. He had to stick to the outer curb because the
area was packed with people coming and going and so he didn’t want to end up crashing into
someone that didn’t get out of his way in time. He thought about how Taehyung had said that he
beat fuckers up that got in his way for a living and his stomach clenched tightly. Fuckers like
Jaebum and Jang and poor Hong it would seem; just a bunch of fuckers doing their jobs and being
in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thinking about the boy made him angry in a way that he had
never felt before and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like the anger he had felt towards his parents,
his drunken mother and runaway father. It wasn’t like the annoyance that Woosang filled him with
every single time he looked down his nose at him, but it was something alright. It made his
stomach feel tight and his hands shake and he just couldn’t stand the sensation. Jungkook didn’t
like getting angry because he didn’t like the conflict that such emotion caused. He much preferred
the ability to talk things out rather than resort to physical confrontation, but he had to admit that
Taehyung almost made him want to do something: throw something at him, kick a table over or
maybe even shove him hard so that he tripped over his own stupid spiked boots and landed on his
dumb ass. He had felt this only slightly when first meeting him but over the course of the single
day that he had he found it getting stronger and stronger at just the mere thought of him.

If he met him again he probably would push him over really hard just so that he could enjoy the
look of shock on his face when he did.

Jungkook kicked on the back of his board and caught it in his palm just like always, moving to sit
down on the middle seat of the kiosk and surprising the lady owner when she had been in the act of
flicking through a newspaper. When she looked up it took her a second to react and then she let out
a soft laugh.

“I didn’t think that I would see you here before Officer Kim,” she said as she closed the paper over.
Jungkook placed his board onto his lap and he folded his arms on the low kiosk counter. “Has our
friendly neighbourhood officer gotten you a little addicted to coffee?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replied with a smile that mostly forced but a little bit genuine. “You know what
he takes right? Well, he’ll be here in a minute or two so,” he shifted to slip some cash out of his
jeans pocket and slid it across the counter.

“One Caffé Americano and a Caramel Latte coming up.” She turned on her heel and went over to
the coffee machine and so he shifted on the stool and dropped his gaze to the notes on the counter.
They were a little wrinkled from use and being shoved into his jeans pocket and he stared at them
and found himself wondering.

This is what Taehyung had killed a man for.

This is what Yoongi blackmailed and assaulted people for.

This is what he and Jimin ran drugs all across the district for.

This little sheet of paper, this thing that was so thin and nearly weightless and yet so very
important. It didn’t seem right at all that such horrible crimes could be committed for a bundle of
these notes and he felt that same sickness in his stomach just looking at it so he moved his eyes
away and looked up at the kiosk owner instead. After a moment he asked her what her name was
and she glanced over her shoulder at him briefly before turning back to the machine. Narae. Pretty
name, it was a shame that she was being paid such filthy cash for her services and he just wanted
her to hurry up with the drinks so that he didn’t have to look at the notes in front of him. It took her
a minute to make the drinks and then she turned back to place them down on in front of him, taking
the money and pressing a button that made the till under the counter pop open melodically. She
was in the act of placing a few coins beside his latte container when there was a laugh from a few
feet away.

“The tardiest hooligan in Busan is no longer the only kid I’ve seen today,” Namjoon announced as
he sat down on the corner stool and shifted to take his cap off. He placed it on the counter and then
looked at him. “Been preparing any more political speeches?”

“Nope, I decided that’s not what I wanna do,” Jungkook pushed the other coffee container over to
him and the young officer looked at it for a moment before seeming to realise that he had bought it
for him. “I’ve decided that I wanna do something less crooked.”

“Don’t know many jobs that aren’t crooked…”

“A buddhist monk? I guess it’s less crooked than becoming a pastor, right?” Namjoon shook his
head at this but he could see an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything’s so
fucking crooked these days.”

“You might not go to school kid, but you’re pretty smart.” The officer sighed as he lifted his
container and took a sip of the dark and fragrant coffee. Jungkook just stared at the thick layer of
foam on the surface of his own milky drink. “Seems you’ve got a lot of troubles on your shoulders
today.”

“Officer Kim,” he twisted on the stool so that he could look at him fully rather that turn his head.
“Do you have any idea about how bad gang activity in this region is?” Namjoon didn’t lower his
container of coffee and instead just looked over the rim at him, eyes unblinking. “Like…are there
statistics or things like that?”
“Sure, there’s statistics for pretty much every crime out there but you would need to be more
specific than that. Gang activity falls under several different crimes: assault and battery charges,
prostitution and pimping charges, gambling, racketeering, drug tradings, rape, plain old murder.”
Namjoon paused and he stared at him in rapt attention. “Why exactly are you asking about this,
kid?”

“Has there been anything bad recently? Like anything worse than usual?”

“There’s been a few…incidents yes. Mostly there’s been an increase in violence across the district
that’s linked to gang activity.”

“Why?”

“Clearly there’s some troubles between a gang and another, maybe multiple gangs. I know there’s
been call outs to several incidents these past two or so weeks, been people beaten up and
threatened, you know, things like that.”

“Has anyone…died?”

“I don’t know about anything like that, I just know that there’s been a couple of bad incidents as I
said. Gang members have been hospitalised, got a friend that’s had to interview a few of them
about whereabouts and things like that. Said that there’s been some bystanders injured too. When
gang brawls occur it’s not always a simple matter of a bunch of men beating the shit out of each
other. Sometimes it gets out of hand, innocent people have gotten caught up and gotten hurt.”
Namjoon went silent for a moment and so Jungkook left him to carry on drinking his coffee in
silence, mulling his words over as he did. This increase in activity just had to be the result of Geum
Sung Pa encroaching on their territory, didn’t it? After all the officer had said that it was recent and
the incidents that he had described sound very close to what had happened yesterday to Jaebum and
the others.

“You know,” Namjoon finally broke the minute silence, “if you know something Jungkook, you
should really tell someone about it.”

“Tell the cops?”

“Tell someone, anyone. Doesn’t have to be the cops if you’re scared of what’s going to happen to
you if you do. But you need to tell someone, that much is clear.”

“You make it sound easy…” Jungkook sighed as he picked his own coffee up and got to his feet,
dropping the skateboard on the sidewalk.

“The trouble won’t go away if you try and bury it,” Namjoon said as he jumped on it. “It just gets
worse.”

It wasn’t on Dongbaek-ro that he saw Jimin, not at all. It was actually Udong-1-ro, a little further
north east than his usual spot. Jungkook was to find that he wasn’t actually running when he ran
into him but just drifting around the streets on his board because he had little else to do. So when
the black and silver motorbike drove right onto the curb and blocked in his path he nearly crashed
right into it and luckily managed to stop his board before he did. It would have hurt like hell to
slam right into it and he probably would have rolled right over the handlebars and knocked himself
out. He had only just stumbled off the board when an arm flew out and steadied him: grip tight on
his upper arm. He didn’t even need him to remove his helmet to know that it was Jimin because of
his clothing and the vehicle.

Jimin’s motorbike was a a Hyosung Aquila 650, or that was what he had told him with a strong
hint of pride when he had caught him looking at it. The seating was low and the handles high,
gleaming chrome and red details on the spokes around the tires and along the body. Jungkook
wasn’t really a bike guy but he had to admit that it was a beautiful thing to look at. It was the
motorbike equivalent of Seokjin’s F Type Jaguar and it must have cost quite a lot of cash but the
boy took good care of it and he needed it for his job. It wasn’t exactly a splurge but it seemed that
Jimin had went for the best model available rather than settle for something cheaper.

Jungkook righted himself and then Jimin let go of him to reach up and pull his helmet off. He was
wearing the black skull decal one for once and he saw that it matched with his outfit more: a
leather jacket that looked a little too large (perhaps because it was Taehyung’s?) over that red
checked shirt over a vest. It was paired with the same black jeans as usual but boots instead of
those red creepers. Jimin did the habitual raking of his hair as he squinted at him in the bright
sunlight.

“Hey, fancy crashing into you here, huh?”

“Yeah, nearly did crash into you,” Jungkook muttered as he studied him. Jimin was smiling at him
and it was as if he didn’t have a clue what had happened yesterday. Was that possible? Did the boy
not know that Taehyung had been involved in a gang brawl and had killed a man, or did he not
care? After being his friend surely he was used to such things happening? He had bragged about
his fighting prowess after all…

“You’re not running today?” The boy eyed his bare shoulders, no backpack in sight like usual.
“That’s strange, I thought you would be.”

“Can’t run.”

“…How come?” Jimin furrowed his brow slightly but he expression remained friendly like always.
He looked more intrigued than nervous, and there was something about his expression that made
Jungkook think that he really might not know what had happened.

Could he tell Jimin what had happened? Could he reveal something about his gang after everything
that had happened or should he play dumb and not say a thing? The boy could go on to tell
Taehyung, tell a boss of some kind. Was it worth the risk? Yet Jungkook was aware of the fact that
he hadn’t snitched on him, so that meant that he must have trusted him somehow.

“Something bad happened,” he settled on saying. It was the truth, just minus the details.

“Bad? Shit you OK, man?” Jimin asked, shifting to kick his bike stabiliser and then climbing off it.
“It’s not your friend is it, everything’s OK?”

“Yeah yeah, nothing like that it’s…” Jungkook paused and saw the genuine concern on his face.
Concerned for him? “Hey, this is gonna sound crazy but uh…is Taehyung in your den right now?”

“Yeah, he’s sleeping late. He was working all yesterday and he was knocked out.” Jimin seemed to
consider reaching over to place his hand on his arm and after a moment he decided on doing so,
lightly clasping his upper arm. “Are you alright? You look a little…I dunno, but you don’t look too
good.”

“Jimin, I need to talk to you. About Taehyung, it’s really important.”

“…OK, jump on.”

The boy shifted to get the helmet out of the storage under the seat and Jungkook slipped it on
securely. It was strange but he was staring to get used to the sensation of wearing it even though he
had only worn it for a short amount of time. Then Jimin was sitting on the bike so he climbed on
after him and wrapped his arms around his waist tightly. Even through the helmet he could detect
the scent coming off his jacket and it was mostly certainly not his for the cologne smelled woody
just like Taehyung’s tee had when he had thrown it at his face that day in the basement den.
Jungkook just closed his eyes and felt the vehicle pulling away from the curb, the engine rumbling
and vibrating slightly through the seat. With his eyes closed it felt almost as if he was flying, a
sensation that was rather pleasant considering the weight on his chest.

He didn’t know where Jimin was taking him but he didn’t really care. He just wanted to have
someone to talk to so that he could feel that strange sickness in his stomach go away and not plague
him any longer. The bike weaved between traffic and down narrow streets, moving as smooth as
his board did under his command and after several minutes he was pulling it up at some kind of
park. It wasn’t big but rather just a tiny square and there was a low rusted wrought iron fencing
around it, the interior empty of people.

“Me and Tae, we used to crash here when it was pretty bad as kids, you know?” Jimin didn’t
bother putting the helmets away and rather just carried his by the straps as he jumped the low
fence. Jungkook followed after him, scaling it with ease and hearing his sneakers thumping on the
dry grass. “This bench right here, used to share it. Back then Tae was still pretty small, you know?
I used to be taller.”

“Like I’ll believe that…”

“Just ask him, I was taller.” Jimin stopped right beside the bench. “On good nights we’d sleep on
the bench. On bad night we’d have to sleep under it ‘cos of the rain and shit.”

“You both slept on the streets?”

“Yeah, after a while we had to.” The boy studied it for a moment before turning to look back at
him. “Kookie, I dunno what’s going on right now but why the fuck do you need to talk about Tae?”

“It’s…complicated,” Jungkook said as he crossed the small park area and sat down on the bench
with a sigh. “Do you know where Tae was yesterday?”

“No, he was working all day I told you. That’s why he’s asleep right now.”

“Well I do, OK. Yesterday afternoon one of mine, a Sam Yong Pa goon that I know, he was out
working for a dealer. The dealer was brokering something and he brought goons along, like usual.
Except yesterday they were attacked in the meeting location by three guys. The guy I know got out
and he came right back to our den and told us everything. It was Geum Sung Pa that attacked them
and it was Taehyung, Jimin, Taehyung was there.”

“…Shit.” Jimin breathed the word out as soft as a whisper.

“That’s not the worth thing, OK? That’s fucking nothing. It was a brawl, brawls happen but…shit
Jimin. A man died.” The boy was looking at him with a blank expression and he could see that he
wasn’t really taking this in. “A man called Hong, that’s his name and I want Taehyung to know it
‘cos he fucking killed him.”

“He just…shit man I-”

“My friend, he started talking about a kid with a metal bat and I thought that it probably wasn’t
him but he said Geum Sung Pa. And then he described his tattoos to me, he told me that Taehyung
told him to fucking pray before busting his ribs and hitting Hong so hard he died.” Jungkook
stopped talking and he felt his breathing getting a little uneven. “That’s why I needed to talk to you.
I needed to let you know that…that Taehyung killed one of mine.”

“Shit Kookie, look I’m real sorry alright?”

“You don’t need to be sorry I know you had nothing to do with it but I needed you to know.”

“I mean, I just run you know? I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on outside of my drops and
my dealers and clients. I know that Tae, he beats people up yeah. Dunno who. He never tells me.”
Jimin paused and started dragging his fingers through his hair, not doing so to fix it but rather to
pull on it roughly. “Shit man…”

“I know…it’s fucking crazy Jimin. Just two days ago I’m talking to him and sharing food with you
both and then this happens and I just…” Jungkook groaned and buried his face in his hands so he
didn’t have to look at him.

“…Does anyone know?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone. Not the goon I told you about, not my friend. He doesn’t know a thing
I swear. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

“I dunno man, I can’t tell you what to do. I mean, I totally understand if you tell people. It’s your
gang, you know? You’ve gotta be loyal but…”

“But it’s not right snitching on people: on friends, and I think you’re a friend Jimin I really do, it’s
just Taehyung.”

“Don’t you think of him as a friend?”

“I think of him as dangerous.”

“He thinks of you as one.” Jungkook lowered his hands so that he could look at him fully and after
a moment of silence Jimin shifted to sit on the end of the bench beside him.

“Jimin, I’m scared that he’s gonna hurt my friend. I’m scared that one day he’s gonna get an order
and he gonna show up with that fucking bat and kill him. It could happen, it really could. I’m
scared that I’ll find out from a goon that a kid with a grenade tattoo on his neck took a nice hard
swing at Yoongi’s head and that it…cracked and I just-” Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “I’m scared of him.”

“Why?” Jimin asked in a quiet voice, expression not showing that he took any offence at him
speaking about his friend this way at all. “Why’re you scared of him?”

“I get this feeling whenever I look at him that won’t go away. He makes me feel nervous and I
don’t like the sensation.”
“I told you that he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I don’t believe that.” The boy studied his face and then Jungkook looked away across the park.
“He’s hurting me right now.”

The next day Yoongi still wasn’t back but at least he got a message off him. It was nothing more
than a text message but it was better than nothing and Jungkook felt such a surge of relief course
through him that he wanted to cry and managed not to. His friend chastised him for flooding up his
voicemail with emotional and often frantic messages wanting to know where he was, what was
going on, if he was okay, and he ended the message saying that they needed to talk about
everything as soon as he was finished working. That could have been anything from days to a near
week in the future. So he texted him back asking him if it was Kim Bistro in mind, knowing he
would need to wait a long time for a reply but that the answer would be yes.

There was still no running for him to do because his usual dealers were too busy to give him work
and Jungkook felt strangely happy about this. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work but rather the
fact he didn’t have to worry about any incidents happening. After the brawl trouble he didn’t
exactly want to be out on the street working just in case a gang of goons ended up crossing paths
with him. So he stuck to just moving across the district like always so that he didn’t have to stay in
the den with the others. He saw Namjoon patrolling and saluted him as he passed. He caught sight
of a great many motorbikes on the roads and every time he did he craned his neck to see if it was
Jimin but it never was. He skated all the way up to Sesil-ro to go to his ‘auntie’s’ store and see if he
crashed into him again but he didn’t.

But he did crash into Taehyung.

Had Jungkook believed in god he would have thought that the divine being was laughing at him up
in heaven, laughing at his misfortune. Surely he must have done something evil to suffer this
situation, but he hadn’t. He had just stumbled into the stupid store and held the door open behind
him only for a hand to brush against his; a familiar hand with battered knuckles and a star tattoo on
the back.

How he wished that the contact didn’t make a jolt travel all the way down his fingers and along his
arm until he snapped his teeth shut.
“Uh…”

Taehyung stepped into the store, squinting at the bright overhead lights even though it was
perfectly sunny outside, and then he caught sight of him and he stopped. As he had predicted that
leather jacket Jimin had been wearing was on him and it fitted a lot better on his frame. He was
wearing a black v-neck that was so low Jungkook could see the crucifix tattoo peeking out from
under the material. Black trousers, black boots, everything was black; almost as black as his kohl
smudged eyes.

“Uh…to you too,” Taehyung replied before doing something that surprised him. The boy smirked
at him as he leaned against the door frame. Jungkook managed to not grimace at this. A quick drop
of his eyes showed him that the baseball bat - the one he had killed Hong with - was tucked
through a loop in his trousers, dangling like a police baton. “The Sam Yong Pa bitch ain’t on a
leash today, huh?”

“Eat shit Taehyung,” he muttered as he crossed the store and hoped to not have him follow after
him. The plan didn’t work.

“Ouch, that hurt my feelings, kid.”

“You have those?” Jungkook was in the act of opening a drink fridge when Taehyung intercepted
him and shoved it closed again, leaning against so that his arm practically brushed against his
chest. He stared at the rows of colourful drinks inside rather than look at the boy.

“Hey, nobody tells me to eat shit,” Taehyung said in a low voice. “Not to my fucking face. What?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Jungkook retorted as he tore his eyes away and looked at
him properly. Taehyung was as unblinking as usual and he could barely stand the intensity of his
gaze.

“If you don’t want me to mess up your pretty face you will.” And to prove a point the boy reached
over to run his forefinger along his cheek. Jungkook almost recoiled. “The fuck is going on with
you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You know what Taehyung, you’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me
after what happened the other day.” Taehyung’s brow furrowed slightly, barely perceptible. “You
beat the shit out of my guys; Sam Yong Pa guys.”

“Oh that?”

“Yeah that, Taehyung-”

“Tae.”

“Taehyung, are you aware of the fact that you fucking killed someone?” The boy’s expression
shifted a lot more obviously at this, corners of his mouth dropping severely before going back up
again, eyes widening. “A goon called Hong. You cracked his fucking skull with that bat and you
hurt a friend of mine too.”

“…So?”

Jungkook heard his reply but it took him a moment to really process it, to actually understand what
he had said. He wanted to be disgusted or even shocked by the complete lack of empathy or care in
his voice and words and even his face, but then he felt almost like he had expected this from him.
This was Taehyung, not Jimin, and even their singular meeting had left a strange sensation in his
stomach and he knew that this was why.

The boy was fucked up.

He stared at him dumbly before deciding that he had to leave the store, that he couldn’t stand
beside him after he had just said that. So Jungkook turned on his heel and stormed across the store.
He only managed a few feet when he heard him calling out after him and he didn’t stop, getting to
the door and shoving it open.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Shit kid!” He stepped onto the curb and dropped his board and then
Taehyung was diving out after him. “Look it’s my job alright I-”

“Fuck you Taehyung seriously, fuck you!” Jungkook shouted, not at all caring if any pedestrians
looked at them. “It’s your job?! It’s your fucking job?! Since when was killing people part of the
fucking job description, huh?!”
“It’s part of it when Sam Yong Pa fuckers are on the list,” Taehyung retorted.

“I’m a Sam Yong Pa fucker too, you gonna kill me?!”

“No.”

“Why?!” Taehyung glared at him and didn’t reply but when he tried to kick off and skate down the
street he reached out to grab hold of his arm roughly, fingers tight around his elbow. Jungkook tried
to shrug him off but his grip was too tight and then the boy was grabbing his other arm too.

“Stop acting like a fucking baby!” Taehyung shouted back at him, shaking him hard as he did.
Jungkook’s stomach became tightly knotted like always but he felt his heart starting to race too.
“You think I wanted to do that?! You think I wanted to kill him?!”

“I-I-I dunno,” he stammered stupidly, scared of biting down on his tongue because he was shaking
him so hard.

“Well I didn’t, OK?! But it happened, so what?! I can’t fucking change that. What’d you want me
to do, huh?!” Jungkook closed his eyes and pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t let a moan
escape. “Telling me to kill you, you little fucker…” Taehyung slapped him hard across the face
and he stumbled off his board and landed on his ass with a jarring thud. “Jimin said that you were
nice but you’re just another Sam Yong Pa shithead.”

Jungkook could taste blood and he probed his tongue out to find that he had bitten down hard on
his lower lip and split the skin. His cheek was stinging and he reached up to touch it with a shaking
hand. The other boy looked down at him in anger and disgust and then his eyes latched onto the
blood and he saw his expression went slack.

“Shit…” Taehyung reached up to pull at the neck of his tee roughly before he hunkered down.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I just-”

Jungkook spat at him and then scrabbled to his feet, not even bothering to get on his board at all
but rather just carry it. He saw a few droplets of blood hitting the boy’s cheek and then he was
upright and racing down the street to get away from him. Jimin was a liar, a bad fucking liar.
Wouldn’t hurt him? He was wrong, so very wrong. His heart felt like it was going to explode and
he was so pumped with adrenaline that he didn’t even feel any pain in his split lip and stinging
cheek. He was a pretty fast runner - the pun was not lost on him - and as a result he managed to fly
down the street at a quick speed, quicker than Taehyung for sure. Yet the boy still ran after him for
he heard his boots pounding on the pavement and the boy trying his hardest to try and get him to
stop.

He wasn’t scared Taehyung was going to hurt him, not at all. Jungkook was scared that he would
flip out and maybe punch him and as a result he would regret it. First he had had to put up with the
boy calling him all kinds of curses as a ‘joke’ and now this, screaming in his face and shoving him
hard. He knew that he stood no chance against Taehyung if he did punch him and he doubted that
the boy would let something like that slide.

Jungkook cleared the first block and carried on running. He could still hear him in hot pursuit but
he was certain that his footsteps were getting fainter. By the time he reached the end of the second
block he couldn’t even hear him under his own pounding sneakers and heart, but he didn’t stop just
yet. No, he needed to carry on for a little longer just to be sure so he flew around the corner and
carried on down the road before coming to a stop at the end of it. Jungkook moved to lean against
the wall of a building, legs wobbly and breath whistling in and out of him. He hunkered down to
hug his board against his chest and dropped his head, trying his very hardest to catch his breath and
slow his heartbeat down. He couldn’t help doing so through his mouth and as a result a few pitiful
dribbles of blood dripped down onto the pavement by his sneakers.

“Hey?”

He didn’t look up at the voice for he didn’t recognise it but after a few seconds he felt a shadow
falling over him and he had no choice but to do so. He saw a pair of black trousers and a light grey
uniform shirt and then the unmistakable sight of a silver NPA uniform badge. But Jungkook saw
that it was not Namjoon but rather another officer, a little older with a rather plain face under his
cap, long and thin.

“I got a tip off a pedestrian about a couple of kids causing trouble. You wouldn’t know anything
about that, would you?” Jungkook glanced over the street the man had been patrolling to see that it
was empty, nothing more than a couple of parked cars on the curbs and no traffic flowing down
the thin road.

“Uh, no Sir I-”

“She said that it looked pretty confrontational, that there was a lot of cursing and threatening.
Something about the kids trying threatening to kill each other…” He could see that the officer was
looking at his pale face and bleeding lip and the man just knew that he had him cornered.
“No Sir, I dunno anything about that.” He tried to give him a reaffirming smile but it felt like a
grimace.

“Kids fighting in public, they might just be drunk or something like that. Maybe they aren’t just
high school rivals?”

“Yeah, sure maybe?” Jungkook wondered if the officer was going to walk away but he just knew
that he wasn’t going to.

“Been a lot of trouble in this area the last few days,” the man continued, “because gangs have been
causing trouble. Scaring the poor citizens.” Jungkook muttered about how terrible that was, tone
flat and not at all empathetic. “Say, you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

“No.”

“Because I think that you just might. You’re bleeding kid-” Jungkook reached up to roughly wipe
at his chin, “and you look like you’re running from something.”

“I’m not, I’ve got nothing and-”

“Let’s just got for a little walk,” the officer reached over to snag his arm, just like Taehyung had.
“It’s only a few minutes from here, we can have a nice talk and then you can go.”

Jungkook knew that the man would take him in and get his pockets emptied and he might not be
running right now but he was aware of the fact that he was wearing another one of Yoongi’s shirts
and he didn’t know what was in the breast pocket. There was something in there, either a list of
some kind or maybe a couple of cigarettes or some joints. If there was a list the officer would see
all kinds of names and monetary sums, could link them all together and figure out that he was gang
affiliated. If there was even a single shred of drugs on him then he was in so much trouble.

“Hey man, I told you I dunno!” Jungkook tried to pull himself free but it was hard to do so. He had
to forcibly push at him and that was when he realised that he was assaulting a police officer.
Suspicion might not have been enough of an offence from him to arrest him, but assaulting an
officer most certainly was.
“Son, it’s just a couple of questions-”

“I already answered your questions!” Jungkook argued as he tried pulling at the man’s hand.

“Look, I’m going to have to take you into the station right now. You’re not cooperating.” They got
to the end of the street and he realised just how trapped he was. Jungkook reached up with his free
hand to feel at the pocket and he had just managed to feel the rounded sensation of a cigarette stick
through the material when the officer caught him. “What are you doing?” He scanned the curb
quickly to see a sewer grate coming up and so he opened the pocket and grabbed whatever he
could, tossing the few items at the gutter desperately. He saw the tanned filter of a cigarette stick
disappearing down a gap in the grate but two obviously shaped joints did not disappear.

“Shit-”

“You’re trying to get rid of evidence!” the man exclaimed in a shocked tone, staring at the gutter
like he couldn’t believe that he had just done something like that. “Trying to get rid of…drugs!
You-”

Jungkook tried to struggle free but he couldn’t stop himself from being forced down onto the
pavement, arm getting twisted behind his back and skateboard flying out of his hand. He protested
his innocence, he argued that it was his friend’s shirt and he had done nothing wrong. The officer
just told him that he was under arrest for suspicious activity, possession of drugs and resisting
arrest. He felt the cold snap of a metal handcuff on his right wrist and then he heard something
strange. It was like a soft whistling and he felt something against his cheek like a gust of air. Then
there was a dull thumping sound and something dropped on him, heavy enough to force the breath
out of his lungs.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe and he wriggled only to feel the weight being shoved off him and then
something snagging on his shirt, grabbing a handful and wrenching him to his feet. He looked
down at the sight of the officer lying at his feet. His police cap had been knocked free and was
lying in the gutter and that was when Taehyung darted over to grab it and the two joints.

He saw the metallic baseball bat in his hand, the one he had killed Hong with and knocked the
officer out cold with.

Jungkook felt strangely light headed and he lifted his arm to look at the metal handcuff still
snapped around his wrist. Then he dropped to his knees and stuck his fingers against the side of the
man’s neck. He got a pulse, a slow but strong throb against his fingertips, and he wheezed in relief.
His skateboard was just a few feet away so he reached over to snag hold of it.

“Get up, hurry get up.” Taehyung darted over to grab hold of him again, pulling him upright.
Jungkook was glad that he did because he couldn’t have possibly have gotten up on his own; his
legs were too weak.

“We gotta blow.”

He thought if he stared at the wall long enough he might just zone out and forget what had
happened but he couldn’t do that. It was just too much to possibly push away and no amount of
blank staring could help him. He looked at sports stars, motorbikes, torn out pages of half-naked
ladies. He stared at the canvas too in the hopes of figuring out what it was but he couldn’t do that
either. But it was better than the alternative, and the alternative was looking at Taehyung. Right
now the boy was rummaging through a box under the bed and he could see him pulling out tools
and tossing them aside without a care: screwdrivers, pliers, something that looked like a small
chisel. He stared at the back of his head to see that he was wearing the officer’s cap - the one he
had stolen - and it was turned backwards on his head. For some reason it made him mad looking at
the NPA logo and he didn’t know why. Taehyung had saved him from getting arrested, wasn’t that
a good thing? Wasn’t that something for him to forgive him for, even if he was a complete
asshole?

“No, no, the fuck is it?” he muttered as he carried on rummaging, metal sounds of screws and bolts
clanging together.

Jungkook hated to admit it but he really had saved his ass. It wasn’t possible to even make up
stupid excuses to avoid thanking him because he really had been in trouble. Stupid Yoongi and his
stupid joints. His friend hardly ever smoked them to his knowledge but he carried them anyway,
and because he had decided to wear one of his shirts it meant that he was carrying them too. There
had been no reason for Taehyung to do something like that but he had. He had jumped in and saved
his ass and knocked a police officer out with his baseball bat.

The bat was leaning against the wall a few feet away. Jungkook studied it and he hated looking at
it. It made a chill travel down his spine and caused a sour taste in his mouth. Could he really thank
Taehyung for his actions when he had brutally assaulted an officer to help him? That was violence
on his behalf, something he greatly disliked. Was it right?

“Aha, got it!” Taehyung pulled something out of the box and brought it to his lips, theatrically
kissing it. Jungkook dragged his eyes away from the baseball bat to watch him hastily crossing the
basement room to sit on the settee beside him. There was a little metal object in his hand and he
reached over to grab his right wrist. His palm were warm and dry against his skin and he moved his
hand to place it on his knee. Taehyung leaned forward and stuck the object into the keyhole of the
handcuff, nose hovering inches above his hand so he could see better.

“What is that?” Jungkook asked in a quiet voice as he looked at the top of his head, at the black
cap. Taehyung explained that it was a pick to open locks with, slowly moving his hand as he did.
He felt the side of his hand brushing against his wrist and the fingers of his other hand tightly
entwined in his as he held his hand in place. “You need to use this often?”

“…Sometimes,” the boy replied, shifting to lift his head and cock it on a soft angle. Jungkook saw
that he had his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth slightly, nothing more than the tip.

“Taehyung-”

“Tae.”

“…Tae I…I’m sorry.” Taehyung looked up at him, fingers still working as he fiddled with the
lock. “I’m sorry for talking to you like that and for shouting and causing all of that shit. If I hadn’t,
if I had just stopped then that officer wouldn’t have tried to arrest me.”

“You didn’t know, you were pissed man, I totally understand.” The boy dropped his eyes back to
the cuff and he heard a crisp click. “You don’t need to say sorry.” Taehyung slipped the pick out
and then he opened the cuff and pulled it free. “Here, a souvenir.”

“Don’t you wanna keep them?”

“Already have a few pairs,” Taehyung explained, handcuffs dangling from his fingers and softly
rotating. “I use ‘em on Jimin sometimes.” Jungkook accepted them off him and he felt the cold
metal against his palm.
“Oh yeah?” A quick glance at Taehyung’s face showed that he was smirking at him. Jungkook
shoved the cuffs in his jeans pocket hastily as the boy shifted to sit back against the settee arm. He
cocked one leg up on the cushion and left the other stretched out in front of his legs, boot bobbing
up and down like always. Jungkook could practically feel his leg brushing against his knees.
“Where’s Jimin?”

“Running, won’t be back until tonight. Why aren’t you running, huh?”

“Trouble with the whole…dead goon thing,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. Taehyung made
a soft noise under his breath at this and then pulled down on the back of the police officer cap. A
mess of dark hair fell out from under it and he found that the boy strangely suited the cap. He
would never make a cop but he suited the cap for sure. Would he suit the rest of the uniform too?

“You still got drugs though…”

“My friend’s, this is his shirt.” Taehyung shoved his hand into his trouser pocket and he pulled out
the two joints. “Shitty excuse I know, but it’s the truth.”

“You partake?”

“…No.” The boy leaned forward to snag a box of matches off the small table in front of them and
he shook one free. He didn’t strike it on the emery board but rather held it in front of his mouth.

“Wanna see a cool trick?” Taehyung opened his mouth and stuck the match behind his front teeth
before quickly dragging it forward. The head of the match caught alight and he grinned at him as
he shoved one of the joints in his mouth. His tongue would probably taste like sulfur and Jungkook
wondered why he had thought of that. “Consider this payment for saving your ass.”

“I don’t need to pay you anything,” Jungkook retorted as the boy set the end of the joint on fire.
Taehyung took a deep toke on it and held it in his lungs for a few seconds, eyes half-lidded as he
looked at it. Then he blew the smoke out at him, a little puff-like ball that dissipated into the air.
He could smell the tang of pot and it made his nose itchy.

“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I don’t need to give you a fucking reward. You attacked a police officer.”

“He was gonna arrest you. Wait, wait, wait.” Taehyung took another toke and shifted to sit upright.
“A minute ago you were apologising to me and now you’re acting like this?”

“You were right, I shouldn’t have apologised. It was all your fucking fault!” Jungkook reached up
to pull on his hair. “The argument in the store and on the street, it was all you.” Taehyung squinted
at him through a haze of smoke. “I wouldn’t have needed you to assault that cop if you hadn’t said
all of that shit to me.”

“You were the one talking shit,” the boy retorted as he pointed at him. A dab of ash fell off the
joint onto the settee cushion. “I just said hi and you fucking unloaded on me!”

“‘Cos I was mad and you killed a guy!”

“I told you I didn’t mean to!”

Jungkook groaned and reached up to rub at his aching temples. He couldn’t believe that they were
back to this, to this petty arguing just like earlier. He couldn’t believe that Taehyung thought that
saying he didn’t mean it was an adequate apology for killing someone.

“I’m sorry, alright I’m fucking sorry. Is that what you wanna hear?”

“No.”

“Then what’d you want, huh?”

“Nothing, I don’t want anything Tae,” Jungkook muttered as he closed his eyes.

The den fell silent and he didn’t like it but there was nothing to say at this point. Taehyung was so
full of shit that he was surprised it didn’t spill out of his mouth when he spoke. That wasn’t an
apology at all and the stupid thing was Jungkook didn’t really need an apology. He just needed
Taehyung to…to say something that proved him wrong. Yet it didn’t seem like he could. After
nearly an entire minute of silence he felt Taehyung shifting and when he opened his eyes he saw
that he was leaning close to him.

“Take a hit.” He eyed the joint and then looked at him. “Go on take a hit.”

“No.”

“I’m an officer,” Taehyung reached up to pull the cap off and put it on the right way. “If you don’t
do what I say I’ll arrest you.”

“Tae, you’re fucking stoned.”

“Not yet I ain’t,” Taehyung grinned at him and shook his hand again, trying to goad him into
taking a hit. “I’ve got eight pairs of fucking handcuffs and I’ll use all of ‘em on you.” Jungkook
sighed and took the joint out of his fingers and held it up to his lips. “It’ll really calm you down,
take the edge off.”

“Maybe I want the edge?”

“Just do it you pussy.” Jungkook placed the stick between his lips and he took a slight toke on it.
The inhale was hot and it burnt his lungs, made him choke and then start coughing on it. Taehyung
snorted at him and he reached up to touch his burning throat.

“Can’t believe I’m getting stoned with a Sam Yong Pa motherfucker…”

“I can’t believe I’m getting stoned.”

 Brave Little Soldier

Jungkook could feel something warm on his neck and he knew that it was someone’s breath. He
was too tired to possibly open his eyes and so he just shifted and settled back against his friend.
Against Yoongi. It was so funny, he had been dreaming about him just a few minutes ago and now
here he was; lying in the apartment room bed with him because he had finished working his stupid
five day long binge and he was finally going to be back home in the den for a little while with him.
His back brushed against his chest and stomach and after a moment he felt his arm moving over his
waist, palm pressing against his stomach to pull him in tighter. His friend was so warm that he
couldn’t help but feel safe and secure and Jungkook moved his head and pressed it against the
pillow.

He could just stay like this for a very long time, forever if he could. He knew that pretty soon he
would need to get up and leave the den because he would need to start running again. They were a
few days behind because of all of the trouble with Hong and so there would be a lot of clients to
drop to. Jungkook could very much believe that he would need to be working from the morning to
the night and he couldn’t even complain because he had had the last few days off working. No, he
would just need to jump on his board and work as fast as he could even in the sweltering summer
heat just to ensure that he kept the clients and dealers, and their boss happy. But regardless of this
knowledge he felt that he could stay just a little longer. This hardly ever happened anymore, he
hardly ever woke up in the bed with Yoongi because he was always gone for so long.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and the faintest scent of something caught his attention:
faded shampoo and cologne on the pillow. It didn’t smell like Yoongi at all. He had his friend’s
scent memorised perfectly for he never changed a single thing that he used. His cologne was
always Dior Eau Sauvage: woody and faintly bittersweet to his nose. His shampoo was always
something milky like almonds, but this was different. This was sweet in a way that seemed to be
floral but he couldn’t figure it out. That was strange. Yoongi always used the same products over
and over because he didn’t seem to like change. It made him seem somewhat strangely reliable that
he didn’t flit from one thing to another like a bee sampling pollen. Not like Woosang. That dealer
always smelled like different colognes every time that he saw him and Jungkook just knew that he
must have had dozens of shelves in his bathroom with all kinds of bottles on them. The only thing
that he could think of was that this wasn’t their bed or even their shared apartment room in the den
and so he opened his eyes slowly. He saw a hint of white pillow and so he turned his head slightly
to look across the room.

Jungkook saw brick wall and a small window right up at the very top that was long and thin, that
went along most of the length of it. This was most certainly not his and Yoongi’s room: with its
white walls and large window and desk. He only knew one such room like that and he shifted to
lift his head off the pillow in sleepy confusion. As he did he felt that his arm was tucked under the
pillow and when he looked down he saw that he wasn’t wearing Yoongi’s shirt or even his tee. No,
he saw bare skin and the sight of it was enough to make him furrow his brow in confusion. He
placed his head back down on the pillow and then he felt more warm breath on his neck.

Who was he lying in this bed with? This bed that was certainly not his own? He reached down with
his hand to feel that an arm was over his waist and his fingertips moved along to find a wrist, and
then a hand: scabbed knuckles and grazes in the skin. He glanced down and sure enough he saw a
tanned arm on him, the familiar sight of a star tattoo on the back of the hand: Kim Taehyung.
Jungkook stuck his tongue out to wet his lips and there was a sour taste in his mouth. It was
terribly dry and he could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to throb behind his eyes. Why
did his head feel so…weird? It was as if it was floating above him, attached to his neck by a string,
and yet at the same time his brain felt like a rock.

“Fuck…” Jungkook sniffed and reached up to rub at his eyelids roughly. He felt weird and he
didn’t know what was going on. As he lowered his arm Taehyung wriggled on the bed and he
didn’t pull him closer so much as drag him against him. Whatever chances Jungkook had had of
trying to discreetly climb out of the bed and get dressed were rendered completely useless. The
breath on his neck was now so warm that it was almost hot and he was pretty sure that he could
feel the boy’s mouth on his skin. The idea was enough to make his stomach do that weird little
clenching thing that it always did when the other boy was involved, tight enough to hurt.

Taehyung made a soft breathy noise like a sigh and the sensation of his breath on his skin made a
chill travel all the way down his spine. He shifted a little more in his sleep and his chin dug into
the crook between his neck and shoulder. Taehyung moved his legs so that they brushed against
his. Jungkook felt his knees against the backs of his - which he noted were bare too and that meant
he wasn’t wearing his jeans - and then his feet knocking into his.

What time was it right now? He could see sunlight coming in through the window and that meant
that it was at least daytime. Was Jimin in the room? If so where was he? They were both on the
bed and that meant that he couldn’t have fitted on too. Was he on one of the settees? What the hell
had he thought when he had gotten back?

Jungkook couldn’t really remember much of yesterday but he could recall a few things that had
happened. The argument in the store and on the following street, the boy running after him and
trying to apologise for his stupid words…the police officer trying to arrest him and Taehyung
jumping in and smacking the man on the head with his baseball bat. The thought alone was enough
to make him want to moan under his breath but he managed to not do so. What had happened to the
man? He didn’t have a clue but he knew one thing and it was that the police were going to be
looking for a kid that matched his description for assaulting an officer of the law. He was so
thankful that he didn’t have any stupid tattoos like the other boys to make him stand out even more.
He remembered Taehyung dragging him down the streets by hand, escorting him to his and
Jimin’s den as fast as he could; the removal of the handcuff that had been snapped on his left wrist
with that little metal object he called a pick and then…
Oh god. Then he had shared a joint with Taehyung.

Maybe even two, he couldn’t recall because that part was incredibly foggy. The boy waving the
stick in front of his face, police cap on his head and a wicked smirk on his face as he called him a
pussy was a memory that suddenly came to mind. Yes, that was what had happened and everything
after that point and the current waking moment was going to take a while to come back to him.
Jungkook didn’t drink that much or often, had only really smoked a cigarette or two in Yoongi’s
presence and never full ones rather just a lungful or three. He didn’t really get drunk and he sure as
hell didn’t get stoned but he had yesterday and it was all because of Taehyung. No wonder his
mouth was so dry and his tongue tasted like carpet, why his head felt all weird and heavy.

Taehyung shifted a little and he let out another one of those breathy noises, this one closer to a
moan. He wondered if he was going to have a nightmare on him like he had that first night he had
been in the den and then the boy was snuggling up against him again. If he got any closer to him he
might just be able to merge into his actual body and…

Jungkook could feel something pressing up against the back of his thigh and he suddenly
remembered the fact that Taehyung slept naked and before he could even help himself he reached
down and grabbed his arm to try and move it from around his waist. The boy shifted and tried to
keep hold of him and he felt like he was stuck in some stupid comedy drama and he couldn’t even
move. He wasn’t going to lie there and be dry humped by Taehyung. After a slight struggle he
managed to disentangle himself from his limbs and he sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the
side as he did.

“Wuh…huh?” Taehyung rolled onto his back with a series of husky noises, not exactly whines but
something close to it. He could barely open his eyes and when he looked at him he saw that his
eyelids were puffy and that was why. The boy rested his arm on his brow as if trying to shield his
eyes from the sun, dark hair messily falling all over the pillow, and after a moment he managed to
look at him. “Wuh…what’s going…on, huh?”

Jungkook ignored him and instead shifted to try and locate his clothing. He found that it was
absolutely everywhere and he didn’t know why. Why was Yoongi’s shirt all the way across the
room on the settee? Why were his jeans kicked off so far from the bed? He didn’t know and he felt
the most strangest urge to panic overcome him.

“Kookie?” He felt something brushing along his wrist and he instinctively pulled his arm away.
“What’re you doing here? …The fuck?”

“I dunno,” he answered honestly, feeling no need to lie. “I just woke up in bed with you and I
dunno how or why but my head feels all weird and-”

“Pot will do that to you.” He glanced over his shoulder at him and he saw that Taehyung had
closed his eyes again, arm still balanced across his brow. He looked to also be suffering from an
aching head but that wasn’t the only thing. The covers were still strewn over him, reaching just a
little lower than his ribs, and even the wrinkles from usage couldn’t hide the obvious tent in the
fabric. Jungkook forcibly moved his eyes away and instead looked back up at his face. “You’re
better when you’re stoned.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked in a voice that sounded a little reedy to his ears, face a little too hot.

“Yeah, you’re funnier. You talk more and it’s a lot less shit than usual.” Taehyung opened his eyes
and looked over at him and then he snorted. “You’re much more open about things too.”

“What…what’d you mean?” The boy didn’t reply and just rolled onto his side and then onto his
stomach, letting out a little grunt as he did. He folded his arms under his chin and cocked his head
on them to look at him. His sleep-messy hair fell over his eyes and he had to fight the urge to reach
over and brush it back off his face. “Tae?”

“You just…y’know, you talk.” Jungkook furrowed his brow at this. “You’re always muttering and
mumbling but you barely talk.”

“I was shouting in your face yesterday,” he retorted. “I think that’s something more than talking.”

“I guess it is. I’d like it if you didn’t do that again.”

“Don’t piss me off again and I won’t,” he retorted and Taehyung grinned at him. The way he was
lying was getting under his skin for some reason and so he got to his feet and crossed the room to
locate his jeans. He shrugged them on and tried to find his tee. It was somewhere but he couldn’t
exactly see where. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Dunno,” Taehyung rolled back onto his side to look at him and the covers shifted slightly. He
could see the top three points of his black star navel tattoo now. Any lower and he might as well
not bother keeping the covers on him. “Came back last night I think? Crashed on the settee?”
Jungkook sighed and grabbed Yoongi’s shirt to see if it was under that. No. He placed it down on
the table with the remains of the joints from yesterday and then he went back over to the bed.
“He’s not here.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t figure that out so thanks for the help Tae.” He dropped to his knees and checked
under the bed and it was not there. He was about to get back upright when he felt something
running down his back and he shifted violently and smacked his head on the bottom of the wooden
frame hard. He cursed as he dragged himself out from under it and reached up to rub at his
currently stinging scalp. “What the fuck?”

“You’d look good with a tattoo right there,” Taehyung said, arm still held out to show him that he
had ran his finger down his spine. “I think it would look real cool.” Jungkook dropped his hand
from his aching head and glared at him but the boy didn’t seem at all fazed by it. “Wings.”

“Dragon wings?”

“Nah…wings like…angel wings. Maybe devil wings ‘cos you’re a little fucker.” The boy grinned
at him and after a moment he couldn’t help the corners of his lips going up. Jungkook asked him
where his tee was and Taehyung furrowed his brow before shifting to sit up and he managed to
locate it tangled near the bottom of the covers. He tossed it at him and he slipped it on over his
head roughly. “Hey Kookie, hang on a sec.” The boy wrapped the covers around himself in some
strange toga-like fashion and then he got up to cross the room to retrieve the police cap. He was in
the act of getting into Yoongi’s shirt when Taehyung walked over and pulled it down onto his
head. He didn’t do so gently but rather hard enough so that his chin nearly brushed against his own
collarbones and Jungkook looked up at him in confusion. “Suits you more.”

“I’m no cop,” he said as he reached up and pulled it free, hair sticking up messily as he did.
Taehyung flattened the antenna-like locks of hair with his hand and Jungkook felt a lump in his
throat at the sudden contact.

“Nah, you’re just a Sam Yong Pa bitch, right?” Taehyung asked with that same stupid smirk on his
and Jungkook decided that it was about time he left the building and got back to the den.

He stepped out onto the street and a quick glance over it showed that it was as empty as always, no
traffic, no pedestrians, no signs of life at all. He shoved the police cap down the back of his jeans
so that it would be out of sight and he pulled the ends of Yoongi’s shirt down to cover it. The slight
ramp beside the building had had Jimin’s motorbike parked on it at some point but not right now.
There was a recent-looking tire mark and a slight dribble of oil but nothing more. Clearly his friend
had crashed in the basement during the night and had left again not too long ago. At least he hadn’t
been present after that…incident. Jungkook couldn’t possibly express how relieved he was because
of this fact and he dropped his skateboard down on the pavement and he started skating down the
street. It only took him a couple of streets to start seeing people again. Mostly it was on wider
roads with little cafés and book and clothing stores. Nothing designer, they were all in the main
shopping malls, but there were quite a few little stores that sold handmade clothes on the street he
was on. Cute, mostly aimed at children.

Jungkook didn’t need to reach up and feel his cheeks to know that they were red because he could
feel them burning. He knew that they were red and that he probably look so very silly to anyone
that walked past and saw his flushed face and flighty eyes. Why was he still feeling like this when
he had left the den minutes ago? Surely it should have faded now, that sudden flaring of something
that he knew was very much embarrassment.

This was all Taehyung’s fault.

He felt himself nibbling on his lower lip and it wasn’t the nicest sensation for the split was still
there. There was a slight sting when his teeth found it but he found that the pain didn’t bother him
at all right now. He would be more than happy to chew on his lip until it bled because it was a
better alternative than pulling on his hair. He was already wrenching on the sleeves of Yoongi’s
shirt and he was in danger of ruining the buttons on this one too if he carried on doing this. But he
couldn’t help himself. There was just the compulsion to do so and after a momentary struggle he
managed to stop himself from doing so.

What the hell was that boy?

One minute he was bragging about cracking men’s skulls and joking about kicking his ass too. The
next he was arguing with him on the streets and shaking him so hard that Jungkook thought it was
miracle that he didn’t bite his tongue off. Then he was saving his ass from an arrest and sharing
beds with him and acting so very sweet. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like this at all and he didn’t
like how he was starting to think about him more than important things.

Like Sam Yong Pa and his actual brothers.

When Jungkook stepped into the den he saw that it wasn’t as packed as it usually was and he saw
Sunmi working away on a tablet in the corner, making notes and hastily working without seeming
to blink. He called out to her, to try and find out if he had any work to do and she shook her head at
him. He found this both strange and slightly annoying and yet there was nothing that he could do
about it. There was no sign of Seungyoon or Siwon or even Woosang in the den right now. That
meant that he couldn’t get any work off them because they were clearly too busy sorting out their
own assets not only in this district but the rest of Busan too. How much longer were they going to
need to fix problems that one stupid brawl had caused? He wasn’t sure but he was about to cross
the room when he caught sight of a familiar looking black leather jacket and he stopped.

Yoongi was back in the den and he wasn’t alone: he had brought a black-haired young man with
him.

Jungkook crossed the room and he held a hand up to his lips, effectively telling the stranger to not
alert him to his presence and he had gotten just a step or so away from him when his friend loudly
started talking.

“Kid, I know you’re in the den I just heard you hollering,” Yoongi shifted on the floor cushion to
look at him. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”

“Do you want me to be honest?” Jungkook asked with a sly smile and the man just blinked at him
languidly. Yoongi looked a lot better than he had last time he had seen him for he wasn’t as worn
or haggard-looking as usual. He was still much too pale and thin for his liking but at least he didn’t
have hollowed out black bags around his eyes like he often did when he saw him after a work
binge. No, Yoongi looked pretty good and he was relieved to see this.

“Sit your ass down, kid.” Jungkook sat down at the spare cushion beside him and he saw that there
was a stack of papers in front of him and the other young man. He didn’t want to stare but he
quickly studied his face so that he could commit it to memory. It wouldn’t be hard to remember
him. The man had a long face and nose that was so straight it was rather amazing to look at.
Jungkook thought about his own nose, that Yoongi liked to tease him about, and he felt a slight
twinge of jealously over the stranger’s thin and straight nose. Passably attractive he supposed.
“This here is Hoseok,” Yoongi said as he gestured across the table. “He’s a runner from Gwangju
that’s been working for Sam Yong Pa for five years now.”

“How old are you?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“Twenty,” Hoseok replied in a voice that sounded friendly enough, accent detectable. “How old are
you?” He told him that he was seventeen and he raised his eyebrows at this and then laughed. It
made him smile as he did and Jungkook saw that he looked a lot more attractive when he smiled.

“He’s starting to work for our syndicate now, if he’s good enough he might just stay here.” Yoongi
quickly flicked through the sheets of paper without looking up at them. “That means split duties of
course, but I’ve heard that you haven’t been working these past few days…”
“No, not after Hong was killed,” Jungkook explained. “Everyone’s been going a bit crazy trying to
sort things out, looking for rats and things like that, moving deals around so that they won’t get
disrupted.”

“‘Cos some Geum Sung Pa motherfucker had to fuck it all up,” his friend muttered under his breath
as he slipped a pen out of his pocket and started scribbling things on it. “Messed up everything for
me too, I got assholes telling me that they’ve got protection now. I can’t ‘threaten’ ‘em anymore
‘cos they’ve got bodyguards,” he said this in a whiny voice, scrunching his nose up as he did. “So I
had to bust a couple of noses this week.”

“Been trouble down in Gwangju too,” Hoseok noted as he cocked an elbow on the low table and
rest his chin in the palm of his hand. “Quite a few incidents but nothing as bad as what happened
up here. I come up and next thing I know there’s a dead guy and all kinds of shit.”

“Talk about bad timing,” Jungkook remarked with a smirk. The other man just rolled his eyes with
a theatrical sigh. “It’s been weird not running for the last few days. I’ve got nothing to do all day so
I’m just hanging around the streets and-”

“What’s that?” Jungkook stopped talking and stared at his friend dumbly for a moment before he
followed his eyes down to see what he was talking about. Under the ends of his borrowed shirt the
police cap was sticking out of his jeans waistband and Yoongi’s eyes had locked right onto it. “Is
that…that’s a fucking NPA cap, gimme that.”

“Uh…” He didn’t have time to even try and get it for the other man snatched hold of it and pulled
it free, holding it up to look at it.

“Where the fuck did you get this?” He was painfully aware of how quiet the storefront had fallen
and a quick glance over it showed quite a few goons and dealers staring at him. Jungkook started
gnawing on his lower lip again and that was when he heard a voice from across the room.

“Kid, you know anything about that officer that was attacked yesterday?” Yoongi shifted to look at
the goon and he asked him what he was talking about, voice low and tone revealing that he was
confused and maybe a little bit angry. “Some beat cop was assaulted around…Sesil-ro yesterday. It
was in the news brother, didn’t you see it?” Jungkook suddenly wished that he hadn’t taken the
stupid cap off Taehyung and he had given him it back instead. How would Yoongi react if he
found out that there was even a pair of handcuffs in his jeans pocket too?
“Kid, what the fuck’s he talking about?”

“An officer tried to uh…tried to arrest me so I-”

“So you attacked him?” Jungkook dropped his eyes to study the table rather than look at him. It
wasn’t exactly the truth but he couldn’t just tell his friend about how a Geum Sung Pa kid had
smacked the officer over the back of the head with a baseball bat just to save his stupid ass. If
Yoongi wasn’t already mad enough that would certainly push him over the edge. He couldn’t
really seem to give him an answer so he just nodded instead. The den fell deathly silent and he
prepared himself for the backlash: the angry shouting and insults for him doing something so
stupid.

“You little fucker!” Yoongi threw his arm around his shoulders and he tensed up in preparation but
then his friend was roughly ruffling his hair with his other hand. Jungkook let out a surprised cry
and then the den was filled with laughter. “Someone get this kid a fucking medal! And tell Lim
about this!”

Jungkook was to quickly find out that Sam Yong Pa reacted to the news of him ‘assaulting’ a local
NPA officer surprisingly well. He expected that they would get mad at him and yet he was
shocked to find that he became something of a legend in the space of mere seconds. He had goons
smacking him on the back and calling him all kinds of names like ‘crazy bastard’ and ‘psycho’. He
had shots of liquor poured out and shoved into his hands. He had declarations about how he should
become a goon himself and Jungkook just forced a smile onto his face even though it was all a lie.
He hadn’t done anything, it was all Taehyung’s doing, and he wondered if they would ply the boy
with shots and smack him hard on the back too if they knew this?

“You know what?” Jaebum announced as he lifted his own shot up. His ribs had started to recover
enough for him to do so without wincing and quite a few goons lifted their glasses in a kind of
toast. “The kid needs a tattoo! Every Sam Yong Pa member gets one, kid or not! And the kind of
kid that beats the shit outta a cop is the kind of kid that belongs in Sam Yong Pa, huh?!”

The cheer that erupted at this was almost deafening and then Sunmi was on the phone calling Lim.
It turned out that their local boss was so pleased with the news that he actually told her that he
should be allowed to get one: an official honorary member of Sam Yong Pa despite not being
eighteen yet. Jungkook was so stunned by this news that he really didn’t know what to say to it but
when the men in the den started chanting that he should do it he rather stupidly agreed to it. Also,
the several shots of soju had really helped him make the decision.

Lim wanted him to have a tattoo to show that he was one theirs. He wasn’t just a kid runner with a
few years of work and allegiance under his belt, he was finally going to have proof that he was a
real gang member.
How could he possibly turn that down?

Jungkook had never been to a tattoo parlour before. Every time that Yoongi had added to his sleeve
he hadn’t been present, too busy running or sleeping to be present for the tattooing process. When
he entered the building he found that he was filled with a nervous anticipation that he had never felt
before. It was like the sensation that Taehyung caused but also different, something he could at
least explain. He was both a little scared but also incredibly excited. The walls were covered with
sheets of art and he looked over everything with wide eyes: Hangul script, animal heads, stars and
symbols and monsters and pinup ladies. There seemed to be tattoos for absolutely everything and
he wondered who would get half of these things on their skin and whether or not several shots of
soju would help them make a decision too. The walls visible between the sheets of tattoos were
deep red like Kim Bistro and the floor was a light wood. The wall beside the door was practically
just one large window and the entire street was visible from inside, and the opposite wall had a
small counter and a door that went back into the rooms where piercings and tattoos would be done.

“Sam Yong Pa,” Yoongi announced, voice a little slurred from a couple of shots. He, Jungkook
and Hoseok had jumped a gang rented taxi to get here and Jungkook found that he liked the young
man even though he had only know him for perhaps an hour. Hoseok seemed friendly and likable
and that could have been the soju speaking too but he didn’t think that it was.

“Lim called in advance,” the man on the counter said. He had a shaved head and a facial hair and
Jungkook wasn’t shocked at all to see that he had a tattoo right on the top of his pate: a phoenix. He
was wearing a tank top that showcased two sleeves and chest tattoos and he wondered how much
of his body was coated in tattoos. “That’s the kid, right?”

“Uh, hey,” Jungkook said as he lifted his hand in a slight wave.

“Classic, kids these days are fucking nuts.” This made Yoongi and Hoseok laugh heartily and
Jungkook just smiled as he looked between them all, feeling a little woozy. “Danah’s in the back,
she’s more than ready to ink you up.”

“What’re you gonna get?” Hoseok asked suddenly and he realised that he didn’t really know. The
Gwangju runner had a dragon on the back of his neck, a snaking thing that was visible just over the
neckline of his tee: red and gold and green with a forked tongue.

“Whatever you want kid, Danah’s the best we got and it’s on the house.”

“Dragon, it’s gotta be a motherfucking dragon,” Yoongi said as he moved over to collect a book of
tattoo art. It was a thick leather bound book and he opened it and started flicking through.

“I want…I wanna get the biggest fucking tattoo,” Jungkook muttered as he looked at the dragons.
He saw flying ones, ones curled up with tails around them, clawing, roaring, spitting flames. He
saw snake-like creatures, traditional Chinese ones with massive heads and grinning mouths,
European ones with leathery wings and horns protruding from their heads. Every single colour he
could imagine was right there. “Wait, go back go back.” Yoongi stopped and went back a page or
two and then he stuck his hand out so that he could tap his finger on the page. “This one.”

The dragon was coiled in a lazy line, body delicately stretched out so that its upper head and legs
curled downwards over its body: almost creating a loose ‘s’ shape. Its whiskers were long and thin
and they curled along its body like tendrils of smoke and its tail and mane were like great licks of
flame. It had sharp talons and an open maw of a mouth that showed curved fangs and a slithering
tongue; it looked like the most baddest son of a bitch dragon that Jungkook had ever seen.

“That’s the god dragon,” the bald man said with a smile. “God of all dragons. Where’s the god
going, huh?”

“My back, not like Hoseok I mean my entire back.” Jungkook looked up from it to see them both
looking at him dumbly and he started laughing giddily. “What?”

“Go big or go home,” Hoseok said with a shrug and then the pair of them were laughing again.

“You heard the crazy fucker, this one.” Yoongi slid the book over and the man collected it and
said that he would blow the tattoo up and get the template ready, lifting the counter partition so
that they could go into the back room. Jungkook followed his friends and when he got into the
room he saw a young woman sorting through various boxes.

“Here’s the brave street soldier,” she said and she was presumably Danah. Half of her hair was
shaved off and the rest was purple and fell down to her ribs. Just like the man on the counter she
was covered in tattoos and her crop top also showcased a navel piercing. Her ears were more rings
than skin and when she opened her mouth he saw the glint of a tongue piercing too. “What’s is
gonna be, huh?”

Jungkook had to sit backwards on the leather chair with his legs stuck through a gap between the
backrest and the seat. It wasn't the most comfortable position but he needed to do so for
convenience. He folded his arms under his chin and listened to Danah and the bald man talking
whilst they got the template prepared, getting several sizes and comparing them to find the perfect
one to cover his back in an attractive way. He didn’t know what to expect in terms of time or pain
but he knew that he wasn’t going to wimp out now after everything. He closed his eyes and waited
for what felt like forever and then the woman was pressing the sheet of transfer paper onto his skin
and peeling it off to leave the lines in place.

“Right soldier,” she said as she sorted through a box of heads and started removing the current one
to replace it. “I’m not gonna lie to you; this is gonna hurt. But the end result will be so fucking
awesome you’ll forget all about it.” She slipped a black ink cartridge into the machine and then she
powered it on and the room filled with a strange buzzing sound as the metal head vibrated quickly.
“Remember kid, you’re Sam Yong Pa and that means you’re a fucking dragon.”

Jungkook quickly discovered just how painful a tattoo really was. It wasn’t an obvious, horrendous
pain, but it was a drawn-out and constant feeling that seemed to linger long after Danah’s wrist
moved away and she started work on another line. It was a burning sensation but mostly it felt like
a scratch, like something catching and hooking into his skin and puncturing a little hole in its wake.
After a while his jaw started aching from clenching it so hard and he was aware of the fact that he
had broken into a clammy sweat but Yoongi just sat in front of him and told him that everything
was going good and that he was handling it very well. Every now and again Danah would pause
and wipe excess ink off his skin, refilling her machine and changing heads for the thinner details
on the dragon’s scales and face, curling whispers and needle thin fangs. Time didn’t seem to pass
at all whilst he was in the chair and it was only when the woman was wrapping a thin layer of cling
film around his back and ribs did he realise that she was finished.

“Three whole hours and you didn’t pass out or scream,” Danah said with a hint of pride in her
voice. Jungkook just kept his head low, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and clumped hair.
“Tough little soldier.”

He couldn’t wear his tee because that required him stretching and irritating his tender skin so
instead he just had to wear Yoongi’s shirt and nothing more. His friend had to help him into it for
he felt too weak to do so and the wide smile on his face showed Jungkook that he was proud of
him. He wasn’t the gang mascot anymore, he was finally a real brother. He was helped into the
back of another gang taxi and as soon as they got back to the den Jungkook went right to bed
because he was physically drained, having to lie on his stomach to sleep.

Getting cleaned up the next day proved rather hard for he had to avoid getting water on his back so
he had to resort to sitting in a shallow pool of water in the tub instead. Yoongi watched him
struggling to wash his hair and told him that the tattoo looked amazing and he wished that he could
see it himself. Dressing was a difficult task too so he had to get his friend to lace up his sneakers as
he couldn’t really bend down. When he got down to the back room Jaebum was sitting alone
playing solitaire.

“Hey crazy kid.” That seemed to be his new nickname, better than Deer Boy for sure. “Siwon’s got
you booked for tomorrow so enjoy your last day of freedom. Sunmi wanted to see you, something
about a parcel?”

“A parcel?” Jungkook paused and eyed the spread of cards on the table. “What’d you mean?”

“Dunno, said some special parcel came for you. Sounded important, she’s in the front like always.”
He watched the goon placing a card down and then he crossed the room to go into the storefront.
Sunmi was going through an account book of some kind, hastily crossing things out and scribbling
corrections in the margins and when she caught sight of him she looked up and smiled at him.

“Jeon, you did good. Boss sent you a reward.” Sunmi bent down and retrieved something from
under her temporary desk and then she placed it down on the counter. A manilla envelope with his
surname on the front.

“Lim sent this?”

“Yes, came this morning. Was dropped off by one of his personal men.” He asked her what it was
and she just shrugged with a soft laugh. “Haven’t got a clue kid.”

Jungkook left the den with the parcel tucked under his arm and his skateboard in hand. He couldn’t
wear a backpack with his tender newly tattooed back and so he had to carry it. He didn’t have any
plans for the day and so he ended skating all of the way across the district to get to Jimin and
Taehyung’s run-down den. He knew where it was from sight alone and didn’t need to even look at
the street signs. He found the door unlocked like always but he had to pound on the basement one a
few times to get a reply and when he did it was Jimin; a bleary eyed and mumbling Jimin in his
underwear with his corkscrewed red hair.

“…Kookie wuh…you doing here huh I’m-” the boy stopped talking and reached up to rub at his
eyes roughly, “shit what time’s it?”

“3pm you lazy fucker,” Jungkook said with a grin. Jimin shifted out of the doorway to let him
inside and he scanned the interior to see that Taehyung was not present. He went over to one of the
settees and tossed the parcel down on the table and then gingerly lowered himself onto it to not
disturb his tender back. “Where’s Tae?”

“Been working all night, what’s that huh?” Jimin went over to collect some clothes and he
explained that it was a gift from his boss. “Shit? You guys get gifts? Wish I did- hey I’m just
gonna go upstairs and clean up, OK?”

“Sure thing,” Jungkook watched him hastily exiting the basement room and then he shifted to cross
his legs up on the settee cushion. He fiddled with a loose thread in a tear of the fabric and he
unraveled a considerable amount more in Jimin’s absence and when he finally returned a dozen or
so minutes later he had left a veritable maw in his wake.

“Damn, Tae should be back soon he never stays out all night. He’d rather sleep all day here then
crash somewhere else for the night.” Jimin hadn’t bothered dressing up and he was just wearing a
black pullover with no shirt underneath and the same style of tight fitting matching black jeans. His
hair was as messy as usual but because it was damp it at least stayed in place when he raked it
back.

“Wonder if he’ll kill someone this time?” Jungkook joked and he saw that the other boy didn’t take
it to be funny at all. He stopped laughing after a few awkward seconds and his friend sat down on
the settee beside him.

“You talk to him about that?” Jimin asked as he cocked one leg up on the cushion and hugged his
arms around it.

“Uh, yeah we did. We kinda screamed it out and then I guess we…” Jungkook stopped talking.
“Well, I dunno what happened actually ‘cos we got stoned so I can’t remember, but we didn’t kill
each other so that’s a bonus, right?”

“Total bonus,” his friend agreed. “I didn’t know that you did drugs.”

“I don’t, but he wouldn’t leave me alone until I shared a joint with him so…”

“Fucking peer pressure man,” Jimin said with a wide grin and he nodded in agreement. “‘Cos I
came back here the other day to see you both knocked out, clothes everywhere, didn’t have a
fucking clue what happened.” He paused and then cocked his head at him. “Did you two…you
know?”

“…What?” Jungkook stared at him dumbly before feeling the most pressing urge to stammer like
crazy. “No, no nothing like that no.”

“You said you can’t remember anything…”

“I’d remember that!”

“Pft, you’re so red right now you look like you might just explode like Tae’s grenade.”

“Shut up, man!” Jimin’s smirk just widened and widened until he punched him hard on the bicep
and then he pouted at him in annoyance.

“Look I’m just saying! What was I supposed to think, huh? Come in here and the room smells like
fucking pot and you’re both in bed together. You two are prime angry sex material I’m just
saying!” Jungkook tried to kick him and he managed to avoid his foot by dragging his other leg up
onto the settee cushion. “Always arguing and bragging and talking about how much you annoy
each other all of the goddamn time-”

“Tae talks about me?”

“you’re both stubborn as hell,” Jimin finished. “Yeah he talks about you.”

“What…what’d you mean?”

“He says things, you know? Like he talks about how much he hates Sam Yong Pa and he kinda
hates you too but at the same time he doesn’t. I dunno, he says that shit when he’s drunk or stoned
or something, never sober. Says he really wants to kick your ass every time you talk back to him
but that he kinda likes it when you do.” Jimin looked over at him. “And you go on and on and how
much he scares you but you’re always trying to make him mad, and then you’re getting stoned with
him and sharing beds. You’re both fucking weird.”

“Yeah, I guess we are weird.”

Taehyung returned to the den at 8:15pm and in that time they had cooked whatever scraps they
could find in the basement, had talked about the most random things to come to mind and
somehow not get bored of stupid stories that they had to tell one another. He didn’t stay in the
room for long before disappearing into the bathroom just like Jimin had. There were more grazes
on his already skinless knuckles and a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone but otherwise he
seemed perfectly fine. Jungkook noted that there was a shred of denim caught on the nails in his
boots and he stared at this in wonder as he removed them and went upstairs to get a shower.

“The fuck is that thing?” Taehyung asked when he finally reentered the room in those pinstriped
trousers and a torn up tee that had had the arms ripped off and a pair of scissors taken to the bottom
to messily cut off a portion. It revealed his star tattoo and that same curling trail of hair on his
lower stomach that Jungkook kept finding his eyes wandering to.

“A gift from his boss apparently,” Jimin said and the other boy snorted. “Crazy, right?”

“What for?”

“For something that I didn’t do,” Jungkook admitted. “My guys think that I attacked that beat cop
‘cos my friend found the cap you gave me. I had to lie ‘cos I couldn’t tell them about you two.”

“Oh yeah? Taking credit for my crime, huh?” Taehyung sat down on the opposite settee and
hunkered forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “You’re a real little fucker Kookie.”

“Guess what?” The boy’s eyebrows twitched at the question. “I got a tattoo.”

“No fucking way man?!” Jimin jerked upright on the settee so fast that he nearly rolled off it.
“Show me right now!”

“I thought that I needed to make an impression so…” Jungkook grabbed the back of his tee collar
as he got to his feet and he dragged it off and dropped it on the cushion. Then he turned around to
show them both his back and Jimin practically squealed.

“Holy shit, man! Oh fuck, look at that thing!” The boy started laughing gleefully and he heard
Taehyung muttering something under his breath across the room.
“Sam Yong Pa are dragons, not lizards. I didn’t want a stupid little thing, I wanted the real deal,”
Jungkook explained as he got his tee and shrugged it back on, wincing slightly as his skin
protested. “I was also kinda drunk too so that helped.” He sat back down and saw Taehyung
staring at him with a blank expression.

“You really are a Sam Yong Pa motherfucker now.”

“Yeah, guess I am.”

“Tae, shut up man it looks good.” Jungkook shifted to grab the parcel and he felt it a few times to
try and figure out what it was. He could feel a bundle of something and a few squeezable bags.
“You look cool, a real punk and not a runner kid now, Kookie.” He smirked at this as he ripped the
parcel open and tipped the contents onto the coffee table. The first thing he saw was a tight roll of
won notes and he was too busy staring at that to notice the other things.

“Fuck me!” Taehyung practically jumped off the settee and placed his hands down on the table,
looking at the various baggies of drugs in front of them.

“Oh…wow,” Jungkook breathed out as he stared at the cocktail of powders and substances. “What
the fuck is all of this?”

“Payment…I think?” Jimin shifted to poke a baggie of white powder with his forefinger.

“Let me check this shit out,” Taehyung grabbed the bag and opened it, taking a quick sniff of the
contents before groaning. “Fuck Kookie, this shit! This shit right here’s China White! Purest and
most toxic fucking heroin on the market!”

“How much is that worth?” The boy weighed the bag in his palm and thought it over.

“One and half, maybe two million won?” Jungkook felt his mouth drop at this and he asked him if
he was joking. “Fuck no, split it up and sell it a baggie at a pop, you’d make that amount no
problem; this’ the shit.”

“And you’re not sampling it,” Jimin declared as he reached over and took the baggie out of his
hand. “Anything but heroin Tae.”
“I’m not fucking stupid Minnie,” Taehyung muttered, already in the act of opening another of the
clear plastic bags and sticking his pinky finger into powder. “Only supermodels use heroin.” He
stuck his finger inside his mouth and rubbed it on his gums and then he practically jolted. “Fuck
man, your boss gave you all of this for free?”

“There’s gotta be a catch,” Jimin said as he shoved the heroin back into the envelope. Jungkook
just shrugged and said that he had been given it all this morning and he didn’t have a clue.

“Coke’s good grade, better than the street shit but not the shit politicians are snorting, let’s put it
that way. Pot’s nothing man. Wouldn’t get much at all for that. Couple of thousand won.”

“You ever do coke before?” Jungkook asked as he studied Taehyung. The boy licked at his gum
line for any traces still in his mouth and then he grinned.

“I’ll try anything once.”

After just one line of cocaine Jungkook suddenly found that he couldn’t feel his back teeth. They
were there but they didn’t seem to be in his mouth but rather floating in his head. It was the
strangest sensation and he found that he didn’t really care about that at all. His fingers couldn’t
seem to keep still and the rolled up 50,000₩ note between them kept tapping on the table
incessantly. The substance dripped down in his throat like a strange IV drip and he found it both
pleasant and weird. He suddenly felt like he could really get up and do things that he had never
thought about before: jump in a car and ride it down a highway with music blaring and his friends
screaming in the backseat; go into a store and just steal so much shit that he didn’t need; get into a
brawl for the first time in his life.

Taehyung didn’t seem to react to the first hit at all so he ended up snorting a dash off the back of
his hand too, letting out a moan of pleasure as he did. The look of ecstasy on his face made
Jungkook’s stomach feel all weird and his mouth get wet with saliva. He slumped against the settee
and closed his eyes and he could see little specks of powder around his nostril.

“Ah man, that shit’s nasty!” Jimin rubbed at his nose roughly and scrunched his face up before
coughing. “Nu-uh, I’m not doing that shit!”

Several minutes later the boy was so hyped that he couldn’t even sit down and instead started
pacing up and down the basement room.

“You know what?” Jungkook declared as he wet his lips with his too wet tongue and blinked
rapidly. “I should become a goon! I should become a fucking goon!”

“You can’t even swing a bat you fucker,” Taehyung retorted as he rolled off the back of the settee
and landed in a slump on the floor. He staggered to his feet and grabbed his bat. “See this? This’ a
fucking bat.”

“Yeah man, a fucking bat. Fucking bat man,” Jimin agreed in a jittery voice.

“This’ how you swing a fucking bat.” Taehyung cocked his arms back and he swung so hard that
he span around in a circle. “Your turn.”

“I wanna smash shit up man!” Jungkook jumped to his feet and grabbed the bat. His fingers
brushed against his as he did and even in his high state he felt a jolt as a result. “I wanna paint the
town fucking red!”

“Let’s go smash shit up.”

Jungkook was to find a lot of things on the streets could be smashed with a metal baseball bat. At
10pm at night it wasn’t very dark out but it was dark enough for the streetlights to activate and to
keep most people indoors. He discovered that mail boxes and trash cans made wonderful sounds
when struck like steel drums. When he raced down the street and dragged the bat along the chain
link fences beside them it made a fantastic static clanging noises. Taehyung smashed abandoned
building windows in so that the glass flew everywhere like raindrops and when Jungkook heard the
shards being crunched underfoot he knew exactly what sound had been produced when the boy
had crushed Hong’s skull with it.

It really was a wonderful sound.

As quick as Jimin’s high had happened he also crashed and it wasn’t long after running across the
district that Jungkook ended up piggybacking him back to the den, his own high fully fading out
and his heart no longer pounding in his chest. Yet Taehyung didn’t seem to come down from his
kite-like level of bliss and it was probably the quick hit that kept him afloat. When they ended up
in the den he wasn’t surprised at all to hear the dissonant wail of police sirens on the air.

“Put him in the bed,” Taehyung said as he held the door for him. Jungkook crossed the room and
dropped the boy on the bed, hearing the springs creaking as he did. Jimin moaned something he
couldn’t understand and then he moved to collapse on the leather settee. His tattoo protested at the
friction of his back rubbing against it but he barely felt it because he was still faintly numb.

“Shit, I’m gonna regret that in the morning…”

“Don’t live with regrets,” Taehyung said as he sat down beside him. The baggie was still open on
the table, several neat lines still spread out lying in wait. “Live with freedom.”

“You’ve got no regrets?”

“…Fuck, I’ve got plenty.” The boy bent to snort another line and then reached up to rub at his nose
and sniff a few times. “Can’t change ‘em though. Gotta live with ‘em.” Jungkook asked him if he
had ever tried and Taehyung laughed. “Some things aren’t even worth trying.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

Taehyung shifted on the seat so that his upper body was twisted towards him and he felt like he
was a little too close. The weight of the boy’s eyes were on his profile and so he just stared at the
lines of coke on the table instead.

“I can’t believe you’re a fucking dragon now,” he said in a quiet voice. He couldn’t tell what
emotion he was conveying. “You’re an angel or maybe a devil, but you’re not a fucking dragon.”

“Then you’re not a fucking star,” Jungkook retorted as he shifted his eyes to look at him. “If I’m
not a Sam Yong Pa dragon then you’re not a Geum Sung Pa star.”

“Y’know that tattoo Minnie’s got, the one with our initials in it?” He nodded at his questions. “He
said that he got that ‘cos I’m his little star and he likes to look at it when I’m not there ‘cos it helps
him sleep. There’s no fucking stars in this city man. Too filthy.”
“There’s plenty of stars, they’re just walking the streets and passing out in the gutters outside
nightclubs,” Jungkook muttered.

“He said he wants to get your name on him too,” Taehyung added as he sniffed and rubbed as his
nose roughly again. “Take it off, I wanna see it again.” He didn’t really have a choice because the
boy started pulling at his tee so he let him roughly drag it off. He twisted to let him look at it and
then he felt his fingers running down his spine softly. The contact of his fingertips left a prickling
sensation in their wake and he found that it felt good even though it hurt. “It’s a god dragon. You
think you’re a god, Kookie?”

“Everyone’s a god in their own minds, right?”

“A Sam Yong Pa god…shit, I’d rather worship a devil.” Taehyung’s fingers trailed along the soft
curves of the dragon’s body and he closed his eyes and followed their path by his touch alone.

“I’m one of those too, remember?” The boy’s fingers rapidly moved upwards to snag tightly in his
hair and he felt him tugging hard. “Ow, Tae what the fuck?!”

“Listen,” Taehyung said, chin digging into his shoulder and breath on his neck. “This’ stupid OK?
It’s fucking stupid. You shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be talking right now and we all know it.
We’re all acting like stupid kids pretending that we can all be friends and it’ll all work out in the
end.” The boy was talking in a voice that wasn’t exactly steady and Jungkook found swallowing
hard to do with his head pulled back so far. “It’s gonna end badly.”

“You dunno that.”

“I know that Sam Yong Pa fuck everything up and that’s all I need to know. Dragons destroy
things.”

“So do stars, when they fucking explode,” Jungkook retorted. “Are you gonna explode Tae?”
Taehyung didn’t reply and he felt his breath, feather soft and uneven against his throat.

“…Maybe,” he said after a moment of silence, the word a whisper. His fingers loosened their tight
grip in his hair so Jungkook lowered his head and turned it slightly. His nose brushed against
Taehyung’s cheek.
“I don’t destroy things,” Jungkook said in a quiet voice.

“It feels like you've broken something,” Taehyung muttered. “It feels like you’ve crashed into mine
and Minnie’s lives and you’ve fucking destroyed everything. And I…I dunno why but I feel like
it’s a good thing.”

“What’d you mean?”

“You blew all of the shit away and everything needs rebuilding but it’s like a new beginning.” He
turned his head ever so slightly but it was enough to make their noses touch. “A Sam Yong Pa
fucker…” Taehyung said, lips brushing against his. Jungkook couldn’t hold his eyes so he dropped
them to look past him instead, “and you fucking broke me.”

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“Good, I hope it fucking stings-”

Taehyung’s lips cut him off and Jungkook didn’t move his head away. He let him press their
mouths together and then he let him lick at his lower lip until he opened his mouth. Taehyung
didn’t kiss him tenderly, he forced his tongue into his mouth and he didn’t seem to want to let him
breathe. When Jungkook tried to break the contact his hand found his back and his fingers pressed
into the tattoo, making him gasp in pained surprise before he was being kissed again. The boy
moaned into his mouth and bit at his still sore lip and Jungkook suddenly figured out what the
sensation he had felt the entire time that he had known him was.

Taehyung’s fingers kept digging into his skin even when the pain was enough to make him cry out
against his lips and he didn’t know why but he didn’t want him to stop doing it. It made his heart
start racing and it hurt but it also made a heat start to spread in the pit of his stomach and-

There was a harsh retching sound from across the room and Jungkook twisted his head just in time
to catch Jimin rolling onto his stomach so that he could hang his head over the side of the bed. He
vomited all over the floor, liquid splashing sounds mixing with his retching and then he let out a
groan and dropped his head on the mattress.
Talk about ruining a moment.
 4am Fucked Up

The sunlight today was so strong that Jungkook needed to squint even with his snapback on his
head, the one that Yoongi had given him just two weeks ago. The brim blocked most of the rays
out but they reflected off windows and the chrome bodies of cars and as a result there was always
an annoying beam of sunlight just waiting to get in his eyes and make his sore brain throb.
Jungkook fixed his backpack straps with a heavy and tired sigh, feeling the bag rubbing against his
tattoo as he did. He had been working for three hours now and he still had five clients to see to. It
was better than the list he had been expecting but yesterday morning he had not expected to get
back at the den at 10am with a raging cocaine headache. To top it off Yoongi also had a special
meal planned in the evening for the pair of them at Kim Bistro and he just prayed that the horrible
aching would be gone by then. If not the day was going to be terrible and he didn’t want to ruin the
evening because it had been an entire year since it had last happened and that meant he needed to
be headache-free and happy for his friend.

Jungkook decided that he was probably never going to use cocaine ever again. It had felt like fun
last night snorting a line or two and then shuddering with a sudden burst of energy that made him
feel invincible and fantastic. It was better than the occasional state of drunkenness that he had felt
in the past from swallowing soju shots, better than the marijuana too, for both of those things had
made him feel foggy and light; as if he was floating away and he couldn’t remember much when
he sobered back up again. Sampling the cocaine had made him feel as sharp as the blade of a knife,
had made his senses tune perfectly and he could remember pretty much everything that had
happened. Maybe it was for the best that he did remember it all for at least he wouldn’t have had
the same fiasco he had had when waking up in bed with Taehyung; that horrible sense of
confusion.

But with the clarity came several things that he really didn’t need that much. First, the cocaine had
given him a raging headache. It was one that he felt in his brain, around his eye sockets and jaw
from the tension, and it was so bad that it made him feel a little nauseous. A part of him wondered
if it was just the cocaine or maybe a mixture of things, like the baseball smashing spree they had
went on that also meant his shoulders and elbows were aching, or the fact that Taehyung had skull
ragged him a few hard times over the duration of the evening. The second thing was that he could
remember was said smashing spree. Jungkook felt not only embarrassed of his behaviour but also
shocked that he had played along with the stupid game. They had smashed trash cans and broken
windows, had caused mischief and likely scared a lot of people with the racket that they had made.
It wasn’t right that he had done that when he liked avoiding causing trouble as much as he could;
preferring steady and quiet running rather than risky and dangerous. They could have been arrested
for that behaviour and he was surprised that they hadn’t been. The third and final thing was
Taehyung.
Oh boy, where did he even begin?

Jimin had been a wreck this morning so at least he knew that he wasn’t the only one of them that
was in agony. The boy hadn’t even wanted to get out of the bed but he had had to, refusing to open
his eyes the entire time he had gotten dressed because he had said that it hurt him too much to do
so. It was no wonder he felt so bad and he had only had a single line of the cocaine before fizzing
out and vomiting himself back awake again. It was rather amusing how sensitive to drugs he was
when he made a living running them but Taehyung wasn’t sensitive, not at all.

Taehyung must have snorted four lines of cocaine not including the little chases off the back of his
hand over the duration of the night. He hadn’t vomited, hadn’t seemed to react badly to it, and it
showed that he was rather used to the high and the crash that drugs caused. It was almost enough to
make Jungkook mad but it wasn’t like he could be. No one had made him snort the two lines he
had, Jungkook had made that decision himself and now he was deciding to never touch cocaine
ever again.

Through his tee he could feel his tender tattoo and he just knew that the skin would be pink from
where Taehyung’s fingers had dug in and squeezed and he also regretted letting him do that. Now
that he wasn’t buzzing from the coke high he couldn’t believe that he had allowed the boy to do
something like that. It had hurt when he had and it still hurt now and Jungkook felt something akin
to disgusted embarrassment that he had somewhat enjoyed it. He didn’t know why he had, only
that he had liked the fact that Taehyung had told him that he had broken him and that it had hurt
him a lot. That seemed to balance out for him, for Jungkook had told Jimin not that long ago that
Taehyung had hurt him too.

What had Taehyung meant by that exactly? And what had he meant when he had told Jimin that
too?

Jungkook had said those words to the other boy upon finding out about Hong’s death and the
subsequent trouble that Taehyung’s brawling had caused. At the time he had meant that the pain
was the result of that; the fact that he had been scared that he wouldn’t get to see them again and
that he would have to snitch on them and get them both in trouble. But now he wasn’t quite so sure
that that was what it was, or at least not entirely. There was that strange feeling that he always got
in the boy’s presence, the sensation that had felt like nerves and made him feel a little sick. He
didn’t feel that with Jimin, didn’t feel that with Yoongi or Seokjin or even Hoseok when he barely
knew him. What it was about Taehyung that made him feel so nervous that he couldn’t put his
finger on had been the thought that had plagued him for over a week now and Jungkook felt that he
was getting close to an answer at least. He knew that the reason that Taehyung made him feel that
way because he had something dangerously close to a crush on him. Just the thought was enough
to make him feel like puking but it was the truth whether or not he wanted to admit to it.

A crush.
A crush on a Geum Sung Pa goon that had murdered more people than he even knew about and
liked digging his fingers into his tattoo for sick kicks.

Jungkook stopped skating when he reached Yangun-ro and instead jumped off his board to go
down the narrow alleyway. His client was waiting at a bus stop just a few feet away and after a
minute they appeared in the entrance.

“Go,” the middle-aged woman said curtly as so he rooted in the backpack and grabbed the marked
manilla envelope and held it out to her. She shoved her envelope into his hands and was placing the
one he had given her in her hemp tote bag before exiting the alley without another word. Jungkook
watched her go as he zipped the backpack up and wondered if they would all be like that today and
save him the trouble of small talk. It would be a blessing but he doubted that that would be the
case. Satisfied that it was nice and secure he shrugged the bag up onto his aching back and exited
the alley to keep on skating. Next on the list was Dongbaek-ro and he had no doubts that he was
going to need to avoid a certain police officer when he passed Songnim Park.

What Taehyung had meant by his words was pretty clear and yet he didn’t want to dwell on them.
He didn’t want to think about the fact that the boy had said words like ‘broken’ and ‘destroyed’
and about how much it hurt before kissing him; as if these words were somewhat synonymous for
things like love. It was enough to make him scoff, the idea of love. Jungkook loved only a few
people and Taehyung was certainly not as high on the list as he thought he was. Yet he hadn’t
stopped him yesterday when he had kissed him, hadn’t pushed him away. He had let him kiss him
and when Jimin had came around and had vomited all over the floor Jungkook had felt a little
something like annoyance that he had interrupted them. He wouldn’t admit these things to
Taehyung of course, not even if the other boy shook him hard and shouted at him again, or if he
dug his fingers into his tattoo and made his skin throb in agony. He wouldn’t say anything to the
boy that he could possibly have used against him.

Taehyung would stop calling him a Sam Yong Pa fucker and give him a new nickname instead:
Sam Yong Pa cocksucker.

“Pft, he wishes,” Jungkook muttered under his breath as a car passed him and the sunlight reflected
off the chrome and went right into his eyes. He pulled his lips in with a hiss and made a mental
note to swallow as many pills as he could when he got back to the den to make his head stop
aching so badly.

He skated onto the next corner and saw a parked squad car at the very end of the curb and though
his heart leapt into his throat he didn’t let a single thing show on his face that would give him
away. The car was empty and that meant that the officer - or officers - were on the street or inside
one of the buildings on this block. Hopefully doing something important enough to let him get
through the area without any trouble. How many kids possibly fitted the description of him that the
assaulted officer could have given? Dark hair, no obviously notable features on his face that would
make him stand out like a birthmark, no visible tattoos. Jungkook could blend in easily unlike
Jimin and his fire engine red hair and Taehyung and his unmissable tattoos. He would have no
trouble at all and yet he still felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that the police were looking for
him. It was the first time in his life that was wasn’t just avoiding them to save himself from getting
collared for looking suspicious, but actually avoiding them because he would get arrested.

Yet another thing to thank Taehyung for.

The morning seemed to drag and he was impatient as enough. He didn’t want to be out in the heat
with an aching head but he had no choice and he just needed to get the list complete so that he
could go back to the den, clean up, and spend the evening with Yoongi. So he just kept his head
down and concentrated on getting the job done. He hadn’t made a mistake yet and he wasn’t going
to fuck up Siwon’s deals today even when he felt like shit.

The client on Dongbaek-ro turned out to be none other than Hongsuk and Jungkook mentally
cursed at this as he handed the envelope of cocaine over to the twitching man and accepted his own
in return. There were no muttered words about his girl leaving him or anything like that, just the
stink of booze coming off him in waves and a sideways stagger in his steps as he walked down the
street. He watched him go and looked over the road to see that Namjoon was at the coffee kiosk. It
was quite some distance away but he could see the light grey uniform shirt and he knew that it was
him. Jungkook sighed and wondered if there was any point in going over to see him. He had nearly
forty-five minutes on his schedule and it would only take him ten to get to the next road. But what
would the young officer say when he saw him? Would he have any clue about what had happened
or would he maybe not have a clue that he had been involved in the assault on his fellow officer?
After a minute or so of thought he decided to brave it and jumped his board to skate across the road
and in the direction of the kiosk.

“I thought you really had ran off and became a Buddhist monk,” Namjoon remarked as he pulled
up to the kiosk. Jungkook didn’t sit down but rather just leaned on the very end of the counter, one
foot still on the board and the other on the pavement. “Been awhile, huh kid?”

“Too long,” he agreed quietly. “My shoulders aren’t really handling things well right now either. I
think they might just break soon if I keep piling shit on them.” Narae shifted to go over to the
coffee machine and he told her that he didn’t want one, that he wasn’t planning on staying longer
than a minute or two.

“You know kid, I was looking into what you were talking about the other week: about gang
activity. Turn out that I underestimated a lot of things. Haeundae-gu probably has the highest
figures of reported - and suspected - gang activity in the entirety of Busan. And it’s not getting any
better.”
“It’s getting worse, a lot worse.”

“And how would you know about that kid?” Jungkook didn’t reply and instead he just stared at the
racks of magazines and newspapers in front of him. “There’s been murders,” Namjoon added after
a moment of silence. “There’s been a few but they’ve been all over the region and not just in this
district. Seems there’s a change coming and the streets are going to get real dangerous soon, and
the trouble is a lot of innocent people are going to get hurt because of this. Not just petty gangsters,
but actual good people.”

“Some gangsters are good people too,” Jungkook argued, “and they shouldn’t get hurt either. It’s
not about good and evil anymore, it’s about who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time; about
who gets in the way when they shouldn’t.” He fixed one of the backpack straps and was rewarded
with a burning itch on his back.

“You know anything about that? You know anything about any police officers that might have
gotten in the way and got hurt?” He shifted to look over at Namjoon and he saw that the man was
looking at him openly, not trying to be discreet.

“I know that people are gonna get hurt but I dunno who. I just hope that it’s not people that I care
about. I don’t care about anyone else: innocent bystanders, police, gang members. I used to care
but now…”

“Kid, you don't have to fight someone else’s battles.” Namjoon shifted on the stool so that he was
directly facing him. “I’m not stupid, I’ve known you’ve been working for one of those gangs for a
long time now. But you don’t have to do that, you can get out. You’re just a pawn, that’s it.
They’ve got a whole bunch of kids just lined you to replace you with like an assembly line.”

“Officer Kim, you’re preaching to the converted,” Jungkook muttered. “I’ve known that since I
was twelve fucking years old but there’s a difference. I’m good. The gang need me ‘cos I don’t
fuck up.”

“Then why does it seem - to me anyway - that you’ve done a little fucking up these past couple of
days?” Namjoon’s eyebrow lifted at the question and he felt the most pressing urge to gnaw on his
lip. “Kid, you could do so much. You could bring most of those men down if you were smart
enough to get out.”
“If I was smart enough to sell out you mean?” The officer didn’t respond to this and Jungkook
stopped leaning on the counter of the kiosk. “Look, I appreciate the concern. I really do, I’m not
joking around. But it’s not that easy to just change things.” He was aware of the fact that he
sounded just like Taehyung right now and yet he didn’t care. “We just gotta keep moving
forward.”

The interior of Kim Bistro was completely empty like it was every year that Yoongi dragged him
to it. He didn’t know whether his friend managed to buy it out - which would require a ridiculously
high amount of cash - or whether he managed to pull a few strings with Seokjin and get the place
emptied. Jungkook had never been inside it when it had been packed with people before and he
didn’t ever want to. The kind of people that frequented the restaurant were the kind that he
staunchly wanted to avoid: CEOs and presidents of businesses, famous celebrities that could afford
to get around the paparazzi somehow, even politicians. No, he much preferred being inside when it
was empty because it meant that he didn’t need to worry about people staring at him, about
looking good enough to be allowed in, about what he could and couldn’t say.

Right now he was dressed in a way that wouldn’t allow him to even step on the front porch, never
mind get through the door. He wasn’t wearing jeans at least, but his black trousers weren’t
expensive and a single look would reveal this fact, as would the white shirt he had managed to find
folded away in the bottom drawer of one of the dressers. The creases still felt to be in the fabric
even after he had tried getting them out with Sunmi’s iron in the back room of the den, using a
broken table from the storefront rather than an actual board. He had no dress shoes at all but there
was at least a tie around his throat that he absolutely despised: borrowed from Jaebum and
hopefully not used in one of his strip poker games. It was black and had a gold dragon stitched on
the bottom and looking at the colours made him think of Jimin’s tattoo: the black and gold star on
the back of his ear. Jungkook recalled Yoongi’s joke about never seeing him in a suit and this
would be the closest he was going to get: wrinkled white shirt and cheap black trousers, a friend’s
tie and a pair of battered sneakers on his feet.

“Kid, you look fucking stupid,” Yoongi said as he climbed out of the taxi behind him.

“Look who’s talking,” Jungkook retorted as he turned on his heel to look at his friend, hands
shoved into his trouser pockets. Yoongi wasn’t wearing a single piece of colour and rather just
black, as if he was going to a funeral rather than to a restaurant. He had made his remark upon
seeing him back in the den and Yoongi had said that he was wearing the colours in mourning for
the cow that they were going to be eating soon. He had chosen a black shirt with a high collar,
black trousers and leather shoes that looked to have been shined; and he looked a lot smarter than
he did. But there was still a feeling coming off him that he would much rather be in his jeans and a
tee that was three sizes too large for his svelte frame. “How’s Hoseok?”

“Settling in, I guess?” Yoongi said as he slammed the door shut and glanced at the restaurant front
window. “I haven’t seen him much, been running constantly since he got here. Doesn’t fuck
around, I’ll give him that. Boss will like him a lot.”

“I like him,” Jungkook said as the man on the door pushed the door open and held it for him.
Yoongi stayed on the curb for a moment longer, pulling at his shirt sleeves as if trying to fix
imaginary creases out of the material. He cocked his head in the direction of the open doorway and
his friend sighed and then crossed the sidewalk to get the door. “I think he’ll do good.”

“Not as good as you kid, but that’s to be expected.”

It was pretty obvious which table had been prepared for them because it was the one with the red
tablecloth over it, black menu holders left out along with little folded satin napkins with cutlery
inside. Jungkook saw no sign of Seokjin inside and he knew that he would be back in the kitchen;
the only chef in there of course like every year. Being the son of the family that owned the
restaurant had benefits, and being friends with said son had them too. He contemplated going into
the kitchen but settled for moving to sit at the table instead. As he settled into the seat his shirt
rubbed against the tattoo and it made it itch annoyingly. He was sick and tired of the sensation and
he couldn’t wait for the skin to heal up soon and stop hurting. Taehyung wasn’t going to dig his
fingers into his skin again if he could help it.

“Stings, huh?” Yoongi asked as he sat down on the opposite side of the table, grin on his face that
revealed that he knew about his tattoo. Jungkook sighed and muttered about how much he
regretted picking a big tattoo. “You picked a big one ‘cos you’re fucking stupid.”

“I’ve seen some pretty stupid tattoos,” he said, all the while thinking about Taehyung’s neck
grenade, “and I thought that mine was pretty cool.”

“Little kid, big dragon,” Yoongi said in his best scholarly tone. He picked up one of the menu
holders and opened it before putting it back down with a sigh. “Jin!” He hollered, loud enough so
that his voice echoed off the walls and filled the empty restaurant. “What the fuck are you
cooking, huh?!” The kitchen door swung outwards and the other man stuck his head through the
gap.

“I’ll cook you if you don’t stop shouting,” he said and yet there was a smile on his face. “It’s
nearly finished so just be patient, alright?” And with that he popped back into the kitchen and
Jungkook looked back at his friend. Yoongi smiled to himself and then shoved the menu holder
aside so that he could fold his arms on the table top.

“You’ve been missing a lot recently, huh kid?” he said after a moment of silence. “Haven’t been in
the den like usual, sleeping in the apartment room until 3pm or trying to learn poker from Jaebum
and getting cheated out of pepero sticks.”

“I’ve been on the streets a lot, just skating around. The weather’s nice so I like being out in it
instead of cooped up indoors all day,” Jungkook lied, thinking about his aching head this morning
and how badly he had wanted it to rain. His friend made a soft noise at this and then a mischievous
smirk appeared on his face.

“You got a girl?”

“No.”

“Boy?”

“…No,” Jungkook moved his own holder aside too but he didn’t fold his arms on the table and
instead just left his hands in his lap. He felt the need to fiddle and he had to interlock his fingers to
stop him from doing so. “I told you, just hanging around on the streets.”

“You’re not causing trouble are you?” A head shake. “Looking for any?” Another brisk head shake.
“Good.”

“You know, I’ve been seeing you in the den these days more often than not too. You haven’t been
working as much as usual,” Yoongi confirmed this with a lazy shrug. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah kid, everything’s fine.” Jungkook studied his face and he decided that he wasn’t being a
hundred percent honest with him, which was fine because he hadn’t been honest with him either.
But why not? Was this like the situation that Seokjin had told him about the other week; about
how his friend kept a lot of baggage and worries and rarely shared them without anyone? He didn’t
know what else to say to him and so he just remained silent and after several minutes Seokjin was
pushing the kitchen door open with his shoulder and carrying a large tray into the dining area. He
was dressed just like always but a little more finely. He looked less like a chef and more like
someone that might actually dine in the restaurant: dressed in a white shirt with black buttons with
the sleeves rolled up to stop them from getting dirty whilst he had been cooking, paired with fitted
black trousers with a high waist that certainly cost more than Jungkook’s did. He looked good,
maybe good enough to be seen sitting in their den one day brokering deals on a phone like the rest
of the drug dealers.

“Filet mignon in red wine sauce with a side of artichoke hearts,” Seokjin announced as he lifted the
plates from the black tray and placed them down on the table. Yoongi shifted to get to his feet as
he was placing down glasses of wine and he pulled the last chair out for him as if he was a date
trying to be courteous. The other man studied this and then placed the empty tray on the nearest
table. “I can sit down on my own,” he said, but Yoongi still pushed the chair in regardless.

“What’s an artichoke exactly?” Jungkook asked as he lifted his fork and poked at the little pile of
thin slivers.

“A European plant used in cooking.”

“It’s not an animal?”

“No Yoongi, it’s not an animal.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi said as he sat back down and stared at the plate. Jungkook speared one of
these little slivers and placed it in his mouth, finding that it had a mild flavour that was somewhat
buttery and creamy. It was strange but he liked it.

“You’re both pretending, aren’t you?” Seokjin asked as he lifted his own glass of wine and took a
slight sip of it. “I know that you live on instant food all day, every day, but surely you both knew
what an artichoke was?”

“Nope,” Jungkook said around a mouthful of said plant. The man shook his head as he put the
glass down and then Yoongi was gingerly poking at his own pile of artichoke as if it was a snake
and it might rear up and bite him. “But let’s stop talking about them and just eat.”

It was good advice and his friends followed it perfectly. Jungkook didn’t really drink wine, he
much preferred the occasional soju shot instead, but it tasted pleasant enough to his tongue and he
knew that Seokjin’s trained palate had matched it up perfectly with the food that they were eating.
The colour was a deep red just like the tablecloth and walls and he liked swirling it around the
glass and watching the liquid lap against the thin sides. Yoongi finally plucked up the courage to
eat the artichoke but he managed to make it look like a challenge, made the first sample look like
some monumental show of strength. He didn’t do that with the filet mignon however, for he ate it
without a single complaint. He might be mourning the cow in his all-black ensemble but he greatly
enjoyed eating it whilst he did.

“Have you two been talking properly?” Seokjin asked, breaking the silence in a quiet voice as he
drank the last mouthful of wine in his glass. At the question Jungkook glanced at him and then
looked over at his friend. Yoongi furrowed his brow at the question and then he asked him what he
was talking about. “You two are keeping secrets from each other like always, I know that you are.
So I thought that it would be a good time for you both to talk to another. Am I wrong to assume
that?” Jungkook thought that he was wrong to bring it up right now but he kept his tongue and
instead waited to see if the other man would speak first.

“The fuck have you told him, kid?” Yoongi asked as he put his fork down on the plate and shifted
in his seat.

“Nothing.”

“That’s right, you told me nothing and that’s the problem,” Seokjin said in a matter of fact tone.
“And I see that you didn’t take my advice on the matter.”

“You told me to lie to him,” Jungkook retorted as he glared at the other man. “You told me to lie to
him to make him stop worrying and I didn’t lie, I just didn’t say a thing to him. Isn’t that better
than not lying?”

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck you’re both talking about.”

“It’s nothing, OK, it’s nothing at all so I don’t need to-” Jungkook stopped talking and reached
over to grab the napkin of the table, wrinkling it between his fingers tightly and ruining the perfect
material. “It’s nothing.” Yoongi muttered that it didn’t sound like nothing at all and he closed his
eyes. “Yoongi, look you need to listen to me. Don’t interrupt, just listen to me OK?” His friend
didn’t react, didn’t blink or say a single word so he took a deep and let it out in a sigh. “I have some
new friends, I have two new friends that I met a week or so ago. I didn’t tell you about them
‘cos…‘cos they’re not from Sam Yong Pa and-”

“Your friends don’t have to be gang members, they can be normal kids.”

“But they’re not normal kids. They’re…Yoongi they’re Geum Sung Pa kids.”
The restaurant went so silent that Jungkook could hear the faint droning of the traffic from outside
and he suddenly didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Should he try and recover by explaining
everything? Should he just wait to see what Yoongi had to say and then open his mouth to save
himself from saying something stupid? A quick glance at Seokjin showed that his friend looked
uncertain about it too; not having ties with the gang meant that he didn’t care about the rivalry but
he was no doubt figuring out that it meant a lot to Yoongi. After nearly a minute of silence
Jungkook opened his mouth to speak but before he could even stammer something out Yoongi
shoved his chair out.

“Break it off.”

“But-but they’re my friends!”

“Break it the fuck off kid.”

“Yoongi, maybe you should-”

“I don’t care what happened Jin, I don’t care if they bumped into each other at fucking Starbucks, I
don’t give a shit. Break it off.”

“I haven’t even said anything and-”

“No, stop talking. Stop talking about Geum Sung Pa to me!” Yoongi raised his voice in something
that edged very close to a shout and Jungkook recoiled hard, barely even feeling the stinging on his
back when it brushed against the padded back of the chair.

This was the famed Yoongi temper that he had heard about and right now it was directed right at
him for the first time in his entire life.

“Do you even know what the fuck you’re saying right now? You made friends with Geum Sung Pa
kids? With our rival gang, the same fucking gang that’s been attacking and killing our men and
causing all kinds of shit?”
“They’re not like that Yoongi,” Jungkook argued as he threw his napkin on the table. “You won’t
even let me fucking speak!”

“Don’t swear at me kid, don’t fucking do that! Geum Sung Pa! You might as well befriend a
fucking undercover cop, they’d fuck you over less harder!” he spat. “You’re gonna fucking regret
it, kid, I swear.”

“Is it ‘cos they’re Geum Sung Pa or is it ‘cos you don’t want me having any friends that aren’t
you?! You tell me that I can have friends but every time I even try to make any you’re there, ready
to fucking break it all up!”

“I’m looking out for you kid, I know the kinda people you wanna avoid and you just seem to keep
on searching for ‘em just to get under my skin!”

“They’re my friends, I like them, you can’t stop me from doing anything! You’re not my fucking
mom and-”

Yoongi snatched his wine glass off the table and tossed it across the room and the remainders in
the bottom flew out and splashed all over the floor. The glass itself shattered and Jungkook felt his
heart leap all of the way up into his throat. Seokjin jolted in his chair but their friend didn’t make a
move for him and instead Yoongi crossed the room to shove the kitchen door open, hard enough so
that it slammed against the back wall with a loud thud that made him jump in surprise.

“Wait there, let me talk to him.” Seokjin pushed his own chair out and hastily followed after him,
disappearing into the other room but his voice sounding before the door shut fully. “Yoongi, calm
down you’re shouting and you need to-”

Jungkook could feel annoyance spreading through him and he wanted to get up and leave but at the
same time he couldn’t. Not when Yoongi had stormed off into the kitchen like that and had left
him sitting at the table like a naughty child, Seokjin running along after him telling him to just
calm down and stop yelling. Why had he done that? He had told him the truth and he had been
honest and yet Yoongi was so mad that he wished that he hadn’t. The other man had told him to lie
to their friend to make him feel better and to make him stop worrying all of the time and yet he had
thought that it was wrong to do so. After everything that Yoongi had done for him he deserved to
know the truth and now the truth had caused more trouble than he had possibly imagined. And he
had imagined the scenario about Yoongi getting mad, just not as strongly as this. He had expected
disgust and annoyance, to be called all kinds of names for acting so stupidly, but he hadn’t
expected this. Jungkook hated the fact that he felt so small right now and his hands were shaking in
his lap so badly that he had to roll them up into fists to make his fingers stop doing so.
He couldn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen and he didn’t know if this was a good thing or
a bad thing. If Yoongi was still yelling then he should have heard him even through the door, but
there wasn’t even the low sound of voices so that meant that he had at least stopped shouting. What
the hell was Seokjin even saying to him in there? What could the man possibly tell him to make
him calm down and think about this all rationally? He didn’t have a clue but Jungkook supposed
that he was doing something and he was thankful for that. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say
and if Yoongi suddenly stormed back into the restaurant and fired questions at him he would
probably jump to his feet and run out of the building just to get away from him.

Jungkook thought that he should say sorry; that he should just go into the other room and get on
his knees and tell him that he was so sorry for fucking up and hope that the humility of doing so
might make Yoongi listen to him. The idea of getting on his knees for his friend didn’t seem right
at all but maybe it was what he was going to have to do to fix this situation. He took a few deep
breaths to calm himself down and then he decided that he should do so and so he got to his feet and
slowly crossed the room, weaving around the empty tables until he was at the door and he placed
his hand on the black polished wood. Jungkook pushed it ever so slightly and as he did it opened it
and the sound of his two friends talking came through the crack.

“…a kid Yoongi and you know he didn’t mean it like that.”

“If Lim found out Jin then he’d be in so much trouble. I ain’t talking getting his ass beat I’m
talking getting his ass put in the ground.”

“Over something like that? Over having a pair of Geum Sung Pa friends?”

“Yeah, over something like that. It’s much more than a stupid fucking friendship Jin it’s
everything. Geum Sung Pa have hospitalised twenty of our men this week alone and there’s been
three more deaths. Just like Hong. Three.” Yoongi was talking in a tone that was best described as
frantic and it was only then that Jungkook realised that his friend was scared and not just mad. This
wasn’t a simple case of him pissing him off but rather something much larger than that. Yoongi
was scared because he had gotten himself into a stupid and dangerous situation and now he was
trying to figure out how the hell to get him out of it again. “They’ve been getting info somehow.
They’ve been getting info on our meetings and our shit and someone’s gotta be ratting us out and-”

“You think Jungkook would do something like that?”

“no,” he said over Seokjin. “No, he would never do that shit but that’s not what everyone else is
gonna think, is it? They’re gonna hear about a dumb fucking kid and they’re gonna pin it all on
him. That’s what’s gonna happen, trust me I’ve seen it all before. I’ve seen what happens when
lines get tangled and-”

“Yoongi, that’s different. That’s my family.”

Jungkook decided to push the door open a little wider so that he could actually look inside of the
kitchen and after a second he caught sight of them both. They were standing just beside the counter
that he had sat on that day his friend had cooked food for him and tried to give him advice, and
right now Seokjin was doing the exact same except with Yoongi.

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen what happens. I made choices and maybe I fucked up with those choices
but-”

“We’re not going to talk about that anymore,” Seokjin reached over to place a hand on his shoulder
and Yoongi stopped talking and instead buried his face in his own hands with a low groan.
“Jungkook.”

“Kid’s supposed to be smart. How could he be so fucking stupid?” his friend muttered through his
fingers. “Hong was killed by a Geum Sung Pa kid. That’s what happened, that’s what everyone
knows. That kid could be his friend, that kid could hurt him too. Geum Sung Pa don’t hire many
kids, ‘specially not goons. Runners maybe, but not goons I mean…a fucking kid?”

“Maybe he knows that kid, maybe he doesn’t. Does it matter if he does?” Seokjin asked and
Yoongi lowered his hands so that he could peek over his fingertips at him. “You knew Hong,
remotely. He was a goon in your gang and you knew his name and face and that was it. Does it
matter that much that he’s dead?”

“He was a brother-”

“No, no he wasn’t he was a gang member. He wasn’t a brother he was a business partner and
nothing more. Yoongi, Jungkook is your brother. He’s the kind of person that you should be
worrying about not a goon you never said three words to.” The other man spoke in a soft voice,
steady and calm and not at all uneven like the words that came out of Yoongi’s mouth. “He’s the
closest thing that you have to a brother and you know he needs you.”

“I know, I know.”
“So stop shouting at him. You scared the shit out of him Yoongi and I don’t think you even
realised because you were too busy shouting and getting mad to even see it. I think you really upset
him yelling at him like that.” The other man sighed and reached up to rub at his brow as if nursing
a headache. Right now Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if he had one, after all of the stress that he
had put him through. “Jungkook is smart, just like you said. He wouldn’t make a mistake. He must
have spent a lot of time just thinking it over and if he thinks that his friend are safe then they must
be. We don’t know them, we can’t assume. Hell, a lot of people would find out about you and
think that you’re not a safe friend for him to have either.”

“Shit Jin, you’re lucky that your face’s too beautiful to punch,” Yoongi said before laughing softly
under his breath. Seokjin’s thumb gently moved along his shoulder, rubbing the material of his
black shirt and making the most softest rustling sound. “I’m just sick…OK? I’m sick of everything.
Fucking Sam Yong Pa and fucking Geum Sung Pa; sick of people licking my boots to make sure
that I don’t get their car tires slashed or maybe break their noses. I’m just sick of it all and right
now I’ve got all of this too. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Why do you think that you have to do anything?”

“…‘Cos I can’t let anything bad happen to him. I can’t let the others find out. What if one of ‘em
sees the kid with his stupid friends? What then? Sees him with two kids tatted up with stars like
flashing red lights? He’ll be torn apart Jin, and I mean that literally. I can’t let him get hurt ‘cos he
made one fucking mistake in his entire life and that mistake was being a kid and wanting to have
some friends.” Yoongi closed his eyes and when he breathed out the sound was ragged.

“Fuck Sam Yong Pa,” Seokjin said as he shifted and placed his other hand on the counter, leaning
his weight onto his wrist.

“Can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I’m in too deep. I got nearly ten years and I can’t walk out now. They’ll kill me too for selling ‘em
short and at this point I almost wish that they would so I’d have to stop fucking for ‘em.”

“Jungkook might still be a kid Yoongi, but at some point he’s going to be an adult and you can’t
keep shielding him from everything. You’ve done so much these past six years, keeping him off
the streets, keeping him away from drugs and all of that shit that comes with the job. Six solid
years, I think you don’t realize how long that is.” Seokjin paused for a moment and then he added.
“He’s already gotten a tattoo.”

“I know, shit I’m gonna murder Jaebum I swear that fucking-” Yoongi’s free hand rolled up tightly
into a fist, “I had to pretend that I wanted him to get one. I had to cheer and joke and practically
hold his fucking hand whilst he got that dragon on his back and I felt like I was dying every single
second that I did. I didn’t want this. Three months until he’s eighteen and I was trying to sort
something out. Trying to…to find a way to get him out of this stupid gang but then it all blew up in
my face.”

Jungkook was frozen on the spot and he was aware of the fact that he wasn’t breathing but he
didn’t quite seem capable of doing so right now. Yoongi was talking and yet all of the words
coming out of his mouth didn’t sound like Yoongi at at all. This wasn’t his friend of six years that
had paved the road for him to get involved in Sam Yong Pa and had seemed to greatly support his
running and ties with the gang. This wasn’t the friend that he shared beds with and yet at the same
time it was and Jungkook was only just discovering how much of Yoongi he really didn’t know;
the side that he kept hidden from him.

“Jin, he beat the shit outta a cop.”

“Did he? Or did his friend do it instead?”

“…I dunno anymore,” Yoongi muttered after a moment of thought. “I dunno what the kid’s
capable of ‘cos he’s just…he’s changing and I’m not. I think that’s what it is. He’s moving
forward and I don’t want him to, I want him to stay seventeen forever and never have to worry
about this fucking gang but that’s not how the world works, right?”

“Why didn’t you tell him these things, Yoongi?” Seokjin asked in a quiet voice. “Why was it one
big game of pretend?”

“Y’know what happened last time I stopped pretending,” he replied and the kitchen fell silent for a
moment. Jungkook felt like maybe he should slip back into the other room and sit down at the
table and yet he couldn’t do that yet. Yoongi was staring at the other man with an expression that
was hard to read and Seokjin shifted so that he wasn’t leaning on the counter anymore, instead
crossing his arms over his chest. “I broke the bastard’s fucking nose.”

“I know, he never shuts up about it.” Yoongi moved forward a step to get closer to their friend,
putting his hands on his upper arms, and Seokjin sighed. “You should have told him those things.
Jungkook’s your brother so you should be honest with him.”

“Jin I…I keep thinking about what life might’ve been like if I’d have got out that one time I had a
chance. If I’d have cleared the account out and just got the fuck outta Busan with you and the kid
and did something honest with my life. Not scaring people into submission, not ruining fucking
lives. And I think that it’d be good, that we’d be happy.” Yoongi’s fingers tightened on his arms
and the material of his shirt wrinkled between his fingers but he didn’t look at him but rather just
stare past him as he spoke. “I’m not happy. I’m sick and angry all of the time, I’m scared and I’m
not happy.”

“You’re an honest man, Yoongi.”

“No, I’m a bully.”

“If you weren’t honest then Jungkook wouldn’t be the way he was right now, would he?” Seokjin
asked as he unfolded his arms and reached over to cup the other man’s cheek with one hand rather
than his shoulder. “He would had lied to you and he wouldn’t have told you about the Geum Sung
Pa kids, right?” His thumb was on his cheekbone and Yoongi finally shifted his gaze to hold his
eyes. “You need to stop thinking about what could have been and instead concentrate on making
what will be what you want it to be.”

“I’ve only wanted two things in my entire life and I’ve gotten neither of them. I wanted Jungkook
to get the fuck outta Sam Yong Pa before he ended up dead, and I wanted you. I got nothing. And I
know, I understand the shit with your family I understand that but Jin…just give me something.
Please. I’m going fucking crazy.” Yoongi moved his face forward and he stopped just a mere inch
away from the other man’s, eyes on his lips. “Just tell me that everything’s gonna be alright.”

Jungkook pounded his fist on the door of the basement and he didn’t really expect an answer. It
was late, very late, and he was stupid for even coming to the building but he couldn’t help himself.
He had tried to go back to the den and yet his legs had brought him here instead and there was
turning back now. Not after everything. He lowered his arm and moved forward to press his head
on the door, feeling that it was cool against his brow and that his skin was baking hot. Of course it
was, for he had ran all of the way from the restaurant from the building without stopping for a
single second. His heart was racing in his chest and he breathing in through his mouth rapidly as he
tried to slow it down. He was pretty certain that there was a sheen of sweat all over him too for he
could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face and his stupid wrinkled shirt was stuck
to his skin and irritating his tattoo again.

“Come on, just answer the door. Please.”

He had left Kim Bistro just seconds after eavesdropping on Yoongi and Seokjin’s conversation in
the kitchen. He hadn’t wanted them to know that he had been listening but they hadn’t caught him.
He had, however, caught Yoongi kissing the other man and that was what had made him decide
that it had been time for him to leave. It wasn’t right him seeing something like that and he felt like
he had done yet another horrible thing by doing so. Though he had only caught a mere moment of
it he had seen that it was nothing like what had happened between him and Taehyung. It had been a
real kiss, a soft and yet somewhat passionate kiss that hadn’t came about from hair pulling and
ended in biting and fingers digging in and pain. No, he had seen Yoongi bring his lips against
Seokjin’s softly in a way that was so very unlike his friend and when he had deepened it with the
most gentlest slip of his tongue Jungkook had turned on his heel and left the restaurant through the
front door. The door man hadn’t stopped him and had just moved aside to let him go and he had
managed to get to the end of the street before he had started running and here he was: right outside
Jimin and Taehyung’s basement room den, breathless and hopeless.

Jungkook couldn’t help himself from reaching up and banging his fist on the door again. He had
his jaw clenched so hard that he felt the impact of his rolled up fist at the back of his teeth,
throbbing away like a headache. He just knew that they would both be gone when he needed them
the most.

“Please please please…” he muttered under his breath and he was aware of the fact that he was
almost praying for the door to open. Him, praying.

Jungkook didn’t know what he was going to do if no one answered the door. He supposed that he
would just curl up on the steps in the stairwell and stay here for the entire night. He couldn’t
possibly go back to the den after everything that had happened, he couldn’t stay in the same room
as Yoongi after the argument and everything that he had overheard: Yoongi telling their friend that
he wanted out, that he wasn’t happy and that he didn’t want him getting dragged into all of this,
that he was scared that he might just end up dead all because of this one stupid friendship.
Jungkook knew that it was stupid and yet he knew that he was telling him the truth. He knew how
brutal Sam Yong Pa could be and though he hated it he knew that Yoongi was right. He had been
playing with fire for the past few weeks and now he was getting burnt and it hurt. Like Taehyung
hurt him with his words and his fingers, like he hurt Taehyung in a way that he didn’t even
understand.

It fucking hurt and he didn’t like this feeling at all.

There was a whine trapped in his throat and he managed to not let it bleed out from between his
tightly pressed lips. He unrolled his fist and placed his palm on it, feeling the chipped and cracked
paint in the wood. That nausea from earlier was back once more and this time there was no cocaine
flowing through his system. There was a loud noise from the other side of the door and he jerked
and pressed his ear against it. He could hear a mumbling voice and a couple of bangs and then
there was a scrabbling sound: a lock being pulled back. Before he could even pull himself away
from the door it swung inwards and he stumbled forward to collide with whoever was on the other
side of the door.

Jungkook’s face bounced against another body and he threw his arms out to grab onto something
and save himself from falling over. His fingers curled around a pair of arms, bare skin and so soft
that his thumbs dug right into them. He could feel that his cheek was against a chest because he
could feel the flat expanse just between the curved wings of a pair of ribs and then he was being
pulled back upright roughly.

“The fuck?” Taehyung asked in confusion, squinting at him from a tangled mop of hair. He wasn’t
wearing a shirt but he had been gracious enough to slip into his trousers before answering the door.
“What’re you doing here, huh?”

“I just-” Jungkook took a deep breath and he felt it whistling in his throat, “I just needed to get out,
man. I needed to go and-” he couldn’t help himself from wrapping his arms around his ribs tightly,
clinging onto him pathetically as he did. “It’s bad.”

“What’s bad?” Taehyung’s fingers moved up from his arms and onto his back, one going up near
his neck so that he felt his fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. “What’re you talking about,
Kookie?”

“My friends know. They know about you two I didn’t mean to tell them but they know.” He
burrowed his face against him and his nose brushed against the crucifix on his chest. “I’m in
trouble Tae, I’m in real fucking trouble.” The other boy didn’t say anything and rather just held
him in his arms. After a moment Jungkook managed to lift his head and looked at him. “Where’s
Jimin?”

“Suyeong-gu, a dealer picked him up this morning and he’s been gone all day. Dunno when he’s
gonna get back.” Taehyung curled the very bottoms of his hair around his fingers as he spoke.
“Y’know…maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come here.”

“I had to, I couldn’t go back to the den I was…I was mad and upset and I just needed to get out of
there.” Jungkook shifted so that he wasn’t clinging onto him so tightly but he didn’t let go of him.
“I needed air or something.” Taehyung shifted his hand to the side of his neck and he felt his warm
palm on his skin. He thought about Seokjin cupping Yoongi’s cheek and he closed his eyes.
Maybe it wasn’t air at all that he needed but something else instead; something warm and soft with
a smile that made his stomach hurt.

“…Let’s go.”

“Go? What’d you mean go?”

“Let’s just go out. Minnie’s bike is still here. Let’s jump on it and just…go.” He asked him where
and the boy shrugged. “Everywhere and nowhere.”

A minute later, after Taehyung had gotten a pair of boots on his feet and slipped a leather jacket on
- not even bothering with a tee or vest of any kind - he was dragging him back up the stairs and
through the empty building to get out onto the curb. Jungkook had never rode with him before and
he had a feeling that his friend didn’t have a license of any kind but he really didn’t care. The boy
climbed on without getting the helmets out of the seat compartment and he cocked his head to look
at him. Taehyung wasn’t sitting back on the seat like Jimin did and instead he was lounged
forward, arms folded on the handlebars. Looking at him Jungkook recalled how he had called him
a god and he thought that there was no one on this planet that looked more a god than he did: a
young god of leather and tattoos.

Riding on the bike with no helmet on meant that it the wind pushed against them harder than usual,
raked back his hair like Jimin always did. It made it hard to breathe but at the same time it felt so
much better. This was real flying. If he could he would have spread his arms out wide and just feel
the sensation of the air against him but he couldn’t let go of his friend. Jungkook wrapped his arms
around his waist tightly, slipping them under the lengths of the leather jacket so that he could feel
the warmth of his skin and negate the chill from the wind. He closed his eyes and felt that
wonderful feeling of flying that was so much better than the cocaine could ever have been and the
bike drifted down the streets of the district for what felt like forever. Taehyung didn’t stop unless
the lights changed but he seemed to navigate the roads well enough to avoid as many of them as he
could. The sky was already dark when they had left the run-down den but he was sure that it got
even darker as the time blended into something intangible and not seconds or minutes or hours. No
stars appeared but with the bike moving so fast the passing streetlights could have passed for them
if he let them stay in his periphery. When the boy finally killed the bike’s engine he did so after
driving it onto the curb. He kicked the stabilisers so that it leaned against the fence of the park that
Jimin had taken him to all of those days back; back when he had been told him about the boy
murdering one of his gang members and when he had been scared of Taehyung.

“Are we gonna sleep on a bench, huh?” Jungkook asked as Taehyung cleared the fence. Stretching
to do made his jacket ride up and flash his tanned lower back. He followed after him and then the
boy dusted his hands off.

“Why’re you dressed like a fucking office worker?”

“I was at a restaurant.”

“A tie?” Taehyung reached over to touch the very ends of it and then he quickly snagged it around
his fingers and tugged on it hard. It didn’t choke him but it dragged him forward and he nearly
headbutted the other boy. “You look fucking stupid…”

“At least I’m wearing a shirt,” he retorted and his friend let go of him with a smirk.

“No, not the bench,” Taehyung explained as he finally answered his question. “Just the grass like
so.” He dropped backwards on it with a loud thump that sounded painful. “No stars.”

“I’ve got you, right?” Jungkook said as he shifted to sit down on the grass. After a moment he
decided to lie back too and he felt that the grass was dry and rough rather than lush and soft, no
fragrance coming off it at all. “The little Geum Sung Pa star.”

“Unless you want me to strangle you with that stupid tie I’d shut up.”

“Is Jimin your little star too?”

“…No,” Taehyung said in a soft voice after a moment of thought. “Minnie’s an entire fucking
galaxy, he ain’t just one star.” Jungkook turned his head ever so slightly to look at him. He was
sick and tired of looking up at the black sea overhead that had no lights unless they were the
flashing ones of an aeroplane. He wondered what he was to him and if he should ask him. “Maybe
we shouldn’t do this anymore…”

“Do what?”

“See each other.” Taehyung blinked languidly and didn’t look at him but rather just track the
movement of the soaring plane as it slowly cut across the sky. Jungkook asked him if he was
including Jimin in this. “No, I don’t think I am.”

“Why?”

“Minnie didn’t cause all of that shit, Minnie didn’t kill of your guys I did that.”

“He was one of our guys yeah, but I didn’t know him,” he argued, thinking about what Seokjin had
told Yoongi and about how very…frank yet correct his words had been. “But I know Jimin and I
know you.”

“You dunno me Kookie and if you did you’d wish you fucking didn’t.”

“But I could, if I wanted to. I could get to know you and you could get to know me too. What’s
stopping us?”

“Sam Yong Pa and Geum Sung Pa,” Taehyung replied with a bitter laugh. “That’s what’s fucking
stopping us.”

Jungkook wondered what he would think if he told him that they should just go. That they should
wait for Jimin and just go: do what Yoongi had said that he should have done. Clear their accounts
out and just get as far away from Busan as they could. Maybe go underground in Seoul, maybe run
away to another country entirely. They could do it, nothing was stopping them if they wanted to do
so enough but he had a feeling that none of them truly did. They had had something good at some
point, before they had all known each other. Could they not just go back to it and forget about each
other? But he didn’t want that. Jungkook didn’t really know what he wanted but he knew that he
wanted to keep hold of this; what he had right now. He wanted a fragment of this moment and the
other ones, the good ones that they had shared: a fragment like a piece of star that he could hold in
his hands.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to have that however. Like Yoongi and his need for security and
happiness, his want for a better life for him and longing for someone that he couldn’t possibly
have. Yoongi had made his choices and he had regretted them but he had had to do it because he
had had no other choice. Could he really make himself do something like that too?

“What time is it?” Taehyung asked him suddenly, lifting his head off the grass to look at him.
There was a blade of grass in his hair and Jungkook tore his eyes away as he held his arm up in
front of his face and checked his watch.
“It’s 4am.”

“You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jungkook rolled onto his side and he just knew that there would be
grass stains all over this shirt that he would never get out. Good, he fucking hated it. “I’m living
with freedom, like you told me to.”

“We’re gonna regret this.”

“I thought you didn’t care about regrets?” Taehyung’s fingers wandered along the grass to find his
tie and he carried on fiddling with it.

“I care about you,” his friend said in a quiet voice, “and you’re the biggest regret of ‘em all.”
 Diseased

There were no stars out when Jungkook opened his eyes for the sky was a deep pink rather than the
black it had been when he had last closed them. No streetlight constellations and
flashing aeroplane birds, just a dusky pink all overhead like a wash of watercolour over a canvas.
There were clouds out and they were tinged with glowing orange around the very edges and he
slowly lifted his arm to check his watch. 6am. Jungkook lowered it again with a heavy sigh and he
recalled something about 4am in his head. He hadn’t slept, more taken a brief nap, but he felt
strangely awake regardless of this fact. He took a deep breath and detected the scent of grass and
exhaust fumes and then he turned his head to look at the sight beside him.

Taehyung was lying on his side, curled up tightly against him. One of his arms was folded under
his head to create a makeshift pillow and the other was lying across his stomach. His legs were
cocked up and tangled within his tightly and he could feel that warmth coming off his body like it
had been they had been riding on Jimin’s motorbike. Taehyung’s chin was tucked in and was
nearly against his collarbones and he couldn’t really see his face through his messy hair, just the tip
of his nose and his slack lips. Slack and cut lips. There was a small cut near the corner of his
mouth on his lower lip and Jungkook briefly wondered if he had done that; if his teeth had bitten
down hard enough to break the skin when he had started kissing him last night. He wouldn’t be
surprised if he had, he recalled getting a little carried away at the sensation of his tongue against
his and Taehyung’s weight on top of him, particularly his hips that he had ground down against
him in languid circles so that the friction of their trousers rubbing together had made his head start
spinning.

Jungkook reached over to pull a piece of grass out of his hair and toss it aside. His jacket was
pulled in enough to hide his bare midriff but he could see a hint of his navel tattoo under the ends.
The collar of his jacket covered half of the grenade tattoo, leaving the pin and the first row of
square bumps on show. For the first time in a long time Jungkook’s tattoo wasn’t itching and it
seemed that it might just have healed up.

“Oh god…” Taehyung muttered in his sleep husky voice, “you’re still here.”

“What? Am I a one-night stand?” Jungkook joked and the other boy opened his eyes.

“You need to fuck for it to be called that.” He rolled his eyes at his friend and turned his head to
look up at the sky again. It was mellow, somewhat calming in a strange way with the warm colours
all mixed in so messily. “What time’s it?”
“6am.”

“Why am I awake at 6-fucking-am?” Taehyung asked in an incredulous tone. Jungkook didn’t

answer him and after a moment he groaned and dragged himself just that little closer to him,
pressed up against his side. “I wish I had some of that coke right now…”

“I don’t, I don’t wanna go on another baseball bat smashing spree and wake up with torn muscles
again.” Taehyung started laughing softly as he rested his head in the hollow between Jungkook’s
neck and shoulder, cheek brushing against his shirt. “Not my idea of fun, think I’ll swear off drugs
in the future.” The boy called him a fucking square and he sighed. “Yeah I’m a fucking square but
that’s the coolest shape there is so fuck you, Tae.”

“Nu-uh, that’s the triangle.” He thought this over briefly before asking him why. “‘Cos it’s a shape
and an instrument.”

Jungkook was aware of the fact that this was the first time they were together and his mind wasn’t
busy thinking about something else, about Sam Yong Pa or anything like that. He very much
believed that he could lie here all morning long and care about nothing other than Taehyung’s
warm body and the sense of peace that he currently felt. It was strange, feeling so at peace after the
trouble that had happened yesterday but he did. It was as if had been knocking his head on a wall
over and over and somehow it had been bulldozed down and had finally let him free, and the
reason for that was Taehyung. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

Jungkook could lie here and listen to Taehyung talking shit and every word would sound like
poetry to his ears the way he currently felt.

“Kookie, what happened last night-”

“Let’s not talk about last night,” he interrupted. “I don’t wanna think about that right now.” The
park fell silent for a moment and Jungkook just stared up at the sky and didn’t break it. So much
for not thinking about anything bad for once. Taehyung’s arm moved from across his stomach and
his hand found his tie so he started playing with it again, lightly twirling the material around his
fingers. “Remember when I told you about my friend? The one that works in extortion and
blackmails people like idols and all of that shit?” He confirmed that he did with a soft noise,
nodding so that his chin rubbed against his shoulder. “He found out ‘cos another friend of ours
mentioned that I had a secret. Neither of them knew about you and Jimin, I kept it a secret just in
case but last night it got out. I had to let it out ‘cos my friend kept asking and asking so I caved and
he got mad. He yelled at me for the first time in my life and smashed up a glass and I left without
talking to him again; I ran away to find you and Jimin but I ended up just finding you.”
“He’s pissed ‘cos we’re Geum Sung Pa, ain’t he?” He didn’t really have to confirm this for it
sounded like a rhetorical question to him. “I told Minnie that when he first told me about you; I
said to him that it was a bad idea but he was so hellbent on making you his friend it was…cute and
annoying. I thought you were gonna be some stupid kid and I was right.” Jungkook reached up to
tug on his hair and he cursed under his breath. “Shit, I’m telling the truth.”

“Yeah, my friend’s pissed but I dunno…I eavesdropped on him talking with the other friend and
things got confusing. He said that he’s looking out for me but at the same time he didn’t want me
fucking around with Sam Yong Pa. It’s not the fact I’m being ‘disloyal’ that pissed him off it’s the
fact that he thinks I’ll get in trouble with the gang if they find out I’ve got Geum Sung Pa friends.”

“How much trouble?”

“…Not sure, never been in trouble with them before,” Jungkook replied. He didn’t want to tell him
the part about how Yoongi had mentioned what happened to snitches. “He wants to keep me safe
but I think that it’s too late at this point for that. I’m in too deep with the gang and…and with you
and Jimin.”

“Y’know, I never even thought about how Geum Sung Pa would react if they found out I had a
Sam Yong Pa friend I just kinda…” Taehyung shifted and a moment he sat up with a groan,
reaching back to rub at his stiff lower back. “I dunno I just didn’t think about ‘em? Maybe ‘cos all I
ever see of ‘em is a couple of goons every now and again, maybe that’s why? I mean, I don’t know
most of ‘em, just a couple of names and faces. Don’t need names and faces when all I do is kick
the shit outta people. I just get a call and I show up and beat people up and get paid. That’s my life.
How shit is that, huh?”

“How did you even end up being a fucking goon, Tae?” Jungkook asked as he slowly sat up and
stretched, not even trying to suppress a yawn as he did.

“How’d you end up being a runner for Sam Yong Pa?”

“I ran away from home when I was twelve. My mom was an alcoholic, my dad was nowhere to be
found. So I ran away and ended up in Haeundae-gu and I was on the streets for like three days
before my friend found me and he saved my ass. Didn’t know at the time that he was a gangster,
just that he was nice and he helped me. A few days later I was running messages and before I knew
it it was drugs. That was it, that’s how I ended up in the gang.”
“My dad was a real powerful man,” Taehyung explained in a quiet voice as he stared at the street
visible through the park gates. There was a dreamy distant look in his eyes. “When I was a kid I
wanted to be like him in all ways. I thought that he was amazing, a real man. I didn’t know that he
was a gangster either, just that he always used to wear suits that were nice to touch and I used to
like pulling on the lapels when I was a kid and he picked me up when he got back home. Didn’t
have a mother. I used to be at home all day long but there was a woman that used to care for me,
like a maid, I guess? He always smelled like coffee and cologne and even now I can faintly
remember it.”

“You keep saying ‘was’…” Jungkook remarked as he studied his face.

“My dad’s been dead for eight years,” Taehyung said in a flat voice. Jungkook quietly said his
condolences. “He was murdered by a Sam Yong Pa motherfucker and not long after the funeral I
was fucked. No parents, no nothing. All the cash in his accounts went to Geum Sung Pa, the house
was repossessed and converted into a fucking poker club. I ended up on the streets and that’s where
I found Minnie. God…back then I was such a fucking baby, I swear. He could’ve kicked the shit
outta me but he didn’t. He was taller and quicker and tougher than I was. He knew how to steal
food and get away with it, unlike me. I used to always get caught and get beat with a broom. For a
few years he kept me safe and we lived on stealing food and cash from tills and wallets when
people weren’t looking. I dunno how we survived living like that but we did. Then one day
Minnie’s doing something he told me was ‘running’ and I thought he meant like fucking
exercising, man.” Jungkook’s lips twitched at the joke but he didn’t laugh. “But there’s money
coming in, y’know? And we were living better than before so I didn’t care about the drugs and all
of that shit. Jump forward a few years and all of a sudden I’m taller than him, and stronger too, and
one day I remember getting into some fight with an asshole at a convenience store that got outta
hand and I beat the shit outta him over something stupid but there was a bonus. Turns out he was a
goon in Geum Sung Pa and his buddies saw me kicking the shit outta him so they decided that I
should join ‘em and I did. Haven’t looked back since until now.”

Jungkook had had no idea that Taehyung’s life had been like that. He had always just assumed -
rather stupidly - that he was just another kid that liked causing trouble and had ended up in Geum
Sung Pa because he was a little smarter than the hooligans that ended up in prison. But to hear that
he had went through something like that really changed a lot of things. What would Yoongi think if
he knew that? If he knew that the boys had had no other choice and that Taehyung’s own father
had been murdered like he liked to claim had happened to Hong?

“Jimin was taller than you?” he asked after a minute of solemn silence. The other boy didn’t
respond and he looked over the street too, seeing a single car lazily rolling down the road. Then
Taehyung snorted and the pair of them were laughing. “He must’ve stopped growing, huh?”

“He’d get so pissed if he heard that,” his friend said with a wide grin. “Like he might even try and
kick your ass. It’s been a few years since he did something like that but he might just do it, after all
you did say that you’re a fucking pussy and you don’t fight…”
“I’d fight Jimin,” Jungkook retorted as he wiped stray blades of grass off his trousers.

“You wouldn’t fight me though.”

“I’m not fucking stupid,” he laughed. “I think I’d fight a piranha before I’d fight you.”

“Shit, I’m starving,” Taehyung declared before yawning loudly, throwing his arms up and out as he
did. Jungkook felt his arm going around him and then he was snagging his head in the crook of his
elbow and dragging him into a kind of headlock. “Wanna go hit up the street markets and find
some cheap food?”

Jungkook had never been to the street markets before. He was always working at the hours that
they were closed, for they were open in the late evenings and very early morning rather than the
afternoon hours. It was the best period of time for business and Yoongi would never get up at
dawn to drag him across the district and browse stalls of fish and imported fruits and spices. But he
had always wanted to go to one and see what it was like so he agreed to go with him even though
they both looked ridiculous: he in his grass stained shirt and tie and Taehyung in a leather jacket
without anything underneath it. He thought that there was a high chance that no one would serve
them but he hoped that they might just get to look at a few things before the threats of calling the
police were called out and they had to blow. So Taehyung got to his feet and did some impromptu
stretching on the grass before vaulting the fence and climbing onto the motorbike. He checked the
gas whilst he tackled the fence with his heavy and stiff limbs and then Jungkook got onto the back
and they were off down the road. The breeze wasn’t as cold as it had been last night and he was
thankful for it.

After several minutes of riding down nearly empty side streets Taehyung finally killed the engine
at the end of street that was covered in a massive building. It looked like a warehouse and he
realised that it was the market so he got off the bike and followed him along the sidewalk and
inside.

It turned out that no one inside even looked at them twice despite the state that they were both in,
probably because the warehouse was packed with drunken people not yet hit by hangovers; buying
fried and greasy food and getting as many free samples as they could before the vendors swatted
them away again. Jungkook saw women in towering heels and mini dresses clutching each other
and their little purses as they pointed at things and snapped photos on their phones of absolutely
everything. He saw the occasional staggering drunken male that tried to play their state down by
leaning on whatever they could find. As a result they could browse the stores at leisure. He wasn’t
entirely sure how he felt eating ddeokbokki at 6:20am in the morning but when he took a sample
off the end of the skewer he decided that he could totally eat it, along with hotteok and fried
mandu. If Yoongi saw him eating all of this shit he would give him a disapproving look but with
Taehyung the boy just kept finding more food. His stomach felt like exploding but it was hard to
say no when he waved a chopstick full of food at his face and grinned at him.

Jungkook suddenly wondered if this was what a date felt like and then he thought that this might
just be the only one that they ever got to share and the food in his mouth was too rich, the weight
of it in his stomach congealing and making him feel nauseous.

“You OK?” Taehyung asked him as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed it at the corner of his mouth.
He hadn’t even been aware of the fact that he had dribbled sauce all down his chin.

“Yeah, just thinking is all.”

“You do that?”

“Sometimes…” The boy scrunched the paper up and tossed it at a trash can a few feet away. “Hey,
I gotta blow. I’ve probably got a list of clients waiting in the den and I don’t wanna piss any
dealers off.”

“Sure thing, hey Kookie?” He was just about to get off the small bench they had been sitting on
and so he stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry.” He asked him what for and the boy just tapped
his disposable plastic chopsticks on the Styrofoam food container. “I dunno, I just felt like I needed
to say it.”

“You don’t need to say sorry to me,” he said as he shifted to get to his feet.

“Oh yeah, what should I say, huh?”

“Something nice.”

“I love you,” Taehyung said suddenly as he looked up at him. Jungkook felt his stomach do a
heavy lurch and he was pretty sure that it went all of the way up to the back of his throat. “Is that
better?”

“Yeah…much better.”
When he got back to the den it was 7:30am and he pushed the door open to see that the interior was
rather empty. It was so empty in fact that there were only two people inside it: Sunmi and Hoseok.
This was not an unusual sight at all. He had been awake at such in an hour in the past when
preparing to do a massive run for the entire day and he knew that most members in the gang
weren’t working until around 9 at earliest. It seemed that most of them didn’t even work then but
rather just hanged around the den because they had nothing else to do. But the last week had been
hectic and he wouldn’t be surprised if they were all sleeping off entire nights of working. Sunmi
was in her usual spot with a pot of herbal tea and a stack of folders in front of her that she seemed
to be organising. The young runner was seated at a corner table and he was sorting through papers
and when he caught sight of him he called him over, lifting a hand up and beckoning with his
fingers. Jungkook crossed the storefront and lowered himself onto the battered seat cushion.

“Good thing I caught you kid, I need to talk to you.” Hoseok seemed to have settled down rather
well to the point in which he was in the den without feeling the need to be around Yoongi
constantly. He was sitting cross-legged on the cushion even though his long legs didn’t really fit
under the table and he could see a tear in the knee of his black trousers and he couldn’t tell if it was
on purpose or an accident.

“…About what?” he asked slowly as he looked at the piles of papers. There were forms he had
never seen before, all kinds of names and markings that varied from scribbles to big bold ‘x’s on
the white sheets. What exactly was he looking over? A list of clients that were alright to keep
working with? Or something else entirely? “About Yoongi?”

“Yoongi?” Hoseok glanced up at him, eyebrows raising as he did. “Oh no, nothing like that. It’s
something else.”

Jungkook let his pent-up breath out in a soft sigh of relief. At least he didn’t need to worry about
that right now.

“No, he’s working until this evening. He’ll be back later, do you need to see him?” Jungkook shook
his head at the question and the young man thought this over for a moment before sorting through
the pile to get a different sheet. “I need to talk to you about something important. We got busted
again last night. A nightclub in Marine City got hit by a gang of Geum Sung Pa fuckers and they
cleaned out: attacked clients, smashed shit to hell and back, stole our merchandise and cash.”
“Last night? When about?” Hoseok explained that it was around the 2am mark. Well, that ruled
Taehyung out at least for he had been with him before then and all the way up to this morning.
That was the only thing he had been worried about upon hearing this and so he found his interest
waning on the subject. It was bad news yes, but not as important as it would have been to him a few
weeks ago. “Anyone hurt?”

“Yeah, about a hundred fucking people and a couple of our men.” Hoseok hesitated and then
crossed a line out with a thick application of black marker pen. “But that’s not the worst part. That
was just one of three busts. We got dead men.”

“…Shit,” Jungkook shifted uncomfortably because this was the one thing that he had been hoping
to not hear. Men getting beaten up was bad but it was expected, men getting killed was a different
matter altogether and it wasn’t looking good for him right now. The minute Yoongi saw him again
his friend would probably throttle him. “Beaten to death?”

“I know you’re not a goon but you know the rules, right?”

Jungkook nodded at the question. In any gang brawl the only weapons allowed were the ones that
weren’t directly able to kill someone without some effort: baseball bats, crowbars, hammers if a
crazy fucker was willing to swing one of them around. Guns were not allowed and certainly hard to
come by in the first place, and anything with a blade was banned too. Brawls weren’t to try and kill
as many people as possible, they were to set an example and scare people out of their territory and
as a rule deaths were greatly disapproved of. Yet these past few weeks it seemed that Geum Sung
Pa had flagrantly decided to abandon the tradition and really cause trouble.

“Dealer got gutted last night, I mean he literally got slashed up and he’s dead,” Hoseok explained
in a surprisingly deadpan tone. He expected him to sound a little more scared by this, a little bit
shocked at least. “Couple of goons got stabbed, got a guy in ICU that got stabbed right in the throat,
windpipe shredded. No blades, huh? Seems the fuckers up here follow rules about as good as good
as the ones down in Gwangju.” Jungkook asked him what he meant by that. “Happened every now
and again down there. People got killed, I’m kinda used to it. Heard it’s really bad up in Seoul too.
Roadside graves and bodies in Han River.” The thought was enough to make a chill run down his
spine. “It’s not safe to be running right now. We’re stuck here for the time being. No one wants
public deals, no one wants to go near clubs in case a bunch of knife wielding Geum Sung Pa run in
and fuck everything up.”

“So what’d we do?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied as he turned the page over and started scrawling something on it. “We
follow our orders and we don’t do a thing. The only thing important thing’s this.” The runner
reached inside his jacket and pulled something out, placing it on the table and sliding it across
towards him. Jungkook stared at the plastic object for a few seconds and then he picked it up.

It had a nice weight in the palm of his hand, smooth plastic with a button situated on the side
where his thumb would rest. He turned it over and studied it before slipping the button up and a
blade popped right out and snapped in place, a lazy arc of gleaming steel held between his fingers.
Hoseok had just given him a switchblade and he didn’t even know what he was supposed to say.
The light from the den window played off the steel like the streetlights had done on Taehyung’s
baseball bat the other night; cold and sterile. He managed to lift his gaze to look at the other
runner.

“It’s not my idea, it’s Lim’s. Said he wants every man in this district carrying one of these just in
case. If any of our guys had had blades on ‘em, they might’ve taken down one of the Geum Sung
Pa fuckers too.”

“I don’t wanna carry this,” Jungkook said as he tried to figure out how to get the blade back into
the handle. “I don’t like weapons and I don’t fight.”

“Doesn’t matter if you fight or not,” Hoseok explained. “They won’t care about that, they’ll smash
your head in with a bat or maybe stab you a dozen times. They don’t care kid, but we do and that’s
why you need to carry it.” Jungkook asked him if he had a blade too and he nodded. “Yeah, I don’t
like it either but I’ve got one. I’d prefer a bat, bigger, much easier to swing than a tiny knife.” He
stopped talking and looked up at him. “Yoongi doesn’t have one right now but I’m sure he’ll start
carrying as soon as he finds out he can. He’s worried that you’ll get grabbed out on the streets.”

Jungkook thought this over as he finally slid the mechanism back and watched the blade slip back
into the plastic handle. Yoongi was worried about a lot of things it would seem but just like he had
discovered last night Hoseok had the right path but he had completely missed the point.

“Hoseok, do you hate Geum Sung Pa?” he asked in a quiet voice as he tightened his grip around
the handle.

“Hate? Oh, I dunno about hate I don’t think that’s the word. They’re our rivals, so I don't like ‘em
but I guess I don’t hate ‘em? It’s just business, y’know? I could’ve ended up with ‘em instead and
spent my life hating Sam Yong Pa but here I am.” Hoseok stopped writing and held his gaze for a
moment. “Why’re you asking?”

“Nothing, just thinking.”

Jungkook left the storefront to go up into his and Yoongi’s shared room, collecting the keys off
Sunmi so he could get inside. The first thing that he did was get a shower and get changed out of
his grass stained clothing into something more comfortable. Then he prepared some instant ramyun
because he was too lazy to cook proper food. As he left the noodles to cook he retrieved the stupid
white shirt from the bathroom floor and he looked it. The material wasn’t soft between his fingers
but rather starched and the back and shoulders and elbows had green and brown smears all over.
What had Hoseok thought seeing all of that dirt when he had walked into the den? He hated this
stupid shirt because it reminded him of the argument in Kim Bistro and so he picked up the
switchblade Hoseok had just given him and he cut it up. The blade sliced through the shirt with a
satisfying ripping sound and he cut and cut and cut until there was nothing but ribbons of material
on his lap. The mess went into the trash and then he found himself lying on the bed crying for
some reason he couldn’t figure out.

How long had it been since he could last remember crying? Was it those nights back when he had
had nightmares? Had it been years? He didn’t know but he did know that the tears stung his eyes
and pooled on Yoongi’s pillow. Crying made his chest ache. It felt like he was being stabbed over
and over and yet there was no Geum Sung Pa goon in sight. But there was two in his thoughts and
he couldn’t seem to get them out.

Jungkook had to stop this, he had to stop seeing them both but he couldn’t do so. Taehyung had
told him the he had to and yet the boy hadn’t left him last night. He hadn’t left the park and jumped
on Jimin’s bike to go back to the den when he had told him that he wasn’t leaving. He had stayed
in the park with him and he had said stupid little things in a whisper soft voice as he had played
with his tie, and he had kissed him a few more times in a way that had left Jungkook feeling like he
had suffocated him. Everyone was telling him that this had to stop and yet the one person that he
needed to go was clinging on just as badly as he was to him.

What did Jimin think of this? Did Jimin have any clue how badly he had fallen into Taehyung?
Would the boy regret bringing him back to their den because it had caused all three of them pain
and trouble? He didn’t know, but he knew that he needed to talk to him.

Jungkook didn’t even realise but he had fallen asleep at some point, crying so much that he drained
himself of energy. What woke him up was not the sound of a slamming door or an alarm of some
kind but rather the sensation of fingers running along his brow. For a brief moment he thought that
it was Taehyung and then he opened his eyes and remembered that he was in their apartment room.
His eyes felt itchy and sore, eyelids swollen and tight. He really must have cried hard for them to
feel that way and when he moved his gaze he saw Yoongi perched on the side of the bed.

“Shit kid,” his friend said in a soft voice. “You’re burning up right now.”
“I feel like I’m…dying,” Jungkook croaked at him, feeling another disgusting wave of emotions
surging up into his chest. He didn’t think that he could cry again but he might just prove himself
wrong. His throat was dry and his voice sounded nasally to his ears.

“Scoot over,” Yoongi muttered and so he shifted over the mattress. His friend lay down on the
section that was now free and he folded an elbow under the pillow; the one that was probably still
damp from his tears.

Jungkook didn’t know what his friend was going to say, if he was going to say anything at all, and
he just remained quiet and waited for him to break the silence. The apartment room seemed to fill
with an atmosphere, something that made the air heavy and thick. Then he finally broke it.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I’m sorry for what happened in the restaurant. I’m sorry that I said all of
that shit and I’m sorry that I hurt you. It was fucking stupid, I acted rashly and I regret it.” He
stopped talking and his tongue poked out his mouth to wet his lips. “I’ve been thinking about a lot
of things recently, a lot of crazy shit, but what happened made me realise that there are things in
my life that I can live without. You’re not one of those things kid. You’re one of the few things I
fucking need.”

“Yoongi.”

“Wait, just let me get this shit out. I need you to keep me straight. You keep me sane Kookie ‘cos
you’re good. You’re a good kid, a good thing, and there’s not a lot of good things left. You’re like a
brother but even more than that, shit I treat you like the son I’ll never have.” He paused before
rapidly adding. “And I’m not one of those good things, I’m crooked and I don’t deserve good
things. That’s why all of the good gets taken away from me, it’s a fucking karma chain letter and it
keeps coming back to get me. But I don’t wanna lose you, OK?”

“You’re not gonna lose me. I’m not going anywhere,” Jungkook said quietly and Yoongi reached
over to place a hand on the side of his head, patting him softly. “You were right about everything
but I can’t help it. I know that I fucked up and that I’m making a mistake but I can’t stop. I keep
going back to them Yoongi and I’m going crazy.” He felt the need to gnaw on his lip and he
couldn’t help himself. His teeth sank into his skin, into the skin that Taehyung seemed to love
licking and snagging between his own teeth. “At first it was one boy, a runner and I bumped into
him one day. He was so annoying but I kinda liked him ‘cos of it, you know? And I kept crashing
into him on my routes because he worked down on Dongbaek-ro mostly. After a few meetings he
took me back to his house and I met his friend and that’s when things got out of hand. His friend’s
a goon and at first I kinda hated him ‘cos he seemed like trouble but then he… he started to
change.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Yoongi, that day with the cop wasn’t me. That was him. We got into an argument and…”
Jungkook explained to him about what had happened that day, feeling such a relief that he was
finally able to tell the truth to his friend. He told him all about how Taehyung had saved him from
arrest at the cost of assaulting an officer and how that had made him start to like him more. “I
mean, it wasn’t suddenly like we were best friends but he started to act differently around me and I
realised that I liked him too.” His friend studied his face silently and didn’t say a word. “Yoongi,
I’ve got a crush on a fucking Geum Sung Pa goon and I dunno what I’m supposed to do.”

Jungkook felt like he was going to cry again and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want the pain and
the disgust and so he rolled over so that Yoongi wouldn’t see his face, which he contorted to try
and stop any tears from escaping. There was a horrible burning in his throat and he just wanted it to
go away. After a moment he felt the mattress shifting and then Yoongi was dragging him into a
hug, stomach against his back and chin on his shoulder.

“Christ kid…”

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried to just leave it alone and move on but I keep thinking about him and I hate it.
I feel so fucking stupid and pathetic,” he whined, not exactly a sob but getting close. “He told me
that he’s bad and that nothing good will happen but we keeping hanging on. If he would just push
me away and go, would move into Suyeong-gu with the rest of the Geum Sung Pa motherfuckers
then I would stop. I’d have the other friend and that’s be oh-OK but I can’t have him and I wuh-
want him anyway.”

“We don’t always get what we want kid,” Yoongi said in a soft voice as one of his hands reached
over and moved to his stomach, hand softly rubbing at his skin through the thin material of his tee.
The contact was comforting but it didn't make him feel any better.

“I feel suh-sick, I feel fuh-fucking diseased,” Jungkook moaned as he closed his eyes. “And I wuh-
wanna die.”

“No,” Yoongi said in a stern voice. “No, you don’t want that at all Kookie. You just think that you
do but you don’t. Trust me I’ve been there before and I know what you’re feeling.”

“Wuh-with Seokjuh-jin?”

“…Yeah,” he said after a moment, “with Seokjin.” Jungkook asked him what it felt like, how he
had been able to handle all of that pressure on his chest that was as crushing as a swing of
Taehyung’s baseball bat. “At first it felt weird. I didn’t know what it was ‘cos I’d never felt
anything like it before. But I knew that it something…special and I went to great lengths to try and
get Seokjin to pay attention to me. You were fifteen then, always busy running around like crazy.
Some nights I’d finish work and I’d get into the restaurant kitchen somehow and I’d beg him to
just step outside in the alley and talk to me. I wanted to look so cool and he just saw right through
me. But he never turned me down once.”

“What happened?”

“His brother caught us in the alley one night and ratted him out to the family. See, Seokjin’s gonna
marry some rich bitch chaebol heiress and that’s what’s in the future for him. He doesn’t get a
choice. He turned down the syndicate so they’ll force him into keeping the cash flowing
somehow.”

“Seokjin has a brother?”

“Half-brother,” Yoongi corrected. “Woosang, that stupid fucker. I broke his nose and tried to kill
him, the family found out and tried to get Lim to drop my ass but he didn’t wanna. For a little while
I was nearly gone. I had accepted it all and I was ready to fucking go and smuggle you out of Sam
Yong Pa with me but then Lim, the son of a bitch, told the Kims to fuck themselves.” His friend
stopped talking for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “I was gonna take you to North Jeolla or
some shit, try and settle down in the country and just forget about it all. Now look at us.”

“Does he love you?” Jungkook asked as turned his head to look at him. Yoongi had his head
balanced on his upper arm and his friend didn’t respond or even look at him.

“You don’t love him do you?” Yoongi asked in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just a stupid
fucking crush, right?”

Jungkook didn’t know how to answer that question.

When morning came around he strongly considered not leaving the apartment room. Yoongi had
no work for it seemed that he was taking a few days off for the time being with all of the trouble
happening on the streets. Seen as a nightclub had been struck the night before and they were his
prime extortion locations and it wasn’t wise to start visiting any lest some Geum Sung Pa goons hit
it up and decided to beat the shit out of everyone. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that
his friend seemed disinterested with it all now too, like he had told Seokjin in the Kim Bistro
kitchen. He thought that that was most likely the case but Yoongi would lie and claim it was the
gang murder troubles of course.

Jungkook had woken up to the sight of his friend already awake and sitting at the desk by the
window. He hadn’t been using his laptop but rather staring out at the vast expanse of sky visible
out of their apartment room window with distant eyes. He had been gnawing on his thumb too, not
exactly nibbling at his nail but rather just on his entire thumb. It had taken several callings of his
name for Yoongi to react and when he had he had done so with a dazed expression before he had
replaced it with a smile. The breakfast they had shared had been quiet, nothing more than their
cutlery scraping against the bowls or tapping on the plates, and Jungkook had felt like he was the
one that had needed to break it but he hadn’t been able to. Right now it was still silent and he
didn’t like it. It wasn’t that he was never silent in Yoongi’s company but rather the fact that the
silence had a weight and it felt like it was sitting on his chest and making it hard to breathe.

“Hey Yoongi?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Do you think that we could…could ever get outta this life?” At his question the man shifted to
look at him and Jungkook fiddled with the bed covers. Yoongi asked him what he meant by that.
“Do you think that we could move away like you wanted and set up a life somewhere other than
Busan?”

“Dunno kid,” his friend said as he got out of the desk chair and sat down on the edge of the bed
beside him. “Sam Yong Pa have links all over this fucking country it’d be hard getting away from
‘em, ‘specially with our tattoos.”

“Another country then? Japan, America, Germany, whatever. Do you think we could?”

“Who’re you running away from, kid?” Yoongi asked jokingly, and Jungkook wished that he could
laugh too but he was scarily close to the truth. “Yeah, we probably could but it would take time
and a lotta cash and inside help. Why?”

“Just thinking about how much easier life would be if it were just me and you,” Jungkook said in a
quiet voice. For a moment his friend didn’t say anything and then he surprised him by reaching
over to place a hand on the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Yoongi pulled him
forward slightly and he pressed his lips against his forehead, right at the hairline. It had been years
since he had done that and the sensation of his lips, slightly chapped from him always gnawing on
them, sent shivers down his spine and caused a strange melancholy rather than a happiness. After a
few seconds he moved his head away but he kept his hand in his hair.

“It really would be, right kid?” Jungkook nodded and dropped his gaze to look at his bare forearm;
at the dragon peeking out from under the cuff of his tee sleeve. “Fuck everyone else, we’ve always
had each other and we don’t need anyone else.”

“Right.” He thought about his friend’s pining for Seokjin and his own desperate wanting to have
Taehyung and also Jimin by his side, and then he thought that Yoongi was the worst kind of liar.

Jungkook ended up spending most of the day in the apartment room with Yoongi, not getting out of
their bed but rather sharing his warmth and lying tangled within his arms. Had he have had a
brother then this is what it would have felt like on a night that they had stupidly watched a horror
film and gotten scared, huddled in bed together for the safety. It almost felt that being in Yoongi’s
arms made him safe because he felt at peace in his presence once more. He no longer worried
about spilling secrets or arguments that would end in tears, he just had his friend back and it was
the greatest feeling in the world. Jungkook might want those things that he couldn’t really have but
he had Yoongi no matter what. He found that he loved the way his friend planted his chin right
into the crown of his hair and when he lay like that he could feel his feet against his shins, their
differing heights still obvious even when lying down. Yoongi wanted to check his tattoo had
healed right and he lightly traced the lines without squeezing his skin like Taehyung had. But
mostly, he loved the way that Yoongi told him that everything was going to be alright even when
they both knew that it wouldn’t be.

When the man finally succumbed to sleep Jungkook slowly freed himself from his arms and got
dressed, leaving the apartment room to hit the streets. His watch told him that it was 7pm and there
was a small grouping of men in the storefront with Jaebum playing cards quietly with shots and
cigarettes. No sight of Hoseok at all. He stepped out onto the curb and jumped his board with no
place in mind rather just the aims of getting some fresh air after being cooped up indoors for most
of the day. He would get the scent of Yoongi’s cologne and cigarettes out of his nose and then he
would go back and bury against his frail chest and fill his lungs with it once more. Frail and thin
and not at all like Taehyung’s strong and broader chest.

“Not thinking about Tae…” Jungkook muttered as he passed a bus stop with the last vestiges of
workers waiting to finally get home.

No, he had spent time with Yoongi and he realised just how much he was risking on things going
bad. He wasn’t going to look for Taehyung today, he was going to go back to the den and not think
about his laugh or his smile or the way he looked at him unflinchingly; the flash of his stomach
through his leather jacket and the scent of him that was so unlike his other friend. And tomorrow
would come and he would find something else too, would make sure that his mind was
preoccupied and he didn’t think about the boy at all. It was going to be hard and he knew that it
was. There were going to be more nights spent crying and retching and hating, more aching in his
chest, but he would find a way to overcome it. He had to because he knew that Taehyung had been
right all along.

He should have got gone long before he finally knew him.

Before he had fallen in love with him.

Jungkook just sailed down the streets without aim, not paying attention to street signs or
pedestrians. He went into his own little world and it was when he got onto Gunam-ro that he heard
something strange. He had been passing an alley when a loud clattering sound had come from it
and so he stopped and jumped off his board, moving back a few steps to look down it. In the late
evening dark he could see that it ran straight and then onto an offshoot behind the buildings; a
small maze of connected alleyways. He could see nothing in sight down the first little stretch of
asphalt but he knew that it wasn’t something like a stray cat knocking over a trash can. Gunam-ro
was prime dealer territory and so he felt the most pressing urge to walk down it and investigate.

The switchblade that Hoseok had given him was in his bomber jacket pocket, weighing it down
considerably on one side, so he slipped his hand in to hold it in his palm, just in case.

Jungkook had only taken a few steps when he heard a male voice, deep and gravelly. He couldn’t
make out the words but it sounded like a threat and there was a loud thumping sound and then a
series of guffaws. Oh this was definitely a deal gone wrong of some sort and although he felt he
should walk away and leave it he curiosity got the better of him.

“…fucking weak and tiny, how old are ya? They hiring babies now too?”

As he crept along the first passage and got to the end he saw a bisecting path and the booming
male voice sounded somewhere to his left.

“Fuck you!” someone spat in response and he felt a crawling sensation run all along his skin. He
knew that voice, didn’t he? Even when it was muffled and thick with pain he knew it and- there
was another couple of thumps and then a groan and Jungkook walked down the new path a little
faster, hand tightening around the knife handle.
“Right baby, we’re gonna take your merch. Just like your motherfucking buddies did to ours, and
then we’ll beat the shit outta ya. Maybe Ahn here will actually kill ya. You’d like that, right Ahn?”

“Looks like a crier…” another man said a voice so deep it was hard to believe that it was real.
Jungkook got to the end of this path and rapidly took a sharp right and as he darted along it he
heard the sound of someone getting pummeled and crying out in pain.

Jungkook burst through the little maze and right into an alcove and the sight in front of him was
two men and someone lying curled up on the floor. He didn’t need to see the slight hint of red hair
glowing in the dim streetlights to know that it was Jimin. He glanced at one of the men to see that
the back of his bald head had a dragon on it and that meant that they were Sam Yong Pa: two of his
own. They hadn’t caught sight of him, too distracted with the boy on the floor in front of him and
Jungkook realized that he had only one shot at this. He had to get them by surprise or else they
would beat the shit out of him too. The other man was taller and wider and he couldn’t possibly
land a blow on him. But if he could take him down then the other man might just be enough for
him to handle. So he slipped his switchblade free and flicked the switch so the blade slipped out.

“Remember what I said about biting, Ahn.”

“Yeah yeah I know I know, Yoo. The cops can arrest people ‘cos of their teeth.”

“So no biting, but strangling’s fine.” Ahn cocked his arm back and he swung the bat in his hand in
an arc and it hit Jimin hard on the ribs. There was a dull thump and then the boy let out an almighty
shout of pain and tried to crawl away only for Yoo to kick his foot out and catch him right on the
side of the head. He flipped over from the blow and the man moved to plant his shoe right down on
his throat, grinding down and making Jimin reach up to try and push him away. But that meant that
he left his defenses open and he couldn’t protect his stomach or ribs. So Ahn swung the bat once
more and the length smacked the boy right on the crotch. This time Jimin didn’t shout out but he
started retching and choking from the sheer agony of the pain but Yoo was still standing down on
his throat and pinning him to the ground. He was going to die, if the goon didn’t get off his throat
he was going to choke on his vomit and Ahn was still whooping him on the sides and his thighs
with the bat hard enough so that it thumped every time it connected.

Jungkook didn’t think and instead he just darted forward until he slammed into Ahn’s back and
then he twisted the blade in his grip. Rather than go for his back he brought the knife down on a
diagonal angle and plunged it into his side. The blade didn’t slip into him easily but rather seemed
to punch and he felt the impact jarring up his arm to his shoulder so hard that he snapped his teeth
together. As he pulled the blade free the man let out a grunt that sounded more surprised than
pained and he started to turn around. Jungkook nearly dropped the knife because there was blood
on the handle and it was so slick he couldn’t grip it but he managed to not do so, and with both
hands wrapped around it he stabbed forward as hard as he could. This time the blade slipped
through his shirt and deep into his stomach and it wasn’t as jarring as the first blow. Jungkook
stared at the knife, at his bloody hands, and then he looked up at the goon with wide eyes. The man
tried to grapple hold of him, tried to seize his throat with his massive hands, and so he pulled the
knife out and plunged it into his stomach again…and again…and then a little further up by his ribs.

Ahn didn’t scream in pain, didn’t so much more than let out wheezy little sounds every single time
that he sank the blade into him and only when he opened his mouth and coughed blood all down
the front of his shirt did Jungkook realise what he was doing and he seized up in shock. The man
slumped sideways and hit the floor with a loud thud and that was when he saw that Yoo was
nowhere in sight. The other goon had fled and left him alone in the alley with Jimin and the
currently bleeding out Ahn.

“Oh shit…oh shit…” Jungkook said breathlessly as he looked at the man. There was blood all over
his shirt and he could see tears in the fabric where his knife had sliced the material and went right
through into him. His skin would have tears like that too, deep gashes, and he had created them
with his hands. “Oh man, oh fuck.” His fingers twitched and the switchblade slipped out of his grip
and landed on the floor.

The backs of his hands and his fingers and even his palms had blood on them and he lifted them to
stare at them dumbly. There was a groaning sound and for a moment he thought that it was Ahn
but then he saw Jimin shifting so that he wasn’t curled up in a ball any more. He rolled onto his
stomach and retched a few times before vomiting all over the ground. He tried to catch his breath
and yet he couldn’t seem to do so, hiccuping and gasping and doing something that sounded like
sobbing. The boy dropped his head onto the concrete floor and luckily it didn’t land in the pool of
vomit and he slipped his hands under him so that he could nurse his aching crotch.

Jimin’s face was a wreck. He had taken several hard hits to the face and as a result there was a
massive graze along his cheek from where a ring had caught his skin. His nose was bleeding and
though he couldn’t seem very well in the dim light he thought it looked like it had been broken,
bent a little to the side. Bloody lips that were cut so deeply that his lower lip sagged slightly.

“…Kookie? What the…the fuck?” he asked as he peered at him through one eye, the other closed
over from swelling and tacky blood from a cut on his hairline.

“Jimin, oh shit man I-I-I-”

“Wuh…what’re you doing huh…here?”

“I heard noises, I heard noises and I-I thought I’d check it out buh-but I didn’t-” Jungkook made a
low keening noise, “fucking dead man, he’s fucking dead.” Jimin managed to move his head
enough to look at the slumped over form of Ahn and then he looked back at him. The boy looked
dazed and he wasn’t sure if he had even registered what had happened. “Juh-Jimin, I killed
someone. I kuh-killed a Sam Yong Pa goon.”
 The Kid

Never leave a weapon at a crime scene. That was one thing that Jungkook knew to never do, and
yet picking up the switchblade again seemed too hard for him to do. He didn’t want to feel the
heavy weight of the plastic handle in his palm, tacky with blood. Had there been a gutter he would
have shoved it down through the grates and watched it get swept away by the pathetic little trickle
of water until he never had to look at it ever again. But there was no gutter and so he forced himself
to hunker down and pick it back up. He checked it over before realising that he couldn’t put it in
his pockets with it being so covered in blood. So he held his breath and reached over to snag a
handful of Ahn’s shirt, slicing a scrap free and then using it to wipe the blood off the knife and his
hands. After some fiddling he managed to get the blade to slip back into the handle and so he
shoved it into his bomber jacket pocket. Even after wiping his hands with the shirt scrap they still
felt tacky and he could see blood caught in the grooves of his palms that he couldn’t wipe free. He
would need scorching hot water and maybe bleach to rid him of the coppery scent that clung to his
hands.

A few feet away Jimin was still lying on the ground, on his stomach with his hands clasped around
his crotch. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the boy wouldn’t be able to walk after being
struck by such a blow. His lower stomach would be too sore and there would be horrible swelling
and bruising as a result. But the blow between the legs wasn’t the only blow that he was worried
about. Jimin had taken so many smacks to the ribs that one of them might just be busted and he had
no clue if he had been hit by around the head. He thought about Hong and his crushed skull, about
the goon that had been in ICU with concussion and swelling of the brain.

“Juh-Jimin,” Jungkook said in a voice that was uneven. It sounded like he was shivering and he
was, his skin was freezing cold and he could feel his teeth wanting to chatter together. “Can you
muh-move right now?”

The boy didn’t reply or even shift and he was aware of the fact that he was in shock. Why, he
didn’t know, for it wasn’t like he had killed a man. Yet Jimin was just lying there with his hair
messily spread across the floor just an inch or so away from the puddle of vomit and he wasn’t
moving or speaking. Was it shock or had he maybe suffered a hard enough hit to the head? Not too
far from him he could see his bag lying on the floor. One of the straps had been torn free and the
material had been slashed so that the envelopes of cash and maybe even drugs were on show.

“Jimin?” Jungkook asked again, more urgent than the first. His voice was edging close to a shout
and he was pretty sure that he might just start shouting if he didn’t get away from the body lying
on the floor beside him. He didn’t know if Ahn was dead or not for he wasn’t moving but there
was a steady pool of blood spreading out and soaking into his clothes. He had felt warm to the
touch when he had grabbed hold of his shirt but in an hour or two he would start cooling to the
current air temperature and when night finally fell he would turn cold. “Jimin I nuh-need you to
talk to me muh-man.”

“I…I dunno,” Jimin said in a croaky voice. “I dunno if I can move, Kookie.”

“Just tuh-try for me, Jimin. Puh-please?”

For a moment the boy didn’t do anything more than stare at him from his one open eye and then he
slowly rolled onto his side. As he did he groaned and Jungkook saw him tightening his hold on his
aching crotch. After a momentary struggle he managed to sit up and he let out more deep groans as
he did, wincing and scrunching his face up.

“What…what the fuck happened?” Jimin repeated the question, almost as if he would give him a
better answer than the last. But Jungkook was pretty certain that he wouldn’t be able to for his
mind was racing and he couldn’t seem to think.

“I told you I heard…something in the alley and I was skating past so I thought I’d check it out,”
Jungkook explained as he took deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. He found that closing
his eyes and not looking at Ahn or Jimin’s battered face really helped him. “This neighbourhood
is…is prime Sam Yong Pa dealer territory so I thought that it might be trouble. But then I heard…
heard something that sounded like your voice and I ran down the alley and it was you…you and
two guh-goons. Shit Jimin, I saw that tattoo on that guy’s head. It was a duh-dragon man, a fucking
dragon. I just stabbed one of my guys a hundred fuh-fucking times.”

“Oh shit, Kookie,” Jimin said breathlessly and Jungkook opened his eyes to watch him shifting to
get onto his knees. Doing so was enough to make him hiss and he ended up collapsing forward,
throwing his arms out to stop him smacking his head on the ground. His arms wobbled so badly
that it was a miracle they handled his weight and he could see his veins standing out under his skin
like cables from the effort. “Is he…?”

“I dunno.”

“Maybe…maybe you didn’t kill him, huh? Maybe he’s just hurt real bad and-”

“No Jimin I’m sure that I fucking killed him!” Jungkook didn’t mean to shout and he saw his
friend flinching. He nearly collapsed as a result. He wanted to bury his face in his hands but he
couldn’t because they stunk of the goon’s blood. “I stabbed him over and over and there was so
much buh-blood. He was coughing it up man, you know what they say. Cuh-cough up blood and
you’re a fucking goner.”

“Kookie, we need to get outta here,” Jimin said, as if he was in any state to possibly move. “That
goon, he might snitch on us we need to get outta here.”

“Oh-OK, hang on.” Jungkook crawled over to him, hands and knees brushing along the dusty
concrete until he was in front of him. Then he struggled to his feet and felt his legs wobbling. “You
need to get on my back.” The other boy said that he didn’t want him to carry him, that he felt bad
and Jungkook just hunkered down and gestured. “Get on, I need to get you outta here.” Jimin
hesitated for a moment before reaching over to sling his arms around his neck, one hand holding
onto the opposite forearm and the other clasped around his wrist. It was a struggle to get upright
but he managed to do so and Jungkook shifted to grab hold of his thighs, making stirrups with his
arms so the boy would stay secure on his back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin muttered as he placed his head on his shoulder, chin digging down as he spoke.
He asked him what he was apologising for. “For causing trouble, for getting you in trouble all the
fucking time.”

Jungkook thought about how Taehyung had said sorry to him just yesterday morning when they
had been in the market; of how he had tapped his plastic chopsticks on the bench and had looked at
him with a happy expression that had also had a strange sadness at the corners of his eyes and lips.
He had been worried about Taehyung would be the one to make him do something stupid, that
would cause hell like he always seemed to do so, and yet he hadn’t. It hadn’t even been Jimin but
rather just him. He had stabbed the man rather than do something else, rather than step in and try
and stop them by causing a ruckus and maybe taking a couple of hard punches to the face in the
process. No, he had made the decision to do what he had done and no one needed to say sorry to
him.

Jungkook didn’t even know if he was sorry for stabbing Ahn so many times. Right now he felt like
the man deserved it, and that Yoo did too. They had been hurting Jimin and they could have - and
probably would have - killed him. He thought that he had done the right thing even if the right
thing had resulted in murder.

“Jimin,” he said as he shifted and secured him on his back a little better. “Why’re you out on the
streets? Didn’t you know about all of the shit between our gangs?”

“…No, what shit? I was just told to run today like always. What’d you mean shit?”
“We’ve got dead guys and men in the hospital,” Jungkook explained as he stepped over Ahn’s legs
and hastily made his way out of the alcove and through the alleys. “Geum Sung Pa goons have
been busting our deals, attacking everyone. It’s going crazy Jimin, every day there’s a news of
deaths. How did you not know?”

“I told you, I just run Kookie. I don’t get involved in anything like that. I don’t like brawling and
all of that shit.” Jimin made a pained noise under his breath as he wondered if he had knocked any
tender spots. “Did…did Tae do anything?”

“…No, I mean I dunno,” Jungkook said as he eyed the bisecting alleyway and tried to figure out
what way to go to get out of the maze. “He was with me the other day, during the night and the
morning. When you were in Suyeong-gu. When I got back to the den yesterday I found out that a
nightclub had been attacked but he couldn’t have done it, he was with me the entire time. But I
dunno about the rest. Do you?”

“No, I dunno either.”

“He said sorry to me and I’m not sure why.”

“You were with him like…in the den?”

“No, not in the den no. In the park.” Jimin asked him if it was the one that he had taken him to and
he confirmed it as he took a left and then a right, navigating and feeling all kinds of disorientated.
“We spent the whole night in the park so I know that he couldn’t have attacked the nightclub, but I
dunno about the other attacks.” It took him a minute to figure it all out and then he was stepping
onto the curb, where he had left his skateboard. He couldn’t carry it now and it seemed like he was
going to have to replace it with a new one. It had served him well for three solid years now and he
stared down at the worn and chipped board covered in pasted and faded magazine images.
“Jimin?”

“Yeah Kookie?”

“Even if Tae did anything like that I don’t…I don’t think that I care. Is that a bad thing?” The boy
didn’t say anything and he felt like he should mutter an explanation but he didn’t really have one.
“I don’t care about stupid Sam Yong Pa or anything like that anymore. I just care about a few
people and that’s it.” Jungkook wasn’t going to admit that he had been thinking of never seeing
him or Taehyung again. He wasn’t going to tell him that he had fallen in love with his best friend
and that he needed to get away from the pair of them before anything worse happened. “So long as
I don’t get my ass beat and my friend is fine I don’t give a fuck what happens anymore.”

“Kookie?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care about Geum Sung Pa either, I just care about Tae and you and that’s all,” Jimin said
in a soft voice. “So thank you for saving my stupid ass.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Jungkook muttered. “We’re not outta the red yet ,Jimin…” He glanced
both ways down the street and tried to figure out what way to go. He couldn’t go back to the den
now, not with Jimin in tow and the chances that Yoo might have gone back there. In the darkness
of the alley he might not have caught enough of his face to identify him but he didn’t want to take
that risk. The last thing that he needed was to be recognised as the kid that had stabbed a goon to
death.

Right now Yoongi was asleep in their bed and his friend had no clue. He had told Seokjin that he
didn’t believe that he could assault a police officer - which had been correct. Would he believe that
he could stab a man in a rush of blood and run away and leave him to die? What would Seokjin
think? The man had argued in his defense about his friend not being able to shield him forever, but
this wasn’t something as innocent as making friends with rival gang members; this was murder.
And what would Taehyung think? Just yesterday in the park he had called him a pussy and said
that he wouldn’t be able to win Jimin in a fight.

He hadn’t said anything about him saving their friend’s ass.

“God, we really fucked up now, huh Kookie?” Jimin said before letting out a forced laugh;
nervous and breathless. “Dead guy on our hands…”

“On my hands,” Jungkook corrected. “His death is on my hands not yours Jimin. I stabbed him, not
you, and I had to. They were gonna kill you and I couldn’t just stand there and let them do that.”

“You think they were gonna kill me?” He nodded and the other boy went silent for a minute as he
thought this over. “Yeah, me too.” Jimin shifted ever so slightly and he felt his cheek rubbing
against his. The blood from his grazes was tacky against his skin. “Shit, I thought I was gonna
die.”

“But you didn’t, I saved your ass. Not bad for a Sam Yong Pa punk, right?” The boy made a noise
in agreement and Jungkook started walking down the street in the opposite direction to the den. He
was probably going to end up taking Jimin back to his and Taehyung’s den and leaving him in the
boy’s care if possible. He might need to clean him up himself if he wasn’t there and then go. That
would be for the best, he wouldn’t have to see the boy if that was the case. Right now he didn’t
want to see him and the thought was enough to make him weak.

What would Taehyung do? Would he be thankful for him saving Jimin and maybe drag him into
an embrace and kiss him over and over as he muttered his thanks? Or would he be disgusted with
him after everything that they had spoken about together, after he had told him that he didn’t want
to hurt anyone?

“Kookie, it’s gonna be alright.” Jimin said in a soft voice, breath against his cheek warm and soft.
“I know that bad shit happened but it’s gonna be alright.”

Everyone kept telling him that and yet alright was so far away that he couldn’t possibly see it
anymore. It was as if it was at the end of a never ending horizon and no amount of running could
possibly ever reach it.

“I don’t think it will Jimin, I think it’s-”

Jungkook turned the corner at the end of the street and he saw the squad car parked just a few feet
away from them. His heart skipped all of the way up into his throat and he couldn’t help a pitiful
little moan escaping at the sight of it. What was it doing there? Why now, of all times, had they ran
into a police car? It was enough to make him freeze on the spot and he couldn’t even breathe. He
could see that the headlights were off but the interior lights were not and there was someone inside
with their head bowed as they looked at something. He could see a police cap and nothing other
than the brim. They hadn’t been seen. He could just turn around and go back onto the other street
but he couldn’t move.

Right now he had a switchblade in his bomber jacket pocket and another man’s blood on his hands.
There was a boy on his back that was battered and bleeding and just a street down there was a dead
body and a bag packed with cash and drugs.

Oh god, they were so fucked right now.

Jungkook managed to pull air in through his throat and it felt like it had shrank to the width of a
straw. He felt dizzy and his legs were wobbling so badly that he wondered if he would collapse or
maybe drop Jimin right off his back.

“Hey, Kookie you alright?” Jimin asked in confusion.

“Nu-no, there’s a fucking squad car,” he hissed. “Shit, what do I do? What-”

“Kid?”

At the sound of the voice Jungkook felt his shoulders go right up and then he realised who it was.
The officer in the car just down the street was hanging out of the window and when they reached
up to pull on their cap he saw that it was Namjoon. The man was looking at him with wide eyes
and he could only stare at him. Then the door was being popped open and the man was climbing
out of the car.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing?” Jungkook heard Jimin cursing down his ear but he couldn't do
anything, couldn't move or even blink. “Don’t tell me you’ve been causing trouble I-”

“Officer Kim,” he managed to say. “What a…funny coincidence.”

“Are you…is there someone on your back?” Namjoon stopped walking towards him and he placed
both hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah I can explain I-”

“Hu-hello officer,” Jimin said in a forced voice, faux smile in his voice. “Everything’s fine.” The
officer looked between them both and Jungkook could see that he very much did not believe a
single word that they were saying.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to explain what’s going on right now.”
“Officer I- Namjoon I can’t do that,” he said in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry
but I can’t, I need to go-”

“Go? Go where?”

“Get out of here, I need to get the fuck outta here right now ‘cos…shit, I fucked up.”

Namjoon looked at him with an unreadable expression and he suddenly realised that he didn’t
know what was going to happen. He was so used to seeing the young officer around Songnim Park
always on his patrols, sitting at the little coffee kiosk. They would share a couple of jokes and a
drink, talk about how he was never in school and of how he was keeping the streets safe. Even
though it was obvious that the man knew he was trouble, was a gang kid, he always let him go
without arresting him. But now… now it wasn’t just speculation about whether or not he was
carrying drugs. Now he had admitted to doing something wrong - something fucked up - and the
officer couldn’t possibly let that slide.

Jungkook just held his gaze and tried to not flinch, to look away and show fear or weakness. He
couldn’t help himself from tightening his grip on Jimin’s thighs however. He must have squeezed
painfully tight, right down on the bruised areas where the two goons had beaten him with the bats,
but the boy didn’t make a single sound if it did hurt. He had saved the boy’s ass from harm and
right now he might just have dragged him into the crossfire: might just get the pair of them
arrested.

“Get in,” Namjoon said in a low voice, a stern voice: hundred percent cop material. What did he
mean by that? Was he going to arrest them and drag them to the station?

“Namjoon I-”

“Get the hell inside the car kid,” Namjoon said as he shifted to pull the backseat door open.
Jungkook swallowed the lump trapped in his throat and then he walked the few steps to get past the
officer. He had to turn around and hunker down to help Jimin get inside and then the boy shifted
along the backseat.

“Shit Kookie,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t add to this and there was no need for he
knew exactly what he meant. His expression probably looked as scared as Jimin’s and he was
aware of the fact that he was sweating and breathing too heavily. He couldn’t seem any more guilty
and a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed a pale clammy face and wide eyes. Then
Namjoon was climbing into the front and he slammed the door shut before settling into his seat.
If he took them to the station they were both walking crime scene exhibits. They would find blood,
a murder weapon and a motive all on their first check and questioning.

“Christ kid,” Namjoon muttered under his breath as he reached up to remove his cap. He placed it
on the dashboard and then he looked at them using the rear view mirror. “It just keeps getting
worse and worse, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook said as his fingers found his bomber jacket pockets. He couldn’t help
himself from reaching in to touch the switchblade and feel the cold plastic handle. “I swear I
didn’t.” The officer asked him to clarify and he pressed his lips together. Admitting to a murder
wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do. He could lie to him but the man would know, would find
out. “I had to help him.”

“Help him? You mean that kid beside you? What’s your name, kid?”

“Juh-Jimin.”

“I see…stars on you kid. You’re a gangster, huh?” Jimin didn’t reply but he shifted to fold his arms
over his sore chest, covering his hand and inner elbow tattoo from view. “Geum Sung Pa and Sam
Yong Pa kids sitting in the backseat of my car. Damn…” Namjoon reached over to turn the keys in
the ignition and the car engine roared to life. “Jungkook, you’re in trouble right now. I can
practically smell it but that might be because you’re sweating to death.” Jungkook wiped at his
brow roughly. “The hell did you do, kid?”

“I don’t think I can answer that question.”

“You been brawling like those guys I told you about?”

“…Yeah and no.”

“Officer I should explain,” Jimin said as his leg started bobbing up and down nervously. The
gesture reminded him of Taehyung and he reached over to press down on his knee and stop him.
“What happened was all my fault, Kookie was just trying to help and- well, something bad…
happened.”
“Bad like what?” Namjoon asked as he placed his hands on the wheel. After neither of them replied
he sighed heavily. “Please kid, tell me that you didn’t…didn’t…”

“They were gonna kill him Namjoon. I didn’t mean to but they were and-and I just jumped in and
tried to stop them. One of them got away but the other…he’s in an alleyway right now.”

Jungkook studied the visible section of his face that was reflected in the rear view mirror and he
was pretty certain that the man’s face crumpled at this. It wasn’t obvious but there was a sagging
around his mouth and he dragged his eyes away to look out the front window.

“I heard them, they said they were gonna kill him.”

“I really thought I was gonna die,” Jimin added in a quiet voice as he stared at his lap.

The squad car fell silent for a minute and he just wished that the cop would break it somehow but
the man didn’t seem capable of doing so. He had not only two delinquent kids in the back of his
vehicle but two that had just indirectly admitted to assault and murder. What exactly was the beat
cop supposed to do? He was the kind of officer charged with helping lost tourists that might needed
assistance, making sure people didn’t litter or park illegally, and he might occasionally have to
move loitering teenagers along or chase after a thief but that was it. He didn’t do detective work for
sure, yet right now he was tasked with the pair of them and he didn’t seem to know what to do.

“…Fuck me,” Namjoon said eventually. Then he was twisting the wheel and pulling the vehicle
away from the curb. “What did you do to him?”

“I stabbed him.”

“What with?” Jungkook reached inside his bomber jacket pocket and pulled the switchblade out.
“Where did you get that?” He explained that he had been given it by his gang for self protection,
that there was a lot of violence happening and that it wasn’t safe to not be carrying it. “Let me see
it.” He stared at the back of the front seat and then shifted forward to hand it to him. Namjoon
reached behind himself and then it went onto the dashboard. He asked him if he was collecting it
for evidence and he didn’t say.

“You’re not taking us to the station,” Jimin said as he sat upright suddenly, wincing as he looked
out of the window. “You took a left not a right.”

“I don’t know where I’m taking you,” Namjoon replied before laughing nervously.

“Namjoon?”

“Look kid, I don’t know what I’m doing right now. I’m out of my goddamn mind. Just tell me
where to go and I’ll go.” Jungkook thought this over for a moment before giving the address of
Jimin and Taehyung’s den and settling back in the seat. “I can’t believe - no, I don’t want to believe
- what you’re telling me right now.”

“Neither can I…” he muttered to himself.

“I mean murder? Seriously Jungkook, you’re admitting to a murder?”

“I prefer to think of it as…culpable homicide,” Jungkook said as he stared out of the window at the
streets outside.

The sky was start ending to darken and soon enough it would be night. Yoongi was likely still
asleep in their shared bed right now. Seokjin was probably in the act of cooking a three course
meal for a politician and his third side girlfriend. Hoseok was wherever the drug running trade took
him. Where was Taehyung? Was he in the den or was he out raising hell like usual? Was he
thinking about how many teeth to knock out of some guy’s head or was he maybe thinking about
him? Whatever he was doing he most certainly was not sitting in the backseat of a squad car with a
battered friend after murdering a man.

“You’re just a kid. A smart ass kid with an attitude problem. You’re not a murderer, Jungkook.”
Namjoon shook his head in disbelief. “It’s just not…not right.”

“I didn’t mean to do it…” he said quietly as he felt his eyes starting to get wet, starting to burn. “I
was just so scared that they’d kill Jimin so I had to do it. I had to.” He sniffed hard and then he felt
something brushing against his thigh and when he looked down he saw that it was Jimin’s fingers:
poor bruised and skinless knuckles that looked to have been stomped on a few times. Jungkook
shifted his own hand to take his within his own and he couldn’t help but squeeze it tightly, almost
tight enough to hurt.
“I always thought that someone would bust you for drugs, that they’d catch you skating around
with that backpack and know that you were a runner,” Namjoon explained as he slowed the car
down at a red light. “And I thought that hey, it’ll be terrible but you wouldn’t go to prison. You’d
get put in a correctional facility and maybe you’d come out if it clean, you know? But I didn’t want
to be the cop that busted you for it. I kept thinking…maybe he’ll change on his own, maybe he’ll
find something better?” The man paused before sighing again. “I didn’t think I’d have you in the
back of my vehicle with a murder weapon and a confession.”

“I did change, just not for the better.”

The squad car fell silent again and Jungkook didn’t want the silence broken this time. He was more
than happy to hear nothing more than the sound of the traffic droning in through the slightly open
driver-seat window and the occasional sound from Jimin that sounded like pained little mumbles
whenever they went over a speed bump and the seat shifted under them. He turned his attention
back to studying him instead of the sights of the window and he saw that his left eye had continued
swelling to the point where it was going to close up and already starting to discolour. His facial
injuries had stopped bleeding at least but his face still had tracks and smears of blood that would
need cleaning. After a while Jimin must have felt the weight of his gaze on him and the boy turned
his head to look at him. No words were said, no eyebrows raised or lips moved silently, but
Jungkook found that he knew what he was thinking anyway.

When the car finally pulled up at the end of the street that he had said Namjoon killed the engine
and for a moment the entire world seemed devoid of noise. Then he shifted in his seat to look at
them both.

“Not a word of this leaves this car,” he said in a low voice. “None of us know each other. I don’t
know your names or faces.”

“The switchblade.”

“Don’t worry about the switchblade,” Namjoon said. “We don’t know each other and that’s final.
Kid, I don’t think we’ll see much of each other if you know what I mean.”

No more coffee kiosk talks and jokes, no more friendly salutes and words of advice from the only
police officer Jungkook had ever really gotten to know and like. Maybe he had thought of him as
being an alright guy in the past, but now he knew differently. He knew that Namjoon was a true
friend and maybe if he hadn’t fucked up so much he might have just been that for him: a friend.
“OK, I understand,” Jungkook said, all the while feeling a little ache in his chest at this. “If
anything happens, if we go down for this not a word gets out about you.”

“It won’t get out,” Namjoon said as he turned to look back at the wheel. “But you two should get
out now.”

Jungkook popped the door open and climbed out, waiting for his friend to slide along the seat after
him. Jimin struggled to get his legs out and to stand up but he told him that he didn’t need carrying,
just a little support was all. So he slung an arm around his waist and dragged him to his feet. The
boy groaned at this but threw his own arm around his neck. Jungkook kicked the back door shut
hard and then he looked at Namjoon through the window.

“Keep the streets safe Officer Kim,” he said as he lifted his free hand to snap off one final brisk
salute. He stayed on the curb to watch the vehicle pull away from the curb and roll down the road,
disappearing out of sight a moment later.

Getting down the steps that led to the basement with Jimin in tow proved harder than he had been
expecting. The beating he had sustained made it very hard for him to move his lower body without
suffering pain of some sort, but after a momentary struggle Jungkook figured out that that they
could use the banister against the brick wall to their advantage; allowing Jimin to help alleviate the
burden of carrying him down the steps by using it as a form of support. So the other boy leaned as
much of his weight against it as he could and it took them perhaps two minutes to get down the
stairs that usually took a few seconds. He kept apologising throughout the situation until Jungkook
told him to stop and at least he did that. He didn’t want to hear him saying sorry for being beaten
up.

When he got to the bottom Jungkook found the door locked and so he pounded his fist on it several
times whilst Jimin stayed propped up against the wall. Was it locked because Taehyung was
inside? He didn’t know but he waited maybe thirty seconds before repeating it and that was when
he heard a voice coming through the wood.

“If that’s you Kookie I swear to fucking god I’ll strangle you with that tie!” Taehyung called in
annoyance and a moment later there came the scraping of the lock being pulled back. Jungkook
shifted to grab Jimin again, practically dragging him over and feeling the boy slumping against his
side, and then the door swung inwards. “The handcuffs too I’ll break ‘em out and see-”
Taehyung’s eyes shifted from his face to look down at Jimin and he stopped talking instantly, not
trailing off into a mumble but rather as if someone had turned a switch off on the back of his neck.

“Tae, help me,” Jungkook said as he tried to support Jimin. “I think he’s gonna pass out on me.”

“Fuck,” the boy wrenched the door back hard and then he was grabbing Jimin’s other arm and
slinging it around his shoulders, sharing the sudden dead weight of his limp body. “What the fuck
happened?”

“Shit Tae…” Jimin mumbled, “I’m glad to see…you…”

“Hey buddy, yeah I’m here.” The pair of them carried the fainting boy across the room and after
some maneuvering they managed they lower him on the bed. By the time Jimin’s head hit the
mattress he was out cold and so Jungkook turned his head on the side just to be safe. “Kookie, what
happened to him? Tell me right now.” Taehyung grabbed both of his upper arms hard and he didn’t
shake him but he seemed to be seconds from doing so. He knew that he was scared and yet he had
hardened his face so that it only showed in his eyes, at the slight twitch of the corners of his lips.

“I need to talk to you, I need to-” Jungkook reached up and grabbed Taehyung’s wrist and he
pulled him across the basement room. The boy looked like he wanted to stay with Jimin, digging
his heels into the floor for a moment, but then he allowed him to drag him away and back outside
into the stairwell. He didn’t close the door but rather just moved to lean back against the wall. His
legs didn’t feel steady at all and that dizziness was back again. He was so scared of saying
something to the other boy even when he had to; scared of how he would react.

“Kookie?” Taehyung asked as he moved to stand right in front of him. “Don’t you faint me too.”

“Shit, Tae let me just…” Jungkook lifted his arms and he felt his hands shaking as he slipped them
around the other boy’s neck. Taehyung let him drag him into an embrace without a single word and
he felt his hands going around his waist. Jungkook pressed his face against the side of his neck and
he felt his entire body shaking now. “I fucked up Tae, I really fucked up.”

“Minnie?”

Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out again. Not that long ago he had been thinking about
going back home to Yoongi and forgetting about the pair of them and yet here he was, in
Taehyung’s arms with the scent of his skin in his nose and he couldn’t stop shaking. After a
moment he managed to compose himself enough to explain what had happened even when his
voice was shaking so bad that he had to stop in parts and catch his breath. Taehyung just listened to
it all without saying anything but when he heard about the goons being Sam Yong Pa men he felt
him stiffening and that wasn’t a good sign. The boy’s body went tense and hard and he knew that
he should stop talking but he couldn’t, he hadn’t explained about the murder yet, but when he told
him that the men had mentioned killing Jimin Taehyung disentangled himself from his limbs.

“Tae, wait listen-”

“Those stupid fuckers.”

“Tae, I-”

“Sam Yong Pa,” the boy spat on the floor right by his sneakers and Jungkook stared at him
dumbly. “I’m gonna spit on their fucking corpses.” Taehyung turned on his heel and he reached out
to grab at his arm. But his friend shoved him away hard and Jungkook slammed the back of his
head against the bare brick wall.

“Tae!” he shouted as he staggered through the door behind him. “You don’t have to kill them! I
already got one of the fuckers!”

“You?” Taehyung asked before scoffing. “You think I’m fucking stupid, kid?” He retrieved his
baseball bat and crossed the room to get to the little kitchen area. Jimin would vouch for him,
would tell him what had happened and how there was a dead body somewhere in an alley on
Gunam-ro with at least six stab wounds in it, but Jimin wasn’t exactly able to vouch right now. The
boy was very much still unconscious on the bed.

“No Tae, I don’t, but how’re you gonna kill him when you don’t even know who he is?!”

“Oh I’m not gonna just kill him,” Taehyung explained in a strangely calm tone. “I’m gonna kill
every single Sam Yong Pa bitch.”

“No, you don’t mean that,” Jungkook argued. “You’re upset and you’re not thinking right.” He
watched the boy rifle through a drawer before pulling something out. He saw that it was a little
leather wallet and there was a handle sticking out of it. He pulled on the handle to reveal a wicked
gleam of a knife and then it went down the back of his jeans. “Tae, just stop and help me with
Jimin. He needs his wounds cleaning and patching up, he might need stitches and I dunno how to
do them. I need you to help me.”

“No one touches him,” Taehyung intoned as he retrieved his leather jacket. “No Geum Sung Pa
fucker, no Sam Yong Pa fucker.” He slipped it and then he was dropping to his knees to get his
boots, the ones with the goddamn nails in the bottom of the soles. “No one.”

“Tae, don’t even think about something like that it’s fucking crazy!”

“Didn’t you always think I was crazy?” Taehyung asked as he furiously knotted the laces and
Jungkook realised that there was no slowing him down. This was it, like he had always predicted.
This was the shove that had pushed him over the edge from being a little bit unstable and now the
boy was going to do something so reckless and dangerous he couldn’t even comprehend it. It
wasn’t ‘crazy’, it was downright fucking insane. One kid against an entire gang of goons? He was
good but he wasn’t invincible and if he did this then Jungkook was pretty certain that he was going
to die.

“Tae, please.”

“Don’t.” The boy got upright and pointed the baseball bat at him. It was just like their first meeting
all over again except there was a small difference. Taehyung wasn’t grinning at him. But he still
felt that fear in the pit of his stomach again. “I told you. I told you over and over that Sam Yong Pa
and Geum Sung Pa should never be together. I fucking told you but you just wouldn’t go. You
wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Says the ass that followed me all over a store and chased me down the street!” Jungkook retorted.
“I wouldn’t leave? I wouldn’t go? What about you, Tae? Why didn’t you?”

“‘Cos I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I couldn’t stop-” Taehyung whirled around and kicked
the coffee table hard and the light piece of furniture flipped and landed on the floor with a loud
clattering noise, “thinking about you!”

Jungkook flinched but he didn’t look away. Oh here was old Taehyung back again, not the smiling
boy that had shared kisses with him in the park at 4am. This was the boy that cracked men’s skulls
for a living and snorted four lines of cocaine just for a slight buzz. And right now he was directing
all of that anger right at him.

“You think I wanted to, huh?! I fucking hated it!” Taehyung yelled, hoarse voice booming off the
walls of the basement den. “You think I wanted to go through this! Falling in love with a fucking
Sam Yong Pa kid!”

“Yeah?! Well I didn’t want this either, you stupid fucker!” Jungkook shouted back. “I didn’t want
any of this but it happened!”

“No, no I can take it back,” Taehyung muttered. “I can take all of that shit back. It was just words
and I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?”

“I love you,” the boy said a harsh croak. Taehyung didn’t meet his eyes when he said this and
Jungkook was glad because otherwise he would have seen the complete devastation on his face.
No, he didn’t mean that. He was just saying that to hurt him like always, just like the bites in his
kisses and the way he had dug his fingers into his tattoo. Taehyung didn’t mean it and he would
take it back, he would say sorry. He knew that he would.

“Tae…”

“It’s disgusting,” the boy spat as started rolling his wrist, the bat catching the light as he did.
“What you made me feel was disgusting.”

“Tae just-just help me with Jimin please?” Jungkook asked in a voice barely above a whisper,
hating how tiny and weak he sounded.

“I’m gonna kill every last Sam Yong Pa motherfucker and you’re not gonna stop me. Don’t get in
my way.”

The way Jungkook currently felt he would prefer Taehyung beating him with that stupid bat and
stomping on him so that the nails in the soles of his boots sank right into his skin. It would hurt
less than the words coming out of his mouth. It was like the boy was firing bullets at him, perfectly
aimed and selected to destroy him: to clip his bones and make them shatter to pieces, to fragment
upon impact and tear trenches in his chest. How could say these things to him? How could he do
this after everything that Jungkook had done for him, and for Jimin too?
He had murdered a man to save his best friend and now the boy was practically murdering him
with nothing more than words.

“Tae, please. I need you right now and-”

“And what?!”

“You’re hurting me,” he whined, actually reaching up to seize a handful of his tee between his
hands. “It fucking hurts!”

“Good, I hope it stings,” Taehyung said in the most coldest voice. Jungkook felt his heart literally
tearing in his chest and he swallowed a sob because he didn’t want him to see him crying. The boy
crossed the room and so he stepped in his path. “Move kid.”

“My name’s not kid! It’s Jungkook!” he shouted, feeling that trapped sob strangling him. “You
said it over and over and you kuh-kissed me and-”

“Get out of the fucking way!”

“And you love me!” Jungkook saw the bat swinging back and then it was suddenly gone but an
eruption of pain bloomed right across his rib cage and he felt himself staggering from the force of
the blow.

The boy had just used the stupid weapon against him.

He didn’t fall but he felt the air escaping his lungs in a shocked grunt of pain and then the bat
smacked right into the back of his knee and it gave in, wobbling as the muscle clenched up and
spilling him to the floor. Jungkook felt his aching ribs hit the floor first, then his head, and then he
couldn’t seem to see anything other than star bursts exploding under the blackness of his eyelids.

This is what every man Taehyung had beaten up, had killed, had felt.

Now he was feeling it too.

“I could never!” There was another swing of the baseball bat and it hit him hard. Jungkook barely
felt it with his foggy head. “Love!” Thump, the next one got him right on the shoulder. “A
fucking!” Something wrenched on the back of his bomber jacket collar and flipped him over. “Sam
Yong Pa bitch!”

The last thing that Jungkook saw before everything went black was the sight of Taehyung leaning
over him, leg cocked up above his ribs. Taehyung with his lips pulled back from his teeth in a
grimace of agony, not anger.

Taehyung, with wet cheeks and tears streaming down his face: crying because of him.

The best outcome that he could have hoped for was that the boy killed him. Maybe by accident,
maybe on purpose. As crazy as the thought sounded Jungkook thought that Taehyung could and
would kill him if he so wanted. The threat had always been there from the start and yet he had been
drawn to the boy regardless, as if the danger was somewhat attractive and thrilling. The idea of
Taehyung killing him wasn’t as unpleasant as it had been just a few weeks ago. Back then he had
been rather content with his fucked up little life; with Yoongi and their shared bed and brotherly
affections, with his job as the Sam Yong Pa mascot without a tattoo and a backpack full of drugs
and dirty money. Back then he had actually wanted to live and yet since meeting Kim Taehyung he
had rapidly discovered that death was a rather fun alternative to having to spend another day in his
company.

Maybe Taehyung would bring that metallic bat down nice and hard on his skull and there would be
that wonderful sound he had described to him; that crunch of glass under a boot heel.

See, Jungkook had always known from the start that Taehyung would be trouble. But something
about that trouble kept making him want to see what would happen if he carried on fucking around
with him. Would someone really die? Would they end up in prison like some weird Bonnie and
Clyde job? Would Jimin snap and finally kill the both of them because he couldn’t handle them
any more? The endings were infinite and that was Taehyung’s appeal. He never got boring,
something crazy was always just lying in wait to spring at him like an uncoiling cobra.

This wasn’t love, not really. It was sticking his hand into a fire and keeping it there just for fun.
How wonderful would it be for those boots of his to do some lethal damage? Maybe right down on
his head or ribs, maybe make the bones puncture his lungs and just kill him in the most agonising
way?

Over and over Taehyung had told him that he was going to explode, he was going to kill Sam Yong
Pa motherfuckers, he was going to… The boy was a broken record and every single time Jungkook
had tuned out and thought about something much more interesting. Like how warm his eyes
looked in the natural sunlight and not the harsh basement lights. Like how annoyingly tight his
trousers were and that little trail of hair on his stomach and what it would be like to unbuckle the
belt around his hips. He had heard the words and the warnings but he hadn’t listened to them.

Maybe if Taehyung had stopped kissing him and had beat the shit out of him with a baseball bat a
lot sooner then this wouldn’t have happened?

Strangulation. Oh boy, that would be a kicker. Intimate. Taehyung could tell him how disgusting
he made him feel as he wrapped his hands around his throat and throttled him, straddling his chest
whilst he did. That might have even been fun for a little while before the blood vessels in his eyes
exploded.

Yet none of those things happened to him. What happened was he passed out from the pain and the
impact of his head bouncing off the concrete floor of the stupid basement den and then he was
coming around to the sensation of someone shaking him hard. For a moment he was convinced that
it was Taehyung but then he heard the faintest echo of a voice coming from somewhere. Maybe
somewhere close, maybe down a tunnel, he couldn’t really be certain.

“…up man, please wake up.”

That was Jimin, there was no mistaking his voice even in his current hazy state. Jungkook could
hear that he was crying and it made his voice bob up and down like a tackle floating in a river.
Jungkook felt like he was floating in a river too, he couldn’t really feel the weight of his body or
his limbs.

“Kookie, please wake up.”

He was trying to do that but it was a little hard. Jungkook was somewhat aware of the fact that their
positions had been strangely reversed. He had brought Jimin into the den in a near unconscious
state not that long ago and yet now he was the one on the floor whilst the battered boy tried to get
him to wake up. There was something strange about the situation but he couldn’t really dwell on it.

“Ji…min?”

“Oh shit,” Jimin moaned, “oh thank god.”

“What the…fuck?”

“I was gonna ask you that question,” the boy said, letting out a little laugh that turned into a series
of sobs. “Kookie?”

“Yuh…yeah?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Tae…ll have to hit me a lil…harder than that,” Jungkook mumbled. “Huh...help me up.” Jimin
reached down to grab hold of him and a moment later he was being gently pulled upright into a
sitting position. He felt his stomach lurching but surprisingly there was little pain from his body;
from wherever Taehyung had beaten him with that stupid baseball bat.

“What happened?” He forced his eyes open and looked at the other boy. Jimin looked like shit and
he probably didn’t look much better. His face was still messed up but at least the blood had been
cleaned away. He was supposed to have done that, Taehyung was supposed to have helped him
clean the poor boy up and nurse his injuries and yet that hadn’t happened. No, Taehyung had
beaten the shit out of him and then ran out of the den vowing to kill every member of Sam Yong Pa
and Jungkook was pretty damn certain that he might just succeed in such an endeavor.

“Tae…brought you back to Tae and he fucking…exploded, I dunno. He went nuts and I got in his
way and he mowed me down and left. Said he was gonna kill everyone.” He reached up to rub at
his brow, head aching from bouncing off the concrete floor. “Seems the grenade joke isn’t that
funny anymore, huh?”

“Kill? Kill who?”

“Sam Yong Pa, the entire fucking gang apparently,” Jungkook said before laughing at how stupid
it sounded out loud. A kid goon taking down an entire gang syndicate, who else but Taehyung
would possibly even think it?

“No, no he’s just saying that. He’ll hit up a stupid club and beat the shit outta someone and then
crash in the park like always. He’s never exploded before. Never.” Jimin’s voice sounded
surprisingly earnest, as if he actually believed his words. “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t-”

“Jimin, how long have I been out?”

“I…I dunno I only came around a few minutes ago and-” Jungkook lifted his arm to look at his
watch. 1am. Taehyung had been gone for hours and they had no fucking clue where.

“Jimin, we gotta blow now,” he said as he tried to get to his feet.

“Blow, you can’t even walk man!”

“Tae’s been gone for maybe five hours Jimin, he might have actually done something more than
fight in a club.” His arms wobbled but he managed to get upright. “He might be fucking dead
already.”

“Tae? Dead?” Jimin scoffed at this but he saw that he wasn’t really laughing at all. “Yeah right,
Kookie-” he reached down to drag him to his feet too, “seriously, he’s not stupid he-”

“Bike. Now.”

Jungkook was pretty sure that they were breaking so many laws: two kids, possibly concussed
kids, jumping onto a motorbike and speeding across the district without helmets or obeying any
kind of speed limit. But it really didn’t matter what they did because the constant drone of
ambulance and police sirens seemed to sound on the air from absolutely everywhere. A bad
coincidence? Or something to do with Taehyung? Whatever the case it left a horrible sensation in
the pit of his stomach at the thought. There had to be dozens and dozens, maybe even hundreds of
emergency vehicles on the roads and as a result Jimin stuck to driving in bus and bicycle lanes
even though it was illegal. Like either of them even gave a shit at this point. They didn’t get pulled
over.
“The fuck are you going?” Jungkook asked breathlessly, the wind hitting them both hard and
blowing his hair back off his brow. The briny scent made him feel like puking, the salt in the air
somewhat reminiscent of tears: of Taehyung’s contorted face as he had stomped his nailed boot
down on his stomach.

“The park!” Jimin called back, voice almost whipped away by the wind, almost lost under the wail
of sirens. “He’ll be there! Trust me I know Tae!”

Jungkook thought that they were very much hoping for a miracle but he didn’t have any other
suggestions. If his friend said that the boy would be there then he had no choice but to believe him.
The reality was they were probably going to find his corpse in the gutters somewhere but he
wouldn’t say that to Jimin. The boy had had enough today and he didn’t want to hurt him that little
bit more.

“Jimin?!”

“Yeah?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“What? Sorry for what?!”

“This is all my fucking fault! Tae exploded ‘cos of me!” Jungkook dropped his head to try and
catch his breath, struggling to do because of the speed they were traveling at and the wind hitting
him and stealing his breath. “So I’m sorry!”

Jimin drove the bike down illegal lanes and side streets that he wasn’t supposed to cut down,
zooming through traffic and getting horns squealing at them as a result. This didn’t feel like flying
anymore, this felt like there was a hook in his stomach and it was dragging him to wherever
Taehyung was even when he didn’t want to go to him. It was like torture but he couldn’t deny that
he felt it stronger when they drew closer to the park. Jimin hadn’t even killed the engine when
Jungkook lunged off the back and darted right over to the fence and dragged himself over it. This
time he felt a twinge of pain in his stomach and when he looked down he wasn’t at all surprised to
see bloody patches on the material. The boy had stomped on him after all. He didn’t land on his
feet on the other side but rather collapsed and then Jimin was diving over it and dragging him back
upright again.
“Tae! Tae, don’t you fucking move!” Jimin hollered and the figure on the bench didn’t move in the
slightest. The boy dragged him along the gravelly footpath and Jungkook could barely stay on his
feet because his legs were shaking uselessly. In the darkness of the night it was hard to see exactly
who it was but he just knew that it was Taehyung. When they got closer Jimin let go of him and
then he was diving on the other boy, grabbing his head between his hands roughly.

“Is he…OK?” Jungkook asked breathlessly.

“Hey Tae? Tae, it’s Minnie? I’m here, I’m here right now yeah, buddy?” Jimin brushed a matted
lock of hair off his face and Taehyung did nothing more than blink. His face was beat up but
nowhere near as bad as Jimin’s; a massive slash along his cheek that looked to be the result of a
switchblade. There were some tears in his leather jacket, along the arms and the shoulder seams,
and a great patch of skin was missing on his chin where it had been grazed from a hard punch with
a duster. “I’m here, OK?”

“…Minnie?”

“Yeah, yeah Tae it’s me see, I’m alright.” The boy hunkered down to try and meet his eyes
because Taehyung had his head held low. “The fuck happened to you?”

Jungkook studied the boy for a moment before glancing down and seeing that his baseball bat was
on his lap, still clasped tightly in his hands. He could see a thick coating of gore on the length and
he was pretty certain that he could see hair stuck to the metal.

“Mother…fucking Sam Yong Pa,” Taehyung slurred. “Put up a good fight but I got ‘em…got a few
goons to…to go crazy man.”

“Go crazy? What’d you mean?” Jungkook asked.

“Got ‘em to brawl and kill…kill some stupid fuckers. Really paint the town…red.” The boy closed
his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Clubs and…and apartments and shit. Minnie?”

“Yeah buddy?”
“Is Kookie here?”

“Yeah, he’s right here Tae. See, right there.” Jimin turned his head slightly and Taehyung opened
his eyes to stare at him. Jungkook didn’t like how glazed over they looked, how…empty and dead.

“I fixed…it Kookie.”

“Fixed what?” he asked in confusion, looking between the two boys. “What’d you mean?”

“You said that…that you wanted out of the fucking Sam Yong Pa so I fixed it for you.”

“Tae? What the fuck does that mean?” Jungkook felt a terrible coldness spreading through his body
and he didn’t know what is was.

“No need to worry about those fuckers. I fixed it. It’s just you and us now…no gangs to worry…
bout.” Taehyung reached up to try and rub at his eyes but his hands were coated in gore and Jimin
batted them away and rubbed at his eyes roughly instead. “I hit ‘em right in the heart.”

“The heart?” Jimin asked. “What does…” The boy stopped talking all of a sudden and then he
jerked. “Fuck.”

“Fuck? What?” Jungkook felt like he was detached from his body and he couldn’t understand what
was going on right now. They were talking but he didn’t know what they were saying.

“Kookie, the den. He’s talking about the den and-”

Jungkook dived forward and tried to grab hold of Taehyung but Jimin got in the way and shoved
him back hard. He didn’t trip over his feet which was a bonus because if he had he probably
wouldn’t be able to get back up again, he would just collapse on the grass and never move again.

“No one can stop us from being together now,” Taehyung said. “You’re finally free, Kookie.”
Jungkook didn’t know how he did it but he managed to run across the park and scale the fence
without any assistance. He heard Jimin shouting his name and telling him to stop but he couldn’t.
He landed on the street and started running and he couldn’t stop. He flew down streets almost as
fast as the boy’s motorbike and nothing could stop him; not the stitch in his side or the screeching
of car tires as he ran across roads. He could hear his heart racing in his ears and it was almost loud
enough to block out the warbling sirens that signaled that Haeundae-gu had imploded in a brutal
war of gang violence that would see the entire district razed to the ground by tomorrow.

Taehyung had caused all of this. He had exploded like his stupid tattoo and he had destroyed
everything and now he was telling him that he did it all for him.

Jungkook had never wanted to die so much in his life before.

When he finally got on the block the den was on he felt his legs start to protest but he just had to
get inside and then he would know. He could drop dead as soon as he did and it would be sweet
relief. He had to use the wall of the building as support to enter it and when he finally kicked the
door open he felt the last of his sanity slipping away.

This was hell, he had entered hell.

The storefront had been obliterated. The tables had been kicked over and smashed to pieces, great
tears in the seat cushions. Cards and plates and cups had been scattered and shattered everywhere
and the windows were gone too. But mostly it was the sight of several bodies on the floor that
pushed him over the edge. Jungkook eyed the men in slack jawed horror and he recalled seeing
their faces a few times over the years. Why, he had seen them all just earlier this evening upon
exiting the den; sitting together playing cards with Jaebum and…

Jaebum was lying not too far from his feet. It was hard to recognise him lying on his back when a
great deal of his face was concave, rather than convex. He could tell that the metal baseball bat had
been pulled back and smashed down right on his face, crushing his nose, shattering most of his
front teeth. Luckily for him there was enough blood to hide most of his face because he couldn’t
have looked at him without fainting in horror had he been able to look into his eyes.

There was a strangled sobbing sound from the back area and he didn’t want to go back there but his
legs carried him across the room. He stepped over bodies and sprawled out limbs and that was
when he saw Sunmi. She was sitting with her back to him and she was huddled over something. At
the sound of his footsteps she twisted to look over her shoulder and then she just started wailing.
Jungkook wanted to cover his ears and block the sound but he couldn’t. His hands were hanging
uselessly by his sides and he could see that she had someone on her lap.
Yoongi.

Oh god, she had Yoongi’s head on her lap and he was just lying there.

“No! No go! Go I don’t want you to see this! Go!” Sunmi screamed at him hysterically but it was
no use. Jungkook staggered over and dropped to his knees beside her and the woman lifted her
hands to bury her face in them. Blood was all over her hands, now leaving hand prints on her face.

“…Fuck, it’s the…the kuh-kid,” Yoongi rasped at him and that was what finally cracked him.
Jungkook didn’t burst into tears, he practically screamed and he couldn’t help himself. No, this
wasn’t supposed to happen! No, this couldn’t be Yoongi in front of him right now. He had left the
man upstairs in bed, sleeping with his arms stretched across the space that he had been lying on.
No, it couldn’t be possible and yet it was.

“The ah-ah-ambulance won’t come,” Sunmi keened. “I called and called buh-but the delays. The
service is too busy and-” she started wailing again and the sound was like nails on a blackboard.

“Wuh-where you…been, huh?”

“Stop talking!” Jungkook ordered as he reached over and grabbed at his shirt. “You need to-to save
your strength and-”

“Fuh…fucking scared that they got…you kid,” Yoongi said in that same dry and rough voice. “But
you’re…alright.”

“Yuh-yeah I’m alright, and you’re gonna be alright too.” Yoongi tee was in ribbons and he tore the
thin material through to try and find the wound that Sunmi had been pressing down on. There was
several deep stab wounds all over his abdomen and lower ribs but the worst of them all was on his
stomach, just to the right of his navel. Jungkook covered the gaping wound with his hands, both of
them, trying to staunch the flow.

Oh, wasn’t this karma coming back to get him for stabbing Ahn to death?
“Came outta nowhere…fucking kid and some guh…goons.”

“Yoongi, stop please.”

“It wuh…was him wasn’t it? The boy you…luh-love?” Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip
so hard that they cut into his skin but he didn’t even feel it. He was cold and numb all over except
for where his palms were pressed against the man’s stomach. “Kid doesn’t know how…how to
share.”

“The ah-ambulance will be here any suh-second.”

“Can’t feel my…face,” Yoongi muttered as his eyelids flickered. “Can’t fuh-feel anything right…
now.”

“It’s gonna be alright,” Jungkook said breathlessly, telling him that same stupid lie he had told him
all of those times before. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“Jin…”

“Yeah?”

“Tell him…” Yoongi furrowed his brow for a moment before it relaxed again, eyelids half-mast.
He couldn’t see anything more than the whites of his eyes and he saw how his skin wasn’t that
darker a shade.

“What? Tell him what Yoongi?”

Yoongi didn’t give him an answer.

Jungkook stared at his face and waited for it, waited for his eyelids to open again or his lips to
twitch but they didn’t. His face stayed perfectly still and he dropped his head to his chest.
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut tight and he stopped breathing and tried to listen for it, the
faintest beating of his heart.
Nothing.

He lifted his head again and looked at his face for a moment before looking at his chest. It wasn’t
rising and falling like it should be, like it had been when he had buried his face against it earlier; so
frail and thin but alive. He couldn’t smell his cologne and cigarette scent over that of his blood. He
hadn’t seen it earlier through his tee but now that he was looking at his bare skin he saw
something, something on the left side of his chest. It was right below his nipple and only slight but
he saw it and leaned closer. Little black letters on his skin.

MYG JJK.
 Crooked

“…kook?”

He came back to reality but he didn’t take his eyes off the sights outside of the window. No
concrete at all was visible, no chrome or glass or any skyscraper buildings on the horizon. That
was a blessing, for it meant that they were nearly at their location and they could get out of the car
soon. He had his arm cocked on the window armrest so that he could that he could rest his chin on
his palm and every now and again he would tap his fingers against his cheekbone in a sporadic
rhythm. There was a breeze coming in through the open front window of the vehicle but it couldn’t
blow away the scent of the flowers on his lap and on the seat beside him: big massive bouquets.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asked as he ran his eyes along the sight of the field beside the road. It had been
stretching for a few miles now, lush green grass that would start to turn yellow soon. There were
no wild flowers in sight. It almost felt like they were all in the limousine instead. He could see little
brick and corrugated metal barns and large mountains of hay beneath the low hanging clouds;
wooden fences ringing the fields that were worn down and starting to splinter from exposure to the
weather.

“Everything alright?” Hoseok asked from the other end of the backseat. He asked this in a quiet
voice, almost as if he didn’t want to be overheard by the driver but it wouldn’t matter. There was a
Plexiglas screen separating them from the man and he was too busy driving to really care. The
back of his cap had not a single piece of lint on it, neither did the shoulders of his deep navy jacket.
Classy, just like the interior. The seats were cream leather and there were no seams in them,
stitched so perfectly to make them look and feel smooth to the touch; padded headrests and low
armrests built beneath the windows. The flooring was wooden and there wasn’t a single nick in it.
He was more than certain that there wouldn’t be any nicks in the dashboard or wheel either. If
there was even a single scratch on the paint job he wouldn’t have climbed into it this morning. He
didn’t ride in anything other than the best.

“I suppose,” Jungkook replied as he shifted slightly, running his fingers along his lips rather than
his cheekbones. The other man didn’t say anything in response to this and the car fell silent again
save for the soft rumbling of the engine. Was Hoseok really going to ask him these questions
again? He asked him the same questions every time that they came here and this was the third year
in a row now. Didn’t he get tired of him giving him the same answers too, the same boring things
that they both knew were lies?
“I hate the scent of lilies,” Hoseok muttered after a moment of silence. “Whenever I smell these
stupid fucking flowers I think of death, more death and…death.”

“Did you know lilies take more oxygen to bloom than most flowers do,” Jungkook explained in a
quiet voice. “They take a large amount. I feel like they’ve sucked all of the oxygen outta this
fucking car.” The other man agreed with this statement before hitting the window button. It went
down a few inches but no real breeze came in through the gap. “They’re suffocating me, man.”

He looked down to his lap at the bouquet. It wasn’t as large as the ones on the middle seat but it
was more important because it was his bouquet. The centre of the spray was white lily and rose
with orchids of dusky cream against the deep green, a light spattering of chrysanthemum with little
bundles of petals. They were collected together and tied with a pastel blue silken ribbon, a slip of
paper nestled between a pair of roses.

“This car smells like a hooker,” Hoseok muttered under his breath and after a few seconds
Jungkook couldn’t help himself from laughing at the remark.

“Oh yeah? How many hookers you seen?” he asked and the other man held a finger against his lips
and the corners lifted up slightly in a smirk.

Jungkook dropped his eyes to study the other sprays and bouquets. Some of them were colourful,
yellows and oranges and dusky pinks. He didn’t like colour being in them, it didn’t look right.
Colourful bouquets were meant for gifts: weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, things like that. A
bouquet for a grave should be devoid of all colour and life. Then he turned to look back out of the
window with a heavy sigh. The weather looked like it was going to stay warm and he greatly
wanted it to start pouring rain. Maybe the skies would explode and great cracks of thunder would
boom and make the very air shake, but it wouldn’t do that. Instead the heat would make his shirt
stick to his skin and he would want to remove his jacket but he couldn’t do so yet.

After he had left the flowers on Yoongi’s grave then he could take the stupid jacket off.

Jungkook reached up to pull at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning the top one. It felt like it was
choking him. He never wore ties no matter and Hoseok often liked to remark on this matter but he
would never give him the reason. He would tell him that he just hated them, that was it, but the
reality was completely different. He wasn’t going to tell him that there was a certain someone he
had once known that had liked to pull on the one tie he had worn in his company; that had tangled
the lengths around his fingers and had wrenched on it so that he could kiss him.
That was why he couldn’t wear ties anymore.

“He hated flowers, you know that? Not ‘cos they're feminine or any of those stupid fucking
reasons men use. Yoongi hated flowers ‘cos he said that they died so quickly. Cut them and place
them in a vase and they’re dead in a week.” Jungkook laughed softly under his breath at the sight of
so many flowers spread out on the seat between them. “And we brought a whole fucking florists'
with us.”

“We seem to bring more and more every year.”

“Yeah, guess we do…”

“Tomorrow’s gonna be hell, huh?” Hoseok asked, cocking his elbow on the armrest too so that he
could unconsciously mimic his position. He didn’t tap his fingers on his lips however but rather
play with the lengths of his tie, stroking them down from the knot to the very end and then
repeating the motion. “6am flight to Hong Kong, I fucking hate flying.”

“You’re in the wrong business,” Jungkook retorted and the man could only nod in agreement.
“We’ll be back on Jeju Island before you know it, just got some business to see to.”

“Any business in Busan?”

“Yeah, though I’d much rather be somewhere else. The region’s a fucking hellhole. I tell you,
Seoul is a cesspool, a hotbed of sin and vice but Busan…Busan’s something else. It’s like the devil
walks down the streets there, man.”

“I thought Gwangju was bad,” Hoseok muttered, “but then I moved down there and I found out
what bad really was.”

Jungkook tried to remember what it had been like back then, back when he had been seventeen and
everything had been fine. When Hoseok had been relocated to Haeundae-gu it had already been
starting to change, to morph and disfigure into something different, something ugly and twisted.
But Haeundae-gu hadn’t been like that once. It had been a beautiful coastal town with a flourishing
but controlled criminal underworld. Then the war had happened and everything had changed. Just
three years ago it had been safe to walk the streets of the district without a care, without the worry
of crashing into another gang. Jungkook felt like he had taken that safety for granted now, that he
had never truly appreciated it. Now one couldn’t step outside without the risk of confrontation and
violence. Everyone moved in groups, dealers with goons, goons with goons. No more runners, too
risky. Weapons weren’t just prepared for brawls but a staple: baseball bats and crowbars and
hammers were now a regular sight on public sidewalks rather than hidden away. Districts didn’t
belong to anyone anymore; the country was an ocean filled with sharks fighting over little scraps of
neighbourhoods and everyone had such sharp teeth these days.

Three years and nothing was even remotely the same anymore. All because one boy had exploded
and ignited the most deadliest gang war the country had ever seen.

“The only thing Busan’s good for these days is murder,” Jungkook said as he stared at the glass
partition at the front of the limousine. “Speaking of murder…”

“Marine City’s off limits,” Hoseok said as he continued playing with his tie. “Found a dozen
bodies floating off the harbour last week.” He asked him what gang.”"Dunno, bodies were pretty
fucked up. Sea water and skin aren’t a good combination, too fucking decomposed or something.”

“Don’t guys know that bodies fucking float?” Jungkook shook his head in amazement. “Gotta
weigh them down before the gas make them start floating.”

“Maybe they wanted the bodies found?” Hoseok suggested with a soft shrug. “Probably some
petty fucking gang and nothing more but it’s too risky to go there right now.”

“Well, we don’t dump bodies as a rule,” he remarked, “we dump body parts. Big difference.”

“There’s gotta be some stupid fuckers out tonight,” the man continued as of he hadn’t spoken. “Out
wanting to cause trouble. We’ll find ‘em. What’re you aiming for this time, huh?”

“I want at least twenty Geum Sung Pa dead by midnight,” Jungkook sat out the front window that
they were getting closer to the graveyard now and so he shifted in his seat. “And three of them
between us.”

“Three? You think we’re getting old?” Hoseok joked and he grinned.

“Nah, just don’t want to get too carried away and miss our flight.”
“I’ll get it out there, anyone with a fucking brain would be smart to take up the offer. Everyone
knows that J.M.J. Pa is the only real gang left. Sam Yong Pa, fucking history man, they’re nothing
now. Geum Sung Pa are the fuckers that caused all of the trouble. Kal Pa? Amateurs, they sell skin
and cheap weed that’s it. Bunch of fucking kids trying to make it rich.” The car slowed down to a
stop and the engine cut off smoothly. “But us…kill a man for us and you become a real gangster.”

“Remember to specify about the tattoos. We need to see the stars to know. Can’t have a bunch of
assholes showing up with I.D cards claiming. I want skin; fucking scalps.”

“Don’t you worry about that, we’ll have enough skin to stitch a quilt with tonight.” Hoseok smiled
at him before popping the door open. He stepped outside and then bent back in to retrieve the
armfuls of bouquets. Jungkook climbed out his own side and slammed the door shut hard. The
sound echoed on the still air like a gunshot and a couple of seconds later Hoseok closed his side
too.

The driver had pulled up right outside the wrought iron gates of the graveyard that Yoongi was
buried in. Not in Busan but rather out in the middle of nowhere in Daegu, his hometown. Jungkook
had known how much he had hated it but he also knew that it was a safer location for his resting
place. No petty wannabe gangsters or Geum Sung Pa assholes would possibly deface it here. It was
safe here, he was safe here. A few other men had been buried here too but he wasn’t here to see
them, he didn't care about them at all.

Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking around the front of the limousine
and following after the man to get inside. The interior was filled with manicured gravel footpaths
and lush green grass cut to not be much higher than a few inches above his ankles. There were
entire fields packed with rows and rows of gravestones, some small and simple tablet-like markers,
some ridiculously large and ornate. There were a dozen winged angels in this one graveyard alone
and Jungkook hated looking at them, at their worn white faces and bodies that had went grey with
age and weather. Regardless of gender, the sweeping robes and gentle swell of breasts, Jungkook
found that he saw that boy’s stupid face on them.

“There’s a bouquet on his grave,” Hoseok announced, a few feet ahead of him and able to see the
grave more clearly. The man glanced back over his shoulder to look at him, eyebrow raised.
“Someone beat us to it, again.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything and instead he just walked the last stretch of path before stepping
onto the grass and staring down and the sight in front of him.
“It’s been awhile, huh?” Jungkook hunkered down in front of the gravestone, elbows on his drawn-
up knees and the spray held in his hand. From behind him he heard Hoseok’s shoes crunching on
the dry soil. He moved the old bouquet aside for a moment to clean the area for their flowers.
“Shit, whoever keeps this place hasn’t been caring for you.” He reached up to snag a handful of ivy
and wrenched it off hard, tossing it aside. It took him a few seconds of pruning to clean the ivy off
and then he rubbed his thumb along the pitted letters in the marble. He brushed the dirt free and
then wiped his hand on his trousers roughly. “We should fire their ass.”

“Why not?” Hoseok remarked as he also got down beside him, placing the armfuls of flowers
down. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of soju.

“Dirt and weeds all over the fucking place.” Jungkook reached down to fix the massive piles of
bouquets and then he placed his one against the stone. He stood it up so that the spread looked like
it was growing out of the ground like real flowers; the white flowers clashing beautifully against
the black marble and gold inlaid characters. “It’s disrespectful, man.”

“He deserves better,” the man agreed with a nod. He unscrewed the cap roughly and then held it up
to the tombstone. “I’ll drink to this, that Min Yoongi was a better man that any Sam Yong Pa man
I ever met and he deserved so much more than this.” Hoseok lifted the bottle and took a deep
swing, knocking back a double at least before lowering his hand again. He held the bottle out to
Jungkook and he took it before holding it out.

“Fuck Geum Sung Pa,” he said before splashing a shot of soju on the pile of funeral bouquets and
sprays. “Fuck the new Sam Yong Pa, fuck them all.” Jungkook shoved the bottle back into
Hoseok’s hands and the man fixed the cap on it and slipped it inside his jacket.

“You wanna talk to him alone?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” The other man shifted to place his hand on the gravestone and he patted it
softly before getting to his feet.

“I’ll pay my respects to the others,” Hoseok said before crossing the graveyard, hands shoved into
his suit trouser pockets. He didn’t watch him go but rather listened and as soon as the sound of his
footsteps got faint Jungkook sat down in front of the grave. Cross-legged, he didn’t need to worry
about grass stains showing on the black material.

“It’s been too long brother,” Jungkook said as he reached over and placed his hand on the
tombstone too. He didn’t pat it but rather hold onto it as if it was the man’s shoulder, maybe even
his hand. “Sorry I don’t come visit you often, you understand right? It's not ‘cos I’m so busy, I’d
never leave you abandoned for work it’s just…” He stopped talking as he ran his thumb along the
marble. “It’s just hard sitting here, you know?”

He didn’t get a reply but he liked to think that Yoongi was listening to him regardless.

“Seokjin’s doing good these days, I think. I don’t see him a lot either but I’ve got eyes on him
regardless. Still no rich bitch heiress in sight, he doesn’t really go anywhere now. Last time I saw
him I was in the Kim mansion or some shit. Family wanted me out. I threatened to break
Woosang’s nose for the third time and they relented. He was…pretty bad but he’s getting better
now. I know that’s what you wanted the most.”

Jungkook reached over with his free hand to pick up the strange bouquet and look at it, studying
the arrangement of flowers. Yellow posies in the centre with white flowers he didn't really
recognise but he thought could have been carnations. Who had left this? There were two possible
options but he could never figure it out. Always the same day every year, always a single spray
that was left before they arrived in the graveyard.

Yoongi, wherever he was, silently asked him how he was doing.

“Not good,” Jungkook said in a quiet voice as he lifted the bouquet and inhaled the scent. Floral,
but also something else too, something masculine that was unmistakably cologne. Whoever had
carried them to the grave had held the arrangement against their chest and the scent had lingered on
the flowers long after they had left the graveyard. “I’m not getting any better, brother.”

If Yoongi was here right now he would have put a hand on him, his knee, his shoulder, maybe
placed his arm around him and pulled him in close. But he wasn’t.

“I’ve tried everything but it still feels like there’s this…hole in my chest Yoongi. I know that you
hated the idea of me doing bad, of me hurting someone, you always said that I wasn’t cut out for
that shit and you were right…once. Now…now I don’t even know anymore.” Jungkook fingered
one of the flowers, played with the petals and felt the softness against his forefinger. “Now I keep
killing stupid fuckers and I say it’s for you but it isn’t. It’s for me.”

Yoongi would tell him that there was a reason, that he must have done it for a good reason. He
would lightly squeeze his shoulder and he would draw comfort from his warmth but right now he
could only feel cold marble against his palm.
“I’m not happy either,” Jungkook said in a voice barely a whisper as he pulled one of the possible
carnations out of the spray and held it up in front of his face. “I’m just as sick and scared as you
were brother.”

He closed his fingers around the head of the flower and he felt that softness getting crushed, a
slight wetness on the palm of his hand as the petals tore free and the pollen smeared on his skin.
Then he got to his feet and he dumped the bouquet before cocking his knee up and stomping on it
over and over. He ground his heel down on the soft heads and he left dusty soil all over the silken
yellow ribbon. He kicked the flowers across the grass and he took sharp little intakes of breath as
he felt his hands shaking uselessly.

“Fuck! You! Kim! Taehyung!” Jungkook cursed as he stopped destroying the bouquet and looked
down at the crushed remains. “You murderous son of a bitch…”

He took a moment to collect himself, reaching up to fix his hair, a lock having fallen forward
across his brow like a curling comma. After brushing back in place he pulled his jacket off and
folded it over one of his arms. He didn't like the fact that he was still shaking so he took deep
breaths to try and calm himself down and eventually he felt his anger starting to wash away.

It would come back later however, it always did.

“I’ll be happy one day, Yoongi. I will. I’ve just gotta find him first. When I’ve gotten him I can
finally feel at peace. I can’t bring you back but I can…can avenge you.”

Yoongi was as silent as ever on the subject of revenge.

Jungkook crossed the graveyard in the direction of the entrance gate. Hoseok wouldn’t be at the
other graves, he would be waiting outside by the car like always. He just used the graves as an
excuse to allow him to have some peace. So he walked at a moderate pace and after a minute he
was exiting and stepping out onto the road.

“Hey,” Hoseok was leaned on the front of the car, one leg cocked up to rest his heel on the grille as
he lounged against it. He was in the act of lighting a cigarette and he flicked the lighter off and
shoved it into his pocket. “You done?”
“Yeah.” He moved to stand beside him and the man breathed a plume of smoke out before holding
his hand out to him. Jungkook leaned forward to get the end between his lips and he took a deep
inhale and held it in his lungs for a few seconds before breathing it out. “It was him again.”

“Kim?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and took another quick pull of the cigarette, arm held in front of
him and the other folded to support his elbow. “Sure it’s not Park?”

“No it was him.” Jungkook ran his tongue along his inner cheek, tasting the cigarette. He was
offered another pull and he accepted, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. His friend
inhaled it before sticking the cigarette back between his lips.

“How’d you know?”

“…I could smell him on the flowers,” Jungkook said in a quiet voice as he stared across the road
rather than look at him. Hoseok thought this over for a moment and didn’t say a thing. Then he
shifted to get off the car and open the back door for him. Jungkook moved to climb inside and
shifted to sit beside the window and then the other man was slamming the door shut.

Jungkook wished that the cigarette smoke in his lungs would get rid of the scent of Taehyung. But
it didn't, and he could still smell him.

Almost taste him on his tongue.

It had been three years and Jungkook could still remember the funeral perfectly in his mind. It
often helped that he saw it in his dreams most nights, though they were probably better described
as nightmares. For some reason that was what stuck with him the most, stuck with him longer than
Yoongi’s actual death. He was certain that he had buried that so far back in his mind that he would
never really think of it again except in quick little flashes: repressed traumatic memories.
Sometimes in his sleep he would see things but he had a wonderful habit of forcing the worst parts
away; the sight of the wounds all over his stomach, his rasping voice and fluttering pale eyelids.
But the funeral…
The funeral would stick with him forever.

That had been the first time that Jungkook had been to such an affair, had even stepped inside of a
church. Not being religious, it seemed rather hypocritical of him all things considered. He recalled
seeing the massive interior and thinking that there was no way that it would even get half full but
he had been proven wrong. Standing in the entrance beside Hoseok he had watched vehicle upon
vehicle rolling in, packing the entire block up to the point in which people had had to park streets
down and walk back to the building to get inside. He hadn’t recognised most of faces and he had
wondered how many of them Yoongi had visited over the years with a few men in tow and a list
with their names on. Had they just shown up to save anyone getting pissed at them? Perhaps, but
that hadn’t really mattered to him and he had watched the pews fill up so much that people had
been standing at the back for the entire duration.

Jungkook had quickly discovered just how much he hated funerals at the very first one he had been
to. When those stupid organs had started and the waft of incense had hit him he had felt tears
burning at his eyes and when a few women started quietly sobbing that had been the thing that had
made him start bawling; right there on the front row with some stupid priest stopping in the middle
of a reading to look at him. He hadn’t cried, he had wailed even with people staring, and Hoseok
had put an arm around him and had forced his head against his suit jacket to mute the noises he that
he had been making. He had ruined that pristine pinstriped suit of his.

At some point he had managed to compose himself and it was around that time that he had caught
sight of the Kim family sitting on the opposite row of pews. They had taken up four and a half
entire rows with the brothers and sisters and cousins and lovers in tow, and he had caught sight of
Seokjin sitting on the very end a few feet away, staring at his hands in his lap with a blank
expression on his face. The young man had looked caught between fainting and vomiting and he
had seen something dripping down from under the ends of hair that had been hanging down over
his eyes. Tears. But then Woosang had caught sight of him; stupid half-brother Woosang with his
snooty face and attitude that couldn’t be any more different from the other man’s. Woosang had
leaned in close and said something to him and after a moment his face had hardened and he had
reached up to smack at the back of Seokjin’s head rather hard.

“Stop fucking crying,” the man had hissed, “there are people here. Do you want them staring at us.
Stop crying like a woman, you…”

Woosang had went on and on, admonishing him under the sound of the organ but he had watched
his lips the entire time and saw him cursing at him, calling him filthy names and sneering.
Jungkook hadn’t even waited for the ceremony to finish. No, instead he had disentangled himself
from Hoseok’s arms and had walked across the church to get to the pew that the family had been
sitting on right in the middle of a eulogy that Sunmi had been reading. He had grabbed a bible out
of the Kim mother’s perfumed and manicured hands and he had held it tightly and had greatly
relished the sound the bible in his fist had made when it had connected with Woosang’s nose: the
delicious crunch of the cartilage bending under the force of the blow.
Unsurprisingly he had been asked to leave the church at that point. Jungkook had happily done so.

For a month or so he had stayed cooped up in the den, not leaving his and Yoongi’s room for
anything, dependent on Sunmi and Hoseok for food and care because he had just simply…given
up. He had spent his days and his nights just lying in their bed and refusing to do much more than
sleep or cry or vomit. The first time that Sunmi had tried changing the sheets he had screamed at
her and had thrown a vase that had sailed past and had shattered on a wall, luckily missing her. But
she was a stubborn smart woman and she had won by cleaning the sheets and pillows and then
spraying them with Yoongi’s cologne so the scent of the man had stayed trapped in them. It had
been almost like he had still been sleeping in it, that he had left during the hours he had fallen
asleep but that he would return again soon.

But he never had and Jungkook had slowly figured that out.

It had taken another month for his body to recover from the torture that he had put it through,
slowly gaining his lost weight and building muscle because Hoseok had forced him to do so, had
dragged him to a gang owned gym and had told him that he needed to be stronger now, now that he
had been a week away from turning eighteen. So Jungkook had done everything that he had told
him to, had put himself through even more torture to harden himself. The violence had still been
raging on the streets and he had been weak and pathetic and he had needed to toughen himself up.

Four months after Yoongi’s death Jungkook had finally plucked up the courage to go back to the
other den, dragging Hoseok with him because he hadn’t been able to do so on his own. But the
basement room had been empty, had been completely abandoned to the point in which the concrete
flooring - the one that he had knocked himself out on - had been covered in a thick layer of dust.
Jungkook had studied it all, had ran his fingers along the posters on the wall…and then he had
ripped them off and dropped them on the floor. He had climbed under the bed and had wrenched
boxes and out and thrown random shit across the room. Whatever clothes he had found in the very
bottom drawers he had pulled out and had tried his hardest to rip. Hoseok had just watched this all
through the open doorway, seated on the stairwell, and he had worn himself out and had given up
his efforts. Jungkook hadn’t meant to do what he had done but he had just needed to do it and he
had lain in the torn posters and clothing and when he had buried his face in his hands he had
smelled Taehyung on them.

It had been deep in the winter of the following year that the violence had started to slow down but
by that point the damage had been done. Sam Yong Pa had lost great chunks of Busan to Geum
Sung Pa and had been weakened to the point of losing the rest that they had had. Their gang was
flourishing in the capital city and other regions but not where it mattered: Busan. They weren’t
untouchable anymore and as a result smaller gangs had started moving in and trying to stake
claims. Kal Pa had shifted out of South Gyeongsang and had recruited quite the number. Jungkook
and Hoseok had decided that it had been time to blow and moved upwards in Daegu, prime
territory and also somewhere close to Yoongi. So they had both shifted their collective earnings
from working the Sam Yong Pa circuit and they had broken free and formed their own clique.

At first it had been them both, Sunmi, and a dozen or so men that didn’t feel loyal to Sam Yong Pa
after the violence and deaths on the streets, after the death of their syndicate leader Lim who had
been stabbed to death in the middle of an opera performance unfortunately in front of his
screaming wife. The new leader had threatened retaliation for their betrayal and vowed that they
wouldn’t have been able to last a week.

Six months had passed before the man had taken his words back and had begged a partnership with
them. In those six months the gang they had dubbed J.M.J. Pa had had its ranks swell to 3,500
members and their death count was roughly double that across the country. Their gross earnings
every month was running in the billions of won range.

Jungkook and Hoseok had quickly discovered that they were excellent at extortion and thanks to
the files backed up on Yoongi’s laptop every dirty motherfucker that had showed up at his funeral
and had been counting their blessing had been dragged back into submissions by a nice hard
wrench on their leashes. They had figured out exactly how to work with one another. Hoseok
would sit with one leg over the other, hands folded on his knee and a wide smile on his face whilst
he listed all of their sins and debts that had mounted up over nearly a year without paying them and
they would sweat and sweat whilst he did so. Then the man would offer a rate that would see them
out of debt, a reasonable amount to pay back on the first of every month, a blessing really because
it wasn’t a horribly impossible amount. Most of them agreed upfront happily, but not all of them
kept to the promise. That was where Jungkook would step in.

Once upon a time Taehyung had called him a pussy, had laughed at the idea of him killing a man
and had beaten the shit out of him with a baseball bat. But that had been the old Jungkook; the Sam
Yong Pa kid with a skateboard and more interest in mobile phone games than the gym. The new
Jungkook wasn’t Sam Yong Pa anymore, he was J.M.J. Pa and he knew how to swing a baseball
bat too, maybe just as good as he could.

He had broken fingers and fractured kneecaps, had collected front teeth and carried them in his suit
jacket pocket and every time he had swung his goddamn bat he had imagined that it had been
Taehyung that he had been maiming. It had really helped him improve his aim and had made the
screams of agony sound musical to his ears.

Not bad for a pair of Sam Yong Pa runners: the kid mascot and newbie from Gwangju.

But the one thing that the J.M.J. Pa excelled in was murder. No other gang in South Korea even
came close to them because they didn’t have tradition to keep them tied down. They were a new
gang and they brought new rules with them. They didn’t brawl and scare people out of their
territory, they just committed cold blooded murder and pretty soon their messages got across loud
and clear. Foreign associates wanted their men on their sides, protecting their stakes and
merchandise, keeping their money rolling in more steadily than before. They revolutionised gang
warfare in a way the country had never seen before, that made the old war between Sam Yong Pa
and Geum Sung Pa look like a fight in a playpen.

Jungkook and Hoseok had made their little gang so widespread the NPA had referred to them as
‘cancer’. They had had their faces plastered all over wanted ads, were the most wanted men in the
entire country by their second year of operations. They were also ranked somewhere pretty decent
on Interpol’s list too, for monetary laundering rather than mass murder. Ironic but true, he had
logged onto the website and checked and had laughed for a good five minutes at both of their
faces, lifted off a CCTV cam.

He hadn’t became the Bonnie and Clyde with Taehyung like he had once imagined in his stupid
young mind. He had become one better with Hoseok by his side. This wasn’t a destructive joyride
that would see the pair of them exploding from the grandiose antics they had gotten themselves
into it; he had built an entire empire with the young man by the time he had hit twenty, his friend
twenty four. He had once wondered about being able to purchase a house for him and Yoongi out
in the wild where they could get away from the urban horrors of Busan and now he had enough net
worth to buy the island of Jeju if he so wanted.

And he had bought quite a considerable chunk, after all even they needed somewhere to go back to
every now and again.

But even with all of the labours of creating the J.M.J. Pa and their scarily rapid rise to the top,
Jungkook still couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi. He couldn’t help but wonder where they
would be if his friend had still been around. But it wasn’t just Yoongi that plagued his thoughts but
also a certain two other boys: Jimin and Taehyung. He hadn’t seen either of them since the night
that Haeundae-gu had imploded and Yoongi had been murdered. Well, not face to face.

He had seen Taehyung on CCTV enough times, nearly every single day if he could help it. Always
with a smile on his face that made him stomach ache, like the now young man - rather than boy -
had stabbed him over and over instead of his friend. Always sporting a leather jacket with that scar
on his left cheek and murder in his eyes even when the corners of his lips were pulled up and
frozen on the footage. Jungkook had stared at his face and thought about The Joker and he hadn’t
found him remotely amusing, just plain unsettling. But for every account of Taehyung on CCTV,
from his men that hadn’t even tried to approach him on the streets, there was nothing about Jimin.

The redheaded boy had vanished, had went underground and he didn’t know where he had gone. It
was possible that Taehyung knew where he was and he was sheltering him, which would be a
shame. But it was also possible that he had no clue where he was either, which would be…
advantageous for them.

After all, what better thing could he possibly use to get Taehyung to finally show his face to him
than Jimin?

“Y’know, I’ve never been to the Kim manor before…” Hoseok said as he shifted on the seat and
pressed his face up against the glass of his window. “I doubt they’d let Gwangju hick scum like me
anywhere near it, unless I’m working in the garden.”

“They’d let you bury dead people but I don’t think they’d let you near the petunias,” Jungkook
agreed as he slipped his phone back inside his jacket pocket. Hoseok retorted that he would piss all
over the petunias and he was more disgusted than amused by this. “Try to avoid saying things like
that in their company. I really don’t think that they’d hesitate to kick your ass out regards of the
fallout.”

“If they don’t want a son coming home missing his front teeth, or a daughter crying because her
designer handbag has been thrown into Han River with her poodle and Channel limited edition
vibrator in it they’ll keep my ass firmly inside the fucking house.”

“Hoseok, I’m pretty certain that Channel don’t make vibrators,” Jungkook said as he brushed at his
jacket to remove any slight hints of pollen or soil from the graveyard.

“Oh yeah? I was pretty damn sure that that was the model you owned.” Hoseok looked very proud
of this quip and he glared at him to see that his wide grin didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Seriously, the Kim family still have respect in Busan if you can fucking believe it. I can’t, even
with Sam Yong Pa licking our shoes they won’t. Still clinging onto chaebol connections to keep
them afloat and relevant.”

“Yeah, heard they were eyeing up Samsung’s next heir as a candidate for Seokjin but it’s gonna
suck for ‘em when they learn that we bought half their fucking stocks as of…” Hoseok glanced at
his watch. “Twenty minutes ago, and she’s already being wooed by Daewoo’s male heir. He's like
fifteen or something but they’re totally fucking.”

“You know this how?”

“Cameras in high class hotel penthouse suits.” Hoseok shrugged. “We had the room tapped for a
politician to fuck up and make a joke about America or North Korea or something. Instead we
got…that. Let’s just say if either company piss us off we’ve got a lot of sex tapes to hit the net.”

“Jung Hoseok, no man should have so much power…”

“We’re gods.”

Jungkook forced a smile at the remark but he couldn’t help but feel a strange shiver go down at his
spine at this. Gods, he recalled Taehyung saying something about that back when they had been
kids, back in the den when he had been so foolish. The boy had been doing something…looking at
his tattoo perhaps, and he had said: “do you think you're a god, Kookie?” and of course he had
replied about everyone being the gods of their own worlds and minds and yet here he was - a real
god. It didn’t feel as good as he had thought that it would. He didn’t feel anything like a god in his
designer suit when Taehyung had looked like one in nothing more than torn up trousers and a
leather jacket, lounged on that Hyosung Aquila 650.

What he would think if he saw him now? Would he hate what he had become it would he respect
him in a strange way? Would he even still…love him?

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Hoseok asked suddenly, dragging him out of his thoughts of
Taehyung and the night they had slept the park under the flashing lights of aeroplanes instead of
stars.

“Uh…when we last landed back in Busan so…three months.”

“But you’ve spoken to him since then?” Jungkook explained that they sometimes spoke on the
phone every few days but not for long. Seokjin never really had much to talk about with him
anymore when on the phone. Face to face the silences between their words wasn’t as heavy as it
was on a line from thousands of miles. “So, he’s a little more…stable now?”
“He’s on meds, if that’s what you wanna know,” he said with a sigh. “He won’t throw a café chair
at you again so don’t worry.”

“Good, my chair dodging skills might’ve have improved since then but he’s got pretty good aim.”

“Then don’t mention Yoongi, you idiot!” Hoseok shifted on the seat as the gates on the house
finally opened and the driver started driving through them and into the forecourt of the house.
Jungkook just waited for the vehicle to stop impatiently and after a minute it did so he popped the
door open and climbed out.

“Oh wow…” Hoseok breathed out as he jumped out and stared at the house.

It was a sight to behold, the four floor building made of glass and brick and chrome so that it
couldn’t help but catch the eye because the sunlight reflected off it almost blindingly. The
forecourt was paved gravel and there were perfectly sized patches of grass and shrubbery to give
character to the rather dull-looking building. Several vintage cars were parked in an open garage
and he could see that one or two of them were being restored.

“It’s…” Hoseok shifted to fold his arms on the top of the limousine and look at him over the top.
“Let’s just say money can’t buy fucking taste.” Jungkook could only snort in agreement as he went
around the car and across the path to get to the stone steps leading to the door. The other man went
to knock so he had to reach out and grab his wrist with one hand as he reached over with the other
to depress an intercom button. His friend grinned at him sheepishly.

“Still a country hick through and through,” Jungkook remarked

“Can take the boy out of the country but not the country out of the boy.” They both waited on the
step rather awkwardly as they waited and Jungkook briefly wondered if the door would even be
answered, but after a minute the mahogany door opened slightly, nothing more than a crack, and a
woman’s face stared at them through the crack.

“Oh god…it’s you.” Jungkook recognised Seokjin’s stepmother at a glance. It wasn’t hard to
believe that she had been very beautiful a few years back but then she had taken to surgery a little
often and now her face was rather like a mask. It wouldn’t really emote and if she furrowed her
brow or lips there would be nothing more than slight lines in her skin. It didn’t help that she had
her hair dragged back in a bun so tight that it doubled as a face-lift.
“It’s a pleasure to see you ma’am.” Jungkook said through his teeth. “I see that you’re looking as
well as always.”

“Hmm, no thanks to your hoodlums causing trouble and keeping me worrying a day long. Bad for
the skin, might get stress ulcers.” She looked between them both and sniffed disdainfully. “You’re
here for the shut-in?”

“For Seokjin,” Hoseok corrected for him, doing so before he could possibly think of a biting retort.

“Well, he’s doped to hell and back so you’ll have fun talking to him today.” She moved out of the
way and pulled the door open fully and so they both stepped inside. Jungkook stood on the back of
his leather pumps to step out of them but Hoseok had to drop to his knees to unlace his shoes. The
woman didn’t stay to watch them but rather just walked off and disappeared out of sight into
another wing of the house.

“Jesus,” his friend muttered. “She’s a real treat, huh?”

“Reminds me of my mom,” Jungkook agreed. “Stinking of booze this early in the afternoon. But
for her it was plain soju and not vermouth and coke.” He crossed the wide open entrance hall to get
to sweeping stairs on the right.

“Race you!” Hoseok called as he darted to the left side and actually started jogging up the winding
flight. Jungkook couldn’t possibly ignore the challenge and so he ran up the flight too, beating him
by just a second or so. “Damn, I’m getting old…”

“Try to keep up.”

Seokjin’s room was located on the third floor at the very end of the hall. Getting to said room they
passed just a single family member, a daughter that could have been his sister, half-sister, whatever
else she could possibly be through so many marriages. She didn’t glare at them but rather
respectfully wished them a good afternoon as she went down the stairs beside them. Only when she
was out of earshot did Hoseok tell him that she was the to-be wife of some chaebol grandfather and
Jungkook grimaced. A waste of a pretty face.

When they got to the room he stopped and took a moment to collect his thoughts first. He couldn’t
just walk in without some thought, some kind of preparation. It had been three months but he knew
that old wounds took forever to heal and sometimes they never healed at all. He was aware of the
fact that every time Seokjin looked at him he thought about Yoongi. It was impossible for him not
to, after the years they had all spent together. Jungkook couldn’t look at the other man without
thinking of their dead friend too but he had good cause to. Yoongi had tried to make his last words
a message to Seokjin and he had never gotten them, had been too late to hear them. He could have
told him to tell him that he loved him, could have told him that he was sorry or something else
entirely, and Jungkook would never know. Therefore he couldn't help but feel that he was keeping
something from the man even if it was unintentional.

“You OK?” Hoseok asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, fine,” Jungkook muttered as he finally pulled down on the handle and stepped inside of the
bedroom.

The room was wide and there was a lot of wooden furniture inside of it, light or painted white,
glass tops and somewhat dainty. Looking at the furniture reminded him of Seokjin for despite his
height and frame there had always been something soft and almost delicate about him: the beauty
of fragility. He guessed that it was more obvious now seen as the man had had something close to
eight nervous breakdowns in the last three years. There was a large bed set on the opposite wall not
too far from a massive window and he could see desks and tables everywhere, a comfortable
looking settee and bookshelves. It was a very pleasant room and had there been a kitchenette it
could have been something close to a decent home for there was even an en-suite bathroom. But
the man wasn’t allowed near the kitchen unattended lest he injure himself.

It had happened before and it could happen again: the massive scar that ran along the length of his
inner forearm still rippling across his flesh like Braille.

Seokjin was currently lying on the massive bed with his back to them both, knees tucked up so that
it looked like he was hugging them to his chest from their perspective. He looked strangely small
on the bed and the sight made a panging sensation in Jungkook’s chest. The scent of flowers was
heavy in the air and it took him a moment to notice the countless bouquets placed in vases all over
the room. All white, all lilies, such a funereal atmosphere in the air.

“Hey,” Jungkook said after a moment, speaking in a soft voice. “Hey Seokjin it’s me, Jungkook.
And Hoseok, you remember Hoseok, right?”

No reply; Seokjin didn’t even seem to shift as he inhaled and exhaled breath.

Jungkook shot a look at Hoseok and his friend just held his gaze silently, expression telling him
everything that he needed to know: he’s your friend, y’know what to do. Then the man moved to sit
on the settee. He watched him cross the room and then turned back to look at Seokjin.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, is that alright?” He took a few steps forward and gently lowered himself
onto the bed. The mattress was so soft that he felt himself sinking into it and he was hit by the brief
thought: Yoongi should’ve felt this too, before he managed to shake it off. Jungkook hesitated and
then he reached down to place his hand on his upper arm. The fabric of his white shirt rubbed
against his palm softly. “You look well today.”

“…No I don’t,” Seokjin said in a whisper soft voice. “I don’t look well, I’m not well at all.”

“Well, you look that way to me,” Jungkook reiterated. “Must be the perks of being so handsome.”
The man shifted his head ever so slightly to look at him and he held his gaze steady.

Seokjin had had it rough, there was no other way of putting it. His friend had just crashed right
after Yoongi’s death and he had lost the ability to function. Jungkook had once found it strange that
he had just simply stopped working one day but now he knew much better. Now he understood the
full extent of how much Yoongi had really meant to him. Jungkook had heard those stories about
how old lovers would die within a few years, sometimes only months, of each other because they
simply lost a part of them and they just slowly withered away. He had thought that it was complete
bullshit but then he had watched Seokjin go from a fully functioning adult to a nervous wreck that
couldn’t be allowed near sharp objects in the space of mere weeks. He had quickly realised that
grief and heartbreak did different things to different people and a person as sweet as Seokjin had
always been just couldn’t seem to handle the crushing certainty and weight of death.

But despite all of that, the medication and the doctors, the breakdowns and the crashes, Seokjin
was still beautiful to his eyes and he knew that he would be to Yoongi’s too.

“It’s strange seeing you in a suit,” Seokjin said in a slow and quiet voice. The meds he were on
today seemed to have mellowed him out greatly. “You look like an adult now, a real adult and not
like a kid playing dress up.”

“Well, I am twenty now. Gotta start looking like an adult sometime, right?”

“You used to borrow ties and wear sneakers,” his old friend said before laughing under his breath.
“Now you’re a gangster.”
“Gangster? I much prefer the term businessman,” Jungkook joked as he reached over to get one of
his hands. He moved it and held it tightly between his own, running his thumb along his knuckles.
He had pale hands, free of scars and tattoos, honest hands and not like his at all.

“He used to say that,” Seokjin said quietly. “He used to say that he ran a real business and that he
was just like a banker; except less crooked.” From across the room Hoseok laughed at this and he
was glad that he did to stop the room from falling silent. Jungkook found it too hard to laugh when
on the topic of Yoongi. “You’re not crooked, are you Jungkook?”

“No,” he replied without missing a beat, “I’m not crooked at all.” It was a lie but the man had
always told him that making someone feel better often outweighed a lie. One look and his friend
should have seen how he really was, after all his smile was even a little crooked at the side.

“Good, you know that he wouldn’t want that.”

Jungkook shifted his gaze to the dresser beside his bed, seeing the photo frame placed on it. Silver,
turned so that it was visible whilst lying on the bed. It contained a snapshot of Seokjin and Yoongi,
one that neither of his friends had ever shown him. Yoongi was on the left, Seokjin on the right,
and judging from the angle and his position Seokjin had been holding the camera or phone. It had
been taken a few years back and if he had to guess he would say maybe five. Seokjin didn’t look
too different to what he did now, seen as he would have been nineteen on the photo and already
basically an adult, but Yoongi looked strangely younger on it, a lot younger than the photographs
of him that Jungkook had in his possession. It was probably because he was smiling on the photo,
bright sunlight making them both almost glow.

Jungkook almost didn’t feel right looking at the photograph. He felt like he was seeing something
incredibly private and special to the other man and that wasn’t right.

“When’re you gonna say his name again?” Jungkook asked as he dragged his eyes away from the
photograph and looked at the window instead.

“I’m not supposed to say his name,” Seokjin replied.

The room fell quiet and after a minute or so of silence Jungkook looked over his shoulder at
Hoseok. His friend held his gaze for a moment before dropping it to his bare feet instead. He could
tell that he wasn't going to get involved and he had no need to do so. Seokjin wasn’t Hoseok's
friend and therefore there was no need for him to get entangled in such personal matters. But
Jungkook knew Hoseok, knew him intimately, and at this point he knew what he was thinking
without needing him to speak. His friend was silently telling him that maybe the other man needed
to talk about Yoongi and say his name, that perhaps his refusal to do so wasn’t helping him at all.
It was a good point, but Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that saying Yoongi’s name would
trigger him somehow.

From somewhere in the house came the muted sound of voices, angry shouting voices and one of
them had to be male judging from the sonorous boom. He thought that a few members of the Kim
family were having a little disagreement and the topic was provably them. Good, let them argue
and fight with each other. So long as Seokjin wasn’t ever involved then he didn’t care, the family
could all kill each and he couldn’t shed a tear; he would laugh.

“We’re gonna start looking for them again, Seokjin,” Jungkook said to eventually break the
silence. “We’re gonna find them both. We’re not giving up.”

“You always had a terrible habit of chasing after things, Jungkook,” his friend said softly. “Things
you weren’t supposed to have.”

“I have a terrible habit of ignoring good advice too,” Jungkook remarked and he saw the man’s lips
lift at the corners slightly, a doped up smile that was still beautiful to his eyes.

“Jungkook…what are you going to do when you find them?” Seokjin asked, fingers tightening
around his unconsciously as he did.

“I’m not sure,” he lied. “What’d you think I should do?”

“Forgive them,” his friend said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I think that you should forgive
them.”

They left the bedroom not long after this conversation because Seokjin was tired and he said that
he didn’t feel very well. Jungkook wasn’t surprised, it was Yoongi’s death anniversary and he
didn’t feel very peachy either. It wasn’t a great idea meeting him today but they had been in Daegu
for the day and it made sense to go down to Busan for a little while whilst close to the region.
Jungkook made sure to promise to visit him again soon, a lot sooner than three months, and that
maybe they would leave the manor house instead of staying cooped up in his room. Seokjin said
that he would enjoy that, and he liked to think that his friend was telling him the truth.

“Back home to Jeju,” Hoseok said as he knotted his brogue laces. “For a little while anyway…”
“What, you wanting to retire now?” Jungkook joked as he watched him move onto the other shoe,
hastily looping and knotting the laces. His friend rolled his eyes but there was a soft smile on his
face. Then he got upright and pulled the door open for him.

“Y’know, Seokjin got me thinking,” Hoseok said as they stepped out of the house and onto the
Kim manor porch, “about something I never even thought about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, what exactly are we gonna do if we manage to catch the pair of ‘em, huh?”

Jungkook ran his eyes along the front garden slowly, going over his thoughts as he did so. Of
course he had thought this question over many times in his mind in the past, often in the hours that
he struggled to sleep and spent great hours staring up at the glass ceiling of their Jeju Island home.
He had thought of everything possible and yet he had always came back to the same answer.

“You know what we’re gonna do,” Jungkook said as he reached up to fix his jacket, smoothing
down the lapels and then tugging on the sleeve cuffs. “We’re gonna kill them.”
 Christ

Jungkook stared up at the sight of the sky visible through the glass ceiling. It was a murky purple
and he could still see stars faintly nestled in the spaces between the thick banks of clouds even
when the sun was starting to rise on the horizon. The moon would be out too, as it often was,
hanging in the sky and never wanting to leave: clinging on pathetically.

Looking at the moon made him think of Taehyung and he hated it.

Once he had spoke to the boy about how there were no stars in Busan and yet he could see entire
constellations down on Jeju Island. He didn't need to leave the house and sit on the expansive
porch to look at them and that was good. The night could get terribly chill on the island and he
didn’t like that. Looking up at the black sky often made him feel cold and insignificant even when
lying in the bed beside his friend; having the freezing air on his skin would make it even more so.

It had been another restless night without much sleep. Jungkook was used to them by now, after
three years, but he was starting to feel himself fraying from it all. It was as if there had been a little
thread somewhere on his body that had been pulled on and had started to make him unravel, and
now that unraveling was getting faster and faster. Soon enough he would be falling apart, nothing
more than a puddle of thread on the floor. He would need to start taking pills again, maybe ones a
lot stronger than a doctor would prescribe. Hoseok wouldn’t like that at all but Hoseok was
sleeping perfectly fine and he didn’t understand.

Jungkook turned his head slightly and he studied his friend’s face. Hoseok was lying on his side
and just like always he had one arm folded under the pillow and the other curled up on the mattress
in front of him. His black hair was fanned out on the pillow rather than on his face, a loose vest
hanging off his frame. The lengths had rode up in his sleep to show a hint of his stomach and one
of the sleeves had been shrugged down too. It revealed another tattoo on his inner left upper arm, a
black and red sparrow with a split tail, but it didn’t show their gang tattoo. Every member of the
J.M.J. Pa required the initials of their leaders on their flesh JJK MYG JHS. Even in death Yoongi
would live on on the flesh of every member. The placing didn’t matter so long as it was on the
body, but he and Hoseok had their tattoos on their chest exactly where Yoongi had gotten his one.

The tattoo on his chest was not the only one that Jungkook had gotten over the last three years. He
had amassed quite the amount just like Yoongi had always been aiming to do. His entire left arm
was a tribute to his friend, his sleeve painfully replicated from memory and effort to ensure that it
was exactly the same. It had taken hours and hours of work to get the outline exact, the colour and
the location of every line to match up on his flesh like it had on Yoongi’s. He had had the dragon
on his back coloured in in blacks and golds and reds too, no longer the outline of a god dragon but
a fully formed and living one. Along every finger on his left hand he had skulls, grinning little
skulls, and on the back was a sparrow just like Hoseok’s tattoo. Jungkook liked to match his body
art with his friends whenever he could, whether it not it would end in regrets.

Maybe a little too much.

On the back of his neck there was a crucifix. It was kept well out of sight by the collar of his shirt
so very few people had ever caught sight of it. It wasn’t a copy of Taehyung’s but he would be
lying if he said that it wasn’t greatly influenced by it. But the crucifix wasn’t the one that he
wanted hiding the most, oh no. That tattoo was hidden away from absolutely everyone except him
and Hoseok, as far below his navel as it could possibly go: a tiny black star.

Hoseok made a soft noise in his sleep, lips twitching slightly. Jungkook dropped his gaze to study
this before looking back up at his closed eyelids. There was just a few inches of space between
them and he could feel his warmth faintly, smell the faded scent of his cologne. Three years had
passed and even now he couldn’t sleep in a bed alone. He had tried it at some point and woke up
screaming in the middle of the night covered in sweat, so no more sleeping alone for
him. Jungkook needed the warmth, he needed the feeling of a body beside his so that he wasn’t left
alone. He couldn’t stand being left alone during the daylight hours lest his thoughts take over, and
in the nighttime hours being haunted by nightmares wasn’t at all a pleasant idea. But it wasn't just
the nightmares that he didn’t want to avoid. Jungkook was terrified of the thought of someone
leaving him. When he was asleep, curled up against another body, it was very hard for someone to
leave without waking him up. Back then, if he had just stayed in Yoongi’s arms that night and not
went wandering then what had happened might never have happened. Jimin might just have died
but was that really a great loss to him? He had saved Jimin and lost Yoongi and the boy had since
vanished off the face of the earth.

Right now he would much prefer having Yoongi.

He knew that his need for security was a weakness, a rather pathetic weakness, but he couldn’t
help it. No gangster, no dealer or lowlife goon would know about it. Whatever info they had on
him was nothing but hearsay and taken from CCTV cameras across the country. They would see
him constantly with Hoseok at his side, a business partner. They would see and hear about shared
hotel rooms and yet no women or prostitutes in sight. They could spread rumours of a sexual
relationship if they so wanted but it wouldn’t lessen the fear their names and gang struck into
men’s hearts. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth any way.

Jungkook liked being touched. It was the direct result of having Yoongi stroking his brow and
cheeks over the years to help him sleep. He struggled to sleep or calm down without physical
contact of some sort. Hoseok took over the role seamlessly without any complaint and he was more
than thankful for it. He wouldn’t have been able to cope for more than a few weeks after Yoongi’s
death without someone there and the young runner had just been there for him. Hoseok had known
him slightly, had known Yoongi too, and as a result he had been able to attach himself onto the
man rather than search for a stranger of some kind. Hoseok would touch his brow and play with his
hair, would run his fingers along his collarbones and down his arms to his fingers. He would place
his head against his so that he could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. Jungkook wasn’t
stupid, he knew that the intimacy of such contact often surpassed that of simple friendship. There
had been kisses that he could recall, more than he had shared with Taehyung over the short time
that he had known the boy, and touches too. But there were times he couldn’t recall from being
drunk or cruising on cocktails of drugs, times he had woken up with scratches and foggy memories
that he would much rather forget: of sinking fingers into the silk bed sheets and gasping a certain
name into hair and against shoulders and the palms of hands and the crippling disgust he had felt
afterwards.

Jungkook wished that he could find enjoyment in something without Taehyung somehow dragging
himself into it; even if it was just the ghosts in the back of his mind and nothing more than that.

He turned his head to look back up at the purple sky and sure enough there were stars still there.
He counted ten before he got tired of looking at them and then he shifted on the bed, folding his
arms under his head with a heavy sigh. The movement disturbed Hoseok and he made another soft
noise before waking up with a groan.

“Shit…what time’s it?”

“3:00am, something like that,” Jungkook replied as he watched a particularly large cloud move
across the glass ceiling. “Maybe 3:30…”

“Well…that gives enough time to get ready for that stupid flight.” Hoseok suppressed a yawn and
moved slightly to get comfortable, stretching to try and wake himself up. “But I’d rather sleep.
Meeting a bunch of opiate dealers and fucking pimps this early in the morning, no thanks.”

“The way I’m feeling right now none of them better step outta line. Not good for business to kill an
associate before they’re even an associate, you know?”

“Pft, like that’s ever stopped you in the past.” The other man sighed and a moment later he felt the
shadow of his hand over his brow and then the softest sensation of his fingers on his skin, brushing
back a lock of hair. Jungkook leaned his face slightly so that he felt his palm against the side of his
face, down by his cheekbone. “But let’s avoid killing someone today.”
“After yesterday? We were just getting warmed up.”

“Then I must be getting old ‘cos I feel like shit,” Hoseok shifted to sit up and rub at his eyes
roughly. The covers slipped down to his hips and Jungkook could see the old Sam Yong Pa tattoo
on his lower neck between his shoulder blades, that red and green little serpent. If he reached up he
could trace every little bump of his spine with his fingers, so very much like Yoongi. But not
Taehyung, no, the boy had had a thin layer of muscle on his back and ribs and he imagined by now
that it would be thicker. He looked a lot stronger from what he had seen than he did in his
memories, hard and tough and so very cold.

“Getting so old and yet…no children in sight.”

“Children? God, like I need children right now when I’ve got you following me around all day
long.” Jungkook smirked at the joke and then his friend was climbing out of the bed to cross the
room to presumably got to the bathroom. He listened to the sound of his footsteps padding until he
couldn’t hear him anymore and then he sat up slowly.

The bedroom was nothing like what he had had just a few years ago, the tiny little square room
with the broken shower fixture and crowded closet. No, this room was much larger, as everything
in the house was. The first time Jungkook had stepped into the open-plan ground floor he had
thought about the size of the church Yoongi’s funeral had been in and he hadn't been able to
believe people needed houses so large and now…now it had started to feel oddly cramped and
suffocating to him. His and Yoongi’s apartment room had had bright cream walls and light wooden
flooring and it had always felt warm to him, like a house was supposed to feel. The marble flooring
of the ground floor of this house chilled his bare feet and everything was chrome and granite and
cold; less a home and more of an amphitheater.

The shower sounded to alert him that his assumptions had been correct: Hoseok was currently in
the bathroom. Jungkook shifted to collect his friend’s trousers from the floor and pull his phone
free of the pocket. There were countless alerts for missed messages and voicemails and emails. He
sighed and then opened the voicemail log to play everything through, closing his eyes and listening
to voices of goons that he didn’t even recognise. Twenty Sam Yong Pa were dead in Busanjin,
proof being sent their way as soon as. Ah yes, receiving strips of skin in the mail: wonderful. There
was some pointless news about Kal Pa that he didn’t care about, why bother them with shit on Kal
Pa? Like Hoseok had said they were amateurs and not worth their time. At some point he lost
interest and closed the log and decided that his friend could sort through it all and find the
important shit - if there was any important shit. He listened to the sound of the shower until it cut
off a few minutes later and then Hoseok was stepping back into the room, hair slicked back off his
brow glistening in the light from the glass ceiling. He watched his friend get dressed into a pair of
pinstriped fitted trousers, shrugging on a loose tee rather than a shirt because it was still a little too
early to get dressed: breakfast still needed preparing, final arrangements for the flight and other
things sorted out.

Jungkook slipped yesterday’s trousers on and decided that food was preferable to a shower right
now, that could wait. Yet twenty minutes later he was picking at a plate of food and quickly
figuring out that he had been wrong.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, eyeing him over the rim of a coffee
mug. He knew exactly who his friend was talking about and yet he decided to play dumb. He
didn’t feel awake enough for this conversation, two mugs of coffee still hadn’t given him the buzz
that he currently needed.

“Thinking of who?” Jungkook asked before letting out a laugh. “Him? Which one would that be
exactly? I have many ‘him’s in my life.”

“Kim,” his friend clarified. “And I don’t mean Kim Seokjin.” He lowered the mug down on the
table, black granite just like the ones in Kim Bistro. The bottom made a soft clunking sound and it
was as loud as a gunshot in the silence of the kitchen area. Jungkook tapped his fork around the
puddled whites of an egg and he didn’t reply. “‘Cos of the graveyard, you're thinking about him
again.”

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?” Hoseok scoffed under his breath and shifted in his chair. He just knew that he was
crossing one long leg over the other like always. “I know you are, it’s not about maybe.”

“Does it matter if I am?” Jungkook asked a little sharply. His friend stayed silent but he was once
again hit by the fact he knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that it very much mattered
and his brusque response clearly showed this. “It’s been three years now. Still nothing. Sightings
practically every single day and yet nothing. What the hell are our men doing?”

“Our men are shit scared of him and y’know that, Kookie. Everyone knows that, Kim’s a fucking
psychopath. You don’t approach him, you don’t talk to him, don’t even look at him if y’know
what’s smart. He kills people for a living, would you wanna meet him in a dark Seoul alley?”
Hoseok lifted his mug to take another sip of coffee and Jungkook sighed heavily.

“I’m not hired to meet him in alleys, Hoseok, our men are. Yet I still haven’t had him brought to
me in handcuffs yet, after three fucking years. It’s not like he’s disappeared and gone underground
like Jimin did. He’s out on the streets, he’s seen in our territory constantly, he practically leaves
calling cards for us. He’s playing with us, Hoseok. I know he is.”

“Playing with you, you mean.”

“I’m not a pawn in Tae’s stupid little game,” Jungkook spat as he stabbed the egg yolk and a spurt
of liquid pooled out on the porcelain like blood. “I run an empire not a chessboard.”

“Jungkook, have you thought of the chances that yesterday really wasn’t Kim?” Hoseok was,
nursing the mug between his hands as he looked at him. “Have you thought that it might be
someone else and you just think it’s him?”

“It’s Tae, I know it is.”

“Know, or want?”

Jungkook held his gaze and he saw that the other man didn’t flinch. Hoseok knew him, knew his
temper and his boundaries, and he was taking advantage of this fact to try and get answers out of
him. He would never let anyone else ever speak to him like that, maybe not even Seokjin, and
Hoseok was also aware of this fact. His friend knew exactly when to back down, what to say to
diffuse a situation, but Jungkook wasn't sure that he would know what to do as a result of this. He
tightened his grip around the fork and clenched his jaw for a few seconds before feeling his anger
dissipating.

“I don’t want anything from him.”

“‘Cept his head.”

“Yeah, except his head,” Jungkook agreed with a nod, jaw still aching from clenching it so hard.

“Then what’d you want from Park?” Hoseok asked, letting go of his mug with one hand to curl a
strand of his still damp hair around his finger. The gesture was strangely endearing in a way that
seemed at odds with his age. Jungkook asked him his own question: what did he mean by that?
“The fuck do you want with Park? The kid didn’t do anything. You still want him dead?”
Jungkook dropped his gaze to look down at his plate. The egg yolk had bled all over the porcelain
and looking at was like looking at a crime scene corpse. He should know, he had seen countless
corpses in his time. Lots of bloody ones too, after all he preferred much more gruesome methods
than Hoseok - who was more than happy to swing a bat or hammer around and enjoy the hard
thump and crunch of the blunt head pummeling someone. No, Jungkook much preferred something
with a nice sharp point that could be driven home with a punch rather than a thump, that could
really do some damage. If it wasn’t a blade then he wanted something as personal as a blade. A
hammer wasn’t personal, it was about as personal as a scream in the face but a knife…a knife was
a whisper. What better way to kill someone than to garrote them with a nice length of copper wire?
That meant he could actually whisper down someone’s ear should he so want to, though he had
developed a habit of garroting hard enough to make the wire cut through the flesh and that still
ended terribly messy.

Kill Jimin?

Jungkook hadn’t really thought about Jimin in the same vein as Taehyung; that same level of
venomous hatred and yet obsession. He had rather just thought about him passingly over the last
three years. It was hard to think about him when he hadn’t seen nor heard a single word from him,
or anyone else. Jimin really had went off radar and he couldn’t help but respect the sheer
determination that it must have taken to do so. He and Yoongi had thought that it would be
impossible to do so and yet after the gang war fallout it had became somewhat easier it would
seem. Thinking about Jimin didn’t make him mad like Taehyung did, it just made him feel hollow
and cold. Jimin had been a friend, Jimin hadn’t hurt him, he had just wanted to be a friend and he
had…yet Jungkook couldn’t help but think that he had to go too.

Taehyung had murdered his best friend and the only crime that Jimin had committed had been
being his friend.

“I dunno what I want,” Jungkook muttered eventually, cocking his elbow on the table so that he
could rest his chin on the palm of his hand.

“‘Cos I’m thinking that you don’t want him that dead. You never talk about him,” Hoseok
explained, more hair wrapped around his finger. “But you talk about Kim all of the fucking time-”

“I don’t-”

“in your sleep, mostly. When you actually sleep.” His friend studied him got a moment before
adding. “Park has another purpose, and we both know what that purpose is.”
“Bringing Kim out.”

“So say we do find Park. We get Kim, do whatever the fuck you want to him. What happens to
Park?”

“There’s only two options for Jimin,” Jungkook explained slowly. “One is that he lives, though it’s
arguable that losing Taehyung might just ruin him, if it hasn’t ruined him already. The other is…”
He paused and he saw Hoseok’s expression showed a great interest. “Tae has to feel what I felt. I
want him to suffer like he made me suffer. I want him to lose his best friend - his brother - like I
did.

“Tae has to watch me kill Jimin.”

Jungkook rolled the 100,000₩ note up into a tight little roll and he stared at the lines of cocaine on
the edge of the restroom sink. He couldn’t help himself from tapping the tooter against his lower
lip. This was yet another thing that Hoseok would show disapproval at. So would Yoongi, and he
had no doubts that Seokjin would be horrified at the thoughts of him doing this. This wasn’t
swallowing little red and yellow uppers to keep him awake and able to process shit, wasn’t gulping
down blue downers to mellow him out and try and help him sleep.

Just another thing to blame Taehyung for really.

“Fuck Kim Taehyung,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned and snorted the first line up, then
the second. He paused and closed his eyes, fingers already shaking badly, and he hesitated over the
third line before thinking about his stupid face on the CCTV footage smiling at him and then he
snorted that one too. What difference did a single line make? Nothing.

Aeroplane coffee and cocaine, what a wonderful combination.

Jungkook didn't leave the restroom for a few minutes, just waiting for it to hit his system and
finally wake him up. Seeing Seokjin yesterday had been a bad idea, he knew that now. Seeing
Yoongi had too, even though that had been nothing more than the sensation of a marble grave
marker against his palm and the scent of flowers and Taehyung. That was why he hadn’t been able
to sleep, why had needed to take a hit rather than swallow a palmful of pills and deal with it. He
couldn’t deal with it when he knew that the fucker had been in the graveyard merely an hour or
perhaps even minutes before they had. He could have been hanging around the area watching the
pair of them the entire time, could have watched him stomping the bouquet and grinding it to shit
under his heel. That made him mad, pissed him off.

When he felt that little rush in his chest he opened his eyes and carefully wiped the remains of the
powder away, making sure to wet the inside of his nose to stop the skin from drying out. The last
thing he needed was a gaping hole where his septum should be. That would ruin his face, and
Jungkook thought that that would be a terrible thing. From what he had seen on the CCTV footage
Taehyung still had his perfect face, the straight white teeth and long nose that hadn’t been
destroyed from snorting lines of cocaine either. Perhaps he had given up on such things, perhaps
not. He hadn’t changed in the three years except for the scar on his cheek, but Jungkook himself
had changed quite noticeably. His features had broadened and became less childish, more stronger
and handsome, his body had hardened and had been inked with more tattoos, and he had grown to
be a little bit taller than Taehyung.

What would Taehyung think if he saw him again? If he saw the tattoos now all over his body and
discovered that he had to look up to meet his eyes?

Jungkook sniffed a few times and felt the cocaine dripping down the back of his throat nice and
steady, giving him a soft buzz that would soon turn hard. Then he exited the bathroom and walked
down the aisle to sit down beside Hoseok. The first class cabin was completely empty except for
the two of them and he could have easily snorted the cocaine without a care, if not for the fact that
his friend would glare at him. As it so happened Hoseok still glared at him because the man clearly
knew what he had been up to in the bathroom.

“Using the free samples?” Hoseok asked, swirling a square glass of whiskey as he did. Jungkook
sank back in the padded seat with a groan, stretching his legs out in the double room the first class
cabin offered. “I thought Hong Kong dealers sold shitty merch?”

“They do,” he replied as he rubbed at his nose. “But it’s not like I can get any better right now,
huh?”

The meeting with the Chuen Triad had proved more beneficial than Jungkook had been expecting
it to have been. With most foreign meetings it was required to visit the to be partner in a location of
their choice, submitting to weapon checks and other searches and putting self-security at risk for
the sake of blind trust. But J.M.J. Pa had such a reputation that they could pull strings a lot harder
than most. The pair of them had not met the current ambassador for the Chuen Triad in a den
owned by their men, had not entered the arrangement humbly. No, rather the Chuen Triad had
came to them: a single man with two goon wing-men for security. They had been checked for
weapons instead, were made to feel like they were the ones blindly trusting, and the meeting
location had been none other than a sprawling Hong Kong street market in Kowloon. Jungkook
didn’t like deals in closed locations. J.M.J. Pa had learnt to make deals without buildings to hide in.
That had been Sam Yong Pa’s weakness. It had allowed men to feel secure and lower their guards
only to be assaulted by another gang crashing the deals. So he and Hoseok had made sure to make
public meetings and deals a regular occurrence to combat such a thing. It meant being alert at all
times and a lot more direct; no drinking tea and sharing food and being offered prostitutes and
entertainers as a kind of sweetener. It meant doing the business and only the business and luckily
for them the Chuen Triad had no complaints.

The man, Fung, had introduced himself rather simply and had gotten to the point; going over the
aforementioned deals and attempting to haggle a little more in their favour. Hoseok had liked the
man, liked his directness and his no nonsense attitude, and he had slipped another percentage on
top of the deal just to make the gang warm up to their agreement. They had signed documents on
an electronic tablet rather than paper, and they would be forwarded to them for reference and go
straight into the databases that Sunmi ran. She would be sure to read the documents through and
ensure that the Chuen Triad hadn’t slipped anything hidden within them. After the added
percentage and the hassle-free deals Fung had bowed to them both and then presented a gift from
the Chuen Triad: premium drugs and papers revealing the mass shipment of counterfeit goods and
prostitutes to go onto their shores. Their gift to the Chuen Triad had already been negotiated;
mainly in the assassination of their rival Wo Shing Wo Triad’s local syndicate leader.

They hadn’t stayed to sample the sights and sounds that the country had to offer and had rather
jumped right onto another plane to get back to Incheon and then to Jeju Island. Jungkook had been
in Hong Kong enough times to know that he didn’t need to stay there any longer than necessary.
Too many easy distractions, flashing lights and loud noises, narrow streets to wander and get lost
on, bars and clubs and markets. He didn’t need to get lost in a foreign country when he was lost
enough in his own homeland. The second flight was currently dragging and he so desperately
wanted to be back on land. In reality it had been just over an hour but it had a lot longer to him,
sitting restlessly in the seat as he had contemplated snorting the cocaine before caving and doing
so. He felt like he could just curl up in bed and not move for the rest of the day if possible. He
doubted that he would get the chance but he might just strike lucky after the success with the
Chuen Triad.

“Keep snorting that shit every now and again and you’ll get addicted,” Hoseok said as he stared at
the amber liquid, splashing against the sides of the glass. Jungkook’s eyes latched onto the whiskey
too and then he looked up at his face. “Hard to run an empire when you’re stoned outta your
fucking brains…”

“I’m not gonna get addicted,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. “I just needed something.
That’s all.” He shifted his eyes to stare out of the window, seeing a medium blue sky and the tops
of clouds visible at the bottom of the window. They looked very soft, softer than the pillows on
their bed. He wondered what it would be like to sleep on a cloud and felt a little zing of energy in
the pit of his stomach. “You were right.”

“Hmm?”

“You were right,” Jungkook repeated in a soft voice. “I can’t stop thinking about him and it’s
driving me insane.”

“It’s still so close to the anniversary, I’m not surprised that you can’t stop thinking about him: Kim,
or Yoongi or even Park,” Hoseok explained, still not taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’ve been
thinking about those days too, thinking about the hell on the streets. The fires, the deaths, all of that
shit. I might’ve not been in the den but I saw it, I saw a lot of shit that day too.”

“Do you think about it?”

“I do, just not as much as you. You’ve got more to…to think about.” Jungkook closed his eyes and
sighed wearily. “Shit, the kinda things that you saw, that requires therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy, I’m not nuts.”

“…Sure, you don’t need it,” Hoseok said as he held his free hand up defensively. “I mean, the
nightmares, the anger issues, the coke, that’s entirely normal.” He scoffed at this and his friend
shrugged. “No need for therapy at all.”

“You know why I can’t do that shit,” Jungkook muttered. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t
wanna think about it, but mostly…I don’t wanna share any if it.”

“Why?”

“‘Cos it’s my burden to bear and no one else’s. My…cross to carry.” Jungkook thought about
Taehyung’s tattoo and his mouth felt dry and he had to run his fingers along his lips. “So the shit
sticks with me, even if it’s driving me nuts.”
“Maybe you should start sharing it…” Hoseok said after a minute of silence, shifting to place his
glass down on the serving tray built onto the back of the seats in front of them.

“The only person I’ll share that shit with is Yoongi,” Jungkook said quietly, “and all he can do is
listen.”

When the plane landed Jungkook could feel his cocaine rush starting to lessen, starting to leave
him a little numb except for his aching head. He needed to put sunglasses on to block the strong
sunlight but no one looked at him twice as he left the airport, likely because he had taken his jacket
off and rolled his shirt sleeves up. The obvious show of his tattooed forearm was enough to let
people know that he was not to be stared at and most certainly not approached and spoken to. But
even without the tattoos he was certain that people would have avoided him anyway, avoided the
air that he and Hoseok gave off. They both climbed into a limousine already waiting for them in
front of the airport, and then they were rolling along the roads of Jeju Island.

The sights outside of the windows were completely different to what he had seen back in Busan, in
Haeundae-gu. Even the most urban area of the island was nothing like the streets he had grown up
on. There were wide roads that were neat and seemingly always free of litter, decent amount of
people out but never incredibly crowded because the tourists were always out sightseeing on
Hallasan or all of the other natural attractions. The buildings were all tall and made of glass and
chrome rather than brick and corrugated metals and none of the streets looked poor at all. It would
be hard to run drugs on this island, which probably the main reason why there wasn’t a single gang
on it. No Sam Yong Pa, Geum Sung Pa, Kal Pa, none of that shit; just the pair of them.

Jungkook was so distracted by the sights out of the window that when he heard the sound of
Hoseok’s phone vibrating he shifted in the seat to look at him in confusion. He thought that it was
probably a random goon harassing them like always, calling about something minor that they
should have been able to figure out on their own, and yet his friend got the phone out and glanced
at the screen for a moment before looking up at him and holding the phone out. Jungkook
furrowed his brow in confusion but he accepted the phone, placing it against his ear rather than
checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Been trying to get in contact with you man,” a familiar husky voice said on the other end of the
line. Jungkook recognised the voice and even in his tired state he felt a smile appearing on his lips.
“But it’s hard when you don’t have a fucking phone.”

“Can’t have one, people would never leave me alone.” He sat back in the seat to get comfortable.
“Keeping the streets of Busan safe, eh Inspector Kim?”
“As safe as can be considering the circumstances,” Namjoon replied and he tried to picture him in
his mind. Would the man be sitting in his office at his desk, tapping a pen on a stack of files with a
mug of steaming coffee in front of him; shiny little name plaque on the edge of the desk labeling
his new position of just a single year.

The man was a good inspector, that much was clear after all of the cases he had helped solve after
the gang war in Haeundae-gu, but he hadn’t done so explicitly alone. No, rather he had had a little
help from the underground in the form of J.M.J. Pa leaking enough information to see certain
criminals arrested. It wasn’t for any immunity, because Jungkook and Hoseok weren’t stupid. They
knew exactly how to commit crime and leave no traceable links back to them. Everyone knew that
it was them and their gang but that couldn’t result in an arrest warrant or stand up in court.
However Sam Yong Pa and Geum Sung Pa didn’t always erase their links. With the help of
Yoongi’s files and a few inside rats the pair of them had managed to snare enough dirt on several
high ranking members of both gangs and see them get arrested by a certain beat cop and his partner
that just always happened to be in the area and catch the men during criminal activity. J.M.J. Pa
didn’t need immunity when they helped supply information to the NPA, and if the department ever
stepped out of line then they would find their endless supply of information suddenly run dry.
Arresting a couple of their runners and dealers every few weeks was nothing, they could deal with
that because there was always another youngster ready to take their place.

Was Namjoon perhaps sitting in a squad car right now, with his partner in tow? Did his partner
have much information on them? Jungkook knew that her name was Choi and that she had been
working the beat longer than his officer friend had, but she had very much appreciated the younger
officers knack for catching criminals and seeing them promoted. Jungkook thought that she would
either have to be very dim to not have an idea, or incredibly naïve. But no, he had a feeling that the
man would be on his own when he called him just in case. Maybe in his car, maybe sitting at that
old coffee kiosk if it was still there. Jungkook hadn’t went near Dongbaek-ro once in all of that
time so he didn’t know.

“What circumstances would that be Inspector?” Jungkook asked, moving his thumb to turn the
phone on to loudspeaker so that Hoseok could listen too.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the piles of Geum Sung Pa bodies left on the streets of the district?”
Namjoon said with a hint of amusement in his voice. The directness of his words made Hoseok
grin at him. “We’ve got maybe…thirty, maybe forty mutilated bodies so far and why do I know that
there’s going to be more coming?”

“It’s a special occasion,” Jungkook retorted. “Once a year Geum Sung Pa get to play Hide’n’Seek
with us but most of them aren’t good at playing.”
“That’s more than last year.”

“What can I say, the years go on and I get more pissed.”

“I think we might have at least a hundred dead all over the country but I haven’t looked into it too
much. I’ve been a little distracted with my own…cases.” Namjoon must have been flicking through
something for he heard the sound of paper turning softly down the line, a static little sound that
was unmistakable to his ears.

“And what exactly would that be Inspector Kim?” Hoseok asked as he turned in the seat to look at
the phone.

“Ah, I hear the other hooligan…”

“Hooligan? That’s a funny word for gangster…”

“I’ve been looking into everything, like you told me too,” Namjoon continued, almost as if he was
ignoring the other man. “It’s taken me awhile of course, between working on police cases, so I’ll
apologise-”

“Don’t need to apologise,” Jungkook interrupted, waving his wrist as if to brush his words away. “I
don’t need apologies from friends. Speak to me, Kim.”

“I’ve tracked his movements down to a kind of routine,” the inspector explained. “He doesn’t
follow a plan exactly, it can break off sporadically and cause a spot of trouble trying to track, but
he generally falls back into a rhythm. Kim Taehyung is a tricky son of a bitch. He can avoid arrest
and gang members trying to catch his ass but he can’t avoid human nature, and his nature is just
like everyone else’s.”

Jungkook looked up at Hoseok sharply, studying his expression to see that he was just as interested
as he was by what the man was saying. Namjoon was talking in a way that seemed to hint that he
had a rather important piece of information to reveal, with all of this talking of routines and human
nature. But what exactly had the inspector discovered from following him?

“Got photographs I’m going to send as soon as I’m finished talking to you. I know you like to keep
the file updated, and I think you’ll make the link to when you see it.” So that was what the sound on
the line had been, the man flicking through a file of photographs. “He slipped up, this is the third
time I’ve seen him in the area and every single time I do he ends up in the exact same church.”

“Kim goes to fucking church?” Hoseok asked before making a shocked noise under his breath.

“You’d be surprised how many people go to church to seek redemption, Jung,” Namjoon said in
that educated tone of his. “And a person that’s sinned as much as Kim Taehyung has got to have
something to hold onto.”

Jungkook thought that Taehyung had a very special something to hang onto: Jimin, his best friend.
He still had that, didn’t he? Or was Jimin very much out of the picture and still underground?

“OK, so he’s goes to church,” Jungkook said rather impatiently. “What’s so important about the
church? He goes to restaurants too, and stores and maybe even fucking brothels, so what’s
important about the church?”

“Geum Sung Pa ran church,” Namjoon said, the sound of the file closing with a soft thump down
the line. “He visits a Geum Sung Pa Catholic church. I know it’s Geum Sung Pa because I’ve seen
a lot of business flowing in through the place. I’ve seen goons hanging on the steps, dealers
coming and going. Seems quite a bit of the congregation are linked to the gang and I’ve seen a few
prostitutes visiting on the weekends too. Can’t mistake their girls, they all wear those stockings
with the lines on the back of the leg.”

“Give me the name and location of the church,” Jungkook demanded breathlessly.

“Jaeban-ro.” That was in Haeundae-gu. After everything that had happened Taehyung was still
hanging around Haeundae-gu. It was enough to make his fingers roll into fists and he felt that
disgusting little clench in his stomach at the thought of him. He had probably went into the park at
some point, might have went back to his and Jimin’s den and even the old Sam Yong Pa one.
Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to grind his teeth together. “Church
is called Our Lady’s Church of Jaeban. That’s one of the reasons I know it’s Catholic, along with
the stain glass windows.” Hoseok asked him why the hell he had picked a Catholic church,
considering the rarity in the country. A Presbyterian Church maybe, but a Catholic church was
certainly hard to find and therefore stood out more. “Maybe he wants to stand out? Maybe not,
maybe he just likes the Catholic hell fire and brimstone approach rather than the healing light the
other denominations offer? I don’t know, I’m not religious.”
“Hell fire and brimstone is more Tae…” Jungkook muttered.

“Either way he’s there consistently. He goes across the country and leaves a load of bodies in his
wake and undoubtedly he’ll end up back at this church again. Not weekly, he isn’t dumb, more like
bimonthly if he can get away with it, and I’ve caught him every single time for the last few months
on CCTV in the area.”

“You did good Inspector,” Hoseok said with a wide smile.

“You did,” Jungkook agreed, “and I’ll need to speak to you soon, in fact we’re going to be seeing
you very soon. We’ll check out that church tomorrow, so expect a visit.”

“Oh I can hardly wait,” Namjoon said in a sarcastic tone as he ended the call.

“Check out the church?” His friend shifted to leaned back on the backseat, cocking his elbow back
on the armrest. “Can we even enter a church or will we catch fire with all of the sinning we’ve
done?” Jungkook smirked as he handed him the phone back and Hoseok locked the device and
placed it into his jacket pocket.

“You believe in sins, huh?”

“I believe in vapid and rabid believers trying to convert me to their fucking cults.” Hoseok
grimaced and crossed one leg over the other just like always. “I’d rather die.”

“Catholics…let some pain and torment into your soul, it’s good for you,” Jungkook muttered as he
leaned over to reach inside his friend’s pocket and pull out his packet of cigarettes. He popped one
of the sticks into his mouth and then Hoseok was holding his lighter up and setting the end alight.
He took a deep drag and held it before breathing it out of his nose and pulling the stick free.
“Preach that inherent sin, we’re all filthy sinners shit. Yeah, I can see Tae as a Catholic.”

“You think he actually believes in it?”

Jungkook took another drag and then offered the stick to Hoseok. His friend leaned forward and
took a hit without taking the cigarette out of his fingers, holding his gaze as he did. Then he
breathed it out of his lips into his face.
“No, I think it’s just another thing he’s doing to play with us.”

The files came in several minutes after Namjoon had ended the call but he didn’t want to look at
them whilst in the car. Instead he waited until they were back in their home, loading them up on his
computer instead so that he could look at them on a 40” monitor screen and really see the details.
Hoseok observed a few of them before deciding that he had seen enough and then he disappeared
downstairs into the kitchen. But Jungkook stared at the series of snaps for what felt like forever,
unable to take his eyes off the screen because Taehyung was right there in front of him. Seven
shots in all, varying from a flash of him down the street from the front window of a car to one of
him just on the front steps of the church, looking back over his shoulder at something but not the
car. He didn’t seem to be scanning for someone but rather just checking his back, something that
he must have learnt to do very frequently. So he stared at that photograph and after some thought
he zoomed into the shot, making his face larger until the point in which it had taken up most of the
screen. It was impossible to mistake him even when the image blurred slightly from the zoom, face
mostly visible over his shoulder and beneath the mop of hair over his eyes. He could see the hint of
that scar across his cheekbone and that same strong nose.

This wasn’t the first time that he had seen him, not at all. He must have seen hundreds of sightings
of the young man over the three years and yet every single time he did he still felt like he was
being punched right in the stomach. How could he look so unaffected by everything, so cold and
distant? After everything that had happened he shouldn’t be the same and yet he was, eerily so.
Jungkook felt like he had ripped his old skin off and grew a new layer, a thick layer like leather
that would stop him from being hurt ever again, but Taehyung still seemed to be wearing his old
skin: soft and warm and not at all like his currently was.

Looking at the screen he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to punch his fist through the monitor or
caress it and the fact that he couldn’t make his mind up made him feel like gagging. Caress it? He
would never caress Taehyung’s face ever again unless he had a baseball bat in hand first. Maybe a
hammer. Yet he stared at the photograph and he couldn’t deny that the same old sensation he had
always felt was still there. If anything it was sickeningly stronger than before. Jungkook told
himself that it was because he was so excited at the thought of getting some real information on
him, of getting enough to mean that he could finally get his hands on him, but a part of him knew
very differently.

“Oh Tae…” Jungkook said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You have no fucking idea, do
you?” He ran his fingers down the screen, almost as if he was brushing it through his hair, down to
his nose and then to his neck. “No fucking idea how close I am to getting you.” He stopped his
fingers on his neck and then he dragged them across the screen roughly, almost like a slice. “You
stupid fucker.”

That night he couldn’t sleep no matter what, no matter how soothing Hoseok’s words were and
how often he stroked his finger along his brow or his shoulder blades. How could he possibly sleep
after everything? He doubted that even Yoongi could have helped him drift off and by the time it
reached 6am he was in the shower so that he could get ready, trying to not think about the shots of
Taehyung that Namjoon had sent them both and finding it very hard not to. No planes today but
rather a ferry that would dock in Busan and then a private hired car that would transport them to
the church that he had been told about.

Jungkook hated riding on ferries for it made him feel a little seasick but he barely felt a thing today
for he was already sick enough. The ferry ride would last two hours, he knew this because they had
been on it enough times over the last three years, and he spent the entire time standing on the deck
rather than in one of the nice luxury cabins with Hoseok. He found that he liked being able to hold
onto the railing and just stare at the city getting closer and closer, the towering skyline of Busan
rising out of the choppy waves of foamy water; scent of the brine in his nose so that he could taste
the salt on his tongue. The taste always made him think about the past and it was fitting that he did
considering that he was trying his very hardest to reclaim a little of his lost childhood.

It was 11am when they finally stepped off the ferry and the first thing Hoseok did was walk down
the ramp and across the small docking area in the direction of the car that was waiting for them,
pulling the backseat door open and waiting for him. His friend had decided that they needed to
dress in style for a visit to a church and so he had went for a three piece suit rather than the usual
two; deep navy and very well fitted around his slim waist. He looked like a CEO. Jungkook hadn’t
bothered dressing in anything other than the usual because the ideas he had in mind for getting
information…

Well, he didn’t want to ruin an expensive suit.

He climbed into the backseat of the car and unbuttoned his jacket to stop the material bunching
around his stomach and then his friend was climbing in behind him and slamming the door. The
car pulled away from the road and then the driver was asking them where to.

“Our Lady’s Church of Jaeban,” Jungkook said as he cocked his elbow on the window rest.

Perhaps the driver wondered what the pair of them, dressed so smartly at this hour on the weekend,
were going to a church for. Perhaps not, for the man remained silent and just drove to the location
without even glancing at them in the rear-view mirror. Jungkook watched the streets of Haeundae-
gu go past out of the window and he felt a strange sensation pass over him, almost a shiver. He
could recall skating along all of these roads and it didn’t seem like such a long time had passed
since he had. It felt like maybe a bare few months but it hadn’t. The last time he had been in the
district had been longer than that and it had always been at night, traveling in the back of a
limousine with the thoughts of murder on his mind and nothing more than that. It was never
anything like the nervous anticipation currently in the pit of his stomach. Jaeban-ro had changed
only slightly in his absence, the main change being the addition of the church. He could recall an
old warehouse being on the large site but now it had been completely demolished and built upon
and he spent a moment observing it before climbing out of the back, leaving his friend to pay the
fare to the driver. Jungkook ran his eyes over it slowly as he shoved his hands into his trouser
pockets, feeling the handle of his switchblade brushing against his fingertips. There was a low
whistle from beside him and he knew that it was Hoseok walking around the back of the car to join
him on the curb.

Our Lady’s Church of Jaeban was an impressive sight to behold. He guessed that the right word to
describe it would be monolithic, for it rose out of the paving flags in a large hew of stone that
looked to be unbreakable and ancient. In reality however he knew that it was a modern attempt at
making an old building, a tacky rip-off of some European Gothic architecture that he expected to
see on the streets of Hamburg rather than Busan. Stone steps lead up to a double set of wooden
doors that must have been 10ft in height with large pull rings on them, wrought iron black railings
that ran around the perimeter of the building. There was a sign on the road covered in pinned
papers, everything from missing people pages to advertisements for weekly church activities and
clubs to drag poor children to for ‘fun’. He could see the stain glass windows but they were nothing
impressive from the outside, only inside would they look right.

“You think the designer was compensating for something?” Hoseok asked as he stepped over to
the board and ran his fingers along the papers stuck to it. Whatever he saw didn’t catch his interest
for he looked back over his shoulder at him.

“How many you think’s in there?” Jungkook asked as he looked at the steps.

“Congregation? Dunno. Goons? A few probably.” His friend glanced up and down the street.
“Wanna call any back-up?”

“Fuck no.” He walked across the sidewalk and got to the steps, taking them two at a time until he
was right in front of the doors.

When he got to the top he cocked his head and tried to listen to the sound of organs or voices
coming through the wood. He couldn’t hear a single thing but that wasn’t a sign that the place was
empty. He looked over at his friend and waited to see what he thought of the situation. Hoseok
took a moment to think it over and then he just followed him up the steps and gestured for him to
go in first. Jungkook pulled his leather gloves out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on. Then
he wrapped his hand around one of the ornate push rings and he had to put a bit of weight behind
him to get the damn door to open and when it did he was hit by the strong scent of incense. It made
him feel like gagging and he managed to suppress it as he stepped inside the church. There were
dark wooden pews and padded red genuflection cushions placed in front of them, concrete flooring
and cream plaster walls. He scanned the double aisle of pews and then glanced either side to see a
glass wall that led to a vestibule with a few more pews inside. There were a few smooth stone
pillars placed more for effect than structural need around the building and on one of them there was
a crucifix with a wailing Christ on it, just like he had imagined when he had first seen Taehyung’s
tattoo. It made a shiver go down his spine and he heard Hoseok making a disgusted noise under his
breath as he looked at it, at the nails sticking out of the hands and feet and the bloody trench in his
side that looked like his maw of a mouth.

“Shit, that would give kids nightmares, right?” he asked as he visibly shuddered and wandered
down the aisle, pulling his own gloves on.

“Tell me about it…” Jungkook muttered as he eyed the stain glass window above the altar for a
moment, scanning the colourful little slithers that made an image of the Mother Mary. For some
reason he found the praying woman just as unsettling as the screaming Christ and so he dropped
his eyes to the altar instead. “No one’s here.”

“Oh someone’s been here alright,” Hoseok remarked as he bent to retrieve something from the
floor. A cigarette butt, crushed and seemingly recent. “And I’ll bet they’re in that little box room
over there.” Jungkook looked through the glass windows and he wondered what to do next. Should
they barge into the other room and turn the place upside down until they found something, or
should they try and be quiet and quick. As he thought this over Hoseok wandered up the aisle to
the altar and a moment later he was on his hands and knees running his fingers over something,
looking for a seam of some kind. Jungkook watched him doing this and he eventually managed to
pull a trap door up and the other man stared down through the gap before looking back up at him
sharply.

“Get your ass over here right now,” Hoseok hissed as he waved his hand at him. Jungkook hastily
crossed the aisle and hunkered down beside him just as his friend leaned down to reach inside the
small catchment, going all the way down to his ribs to reach inside. He asked him what he was
looking at and then he reemerged holding a gun. Not just any gun however but a Mossberg 500
shotgun.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jungkook breathed out as he looked at the gun, unable to stop himself from
reeling back slightly.

“I think we know where Kim keeps his little cache of hit weapons,” Hoseok remarked as he slipped
the magazine tube up and checked. Unloaded. “There’s a few more guns in there, all got silencers
on ‘em.”
Taehyung, keeping a series of stolen U.S. military guns in a church. It was so fitting that he wanted
to laugh.

“I wonder what poor old Kim would do if he came back here and found his guns were all simply…
gone,” Hoseok said as he ran his fingers along the stock of the Mossberg. Jungkook said that he
would probably find new ones and he laughed. “He is a resilient fucker, ain’t he?”

“A little too resilie-”

“Excuse me?”

At the voice the pair of them jumped in surprise and Hoseok actually brought the unloaded gun up
as he whirled around to face the stranger. Jungkook jumped to his feet and sure enough he saw that
it was a priest of some kind, he didn’t know the correct titles. The man flinched at the sight of the
gun being pointed right at his face and then held both hands up placatingly.

“Good afternoon to you too-”

“Cut the shit,” Jungkook spoke over him. “Who’re you, who’d you work for and what the fuck is
all of this?”

“Uh, I could ask you the same thing son,” the man said and he took a moment to study him.
Nondescript face and greying hair, all black outfit save for the peek of white around his collar and
plum scarf-like piece of material around his shoulders with gold stitched crosses on the bottoms.

“Must be the only Geum Sung Pa member in the whole country that doesn’t know who we are,”
Hoseok muttered, still holding the gun up even though it was pointless. It kept the priest with his
hands up where they could see them however, so that was a bonus.

“Geum Sung Pa? I don’t-”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jungkook said. “Does that name mean anything to you?” There was no response
but he was sure that he saw the man flinch ever so slightly. “Take your shirt off.” The priest made
a balking noise and tried to ask him what the hell he was asking that for and Jungkook gestured at
Hoseok. His friend lowered the useless weapon and crossed the altar to get closer to the man.
Before he could even think of moving away Hoseok seized hold of his arm and shoved him hard so
that he fell forward and landed on his knees. “Take your shirt off.” Jungkook repeated. The priest
kept his hands up for a few seconds longer and then he lowered them.

“Fucking Kim and his fucking guns,” he cursed before shrugging the scarf off and reaching up to
pull the dog collar free. He tossed it aside and opened the first few buttons of the shirt to pull them
open and show a star tattoo on his right breast.

“Did you think we were really gonna fall for the priest act?” Hoseok asked as he pressed the gun
against the back of his head. The man’s shoulders shot up and then down a few seconds later.
“This whole church’s a fucking scam. How much you pulling in here every week from donations,
huh?” The man didn’t reply so he prodded him harder in the back of the head and he finally
muttered something under his breath. Jungkook didn’t catch it but his friend did. “13,500,000₩?
You’re fucking kidding me? And where’s that cash flowing, huh? Drugs? Gambling dens?
Prostitutes, maybe kiddie porn? That would be fitting-”

“Look I don’t know where Kim is, OK?” the man said in a low voice. “I just work in this place,
that’s it.”

“Tell me about you. Give me some reasons as to why we shouldn’t kill you,” Jungkook said as he
hunkered back down and searched the interior of the cache. He pulled out a smaller gun, a pistol
that he quickly figured out was a Glock though he wasn’t sure of the model. When he checked the
magazine for this he found that it was loaded. Interesting. He shoved it into the back waistband of
his suit trousers and pulled his jacket ends over it. The priest just stared at him stupidly and he
lifted his arm to glance at his watch. “Time’s ticking. Hurry the fuck up.”

Oh, the man suddenly found that he had a lot of things to talk about, mostly about how he had
nothing to do with Taehyung and about all he did was deal in extortion and things like that. That he
had never even beat anyone up because he dealt with scams rather than blackmail. That his name
was Lee Changmin and that he had a daughter and a wife. Jungkook just listened to this all and
made sure to glance at his watch every now and again to make him speed up. It took him maybe
three solid minutes of babbling before he spilled something that he actually wanted to hear.

“…and-and he’s propping up some fucking orphanage or something man I dunno but-”

“Whoa whoa, hang on.” Jungkook held a hand up. “Run that by me one more time.”
“Kim, Kim he funds some orphanage not far from here or something. I can’t remember the name
but it’s like connected to this place, I think? I told you I dunno I just know that he funds it. Pretty
much keeps the place running.”

“Kim keeps an orphanage propped up on donations from murdering people?” Hoseok asked before
looking up at him with a confused expression. “That’s…bittersweet.”

“I’ve heard enough about you Lee, tell me about Taehyung,” Jungkook said as he got to his feet
and wandered over to stand in front of the man.

“He-he-he comes in here to keep his shit safe: weapons. He gets a lot of business in here too, like
contracts and things like that. But he also…well-”

“Well what?”

“He prays suh-sometimes,” Lee said as he started fiddling with his hands. “He comes in here and
sometimes he prays.” Hoseok asked him what he meant by that and the man made an exasperated
noise. “He sits in front of that creepy Jesus thing and he’ll pray or something like that, I dunno, he
says sorry a lot and he looks sad but there’s something crazy about him. I don’t like him. He’s got
this crazy feeling coming off him, y’know? Like a rabid dog or something.”

“You ever catch a name?” Jungkook asked as he slowly walked around him, circling him as if he
were prey. Lee thought this over for a moment, taking quick breaths as he did. Then he said that he
didn’t really hear a name but he heard a few things. “Tell me what you heard.”

“Something about…about a god and a star or something?”

Jungkook stared at the back of the man’s head and he felt that disgusting little clench in his
stomach. A god and a star. He knew exactly what that meant. He thought about the stars on Jimin’s
body and the god dragon on his back and he felt his anger starting to rise up from his stomach and
up into his mouth. Taehyung was entering this church and praying his sins away in front of that
Christ across the church, mentioning him; breathing him out of his lips like some dirty little secret.

Not even his name.

“He comes here for messages, huh?” Jungkook asked in a low voice. Lee nodded vigorously at
this. “OK, then let’s leave him a message.” He gestured at Hoseok and his friend held the
Mossberg shotgun to him. He hefted it so that he could grab the barrel of the gun and free the stock
up. Nice gun, solid weight to it. Jungkook rolled his shoulders as he circled him again and when he
got back behind him he took a deep breath and swung the gun out hard.

The stock connected with the back of Lee’s head with a loud thump and the man fell forward to
smack his head on the concrete flooring. He didn’t move or try to crawl away because he had
knocked him clean out but that wasn’t enough, Not yet. He needed to leave a message and this
wasn’t strong enough. So Jungkook tightened his grip on the barrel of the gun and he lifted it high
before bringing it down again. There was another hard thump.

“I want that Christ taken down,” Jungkook said as he hefted the gun. “Tear it off the fucking
pillar.” He swung the Mossberg for a third time and then there wasn’t just a thump this time but
also a sickening crunch. He paused and looked down at the man to see a rather concave spot on the
back of his head. One more final swing and it would be finished, so he took a deep breath and
smashed the stock down hard, letting out a shout of anger as he did.

“Anything else?” Hoseok asked, tone bored as he stood a few feet away, arms folded over his
chest. Jungkook slipped his switchblade free and tossed it at him so that he could start removing
the fixtures on the statue with the tip of the blade.

“No, that should be enough. Just get the fucking thing down.” His friend crossed the aisle to get to
the statue, standing up on the pew so that he could reach it. Jungkook just stared at the ruination of
Lee’s head and felt his anger starting to blissfully fade away. It was probably the sight of the
gaping fissure from where the stock had punched right through his thin skull, the steadily
increasing pool of blood that was nearly touching the toes of his shoes. He studied the gristle-like
grey mass of brain matter that was on display and then he looked down at the stock of the gun that
see gore coated on it. He sighed and dropped the empty gun on the floor, hearing it clattering in the
silence of the church.

It took Hoseok a few minutes to free Christ from his position on the wall but when he got him
down he carried him over to where he was, propping the statue on the altar gate. His friend made
sure to avoid stepping in the pool of blood and then he stepped back and waited to see what he
would do. So Jungkook hunkered down and dipped his fore and middle finger into the puddle,
lifting it up to stare at the blood. Even through the leather gloves he could feel the warmth of it.

“Let’s leave Tae a message,” he muttered before shifting to get in front of the statue. He reached
out and carefully traced his fingers along the alabaster chest of Christ, writing characters on it as
large and cleanly as he could. Jungkook stopped and looked down at his work before deciding that
it was good enough, it would get the message across perfectly. The smears weren’t the most
neatest but he could read them fine and he knew that Taehyung would be able to too.
A bloody message finger painted onto the chest of the Christ statue:

Better start praying.

 Play It One More Time

The old Sam Yong Pa den was still there, like it had been for the last three years. It was as if the
massacre hadn’t even happened, that several men hadn't been bludgeoned and stabbed to death
inside. Hard to believe but true. Jungkook knew that it had been empty for that period of time too.
His old gang had moved onto another area, had lost this neighbourhood to Geum Sung Pa just a
month after he and Hoseok had departed, and he knew that they were somewhere around Gunam-ro
now. He hadn’t been inside or even near the new den but he knew of its existence for security
purposes. The only time he had ever met Sam Yong Pa men to make deals and negotiations with
had been right on the street outside of the old den; what he liked to think of in his head as ground
zero. Right now he was staring at the exterior of the old den in the backseat beside Hoseok.
Jungkook had his switchblade in hand and he was currently playing with it, slipping the blade free
and then snapping it back in place, hefting it from hand to hand impatiently. His friend was
scanning through photographs and files on his tablet, eyes moving rapidly from side to side as he
tapped or swiped his fingers on the screen.

“You really think Kim’s been coming here?” Hoseok asked quietly as he flicked to another file and
turned the device sideways on his lap.

“I do,” Jungkook replied. “I think he’s been here a few times in the past but he’s quick and smart
about it. We all know Sam Yong Pa are too scared to come around here. Even their biggest goons
piss their panties when you mention this place, not only after the murders but also the violence for
months on end. You remember how bad it was, right?”

“Yeah, I remember getting my ass kicked so bad I thought I was gonna die and I had five fingers
broken like twigs,” his friend muttered, eyes not leaving the screen once. “And I remember Sunmi
having about twenty armed goons near her at all times to stop any fuckers touching her.”

“God…I remember that too,” Jungkook said in a low voice. “I swore if any fucker touched her I’d
cut their cock off.”

“Lucky thing you didn’t have to, huh?” Hoseok asked as he moved onto another file. “I wouldn’t
wanna touch a Geum Sung Pa cock.”

“Yeah…me neither,” Jungkook said and then he felt a sharp pain in his finger. He looked down to
see that he had sliced his thumb open on the switchblade and so he stuck it in his mouth. He tasted
blood, thick and coppery on his tongue and swallowing seemed too hard to do so he stuck his head
through the gap in the window and spat a mouthful of bloody spittle out onto the curb. The interior
of the car fell silent and he sighed as he looked over at the den once more. It was the exact same
brick exterior but marked with graffiti that had never been there when he had lived in the apartment
room above the den. He just knew that teens - or maybe drunken adults - had dared one another to
leave a mark on it; on the old Sam Yong Pa building. There was probably rumours of it being
haunted and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. After all he could feel a shiver running down his
spine just looking at it. Going inside would be enough to make him feel a little breathless, he just
knew it.

“Can’t find any footage of him, no reported sightings,” Hoseok said after a few minutes of silence.
He was still flicking through the photographs and files. “Seems we’ve seen him everywhere but
this area.”

“Call Jaehyo,” Jungkook instructed. “Get him to check the CCTV for this area.” Hoseok asked him
why as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Got a feeling that it’s been hacked into
somehow.”

“Hacked?” His friend raised his eyebrows at this and then he was scrolling through his phone and
looking for the man’s name. When he pressed the device against his ear Jungkook popped the door
open and stepped onto the curb. “Hey, yeah it’s me and I need you to check something for me…”

Jungkook scanned the street to locate the camera. He knew that it would be set high, on a
telephone pole of some kind or built on the corner of a building: little grey box with a black face
and a tiny flashing green light. He heard a shifting noise behind him and he looked over his
shoulder to see Hoseok moving to the edge of the seat, swinging his legs over the side to sit
hunkered forward.

“Yeah, the old den,” his friend said, pressing the loudspeaker option and holding the phone in front
of his face. “Feed still working?”

“Uh, give me a minute I’ll be right on it, ” Jaehyo said as the sound of furious clicking came from
the other end of the line. Smart kid, college dropout turned hacker; getting paid a hefty wage to
hack into absolutely everything they needed him to. A good kid, in other words. Jungkook found a
little of himself in the young man. “…Yeah it’s working. Looking at the feed right now.”

“I’m out on the street,” Jungkook said. “Can you see me?”
“Um, no. You mustn’t be in the range of the camera.” So Jungkook told him he was going to walk
up and down the street before doing so. When he go back to the car he asked and once again was
told that the hacker couldn’t see him.

“What can you see?”

“Packed street,” Jaehyo explained. “Lots of people moving around.”

Jungkook didn’t need to look up to check because the entire street was empty, just like it had
always been. He saw Hoseok’s expression shift and then harden into something that looked like
annoyance.

“Wait…this is fucking Centumdong-ro!” Jaehyo cried out in shock before rapidly cursing under his
breath. “I can see the fucking arcade! Some fucker hacked and spliced the feed!”

“Thanks,” Hoseok said as he reached up and rubbed at his brow. “Been real helpful kid.” He ended
the call and stared at him. “The fuck did you know the feed had been hacked?”

“Gut feeling,” Jungkook explained as he glanced up and down the street again. “I was thinking
about where the hell Tae hangs his head and his fucking leather jacket, and it got me really
thinking.” Hoseok muttered about that was why he didn’t sleep again and he smirked. “Yeah,
pretty much. But I was right, the fucker’s been hiding away in the old den this whole time.”

“Kim really is a psycho…” Hoseok said as he got to his feet and climbed out, slamming the door
hard. “Sleeping in the building he murdered a bunch of goons and…and Yoongi in. Don’t he
believe in ghosts?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah I believe in ‘em.” Hoseok nodded without a hint of embarrassment on his face. “I’m getting
bad vibes off that building right now, real bad. Don’t like it. We’re going inside ain’t we?”

“Yeah.”
“You think Kim believes in ghosts?”

“Yeah, I think he does,” Jungkook said after a moment of thought. “I think he believes and that’s
why he comes here. If he prays in that church then I think he sleeps here too. Maybe he wants a
sign, maybe he just wants to feel powerful?” He shrugged as he shoved his switchblade into this
jacket pocket again. Hoseok dropped his gaze to study this and then he looked back up at the den.

“Shit Kookie, you don’t pay me enough to do this. In fact - you don’t pay me at all!”

“I pay you in love.”

“I’d prefer a Lamborghini…”

Jungkook crossed the street first, almost convinced that he would have to drag his friend along
behind him but Hoseok followed. He dragged his feet but he followed. When he got to the door he
stopped and took a few deep breaths before pushing it open and going inside it.

The interior stunk of dust and damp and he took a few steps before stopping. The windows had
been boarded up over the years and so when the door closed the little light that had bled in
disappeared, plunging the den into a moderate darkness. It wasn’t dark enough to blindly fumble in
but rather the evening dim of entering a room without a light on. Jungkook could see the interior,
see the old tables stacked up in the corner, the area Sunmi had used to use when she had been
working, and the door that led to the back room. He was observing this when he felt Hoseok’s
fingers brushing against the back of his hand and then he was seizing his hand, entwining their
fingers together.

“He really is fucking crazy…” Hoseok muttered as he squeezed hold of his hand. Jungkook
couldn’t help but smile at the sound of fear in his voice, the slight breathlessness. It had been some
time since he had last heard Hoseok breathless with fear.

“At one point I almost thought that he was sane,” Jungkook replied as he dropped his gaze to their
feet. This was more or less the exact spot that he had found Jaebum, Jaebum with his smashed in
face. He felt a coldness in his lower body, his feet and legs, and it made him feel weighed down.
“But then I remembered that he was Tae and there was no way he was fucking sane.”

“Wanna know something funny?” Hoseok asked as he took a few more steps into the storefront. “I
thought that you were sane once too but now I know you’re fucking nuts.” Jungkook laughed under
his breath in agreement. “Shit I didn’t even come back here until…after it all but man, I’m getting
chills right now.”

He pulled his friend across the storefront and into the back room and that was when Jungkook
found it a little hard to breathe. He tried to not look at the floor but it was hard not to. The concrete
flooring might have been cleaned and buried under a layer of dust but he fancied that he could still
see stains on it, still smell the rust-like stink of blood in his nose. He tightened his grip on Hoseok’s
hand and his friend said that they didn’t have to do this but Jungkook knew that he did. So he
dragged his eyes up to look at the stairs instead and as he looked at them he saw something
interesting. There was footprints in the dust on the bare wooden steps. They weren’t clean but
rather still covered in a thin layer of dust, a lighter layer than the rest of the step. That meant that
they were recent, that someone had been here not that long ago.

Taehyung.

Jungkook let go of Hoseok’s hand and he stepped across the back room and he started up the
staircase. He heard his friend calling out, asking him where the fuck he was going and he didn’t
reply, going up until he reached the landing that his and Yoongi’s old room was on. He stopped in
front of the door and sure enough there was a lock on the outside. One that had never been there
before.

“That little fucker…” Jungkook cursed under his breath as he stared at the lock. What other reason
would there be to put a lock on the door if not for the fact that the room was in use? Of all of the
rooms in the building, of all of the places he could have picked Taehyung had chosen their one. He
felt an unsettled sensation in his stomach and then Hoseok stopped beside him and tried the lock.

“Gonna need to kick it down,” his friend muttered. “You still wanna check this place out or
leave?”

“Check it out,” Jungkook said as he cocked his leg up and kicked the door hard. It shuddered in its
frame but didn't open. “We left him a message and now I need to leave him another one.”

“What message would that be?”

“We know where you work,” a harder kick, “we know where you sleep.” Jungkook took a deep
breath and aimed one final hard kick to the door. There was a crunching sound as the wood around
the lock gave in, splinters of white wood flying free. The lock stayed stuck in the frame stubbornly.
“You’re not safe.” He finished breathlessly, reaching up to fix his suit jacket.
Jungkook stepped into the old apartment room and he took a few steadying breaths to make his
heart stop racing in his chest, closing his eyes as he did. He didn't hear his friend moving and after
a moment Hoseok quietly said he would be waiting for him outside. The sound of his footsteps
faded to nothing and he waited until he couldn't hear anything other than his own breathing before
opening his eyes again.

It was the same room he remembered vividly in his head. The small kitchenette to the left and the
door to the bathroom just a little to the right of the counter. The window on the wall right in front
of him minus the desk that had been against it. The desk had went with them when they had moved
and was now in Jungkook and Hoseok’s house on Jeju Island. There was nothing about this room
that really resembled the old one: no furniture except a single dresser. He could even see the holes
in the walls where photograph frames had hanged not that long ago, little cracks around them in the
plaster. The only thing inside it that had remained was the old bed and he stared at it and felt his
throat shrink to the size of a straw. Trying to breathe was too hard and he could hear it whistling in
his ears as he stumbled over to the bed. Jungkook sat down on it and he heard the mattress springs
groaning under his weight. The covers and pillows were strewn across it messily rather than neatly
tucked up until in use. He reached down to touch the cover and before he could stop himself he
shifted to lie down on the bed. His face brushed against the pillow and when he finally pulled a
decent amount of air into his lungs he could smell Taehyung: the same scent that had been on the
bouquet on Yoongi’s grave.

Taehyung had slept in his apartment room, had slept in his bed. His scent was trapped in the pillow
and covers and sheets and he couldn’t smell Yoongi anymore.

Jungkook wanted to curl up into a ball but he couldn’t. How long had he been waiting for this
moment? How long had he been waiting to catch Taehyung out and yet here he was; lying on his
old bed with nothing more than the ghosts of his cologne in his nose. The church had been nothing
compared to this, the church had been nothing more than a simple job. But this wasn’t a job, this
was something that had been haunting him ever since Yoongi’s death anniversary and he had just
needed to see if his hunch was correct. He wished that it hadn’t been. He shifted to place the side
of his head on the pillow, breathing Taehyung’s scent out and opening his eyes. He could see a
frame placed on the dresser and so he stretched to collect it, holding it in front of his face. The
frame was cheap wood but it looked well loved, nothing more than a few gauges in the wood and a
scratch in the glass.

The photograph in it was a shot of Taehyung and Jimin. It looked to have been taken maybe a year
or so before he had met either of them. Jimin’s hair was black rather than red and his face was a lot
fuller than it had been, fuller cheeks and softer jawline. It looked like he had been holding the
camera judging from the angle and Taehyung was right behind him, a few inches taller. The boy
had grabbed a lock of Jimin’s hair and placed it on his upper lip, pouting to make it look like a
moustache. Smiling ruddy faces were looking right back at him, faces that had made him feel
surges of happiness not that long ago that made him feel a surge of something else now; something
he couldn’t quite figure out.
He placed the frame back down when he felt it clinking against something and he stopped. Metal,
he was certain of that much. Jungkook shoved the frame aside and instead grabbed the other object
and he discovered that he was right. It was the metallic frame of a photograph and he stared at it
dumbly. This had been hanging on the wall of the room, an old snap of him and Yoongi that he had
currently had on the desk in his and Hoseok’s bedroom. He had left this one behind on the wall
without thought and it seemed that Taehyung had gotten his hands on it. In the original photograph
they had been sitting together at a park of some kind, an amusement one that he couldn’t really
remember. Seokjin had taken the snap, he remembered that much. There was a stupid hat on
Yoongi’s head and Jungkook had been hugging a plush toy to his chest, caught in the middle of
laughing at something: fifteen years old and innocent and sane, not like now.

But Taehyung had smashed the glass in the frame and there was a cigarette burn straight through
Yoongi’s face.

Jungkook sat up sharply and dropped the frame on the bed as if contact with it had burnt him. He
felt his lips pulling back in a grimace and then he grabbed the other photograph frame. He
slammed it down on the corner of the dresser hard enough to shatter the glass and then he was
knocking it free all over the covers. Jungkook slipped his fingers inside to grab a corner of the
photograph, slicing his fingertips on the shards of glass as he did. Then he tore right down the
photograph and pulled Jimin free. As a result it ripped most of Taehyung’s mouth free too. With
shaking hands he folded the half and placed it inside his jacket pocket and then he got to his feet
and looked at the frames on the bed.

Time to go speak to Namjoon.

The scent of coffee was in his nose and he found that it calmed him down somewhat, mostly
because it rid him of the stink of Taehyung’s bitter cologne. Jungkook didn’t take his eyes off the
sight of the deep brown liquid, steam coming off the surface in a little wisp. Every now and again
the sound of the café door would sound to alert him that someone had entered or left the store and
he didn’t look up. Only when the other man sat down would he take his eyes off the coffee.
Hoseok was sitting to his left and he had the tablet out in front of him in preparation should it be
needed. His friend hadn’t said a single thing to him since he had stepped out of the old Sam Yong
Pa den. Hoseok either didn’t want to know or thought that it was for the best that he didn’t. He had
pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket however and had forced it into his hands, pressing it against
his sliced up fingertips to stem the bleeding. The cuts were currently stinging but he didn’t
particularly care, hands wrapped around the cup instead so that he could nurse the heat against his
palms.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that Taehyung had actually done that; that he had claimed the Sam
Yong Pa den as his own and had made his and Yoongi’s home his when he wasn’t crashing in
shitty hotels across the country when he was working. He had invaded his old sanctuary in the
most disgusting of ways, just like he and Hoseok had entered his church and desecrated his. He had
slept on the same bed that he had spent six years sharing with his best friend. Taehyung had
crawled into that bed after killing people and he had buried his head against his pillows and had let
his bare skin touch the same sheets that he had been touching not that long ago. Jungkook wished
that the thought made him nothing more than angry, that it didn’t make a warmth spread in the pit
of his stomach.

The overhead bell sounded from across the room and he felt Hoseok shifting on the bench to sit
upright. After a few seconds Namjoon was sitting down in the opposite side of the table and when
Jungkook finally looked up he saw him placing a file down.

“Oh boy, let’s play a great game called “how do I know that a certain gangster duo are in town”?”
Namjoon remarked as he folded his arms on the table. “The sight of limousines parked outside of
cafés? The murmurings from the underworld as all of the petty criminals all go into hiding? Or
how about the discovery of a mutilated corpse on the altar of a church?”

“Ding, ding, ding, we’ve got a winner,” Jungkook said as he lifted the cup of coffee. “Though all
three could easily apply to us…”

“Brutal,” the officer said as he opened the file in front of him. “That’s what the press are dubbing
it, brutal murder of a decent priest.” He turned the file around and Jungkook glanced at the forensic
snap of the corpse. “The blunt force trauma to the head was bad enough but the chest
mutilations...?”

“We didn’t do that Inspector,” Hoseok said as he looked up from the file. “Whoever discovered
him did, I’ll bet the autopsy report will show post-mortem mutilation.” Namjoon asked why
someone would do that, brow furrowed slightly. Clearly he wasn’t aware of the fact that the entire
church was as crooked as they were.

“Lee wasn’t a priest, he was a con man working for Geum Sung Pa pretending to be a priest.
Must’ve done a good job ‘cos they were raking in the cash,” Jungkook explained as he took
another sip of coffee and left it on his tongue, the heat and warmth of the flavour pleasing. He
didn’t take lattes anymore, nothing sweet with caramel but rather just a slight splash of milk. He
wondered what Narae would think if he showed up at the kiosk and ordered something.
“Geum Sung Pa, huh?” Namjoon thought this over and Jungkook studied the photograph for
another few seconds, eyeing the messy missing section of skin on his chest, muscle visible from
around the material of his open shirt. “Makes sense, I should have anticipated the fact the priest
was a gang member. I just assumed that the man had been bribed or swayed into letting them use
the church for their deeds, just not an actual member.”

“Geum Sung Pa goon mutilated him so you cops wouldn’t see the tattoo,” Hoseok explained with a
shrug as he took his own sip of coffee.

“Found gang paraphernalia in the church,” Namjoon turned the file back to himself and he flicked
through it. “Hidden caches all throughout the church. Found drugs, fake identification cards and
passports, files with info on counterfeit goods, shit like that. Also amateur porn. Those files are
being analysed, we’ll find out if the shit is legal adults in illegal activities or plain illegal
everything.”

“Fucking Geum Sung Pa will deal in anything,” Jungkook spat over the rim of his cup. “Got no
morals.” Namjoon looked up at him with raised eyebrows as if challenging this statement. “Yeah
we kill fuckers, yeah we deal in drugs and hookers and shit but not kids, never kids you know that
Namjoon.”

“Found an empty cache not far from the corpse. You know what was in there?”

“Weapons,” Hoseok said as he put his empty cup down and started turning it around on the plate,
spinning it with his finger. “You saw one of ‘em.”

“Yeah, this one.” Namjoon turned to a photograph in the file. “Partner informed me that this is a
Mossberg 500, American military weapon. No doubt obtained from a base.” Hoseok confirmed
this by making a noise under his breath. “You found Kim’s stash, didn’t you?”

“Found nothing more than some guns, that’s it. Had the place turned upside down but nothing
important. We left the gang shit for your department to find Inspector,” Hoseok explained as he sat
back against the padded bench. His friend looked bored as hell and Jungkook didn’t feel much
better. All of this talk about Geum Sung Pa goons and fuckers bored him greatly but there was a
more pressing matter at hand yet to be discussed. When it finally started to get discussed things
would get very interesting indeed.

“But you found something,” Namjoon said after a moment of thought. “I can tell looking at your
smug face. What did you find exactly?”
Jungkook reached inside of his jacket pocket and he pulled the torn up piece of photograph out and
placed it down on the table. He left it front of him for a moment, gently stroking his finger along
the curve of Jimin’s face, and then he slid it over to the officer.

“Recognise this boy?”

“…Faintly,” Namjoon replied as he lifted the piece and studied it. Jungkook could see smears of
blood on the white back of the photograph from his sliced fingertips.

“When you last saw him he had red hair and he was riding in the back of your old squad car, face
beaten to shit,” he said as he picked his cup up and took another slight sip.

“Wait…he’s that Geum Sung Pa kid isn’t he?” The inspector looked up at him in surprise. “This is
an old photograph.”

“Yeah, but it’s the best I can do seen as I haven’t seen him in three years.” Jungkook lowered his
cup of coffee onto the table. “I need to to find out any information that you can on him. I’m talking
even the most smallest piece of shit you can find I want to know.”

“You want him dead?” Namjoon asked as he put the shot down and reached inside his pocket and
got his mobile out. He took a snapshot of the photograph and then the phone went back into his
pocket.

“I want him, alive preferably,” he said as he studied his sliced fingers. The cuts looked angry, like
little mouths, and he thought of that hideous Christ statue in the Jaeban-ro church and the gaping
spear wound in its side.

“You’ve not seen him in three years?” the inspector asked as he folded his hands on the open file.
“Any info on him that would come in handy?”

“I’ve got nothing, literally nothing.”

“I respect him for managing to avoid you this entire time,” Namjoon slid the photograph back. “So
he’s probably abroad or something like that, my best bet’s Taiwan or possibly China. Easy to
disappear in a country like that. But I’m gonna need some info.”

“Park Jimin, should be twenty-two by now. Last seen he had multiple tattoos, three sets of stars:
black one on between his finger and thumb on his left hand, a gold and black one behind his right
ear, and an outline of his inner left forearm with characters in: PJM KTH.” Namjoon scribbled all
of this down on a sheet of paper, using a fountain pen from his shirt pocket. Jungkook watched him
doing so as he continued describing Jimin, giving him a rough estimate of his height and weight
from his memory. The inspector didn’t ask any questions but rather just carried on making notes
and when he finished talking the man slipped the paper inside the file out of sight.

“Finding any info will be hard but I’ll get to it. There’s no way in hell he’s going to be in this
region though, I mean I’d be shocked if I found out he was even in the same country.” Namjoon
paused before adding. “Or even alive.”

“Tae’s been making his nest in Haeundae-gu,” Jungkook said as he eyed the coffee cup. “He’s
been spending hours in the old Sam Yong Pa den. We discovered this fact out just this morning.”
He could sense a great interest coming from the inspector. “He’s been walking these streets right
under our noses and we had no clue.”

“Didn’t you guys have cameras on the place?”

“Yeah, but Kim - or someone working for Kim - hacked into the system and spliced the feed to
another location,” Hoseok explained.

“You think it’s Park?” Namjoon looked between them both and Jungkook felt Hoseok’s eyes
shifting to look at the side of his face. It was a good guess, one that he hadn’t even thought about,
but now that it had been mentioned he didn’t think that it was right at all.

“I think that Jimin’s as far away from Tae as he can possibly be.” Jungkook said quietly as he
turned to look out of the window.

He thought about what Lee had told him in the church the day before, about how Taehyung prayed
and he mentioned both his name and Jimin’s: talked about a star rather than directly say his name.
If Taehyung and Jimin were together then the young man wouldn’t have needed to apologise to
him, would he? No, Jungkook was very much thinking that Jimin had gotten gone shortly after the
violence on the streets that Taehyung had caused. It had been just simply too dangerous to be
around the boy after he had snapped and Taehyung had never gotten better since, had never calmed
himself down like Jimin had told him that he used to do. No, he had well and truly exploded and
there was no going back from that ever. So Jimin couldn’t have possibly stayed by his side after it
all, could have he? It was too risky being with him and if Jimin valued his life he would have ran
away from him a long time ago.

But would Taehyung really let him go? If Jungkook had been dependent on Yoongi to the point of
seeing everything destroyed when he had died then how badly had Taehyung needed Jimin? After
all, he had started the entire war just for the boy’s sake. Would Taehyung let the boy leave him or
would he chase after him? Would he even go as far to kill him just so he couldn’t leave
him? Jungkook felt a horrible sensation at the thought. He knew that Taehyung was fucked up and
that he had no care for who he had to kill. Could he have gotten so far gone that he would do
something like that? Maybe, maybe not. Couldn’t the same thing be said for him? He had spent
three years suppressing his anger and hatred only for it to finally take control and demand that he
do something: that had culminated in this desperate manhunt.

Was Jungkook really wanting to kill Taehyung because he had killed Yoongi? Or did he want him
dead because he had left him and he hadn’t wanted that?

The longer that Jungkook thought about it the more confused that he became. Yes, he needed to
have someone beside him to rid him of any crippling sense of loneliness and emptiness. But that
didn’t mean that he would kill someone if they left him. Would he really go that far? Would he kill
Hoseok if he ever tried to leave him? Jungkook slid his eyes over to look at his friend before
dropping his gaze to the file.

“What do you want him alive for?” Namjoon asked, breaking the temporary silence as he did.

“Live bait,” Jungkook replied without looking up at him.

“Because you know I’ll offer assistance on pretty much everything, so long as the victims involved
are crooked. Is Park crooked?” the inspector asked as he closed the file. “I wouldn’t feel right
providing information on a victim that might just be…innocent.”

“I dunno what the hell he is but he’ll get Tae to come out and say hello, so I want him.” Jungkook
folded his arms on the table and leaned forward whilst holding the man’s eyes. “We won’t have a
problem with this, will we?” Namjoon kept his gaze steady and he didn’t look away from him.
“‘Cos I can find many other people that would be willing to do this for me for cash instead of
information. I’m sure that the NPA can handle everything just fine without our assistance.”

“I can think of at least three associates,” Hoseok added as he studied his fingernails, acting
disinterested. He was a great actor and right now he was giving a star performance.
“If I get Jimin then I can get Tae. Isn’t that trade good enough?” Jungkook cocked his head and
waited to see what the man would do. Namjoon would have to be stupid to turn down this simple
thing. The entire department was dependent on J.M.J. Pa and he knew that he knew it too. “I’ll be
cleaning up the streets for good. No more hits, no more dead CEOs and business men, no more
massacres at weddings and dead kids. Together we can bring down the monster that’s been
terrorising this country for the last three years. You’ll be a hero Namjoon, not a criminal. Does it
really matter if we have to sacrifice one potentially innocent man to do that?”

“The kind of man that brings down such a terror would get given a medal,” Hoseok added, no
longer pretending to be disinterested but now giving the other man a fervent look. “Would get a
medal off the mayor and a promotion and hell…wouldn’t that be so easy to arrange seen as the
mayor’s one of our own?”

After several minutes of silence, in deep thought judging from the expression on his face, the
inspector shifted on the bench. Jungkook knew that this wasn’t easy for the man but surely, after
everything that they had told him, he would see that the benefits far outweighed the negatives?

“I’ll see way I can do,” Namjoon said in a low voice as he collected the file and got to his feet.
“Three years will be hard to sift through. I won’t promise anything but I’m sure that I’ll find
something, even if it’s only a small bit of info.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said as he gave the man his most business savvy smile. “I think that we
have a beautiful partnership going Inspector Kim, and I would hate to bring it an end over such a…
simple matter.”

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“When you were a kid, what was it like exactly?”

Jungkook didn’t take his eyes off the view outside of the limousine window but he heard his friend
moving on the seat beside him, the soft creak of the leather. He had broken the silence after a
surprisingly long time and they would be climbing onto the ferry again soon enough. Rather than
wait around with the rest of the passengers he preferred waiting in the vehicle where no one would
look at him. The limousine provided shade from the sun and stopped him feeling the sensation of
eyes staring behind his shoulder blades when he had his back turned. He could see a bunch of
children hanging around the area, no doubt with parents that were also boarding the ferry. Despite
the fact they had all likely been strangers this morning he could see that they didn’t seem to care at
all. They were playing with a toy of some kind, passing it around one another and pushing buttons
and making it flash and make funny noises. They seemed to be as young as five and as old as nine
and he counted six heads. Six different children and yet they got along perfectly well.

Jungkook couldn’t recall having something like that. He could remember his elementary school
days faintly and picture wooden desks and almost smell the faded scent of chalk but he couldn’t
ever remember having friends and playing in such a way. He knew that he had had friends, but
maintaining friendships had been hard. He had been the child with the problematic family life - the
alcoholic mother and vanishing act father. The children he had managed to befriend had not really
stayed friends for long, mostly at the behest of parents that didn’t want them to be around him.
Perhaps they had thought of him as a charity case, perhaps they had been scared that he would
have been a bad influence on their children? They had been right in the end, that was for sure.

“My childhood?” Hoseok sighed and pouted his lips out as he thought this over. When he was deep
in contemplation he had a habit of making soft noises under his breath that made him seem
somewhat younger and more innocent than he truly was. “Well, my childhood was good I guess?”
his friend said after some consideration. “Both parents, both working decent jobs. Family home,
had a fucking pet dog and everything. I did well in school, not perfect grades but good enough. I
was popular, or popular for a Gwangju hick schoolboy anyhow.” Hoseok laughed at this.
Jungkook asked him how the hell he had gotten into Sam Yong Pa. “I wanted to be cool, I guess? I
dunno, I just ended up in the gang ‘cos I had a lot of connections and I was the perfect person to get
kids addicted to soft drugs, y’know? The friendly popular kid. So I did, I started running and then I
ended up in the gang full-time instead of college.”

“Don’t you ever regret that? Regret making those choices?”

“No,” Hoseok replied without missing a beat. “I don’t regret getting to this point in my life at all.
Back in Gwangju I thought I was somebody but I was a nobody really. But after joining Sam Yong
Pa and becoming your friend I became more than somebody. I became part of the biggest empire in
the whole country, the second most wanted man in the country right above Kim.”

“You wanted fame and fortune.”

“No, not fame and fortune.” The other man paused and then added quietly. “I just wanted to be
somebody. That’s it.”

Jungkook made a soft noise under his breath at this to show that he had been listening. Out of the
window he saw the gang on kids still playing and a rather adventurous little girl leaned over to
peck a kiss on the cheek of an older looking boy. This made the boy clap his hands over his cheeks
and start making nonsense noises that made the other kids laugh and brought a smile to
Jungkook’s face. What he wouldn’t have given to have felt something like that at some point in his
life. No, the only kisses he could remember was the forbidden ones with Taehyung all those years
ago and the frantic drunken ones with his current friend. Where was the innocence? The blushing
cheeks and sappiness? He had felt none of that, nothing at all.

Had he even loved Taehyung?

Jungkook briefly wondered if he even felt love now, after what had happened to Yoongi, before
shoving the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need love he needed an empire and Hoseok and
nothing more than that.

All love had ever given him was misery.

“Do you regret anything?” Hoseok asked after a brief silence. Jungkook dragged his eyes away
from the window and he thought this over for a moment before shaking his head.

“I don’t live with regrets,” he lied through his teeth. “I keep on moving forward.”

Jungkook didn’t spend the short ferry ride on the deck this time but rather locked in the luxury
cabin. The gentle rocking of the boat made him feel nauseous and he wanted three lines of cocaine
to chase it away but he had none, not even a couple of uppers to take the edge off. Curling up on
the cabin bed with his knees tucked against his chest and his shirt and suit trousers getting creased,
he thought about Taehyung lying somewhere too; lying in a hotel room all alone, in his old bed
with the ghosts of the dead haunting the floors and the photographed faces staring back at him
from broken glass and cigarette burns. It was enough to make him feel cold even in the heat of the
cabin and he felt a clammy sweat on his skin. At some point he drifted off and was awoken by his
shoulder being roughly shaken. There was a few disorientating seconds where he struggled to open
his eyes and come back to consciousness and when he finally did he felt a heaviness in his limbs
and a throbbing ache in his head. He pried his eyes open with a low groan.

Hoseok was sitting on the edge of the cabin bed with his tablet in hand and he could see that it was
plugged into a port in the wall just beside his head. There was something on his friend’s face that
made him feel uncomfortable and after a moment he figured out what it was. Hoseok looked very
angry in a way that was surprisingly controlled. Had anyone else looked at him they might not
have noticed but Jungkook could see the way that his lips were pulled in at the corners and the
slight shake of his fingers around the device. Hoseok didn’t get mad over anything, over a small
inconvenience. He was very patient, almost ridiculously so, and he could control his anger much
better than he could. So when he saw that he was pissed off he knew that it had to be something
very important and that meant one thing - it meant that he was going to get pissed off even more
easily.

“What?” Jungkook asked as he sat up and roughly rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.
He did so hard enough to see starburst patterns under his lids and then he could open his eyes
without feeling a great weight on them.

“It’s Kim,” Hoseok said in a low voice. He saw the straining of his muscles in the side of his neck
as he tried to not grind his teeth together. “The stupid fucker.”

“Speak to me, man.” Jungkook felt wide awake now. There was nothing quite like a nice big dose
of Taehyung to wake him up. The young man was even more potent that a baggie of cocaine or a
palmful of pills; a veritable punch in the throat or a glass of freezing cold water to the face.

“At 5:31pm, right around the time that we were boarding this goddamn ferry he went on a little…
killing spree.” Little? The word ‘little’ and Taehyung did not go together well at all. Taehyung
only did things that could be described as ‘loud’ and ‘big’ and ‘world-changing’. Hoseok pressed
the button on the device to bring the lock screen up and then he was typing things in to unlock it.
“Daegu, Dalseo-gu-”

“Fuck, not Wolgok-ro,” Jungkook interrupted.

“At 5:31pm estimated Kim barged right into our fucking main den of operations on Wolgok-ro and
he brought a few friends with him. No, not goons. I mean a Kalashnikov and a few more play toys.
In the following ten minutes Kim shot absolutely everything inside that fucking moved and then he
rigged the building with a bunch of triggered devices and got the fuck out, but not before making
sure to call the cops and report a gang brawl on a cheap disposable cell phone. So y’know what
happens next right?”

Jungkook stared at his friend dumbly as he tried to process this. Taehyung had gotten into their den
with weapons? What the actual fuck? How could he have possibly gotten into it when they had a
permanent police cruiser always on the street outside, the perks of nearly running the entire region?

“Well, an armed unit and a dozen ambulances hit the scene,” Hoseok continued, hands shaking so
badly now that it was a miracle he could still hold the device. “The team goes in and ka-fucking-
boom! They blew the den up, they blew half of the fucking street up, there’s a fucking crater
where Wolgok-ro used to be!”

Jungkook heard the moan escape his lips but he didn’t feel them even move.

“We’ve got about sixty to a hundred dead men and women in that den, we’ve got most of the
armed unit for Dalseo-gu lying in pieces all over the fucking district and a good chunk of
paramedic units too and I’ve not even started talking about the fucking civilians casualties yet.”

“Kookmin bank is right there at the end of the street…” Jungkook muttered, thinking about how
packed it would have been as workers hurriedly tried to cash paychecks before the bank closed.
Then he reached up to brush his hair back off his brow with a equally shaking hand.

“We’re looking at maybe two-hundred casualties right now,” Hoseok said in a low voice as he
turned the device to show him a news site. He saw the headline and the words ‘gangs’ and
‘terrorism’ in bold black characters and then he dropped his eyes to see a photograph taken from a
press helicopter. What he was looking at didn’t look like a street anymore. It looked like he was
staring at the entrance to hell inside: at a massive burning pillar of fire and smoke. There was
entire chunks of buildings strewn over the place and he was aware of the fact that this was what
true violence looked like. This wasn’t stabbings and corpses dumped in Marine City bay anymore,
this was actual warfare and he felt his stomach shifting to go up to the back of his throat.

Taehyung had done this.

Taehyung had walked into that den filled with men and women that mostly worked at laptops
buying up stocks and communicating with other syndicates. Men and women that didn’t drink or
smoke like the members back in the old Sam Yong Pa den because they were too busy working to
have fun. He had pulled a fucking sub-machine gun on these men and women and he had pulled
the trigger indiscriminately, had killed indiscriminately just like a god. Then he had planted all of
those explosive devices just knowing that more people would rush to the scene and to their deaths.

This was the boy that he had loved: a mass murder, a fucking terrorist.

“The…the cops, how the fuck did he-”

“Someone ratted us out, someone let him get into the fucking den,” Hoseok spat as he put the
tablet down and reached up to bury his face in his hands for a moment before running both of his
hands through his hair with a groan. “There’s hell on the streets in Daegu right now. The syndicate
has gone crazy and I dunno what we’re supposed to do to reign ‘em in. They lost good men and
women today and there’s no way that they’re all gonna sit down and talk about their fucking
feelings. Police are getting attacked, any neighbourhoods in the region that aren’t ours are being
raided and destroyed. He’s done it again, fucking Kim has started another gang war ‘cos of-”

“Me,” Jungkook finished before his friend could say something else, something wrong. “He’s
started another war ‘cos of me, ‘cos he knows that I’m finally onto him and I’m not letting him go
this time.”

“No, it’s not ‘cos of that it’s-”

“Three years ago I had a chance of getting him. I should’ve got him and Jimin before it all got out
of hand, should’ve killed the stupid fucker the same night he got Yoongi and the old den but I
didn’t. I pussied out, I fucking lost it and spent weeks crying like a fucking baby and look what
happened.” Jungkook struggled to his feet and then he started pacing up and down the end of it.
The very act of doing so reminded him of Taehyung, reminded him of how he had always used to
do this back when they were kids: the stalking. “Three years I let him run around this fucking
country ‘cos I had more important things to do, like set up a fucking empire and see to it that I
wiped Geum Sung Pa off the face of the earth and only now have I decided that I’ve had enough of
seeing his face plastered on cameras and that I want him gone.”

“We haven’t had a good enough chance to try and catch him, and look what happened when we
finally caught him out,” Hoseok argued. “He blew a fucking street up just to scare us away!”

“I let him get stronger, I let him build up his own connections and get smarter and crazier. I should
open my legs a little wider so that he can fuck me that much harder!”

Jungkook felt the most pressing urge to break something but there wasn’t much on display that he
could. He sighted a vase of flowers on a small display table beside the cabin window so he
snatched it and pulled the handful of flowers out before tossing the vase right at the window. It
shattered it with very little effort and he saw the porcelain object fly right out and over the side of
the deck to land down in the waters below. There was a series of surprised shouts at the sound of
shattering glass from the deck. He tightened his hold on the flowers and he felt the stems starting to
bend and snap under his grip. Hoseok stayed firmly on the edge of the bed and he didn’t move,
didn’t do much more than blink. He was aware of the fact that his friend was keeping still and
silent as to not piss him off anymore than he already was. Right now the other man was probably
scared that he would turn on him and beat the shit out of him and the way that he currently felt
Jungkook really wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t do so.
“Tell whoever the fuck is still breathing up in Daegu that I want Geum Sung Pa outta the fucking
region. I don’t care what happens, I want every last fucker dead. Hang them in the fucking streets.”
Jungkook started pulling at the flowers as he spoke, tearing the precious little heads off almost as if
they were something else, Taehyung’s teeth perhaps. “Find out who sold us out. If it’s the police,
cleanse them. If it’s a government official get the entire party out and replace them with a new one.
If it’s the fucking mayor I want his head.”

“It’s been awhile since we did a cleansing,” Hoseok said in a quiet voice. “You’re right, we needed
to weed out the weak at some point. Now is the best time for this.”

“Get it out to the other syndicates. Let them know that they’re not safe and they need security, they
need armed forces this time and not just a few squad cars. If worse comes to worst let them bring
out guns too. You know I hate them ‘cos it makes everyone too trigger happy and causes too much
shit but I want Tae to know that next time he brings a gun to a knife party he’ll regret it.” Jungkook
plucked the last head off the flower and then he dropped it to the floor, stepping down on them and
grinding them under his bare foot. There was a searing heat trapped in his chest and he needed to
control it but he couldn’t do so.

“It’s ‘cos we went to the den,” Hoseok said as he watched him tossing the stems aside and wiping
his hands on his trousers. “It’s ‘cos we scared him for once in his fucking life and he doesn’t like
that. Kim likes to strike fear, he doesn’t like it being done to him.”

“No, that’s not it, we both know it isn’t. Tae isn’t scared, he’s excited. We’ve finally started
playing along after such a long time and we rolled the dice but we got a two and he got a six.
That’s all this is; it’s his way of telling us that we need to try and little harder so we’re gonna do
that.” Jungkook took a few deep breaths and then he tasted something sour in his mouth. “That’s
what we’re doing and he doesn’t even have a fucking clue. We’re gonna get Jimin and then he’ll
really see how hard we can play.”

“Jungkook,” Hoseok said his name slowly and softly, almost as if he didn’t want to say this but he
had no choice. He let his name hang in the air for a moment before shifting to pick up the tablet.
“Kim was picked up on the den cameras before the place was…was blown up. The feed was
uploaded of course, onto the main server where every other syndicate can access it and well…” His
friend looked down at the screen and then back up at him slowly. “He left you a message on one of
the laptop webcams.”

“Play it,” Jungkook demanded as he practically dived over to him, sitting down on the bed beside
him. The other man looked like he didn’t want to do this. “Play the fucking recording Hoseok.”

Hoseok handed him the device instead so that he could press play and Jungkook accepted it with
shaking hands and placed it on his lap. When he opened the file and hit play the first thing that hit
him was a series of screams and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. It was a disgusting sound and
even through the speakers of the tablet he could almost feel the sonic boom kick of each flying
bullet. One of the workers had turned it on to clearly capture the entire thing and alert another
worker across the country and it had worked. He saw a section of the den and people darting past
so fast that the movements were all blurs. He couldn’t make out faces and could barely make out
genders. After perhaps thirty seconds or so of complete chaos there was an abrupt silence and it
was so unsettling that he felt his shiver go down his spine. Taehyung had finished most of the job,
had emptied clip after clip into the joint and now he was probably walking through the mess that
he had made just to be sure that he had really cleaned up. Every few moments there would come a
sudden kick of gunfire again but it would cut off a second later. That was the sound of him
ensuring that everyone was dead. The recording played through for nearly two minutes before
Taehyung walked right past the feed and the only thing he saw was the leather jacket and then he
was gone again. But something must have caught his eye for a few seconds later he was moving
back in front of it, slowly and more deliberately. The second time he was in front of the camera he
saw more than just the jacket. He saw the strap of the gun and it dangling down by his hips and
then the man was shifting to shrug a large backpack off and dump it onto the table just beside the
laptop. Then Taehyung sat down in the seat with a heavy sigh.

Jungkook tightened his hands so hard on the device that he was surprised that it didn’t crack
between his hands. Taehyung unzipped the bag and started rooting through it. He could see that
there was a fine mist of blood across his face, mostly on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones
and he made no attempt to clean it away.

“I’ve gotta say,” Taehyung said in a low voice as he pulled a series of things out of the bag and
placed them on the table. “It’s been too long, huh punk?” Jungkook saw wires and fishing line and
a thick block of putty of some kind. “I really thought that you’d given up just like the pussy I used
to call you but man…that was a good one. I didn’t see that coming at all. You’re still full of
surprises.” Taehyung had just killed several dozen people and he was speaking as calm as could
be, hands not even shaking as he started connecting wires together and looping them around his
fingers. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing: he was making a bomb right in front of him.

“Better start praying,” Taehyung laughed on the webcam feed and he actually looked right up to
stare at the camera for a moment, grin frozen on his face. “I haven’t heard that one in a long time. I
got bored of it.” The man finished knotting wires together and then reached into his bag to collect a
few more things. Jungkook watched him in numb horror as he pulled out a grenade and then he was
wrapping the fishing line around the pull ring in several quick, concise movements. “Did your
friend pray before he died? Did he pray when his stomach acid started eating his fucking lungs? I
hope so. I hope he started saying Our Fathers as he choked on his own blood.”

On the bed beside him Hoseok shifted uncomfortably at his words.

“But he didn’t, or he probably didn’t anyway,” Taehyung muttered as he moved that aside and
reached into his bag to find some more materials with which to make his trigger bombs. “So
yeah…the church, fuck that was a good one. I didn’t peg you to be the kind to murder someone in a
church but I was wrong. Seems I’ve been wrong about a lot of things about you. I like that, I like
surprises. You’re finally interesting again. I wonder…” He stopped fiddling around with his bomb
and looked up at the camera once more and Jungkook looked into his eyes and saw nothing in
them; they were dead. “What my little star would think of you now if he saw you. The good Sam
Yong Pa bitch that doesn’t like hurting people and only wants to be happy and fucking content. The
bitch that now smashes men’s heads ‘cos he gets mad sometimes, boo-hoo.”

He went back to the second bomb, working away with expert precision as he hummed something
under his breath that he didn’t recognise.

“I bet that he’d be really scared of you now. He never liked violence.” Taehyung stopped and
reached up to fiddle with something hanging around his neck, a necklace of some kind from what
he could see. “You’re a monster now, aren’t you? Not a god but a real dragon. Hang on, I just
need to do something.” The man got to his feet and collected what he had been working on,
carrying it carefully as he disappeared out of the sight of the webcam. He was gone for a few
minutes, maybe as few as five or as many as twenty for he had no way of telling. Jungkook just
stared at the screen and waited for him to return. He did and he sank down into the chair with
another sigh as he pulled his phone out.

“Gotta get going in a minute or two but I’ve got a few things to say before I do. I know that you’re
looking for him but you’re not gonna get him. Only I know where he is and you’ll never find him.”
He was talking about Jimin. “There’s a lot of things that I know that you don’t and I think you’ll
really want to start talking to me. So here’s the deal. Jeju Island, 1pm tomorrow I’ll be waiting for
you at a café and I will see you there. If you don’t show I’ll blow the place up and I’ll find another
little den of yours. Fuck it, I might just blow half of the island up for fun. I know that there’s only
two police stations on it and everyone thinks that they’re so fucking safe there. They’re not.”
Taehyung smiled at the camera and it didn’t extend to his eyes at all. “I have my ways. I might just
die but hey, isn’t that the fun part?”

Taehyung pressed his thumb against the screen of his phone and a few seconds later he was
holding it against his ear.

“Hello, yeah I would like to report some trouble on Wolgok-ro. Yeah, yeah, gang trouble. I heard
screaming and all kinds of loud noises, I think that they might be gunshots.” The man spoke in a
faux innocent voice that made his blood boil. “I think you might need to send an armed unit in ‘cos
it’s really bad. I’m scared. Wolgok-ro. A big building, you can’t miss it ‘cos there’s a few bodies
right out on the street and I’m looking at ‘em now.” Taehyung ended the call with a sigh and
shoved the phone into his pocket. Then he reached up to wrench on the neckline of his tee and
reveal the crucifix tattoo to the camera.

“This should help you sleep tonight Kookie, you can pray on it if you want? I’ve been waiting for
this day for three fucking years. Don’t let me down or I’ll make you regret it. Wong’s Café at
1pm.” Taehyung let go of his neckline and pressed his fingers to his lips before leaning forward
and pressing them against the camera. He was so close that Jungkook could barely see anything
other than his face on the screen and he watched him stick the tip of his tongue out ever so slightly
to wet his lips.

“Does it sting?”

“No,” Jungkook managed to say even though he had his teeth pressed together so hard his jaw was
aching.

“Do you still love me?”

Jungkook felt his hands shaking and he didn’t want to blink back tears but he had to because his
eyelids were burning. Oh he was stinging all right and he knew that Taehyung knew it.

“'Cos I still love you.” Taehyung said in a whisper before he shifted, cutting the feed off to nothing
but blackness.

He stumbled to his feet and dropped the tablet on the bed, legs shaking so badly that he thought it
was a miracle that he could stand up at all. Hoseok tried to grab his wrist to steady him but he
shoved his hands away and staggered across the room to get into the en-suite bathroom. He felt his
knees unhinging as he dropped right in front of the toilet just as the first contraction hit his stomach
and the taste of bile surged up the back of his throat. Jungkook couldn’t breathe and he nearly
choked on his vomit in his haste to get some air into his starving lungs. He grabbed hold of the rim
of the toilet and emptied his already empty stomach into the bowl, stomach clenching and
unclenching as if someone was squeezing it and letting go for fun. Even after he finished vomiting
his stomach wouldn’t stop hurting and he just closed his eyes and stayed over the toilet should he
get hit again by the urge to be sick. He closed his eyes and let his hair hang over his eyes, beads of
sweat clinging to his brow and hairline. When he was convinced that he wasn’t going to vomit
again he reached up to flush the toilet and moved over to the sink. He cupped handfuls of water
and washed his mouth out, spitting the disgusting taste of bile out of his mouth and then roughly
wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand. Jungkook shifted to look at his reflection in the
mirror above the sink. His eyes were red and he could see that they were still glossy with unshed
tears. He sniffed hard a few times and felt his hiccuping start to calm down, now able to breathe
more steadily than before.

Tomorrow he would finally get to see Taehyung again and tell him the answer to that question face
to face.
Tomorrow he went to war.
 A God and A Star

“Y’know,” Hoseok said as he moved to grab hold of the door handle. “I’ve been thinking this over
for quite some time now and y’know what I think?” Jungkook didn’t ask him what he thought and
rather just stared at his hand instead, waiting for him to pop the door open and step out first. But
his friend didn’t seem to want to do that, or at least not yet he didn’t. “I think that it’s a trap.”

Hoseok said this as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a hundred times already. The way he
currently felt Jungkook would be willing to bet their entire ownage of Jeju Island on the fact that he
had thought about it at least a thousand times. He had thought about it enough to the point in which
he was pretty much certain that he had lost the little sanity he had been left with over the last three
years. It was a strange feeling, being fully aware of the fact that something had snapped in his head
and finally stopped supporting the weight of everything that had been crushing him. Yet it was also
somewhat a pleasant feeling for he felt like he was thinking with a clarity for the first time in a very
long time. There was no angry little black cloud in the back of his mind, buzzing away and stinging
him over and over again whenever he thought about Taehyung. There was no shaking hands and
aching stomach and he knew why. It was because he was finally getting to see him after all of this
time and that was just as relieving as it was terrifying.

A trap. Well, he wouldn’t put it past Taehyung to do something like that but he felt that it just
wasn’t his style. A trap was a surprise, which he enjoyed a lot yet it was also a cowardly thing to
do. Taehyung didn’t want to spring a trap on someone because it looked weak and he would rather
risk his own stupid life just to look as crazy as everyone thought that he was. Except he knew the
man and not the myth and Jungkook knew that crazy was synonymous with Taehyung. It wasn’t
really about proving a point anymore but rather just his natural behaviour. Therefore, after an entire
evening and most of the night thinking it all over he had decided that Taehyung wouldn’t spring a
trap on them. He would be armed to hell and back but he wouldn’t spring a trap. That would come
later, when Taehyung decided to move things onto the second phase that wasn’t sitting in cafés
talking and rather something much more deadly.

“Hoseok, if I didn’t think that there was a chance of this being a trap then why would I have given
you the fucking gun?” Jungkook asked to break the silence in the back of the car. The gun in
question was the same Glock that they had seized from the church cash, the one that had been
lovingly oiled by Taehyung’s hands and used to pump more bullets than he could possibly imagine
into other humans’ bodies. One wrong move and Taehyung might just find himself of the receiving
end of the muzzle; an ironic fate all things considered.

“A gun’s good and all,” Hoseok retorted. “But if he’s rigged the fucking café to explode then it’s
not gonna help, is it?”

“I don’t think he would go that far,” he said after a moment of thought. “That would mean that he’d
die too, remember?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Kim to blow himself up just to fuck you over.”

Jungkook settled back into the seat and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Once again Hoseok had
brought up a subject that he had already thought about: the chance of this meeting being a suicide
pact that Taehyung would unwillingly drag them into. Again, there was a very high chance that he
would do something like that but they weren’t going to get anything done if they didn’t take risks.
If they didn’t walk into the café in a few minutes then Taehyung would leave and he would go on
to do another rampage of his and right now Jungkook preferred the idea of himself getting dragged
into trouble as opposed to the man going on to shoot up an island elementary school because he
had pissed him off. This had all happened because he had decided to go snooping around and he
felt like he should regret it but he didn’t. The situation was essentially the same as sticking his hand
into a bear trap and he had known the day that they had both went to the church that this could
happen, but he had went through with it anyway. When playing with fire one should expect burns
and Jungkook had been burnt enough times as a result of playing with Taehyung by now to be used
to the sensation. He knew deep down that the church had been nothing more than a mild
inconvenience for Taehyung but not the Sam Yong Pa den. That had hit him where it hurt, in his
heart if he even had one of those left at this point, and he just knew that tearing Jimin out of that
photograph had been a bad idea but he had done it anyway: cheap retaliation for what he had done
to Yoongi’s face in the other photograph.

“It would be a good death,” Hoseok said quietly as he looked out of the window. “To take his own
worst enemy down with him, it’s the kinda death that created legends in the past. I really think that
Kim could make his own fucking legend outta this situation and I think that you think so too.”

Jungkook really hadn’t thought about this but it was a very good point and he couldn’t help but
silently agree with him on that regard. Suicide was respectable to a certain degree and it was most
certainly the most cunning way to take down a rival. But were they truly rivals? Was Taehyung
really his worst enemy or was this something more deeper than that? Antagonistic was a good way
to describe the other man but with that very rivalry came a somewhat intimate understanding of
one another that no one else could match.

“We’ve gotta do something,” he said after a moment of silence. “Look, if you don’t wanna go in I
can go in alone.” Jungkook suggested as he shifted to get back onto the edge of the seat. “This isn’t
something that you have to get involved in and-”
“Like fuck I’m letting you go in there alone,” Hoseok argued, reaching up with one arm to hold
him back temporarily. “Kim made everyone get involved when he hit Sam Yong Pa three years
ago, this ain’t about you and him anymore, this is about everyone that had their lives ruined as a
result. So no, I ain’t about to let you go in there on your own ‘cos that’s fucking weak and I ain’t
weak.” His friend lowered his arm and let his breath out in a sigh that wasn’t entirely steady. “I just
think that…that we need to think this over first is all.”

“Make a plan?” Hoseok nodded and Jungkook shook his head with a slight smile. “Oh you should
know by now, you can’t make plans when Tae’s involved. He has a wonderful talent of fucking
them up no matter what.” This remark made his friend snort and he shifted to get off the seat,
placing his own hand over his on the handle. “You with me?”

“…Fucking-A I’m with you, brother,” Hoseok said with a nod as they popped the door open
together.

Jungkook stepped out onto the curb first and he scanned the small café to see that there was a few
people inside and sitting by the window. It didn’t look incredibly busy but he couldn’t see
Taehyung and that meant one of two things: he was inside and as far away from the window as
possible to avoid any possibility of bullets cutting through the glass and killing him, or he wasn’t
inside and was instead out on the street.

He had never felt so naked and exposed before in his entire life and he reached up to fix at the top
button of his shirt. He had opted for a tie today, for the first time in three years, and it was irritating
him and he didn’t want to wear it but he had to. It just seemed right that he did and he had a feeling
that the sight of it would make Taehyung start sweating - whether from nerves or something else
he had yet to figure out. It didn’t really matter that he had a bulletproof vest on underneath this
because he knew full well that the other man’s aim was good enough to not need to aim for the
largest target. Oh no, he was pretty certain that Taehyung could plant a bullet in his skull from
across the street with nothing more than a simple handgun so the distance across a table would be
nothing for him at all. He was aware of the fact that his heart was racing and he had to take a few
deep breaths as Hoseok climbed out behind him and slammed the door shut hard. The sound was
like a gunshot, which they hopefully wouldn’t be hearing in a few moments time.

“I still think we should’ve gotten men on the blocks across the road, just in case,” his friend
muttered as he turned to look back at the tall apartment blocks behind them. They were towering
monuments of steel and glass, very easy to hide snipers on the top when the glare of the sun made
it hard to look at the blocks for more than a few seconds.

“He initiated a meeting, a negotiation and not a shoot-out,” Jungkook pointed out as he lowered his
hand from his tie and shoved it in his trouser pocket instead.
“Yeah? Well if we get shot by Geum Sung Pa fuckers ‘cos you thought he’d stick to his word that
would really suck ass, wouldn’t it?” Hoseok spat at the gutter and fiddled with his suit jacket cuffs
almost anxiously. Doing so flashed the slightest hint of a gun holster right under his armpit. “How
much do you trust him to not kill us?”

“Enough to agree to meeting him,” he said as he scanned the exterior of the café. Wong’s Café
wasn’t the most appealing looking café. It was just plain brick that had been painted a light pastel
yellow and there was a white veranda overhead that shaded a few circle tables and chairs. No one
was sitting outside even in the nice hot weather and so he could study it without attracting too
much attention. The name of the café was in red paint on the window and there was a red sign in
the window of the white wooden door that advertised that it was ‘OPEN’ in gold characters. It
looked like the small and nondescript café that he would run drugs outside of in the past and he
wondered if Taehyung had picked it for that very purpose or whether or not it was a coincidence: a
‘remember your roots’ kind of thing. The view from the window showed him a few young women
sitting in a small group at one table, a couple at another, and a man with a girl that was presumably
his daughter. How many other people would they find inside? Would there be a lot of people and
therefore more targets and possible casualties?

“Why’d you trust him?” Hoseok asked just as he was about to cross the sidewalk. Jungkook froze
in the act of cocking his leg up and then he twisted to look over his shoulder at him. His friend had
a very good point once again and it seemed that Hoseok had been saving all of his wisdom up for
this very moment. It was annoying because Jungkook was already unsettled and uncertain by the
unfolding events since yesterday and he didn’t need him constantly making him want to take it all
back and climb back into the car like a coward.

Why did he trust him? Jungkook didn’t think that he could possibly explain it and yet he just knew
that trusted him. He was aware of the fact that sometimes certain things couldn’t be explained.
Perhaps this was one of those situations too? He knew that Hoseok probably thought that he was
letting his heart rule him instead of his brain and Jungkook also felt that he might just be doing that
too. But if he had fallen prey to following his own stupid heart then there was a chance that
Taehyung would have done so too. Could he really trust him, after everything that had happened
because of him? The countless deaths, the gang wars and the murder of his best friend? Weren’t
these all signs that he should stay as far away from him as possible rather than meet him face to
face?

Well, Jungkook thought as he dragged his eyes back to the café, the die had been cast and he was
standing in front of the Rubicon right now. It was time to go war and there was no backing out at
this point.

“He needs me now,” Jungkook said quietly as he started crossing the sidewalk. “I told you like I
told Namjoon, I don’t think he has Jimin anymore. So right now he’s gonna need me alive and
kicking.” Hoseok thought this over for a moment before sighing and following him across the
sidewalk to get to the café.
He pushed the door open and held it for him and then he looked over the interior of the building
hastily. It contained light wooden furniture and flooring and white walls, a dozen or so people
inside not including the young man on the till and the waitress currently cleaning a table down free
of split tea and sugar. Pretty boring but pleasant enough he supposed, if not for the dark cloud of
chaos sitting in the corner of the room emanating enough anger to fill the interior with a horrible
weight. He swept his eyes over the interior as if the sight of Taehyung sitting in the corner booth
didn’t at all affect him and make his heart leap all of the way up into his throat, and then he slowly
moved his gaze back to him. He felt Hoseok stiffening beside him and freezing up on the spot so
he knew that he was going to have to take the first step to cross the café and go over to him.
Jungkook bit down on his inner lower lip and willed all of his strength to just go down into his legs
and move. After perhaps three seconds of stillness he managed to take the first great step and then
it was nothing. The following steps were easy and he was sitting down on the opposite side of the
table.

“Oh my…” Taehyung said in a soft voice, cocking his head ever so softly as he looked at him. He
had his head resting on the palm of his hand and he had the other one on clear display on the table
in front of him so that they could both see there was no gun in sight. Jungkook placed both of his
hands down too so that he wouldn’t suspect him of carrying either. A moment later Hoseok sat
down and completed the impromptu meeting. “I didn’t expect this at all truthfully.”

“Why don’t I believe that, Tae?” he retorted.

Wasn’t Taehyung a sight to behold right now, finally sitting in front of him and not just a faded
mess of pixels lifted from a CCTV camera on a laptop screen? The few years hadn’t changed him
in the slightest with the exception of the scar and his now cold eyes. He still had that messy tangle
of hair and his clothing hadn’t changed either: the same battered leather jacket and loose tee
combination that showcased his collarbones and the beginnings of the crucifix tattoo on the left
side of his chest. A quick look at his chest showed that it was a little broader than he recalled,
more stronger just like his was too.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Taehyung asked, one strong eyebrow rising under the fall of hair on his
brow languidly. Jungkook tracked the movement and then looked into his eyes again. Were they
really so cold and dead or was he just imagining that to be the case because it made him feel more
comfortable?

“…A few times,” Jungkook muttered. In his head he was thinking about the night that he had
murdered Yoongi, about how he had told him that he hadn’t loved him as he had stomped on his
ribs over and over.

“Let’s get this out in the open, shall we? I know you’ve got a gun on me, y’know I’ve got one on
you, so how about we stop hiding ‘em under the table and put ‘em somewhere we can all see
‘em?”

And he had only just finished saying this when he reached down and pulled a gun out so fast that
Jungkook could only blink at the sight of the barrel pointing right at him. He felt his hair moving
from the speed that he had moved, the slight breeze of his hand swinging to come to a stop just in
front of his nose. Hoseok was quick but he wasn’t quick enough and had Taehyung have chosen to
have pulled the trigger just then he would have sprayed his brains all over the unfortunate couple
sitting just a table behind them. Naturally a few pairs of eyes shifted over to look at them and then
there was a scream and Jungkook heard chairs scraping loudly as people jumped to their feet.

“Please, sit down,” Taehyung said as without looking over at the other people. “If you don’t I’ll
have to start shooting you all, and if anyone thinks of calling the fucking cops well…” He sighed
and glanced over the interior so fast that his eyes barely shifted. “That’d be a very fucking stupid
thing to do so, so please sit down.” Jungkook heard the chairs scraping again and there was no
ringing bell as anyone tried to leave by the front door. He wanted to look over yet he couldn’t take
his eyes off the sight of the gun, he couldn’t do that; not when it was pointed right at him like that.
The barrel was just an inch from the tip of his nose and he could see that it looked as large as a
tunnel to his eyes. Except a train wouldn’t come speeding out of it but rather a bullet.

“We can see your gun no problem, Kim,” Hoseok said in an unsteady voice as he held his own gun
up at him. He held the pistol in one hand with his other resting on the bottom of the magazine
stock to keep his aim trained right on his head and stop his hands from shaking. Taehyung didn’t
need to steady his arm at all and rather just had his own pistol in one hand. “How about you put the
fucking thing down now?”

“Using my own gun against me,” Taehyung made a soft tutting sound. “Ouch, that hurts, Kookie.”

“Good, I hope it stings,” Jungkook managed to say. He thought that it was a miracle that he could
even move his lips considering that the slightest movement might just make the other man put
pressure on the trigger and shoot him right in the face. But it worked in his favour for he saw
Taehyung grinning at this and when he risked taking his eyes off the muzzle of the gun he saw that
it went to his eyes for the first time in a long time: a real smile and not the fake Joker style ones he
had been sporting for three years. A moment later he was lowering the gun and then he slipped
back a mechanism and pulled the magazine out to drop it on the table. Hoseok didn’t budge and
rather kept his own gun pointed right at him.

“There, out in the open. I’d like it if your…friend here did the same.” Taehyung glanced at Hoseok
as if he held no interest to him, as if he didn’t have a Glock aimed right between his eyes.
Jungkook shifted ever so slightly to reach over and put his hand on the barrel and Hoseok relented
and let him push the end down so that it was pointing at the table. Then his friend was reluctantly
removing the magazine too and placing them down. Hoseok looked like he didn’t like this turn of
events but there was little choice. At least the worst part had been gotten over and done with. At
the sight of the two guns down and disarmed on the tables most of the patrons relaxed. Jungkook
heard bated breath being released in sighs of relief and at least one person crying softly under their
breath.

“You really have changed,” Taehyung remarked as he went back to resting his head on the palm of
his hand. “I don’t think you even flinched.” Jungkook was pretty certain that he had pissed himself
at some point but it would seem that he hadn’t shown a single thing on his face. “Should I be proud
or upset by this fact, hmmm, I’m not certain.”

“Proud?” he asked in confusion. “Why would you be proud of me?”

“‘Cos I turned up into the little monster that’s sitting in front of me.”

“You think you caused this?” Jungkook scoffed but the act wasn’t very believable and he knew
that the other man knew it too. “Maybe, maybe I just came into myself a little late and I finally
realised that I was made for this?”

“Nah, I don’t think you are,” Taehyung said, spinning the empty gun around with his forefinger
ever so slowly. “I think you’re a good pretender and that’s all you’ll ever be. You pretend to be
someone hard enough and before y’know it you are that person.” He made a soft noise under his
breath that could have passed for a laugh. “I’m a good pretender too…”

“You’re good at pretending to be sane,” Hoseok said as he shifted on the bench and glanced over
the interior to look at the other people stuck inside with them. “Seriously, you could pass for a
normal person if you tried just that little bit harder.”

“Oh I haven’t been sane for quite some time,” Taehyung said in a matter of fact tone. “I don’t
pretend to be either, sanity’s overrated if you ask me - and as a ‘crazy’ person I feel I can see one of
my own kind pretty fucking clearly.” He looked at Hoseok for perhaps two seconds this time
before turning his attention back to him. Jungkook held his gaze and tried his hardest to not blink.
“How’s your sanity these days, Kookie? You fucking nuts yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve been fucking nuts ever since I met you Tae isn’t that just the funniest thing?” And it
must have been because this time Taehyung actually laughed, a full-blown laugh that he wished
made him feel nothing at all. But it didn’t. “What exactly are we here for today, Tae? ‘Cos there’s
a lot of business that I should be doing but-”

“Fuck business,” Taehyung said as he stopped laughing abruptly, smile sliding off his face so fast
that it was rather unsettling. “Fuck J.M.J. Pa, fuck Geum Sung Pa, fuck ‘em all this ain’t got
anything to do with ‘em. This is me and you.”

“Meaning?”

“I thought that it was time we finally stopped playing games like kids and actually spoke to each
other,” the man said as he carried on spinning the gun round and round like some strange game of
Spin The Bottle. Jungkook studied his face and then asked him what the fuck they were supposed
to talk about. “There’s a lot of things I think. Three year’s a long time to not see each other.”

“Tae, I thought it was pretty fucking obvious why we haven’t seen each other,” he said in a low
voice. “You murdered my best friend, you and your goon friends killed countless Sam Yong Pa
men, you started a fucking gang war that nearly destroyed the country.”

“Hmmm,” he didn’t even look at him as he played with the gun.

“All ‘cos of what happened to Jimin,” Jungkook continued. “Don’t you think back and think that
maybe you went a little too fucking far ‘cos I think that-”

Taehyung dived across the table fast, stomach slamming into it and causing a glass of coffee to
spill all over it. Jungkook felt something grabbing onto his throat and then he realised that it was
the other man’s fingers and then he was being shaken like a rag doll.

“Don’t you fucking mention his name to me,” Taehyung hissed, shaking him so hard that Jungkook
couldn’t breathe, could see little dots in the corners of his eyes. It had been so long since he had
had Taehyung physically manhandle him: shake him like this, pull on his hair, beat the shit out of
him, that he really didn’t know how to feel about it. “Don’t you ever say his name.” Jungkook
grabbed at the backs of his hands and he felt the familiar sensation of his grazed and scarred
knuckles and then he was being released. His ass hit the bench with a jarring thump and he bit
down on his tongue rather hard but at least he could breathe again. Hoseok was firmly stuck in
place beside him, too shocked by this sudden assault to even react.

“Oh dear, I touched a fucking nerve with that one…” Jungkook muttered as he tasted blood on his
tongue. He felt the most pressing urge to cough and managed to suppress it as he reached up to rub
at his tender throat.

“You do that again and I’ll beat the shit outta you.” Hoseok threatened and a quick glance over at
him showed that his friend said this with believable conviction. He didn’t look anything close to
scared and rather just plain angry and Jungkook couldn’t tell if it was another fantastic acting
performance or actual reality.

“Uh-huh, and his dead friend will come walking in through that door and suck my dick,” Taehyung
shrugged nonchalantly. Jungkook felt a wave of irritation wash over him but he knew that he had to
keep his anger in check around him right now. He couldn’t let Taehyung know just how much he
had hurt him, had ruined him, because it would cause the man great delight. No, he had to pretend
to find this all boring but it was very hard to do so. “But I doubt it…”

“Talk to me, Tae,” Jungkook said as he fixed at his tie. He saw the man’s eyes drop to study the tie
and then he was looking back down at his gun. “Tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t just walk outta
here right now?”

“‘Cos I know important things,” Taehyung replied. “Like the fact that there’s explosives rigged to
the table we’re sitting at right now-” at this the café imploded into more panic and yet no one
seemed capable of even moving in their terror, “and I’ve got my fingers on the trigger of a fucking
grenade and if everyone wants to stay alive you’ll sit here and listen to me, and when we’re
finished you can leave, they can all leave. No explosions, no nothing. Yeah?”

“…Yeah,” Jungkook agreed. “Yeah. We can do that just fine, Tae.”

“Take a look down if you don’t believe me.” He really didn’t want to do so but he knew that it was
for the best that he did so Jungkook shifted to look under the table. There was a backpack right at
his feet and he could follow a length of fishing line up and onto Taehyung’s lap where his other
hand currently was. He was more than certain that the man was bluffing him right now, that the
bomb wasn’t rigged, but it was best to play along and not be proven wrong.

“Let’s talk, Tae.”

“He’s gone,” Taehyung said a moment later. His time was rather flat now, no hints of a smile on
his face: sadistic or happy. “He’s gone and you’re never gonna get your hands on him. You’re
wasting your time.”
“Gone where?” Jungkook asked curiously, now that they were back on the subject of Jimin.
“Abroad? Did you smuggle him out and hide him somewhere you think we won’t find? ‘Cos we
will find him, Tae.”

“No, you really won’t,” he said in that same flat tone. “If you want to kill me Kookie then kill me.”

“You think I wanna kill you?” he asked, studying Taehyung’s deadpan expression. “Tae, you really
have no idea, do you? Kill you? Most nights I can't sleep ‘cos I’m too busy thinking about torturing
you.” Something flickered across the other man’s face briefly before his dead mask reappeared. “I
want to tear you apart over and over and then stitch you back up and do it all over again. I want you
to know what real pain feels like.”

“So I can feel what you feel?”

“I want you to beg for death,” Jungkook carried on, ignoring his words. “After everything that
you’ve done to…to-” He stopped and took a quick intake of breath. “Death is a mercy and I’m not
sure that I wanna give you such a thing, Tae.”

“I’ll give him it,” Hoseok muttered.

“You think I dunno what real pain feels like?” Taehyung asked softly. “You think I dunno what it
feels like to have nothing? Look at your life Kookie, tell me that you don’t have everything right
now.”

“I don’t have Yoongi.”

“He meant that much to you?”

“I’d give all of this up for him,” Jungkook said as he held his gaze, not blinking or looking away
once. “What’d you know about pain, Tae? All you’ve ever done your whole life is inflict it on
other people and now you’re telling me that you’re in pain?” Taehyung’s eyes dropped to the table
and he stuck the top of his tongue out to wet his lips. “So fucking what.”
“There was a little part of me,” Taehyung said as he reached up to start running his fingers along
his lips. “That used to hold out for something good, y’know? I used to think that one day this would
all just stop and we could go back to the good old days when I was a star and you was a dragon-”

“Those days are long gone Tae, we can’t get them back.”

“I want you to know that those days were the best fucking days of my shitty life.” Taehyung didn’t
shout this at him but he raised his voice slightly. Jungkook thought this over for a moment before
silently agreeing with him. “I had him, I had you, I didn’t need anything else but then it just…” The
man shifted to place his hands on the table, grenade still held tightly in the left one. “I exploded. I
knew I was gonna explode one day and I told him, I told you but both of you thought it was a
fucking joke.”

“No, I always knew that you were telling me the truth,” Jungkook said as he looked at him. There
was something underneath the mask that Taehyung had been wearing for three years now and he
realised that it was emotion; that he was finally showing something human after all of that time.

“I exploded and all you can think about is how I fucked up your little world but did you ever stop
and think about how I fucked my own one up too?”

“If you exploded and fucked your own world up I would have cared,” he argued. “But you didn’t,
you fucked mine up and that’s not fair. You can’t just fuck it all up and think that I’ll care about
you and your fucking pain!” Jungkook knew that he was shouting at him but he couldn’t help
himself. Three years he had been waiting to get this out, to finally tell him exactly how he felt and
now the chance was here he wasn’t going to miss it. “You destroyed everything, Tae! I was
seventeen fucking years old and you ruined my entire fucking life!”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Fuck you!” he spat. This was just like the Hong murder all over again, the claims that he hadn’t
meant to do anything bad and the shitty attempt at an apology. Three years and he still hadn’t
changed at all. “I had everything that I ever wanted back then and you stole it all away from me!
You murdered Yoongi, you beat the shit outta me, you fucked it all up and now you’re telling me
that you didn’t mean to do it?!”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Taehyung said in a quiet voice, so very unlike his usual shouting.
“Sam Yong Pa was stopping us from being happy so I just- I thought that I was helping.”
“You wanted to know if I love you still?” Jungkook asked, unable to keep the venom from his
voice. “I don’t. I don’t love you,” he lied, “I fucking hate you.”

“You’re a good pretender.”

“Are we finished?” he asked as he glanced over the café, disgusted and upset expression on his
face not at all pretend. “Can I leave now?”

“We’re not finished. But you can go,” Taehyung replied as he pulled the pin out of the grenade and
placed it down with a heavy sigh: a dud one just like he had thought all along. Hoseok asked him
what he meant by that he lifted his gaze to look at Jungkook. “I’ll be seeing you again tonight,
Kookie.”

He watched the car rolling out of the front drive from the bedroom window, perched on the
windowsill just like he had always used to do in his and Yoongi’s apartment. In the late afternoon
sun the chrome seemed to glow orange like a miniature sun and he squinted ever so slightly as it
reflected back into his eyes. Jungkook knew that in ten minutes or so time he would get the call,
that he would have Hoseok on the other end of the line telling him that this was stupid and that he
wasn’t going to board the plane and that he was going to come back. He wanted to not have to pick
up and listen to this but he had very little choice. If he didn’t then his friend would come back
regardless and if he did then he would have to argue with him like children. He knew that it was
stupid but it was the only option that he had at this point.

If Hoseok stayed in the house with him then he would die.

That much he was certain of. Jungkook knew that at this point every person that got in Taehyung’s
way were just temporary barricades and he would mow them without a single care. Just like
Yoongi, just like the men and women in the Wolgok-ro den the day before. Taehyung was a one-
man wrecking ball and the last thing that Jungkook needed was to lose the only friend that he had
left at this point. Whatever the other man had at this point to tell him had nothing to do with
Hoseok and he had no doubts that Taehyung would spare him. After all, Hoseok had pointed a gun
right at his head just a few hours prior and he might just have been the first person to do that in a
very long time, perhaps the first person ever. No, he just knew that Taehyung would want him
gone because he was the last hurdle he had to get over to get to him.

Hoseok had not taken to the idea of him leaving Jeju Island very well at all. He had called him an
idiot, a fucking psycho. He had thrown things across the house, clothing mostly but also files. The
ground-floor had a new flooring made entirely out of paper contracts and printed out stock charts.
He had smashed a rather expensive jade statuette to nothing more than shards and powder and slit
the palm of his right hand open on a jagged piece. Hoseok had told him that he was making a big
mistake and then asked him if this was a strange suicide of sorts; staying in the house on his own
with no one else, not even security and alarms set. His friend didn’t understand why he was taking
such a huge risk on something like this and Jungkook had gotten tired very quickly explaining that
Taehyung always found a way around security. He would much rather prefer a nice simple face to
face in the café like earlier rather than have the other man take a few more people down with
him. There was a reason Kim Taehyung was currently the third most wanted man in the country
and he wasn’t just on Interpol like them. Oh no, he had also managed to get himself on a few other
lists too: several European countries wanted him deported for hits on foreign businessmen and
gangsters. If he wanted to get into a building then he was going to get in, whether that meant
blowing a door down with chargers or sneaking in through a fourth storey window that had been
left slightly ajar. If he had a hit to take down then security were nothing more than guard dogs to
him. Jungkook wasn’t counting himself as a hit just yet but he wouldn’t be that surprised if
Taehyung wanted to kill him. It seemed possible.

The automatic gates opened at the end of the drive and then the black Mercedes-Benz S-Class
Limousine was pulling out onto the street outside and out of sight. Jungkook watched it go and then
he turned back to the glass of champagne in his hand. He hadn’t really wanted it but he had opened
the bottles just to ply several glasses on Hoseok in the aims of calming him down enough to get
him to climb into the back of the car. It had worked, but he had also downed six glasses so far and
he was beginning to regret it. He had an entire empty bottle to his name and the beginnings of a
second and it had only taken half of the first to get Hoseok to leave.

Now he wasn’t just an idiot, a fucking psychopath. He was also a drunken idiotic fucking
psychopath.

Jungkook eyed the empty bed across the room and then he realised that he was alone for now at
least. Alone with such a large bed that just he would be lying in. It was enough to make him
shudder and down the glass of champagne anyway. He had spent the last three years unable to stop
thinking about Taehyung and now he was finally faced with getting him all along and Jungkook
wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Had he opened Pandora’s Box by scaring him out into
the open like this? Was he going to regret this or was he finally going to get the reckoning that he
had been waiting for this entire time? Jungkook contemplated filling the glass up again and instead
he placed it down on the sill and got to his feet to wander over to the bed. He didn’t sit down on it
so much as collapse and then he was lying back and staring up at the ceiling; at the sight of the
deep red and orange evening sky. Hoseok’s main phone vibrated in his pocket so Jungkook pulled
it free and pressed it to his ear without even glancing at the screen. This would be his friend calling
him on the back-up, unloading on him just like he had expected.
“Hoseok, sit your ass back down I told you that I’m-”

“Not Hoseok,” a voice said on the other end, “and my ass is already firmly down in my seat.”

“Inspector Kim?”

“The one and only,” Namjoon replied, stunning him so much that for a few seconds he was
completely dumb and unable to say a word to him. Then he managed to recover and ask him why
he was calling. “I’ve…well I’ve got some info but I’m not entirely sure what to tell you right now.”
Jungkook furrowed his brow as a purple cloud floated across the sky visible through the glass
ceiling. “See, I thought that this might be hard so I decided that the only way I’d find info was to
really dig down deep into the channels and see what I could dredge up. How hard exactly have you
been looking for Park?”

“Not very hard,” Jungkook replied honestly, moving his tongue around his mouth to taste the
remains of the champagne on his tongue. “Truthfully until recently I didn’t really give a shit about
Jimin, just Tae. I thought that he got out and I didn’t care but I got thinking about how I could use
him as…as live bait and then I wanted to find out about him. That’s why I set you up to the task
‘cos I knew that you’d find something. I didn’t think that it’d be this quick though.”

“Uh-huh? Well, I mean…I’ve got something but I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence but I think
you’re going to want to see it.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m going to send you some files, alright? Some pretty uh…graphic files,” Namjoon said in a low
voice. “I think you’ll know better than me but I think I might have found Park.”

“…Tae said that we’d never fucking find him,” Jungkook said after a moment of thought. “So how
the fuck did you find him?”

“The files should tell you how I found him pretty easily,” Namjoon said and he could hear the
sound of clicking keys. The inspector was on a computer and he was likely preparing all of the files
in an email right now as they were speaking. “You might want to sit down though.”
Jungkook ended the call and stared at the screen of the phone in confusion. What the hell the man
was talking about he didn’t know but he didn’t like the tone of his voice and his words. It sounded
like Namjoon had not wanted to have been talking to him because he was nervous and he didn’t
understand why he would be. After all the man had found the information that he had asked him to.
Was he scared that he would somehow get mad at him for what he had found out? That was
ridiculous but…

He rolled onto his stomach and placed the phone down in front of him, waiting for it to vibrate and
light up and tell him that he had received the files. Maybe Namjoon wasn’t being a little hesitant
after all. He thought about throwing the vase out of the window of the ferry just yesterday
afternoon, of smashing Lee’s head in on the altar of the church because he had gotten angry. Maybe
the man was right to worry that he might just get hurt as a result of it all. Just thinking about it was
enough to make a low groan escape his lips and he dropped his face onto the silken sheets. After a
minute the phone buzzed loudly and he jerked and grabbed the device to unlock it, hands shaking
and thumb nearly pressing all of the wrong numbers. He opened his email and stared at the new
message, at the little blue dot beside the subject title, then he clicked on it. A paragraph from
Namjoon that he didn’t even read, instead opening the attachments. He flicked through the first
three because they were nothing more than pieces of paper covered in tiny black characters and he
didn’t want to read them right now. He wanted photographs and he hastily moved his thumb along
the screen until he came across the first one.

“Oh fuck!”

Jungkook dropped the phone in surprised and it bounced off the bed. He wanted to look away from
the screen but he seemed incapable of doing so, even when his eyes had been hideously assaulted.
He felt nauseous and it was the jerking sensation of his stomach that made him reach over and pick
the phone up again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sliding his thumb onto the
next image. Jungkook peered out at it, eyelashes thankfully blocking most of the image. He went
through the next two and then he had to close the email and put the phone back down.

Well, Namjoon had told him that the files were going to be graphic. He should have expected that
but still… There was a horrible feeling in his chest and when he blinked he felt his eyes welling up
with tears. Jungkook swallowed hard and wiped at his eyes roughly with the heel of his hand. No,
he wasn’t going to cry over something like this. Not now, after everything. He wasn’t going to start
unraveling now when Taehyung would be entering the scene soon enough and setting everything in
motion. So Jungkook gnawed down on his lip and took calming breaths until his shoulders stopped
shaking so badly and then he shifted to lie down in the bed properly this time, not just lounge
across it. His head settled on the pillow and he stared at the empty space where Hoseok should
currently be lying, where Yoongi would have been in an ideal world. Before he could stop himself
he reached over and placed his arm on the empty space, fingers carefully straightening out the
creases in the silk.
Whatever plan that he had for Jimin had now been completely negated, and boy, did that sting like
hell.

Jungkook didn’t think that he could ever possibly sleep in the bed on his own but he was to find
that his fears had been wrong all along. Perhaps it was the bottle and a half of champagne that had
finally knocked him out, maybe it had just been the weariness that he had felt deep down in his
bones like arthritis that he finally succumbed to, but regardless of what it was he found himself
drifting off to sleep in the bed and for once he didn’t wake up screaming and sweating and choking
because of a nightmare. No, he woke up because of something entirely different instead.

He woke up to the sensation of something cold and metallic being pressed right against his
forehead.

At first Jungkook didn’t want to open his eyes even though the other man must have known that he
was awake and instead he just felt the cold spreading across his brow until it seemed to seep right
through his skull to his brain. Then came the sound of the safety being pulled back, the crisp click
that he felt along the muzzle of the gun.

“I’ve got no gun to get out in the open,” Jungkook muttered as he opened his eyes. “So you don’t
have to wave yours around.” He saw that Taehyung wasn’t exactly lying on the bed beside him but
was rather on his knees, weight balanced on one arm and the other pressing the gun against his
forehead. His jacket was nowhere in sight for once. “I thought that you wanted to talk so…”

“Forgive me for being a little suspicious but I don’t often find the front door of a building
unlocked,” Taehyung said in a quiet voice, almost as if he didn’t want to wake someone up. The
contrast between his soft voice and the hard press of metal against his brow was very unsettling. “I
was thinking I was gonna need to kill a couple of goons to get in here.”

“I robbed you of that little joy,” he said as he studied the gun. Same one as earlier, same massive
tunnel-like chamber against his skin. He saw that Taehyung had his finger on the trigger guard
rather than the trigger so that was a bonus. It meant that he wouldn’t accidentally get shot in the
face at least. “Are you gonna keep pulling a gun on me?”

“It depends on how if you behave or not,” Taehyung retorted. “I told you earlier, you’re a little
monster now. Can’t blame me for wanting to make sure.” Jungkook reiterated that he had no gun
on his person and a moment later the other man was patting him down with his other hand,
checking under his arms and then shoving his hand under the pillow just to be certain. Satisfied
that he wasn’t hiding anything on him he shifted and moved the gun off his brow slightly, maybe
just an inch or two but at least it wasn’t digging into his skin. Jungkook thought that there was
probably an imprint of the muzzle where it had been a moment ago. “You look good. I didn’t get to
tell you this earlier but you do, you look really good, Kookie. I should’ve fucked you back then,
back when we were kids. You’d have let me do anything to you back then. Now…now you’d bite
my cock off.”

“And swallow it,” Jungkook added without the hints of a smile.

“Pretty boy prostitutes might’ve looked liked you but they weren’t you. They didn’t speak like
you, taste like you, feel like you. I got bored of pretending.”

“I didn’t need to pretend. I’ve never thought about you or those days.”

“Oh Kookie, you’ve done that more. You’re the worst kinda liar.” Taehyung smirked at him and
he dragged his eyes away to look at the gun instead. Three years and the man could still see
through his lies like a sheet of paper. “Roll over.” Jungkook studied his face for a few seconds as
he thought this over. What exactly did he need to roll over for? He slowly rolled onto his back and
then his other side, no longer able to see what he was doing. He waited for the hard press of steel
against the back of his head and yet a moment later he felt something else instead. He felt the
sensation of Taehyung shifting to lie beside him, stomach against his back, knees brushing against
the backs of his bare ones.

“It’s been so long since I felt something like this,” Taehyung said in a whisper soft voice. His
breath played with his hair and he felt the warmth on his neck. “It’s hard to sleep without another
body, the nightmares are-”

“Too much,” Jungkook finished as he closed his eyes. He could feel how soft and warm the other
man was and when his arm moved to go over his waist he couldn’t help himself from settling back
into his arms. He knew that this was stupid, that this was the most reckless thing that he had ever
done but it didn’t matter right now. He had no gun but Taehyung did and doing what he told him to
do seemed like the smartest idea right now. “Tae…how long were you gonna keep Ji- gonna keep
it a secret from me?”

“Keep it a secret?” Taehyung’s breath on the back on his neck made him bite down on his lower
lip. “I didn’t keep no secrets. You just didn’t give a shit. Admit it.” Jungkook didn’t want to admit
to anything that might just make him point the gun back at his head again. “You didn’t care, you
just went off with that other guy and set up the fucking J.M.J. Pa and you didn’t fucking care.”

“I wasn’t the one that caused a gang war and disappeared off the face of the fucking earth, Tae,
that was you and I thought that he did that too. I thought that…that Jimin went away with you but I
didn’t know that. I swear I didn’t. How was I supposed to know? If I didn’t care it was only ‘cos
you ran away from me.”

“I had to run away, you’d have fucking killed me.”

“Back then?” Jungkook scoffed and he felt that disgusting swell of emotions in his chest. “Tae,
back then I’d have asked you to kill me instead. You said it yourself, back then I wasn’t cut out for
this shit.” He paused and let this hang in the air for a moment before quietly asking him about
Jimin again. Taehyung didn’t respond and just stayed in place, arm over his waist and legs against
his. “Tell me what happened to him, Tae, tell me what happened to Jimin.”

“I don’t wanna talk about him,” he muttered and he could detect something in his tone. It wasn’t
anger for once but rather just pure sadness. Taehyung could have possibly sounded distraught had
he ever heard him sound that way before. Jungkook asked him if he had left him, all the while
thinking of the files that Namjoon had sent him. “I fucked up, Kookie, I really fucked up and I
didn’t think about him. Minnie he-he never liked violence or any of that shit, it scared him. He just
wuh-wanted to run drugs and stay outta all of it but I dragged him into it all and… and shit man.”
When Taehyung breathed out again Jungkook could sense that he was crying but he was doing so
silently, not more than the slight hitching of his words and intakes of breath to give it all away. Not
like him and his penchant for wailing. “The funeral…the funeral for your friend he went to that,
y’know?”

He did not know this and he felt his own breath leave his lungs in a little wheeze.

“He went into that fuh-fucking church and he came back to me and he was muh-messed up. He
was too distant all of the time. I knew sometuh-thing was wrong but he…” Taehyung took another
deep breath and then his face was pressing against his neck. Jungkook felt wetness and his hot
cheeks against his bare skin. “He took his bike out one day. I asked him wuh-where he was going
and he tuh-told me that he would be back suh-soon. I believed him I always buh-believed him.”

“What happened Tae?” Jungkook asked as he reached down to place his hand on top of his. His
palm brushed against the back of his hand he felt that same little jolt of energy like he had always
used to.

“There was an acciduh-dent,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “His bike…he crashed it.
He wasn’t wearing a huh-helmet and he drove it right into the middle of a fucking highway and…”
Taehyung stopped talking and let out a little moan. “He was suh-so fucked up I cuh-
couldn’t…” Jungkook didn’t need him to continue because he could picture the photographs that
Namjoon had sent him perfectly fine. The autopsy photographs. It was no wonder that Taehyung
could barely identify him from what had been left. He had only known that it had been Jimin’s
body because of the tattoo that had been on the forearm, or what had been left of his forearm: the
black outline with the initials PJM KTH. Except he had noticed something else too, something
inked just below them: JJK. That was what Namjoon had likely ended up making a match from,
that single identifiable tattoo, seen as he wouldn’t have been able to match the face on the
photograph up to the ruined mess that had been left.

For the last few days he had been planning on getting his hands on Jimin to use him for his own
means, to kill him for no other reason than the fact that he wanted to destroy Taehyung. Yet Jimin
had already beaten him to it by driving his old motorbike straight into traffic, a painful and
horrendous death that he knew had not been an accident. No, he knew that Jimin had committed
suicide because of him, because of all of the trouble that he had caused with Taehyung.

Jimin had died an honourable death before he could have used him as a pawn in a sick game of
revenge.

“I waited for him to come back for days,” Taehyung said in that same low, breathless voice. “I
waited and he didn’t come back and then I found out what had happened. So when you tell me that
I dunno fucking pain Kookie, you dunno how much that fucking hurts me. You lost your entire
world, yeah, so did I. I lost the one thing I had in this fucking shithole of a world and I didn’t move
on. I didn’t get no fucking empire, I didn’t get no business partner-cum-bitch. I just got more pain
every fucking day. You told me that you don’t destroy things but you destroyed me.”

“What I gained still doesn’t make it worth it. It doesn’t make the pain go away, not even for a
fucking second, Tae,” Jungkook argued, shifting slightly to roll onto his back and look at him.
“What I got was like sticking a band-aid on a flesh wound. I needed stitches and I didn’t get them.
There’s still a gaping hole in my chest and nothing will fill that. I lost…” He took a deep breath
and blinked rapidly. “I lost brothers that day. I lost Yoongi, I lost Jimin, I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me, you didn’t,” Taehyung denied as he shook his head. As he did he felt his tears
splashing against his face. “I wanted us to run away together, the three of us. I did all of that for
you and I didn’t…I didn’t want that.”

“You didn’t have to kill Yoongi, Tae. Nothing you can tell me can ever justify that. You wanted to
run away? We should’ve ran away together, the three of us, no fucking bodies in our wake. But you
didn’t do that, you exploded.”

“I didn’t wanna explode.”

“How could’ve I ran away with you after something like that?” Jungkook felt his own voice
cracking and he couldn’t stop his lips from turning down at the corners. “Tae, you broke my
fucking heart and then you…you destroyed everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung sobbed against his hair. “Kookie I’m so fuh-fucking sorry and I wish I
could take it buh-back but I can’t. I can’t tuh-take any of it back and I’ve tried, guh-god knows I’ve
fucking tried buh-but I’m sick of it all muh-man.”

Taehyung had his arms around him so tightly that he couldn’t seem to breathe and he was crying
like a child. After all of these years, after the pretending and the deaths and the chaos that he had
caused Taehyung was crying and telling him that he wanted to change it all. This young man had
once told him as a boy that regrets couldn’t ever be fixed and that he didn’t even try and here he
was telling him that he couldn’t handle it anymore. Jungkook was too stunned by this outpouring
of emotion to do much more than lie there and let him hold onto him, shaking and sobbing.

“I always tuh-thought that there was suh-something wrong with me. After my duh-dad died I kinda
stopped fuh-feeling things. I went nuh-numb and only Muh-Minnie made me fuh-feel something
again. Buh-but then I met you and… shit Kuh-Kookie, you fuh-fucked me up again.” Taehyung
was gasping for air and Jungkook reached up to place his hand on the side of his throat, palm
against his grenade tattoo. He could feel his pulse racing through his skin. “I didn’t wuh-want any
of this but I cuh-couldn’t help it. I kept tuh-thinking that it was all guh-gonna end up with you
getting huh-hurt or that you really wuh-would leave like I kept telling you to.”

“Why did you tell me to do that?” he asked quietly. “Why did you tell me to go? Why didn’t you
just tell me these things Tae?”

“‘Cos I was scared,” Taehyung whined at him, lips pulled back from his teeth. “I didn’t want you
to guh-go but I was suh-scared that you would get huh-hurt so I-I-I-” He took several quick breaths
to stop himself from stuttering. “I was guh-going crazy and I didn’t know what to fucking duh-do.”

“Christ Tae…”

“Everyone left me.” He pressed his lips together tightly to stop any more sobs from escaping and
after a few seconds he managed to get his breathing back under control. “My dad, you, and then
Minnie.” Jungkook slowly moved his hand up from his neck to his cheek and he wiped at his damp
skin with his thumb. “These last three years… I haven’t been living suh-shit, I don’t think I’ve
even been breathing. It’s just too much.” Taehyung shifted slightly to reach up and then he was
pulling that pendent out from under the neckline of his tee. “You said that you wanted to get
Minnie so here, here he is.” He pulled on the cord that it was on and held it up for him to observe.
He saw a small glass object that looked like a vial hanging on the end of the leather cord. “This is
all that’s left of him now.” Jungkook stared at the dangling little vial of ashes and he shouldn’t
couldn’t breathe again. “Take it.”

“What? No I-”

“I need you take it,” Taehyung said as he shoved the pendent at his chest, making him let go of his
cheek so that he could accept it off him. “I need you to keep hold of him for me.”

“Why?”

“‘Cos,” Taehyung sat up and grabbed the back of the neck of the tee he was wearing, pulling it off
and tossing it aside. “I need you to do something for me. Right now.” Jungkook stared at him in
numb confusion and then the other man was picking the gun up and holding it out to him too. “You
caused me all of that pain so only you can take it away.”

Jungkook knew exactly what he was telling him to do.

“Kookie, I want you to kill me.”

This was it. This was three years of agony and torment all finally accumulated into one final act
and yet he couldn’t move to accept the gun from him. Jungkook could only look at him and see
that he wasn’t playing games anymore. Taehyung was being deadly serious with him. He hadn’t
pictured that it would be anything like this. In his head he had always thought that Taehyung would
go down in a blaze of bullets, refusing to die, refusing to give him that final kick in the teeth, and
yet here he was; holding his gun out to him and asking him to shoot him with it.

This is what he had wanted all along, wasn’t it? Then why did he feel like Taehyung was stabbing
him in the chest?

“…No,” he managed to say after a near minute of silence. His lips did nothing more than twitch.
“No I’m not gonna do that.”

“I know that you said you won’t gimme a mercy but please,” Taehyung shoved the gun against him
and Jungkook had no choice but to grab hold of the well and steady it, terrified that he might
accidentally knock the trigger and shoot him. He wrapped his fingers around it and kept his index
finger firmly on the trigger guard. “I need you to do this. I can’t, I can’t do it I tried and I-I-I
pussied out man just do it.”

“Tae, I’m not gonna kill you. I told you I don’t wanna kill you and-”

“You wanna torture me? Torture me, I don’t fucking care just pull the trigger at the end for me.”

“Tae-”

“Do whatever the fuck you wanna do man, I-”

“Tae please stop talking I-”

“it doesn’t even have to be the gun I mean you can stab me if-”

“Tae shut the fuck up!” Jungkook shouted at him, seeing the other man flinch so hard that his
shoulders nearly brushed against his ears. “No, no, no, I’m not doing it. Not after everything, Tae.
I’m not doing this too. First Yoongi and-and-and Jimin and not you too man. I can’t be responsible
for everyone I love dying, nu-uh that’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair!”

“You wanted to kill me,” Taehyung said in a quiet voice as he looked at him. “All of that time you
wanted to kill me and now…”

“Why? Why’d you wanna die so fucking bad, huh?” Jungkook asked as he pointed the gun right at
him. His old friend didn’t even blink.

“I’ve gotta go man, Minnie told me that he can’t sleep without me. I need to go, he’s waiting.” He
offered him a feeble attempt at a smile, lips shaking as he did. “I can’t live forever when I can’t
fucking breathe. I’ve gotta…gotta try and fix my mistakes somehow even if it means that I…I die.”

“Dying doesn’t fix mistakes, Tae.”

“Yeah? Well, so long as I don’t have to fucking live with ‘em I don’t care.” Taehyung started
nibbling on his lower lip to stop it shaking so badly and then he reached over to hold onto the end
of the gun. He lifted his arm up and pressed the end against his brow.

“No, but I have to live with them.”

“I just want the pain to go away, I wanna see Minnie again.”

Jungkook moved the gun away from his head and it seemed to confuse the other man. Taehyung
looked at it and then opened his lips, moving to try and get the muzzle into his mouth as if he
thought that he wanted to do it that way instead. He jerked his hand away from him and
Taehyung’s mouth just opened and closed stupidly. Then Jungkook lowered it down to his chest
and pressed it against the crucifix tattoo. At the contact of the cold metal the other man made a soft
noise.

“I’m gonna pray,” Taehyung said in a whisper as he closed his eyes, lashes brushing against his
cheekbones. “Do you mind if I pray?” Jungkook could feel his hand shaking so badly that he
didn’t even think that he could hold the gun. “Our Father, who art in Heaven-”

“Tae.”

“hallowed be thy name.” He reached down to try and move his finger off the trigger guard and
Jungkook tightened his grip on the gun.

“Tae, stop praying out loud right now.” Taehyung stopped talking but he still moved his lips as he
carried on with the prayer. Jungkook eyed the muzzle of the gun, pressed up against his chest. He
waited for his lips to stop moving and after a minute or so they did. He was biting down on his
lower lip hard enough to break the skin.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered once more. “I’m sorry for fucking up, I’m sorry for everything,
I’m sorry for hurting you but mostly I’m sorry for…for loving you Jungkook.” Jungkook made a
strangled noise through his lips and his hand started trembling.

“Tae?”
“…Yeah?”

“I wuh…wanted to hate you for so fucking long,” he managed to say. “I wanted to kill you but
this…this isn’t what I wanted.”

“We don’t ever get what we want, do we?”

“Tae, I…I need you to help me with this.” Jungkook shifted to get onto his knees in front of him,
still pressing the gun against his tattoo. He couldn’t help himself from pressing his forehead against
his even though the contact was agony. A moment later he felt the other man’s hand moving to go
over his, to steady him but also help place his finger on the trigger. “I didn't know that this would
happen," Jungkook said breathlessly. "If I could’ve possibly known I would’ve taken it all back,
just like you said. I didn’t know that…that Yoongi had been right all along and I should’ve listened
but I was too fucking selfish. For three years I blamed you, for three years I hated you but I killed
him too. I had a chance at stopping all of this and I didn’t, it’s my fault too.”

“You didn’t kill him, I killed him.”

“I pushed you, I pushed everything,” Jungkook argued, their brows rubbing together and his nose
slightly bumping against his. “You told me that I would regret it, Yoongi told me that I would
regret it and look at me now.” He laughed but it was more of a sob. “I’m…I’m sorry
Tae.” Taehyung reached up with his free hand to place it on his cheek and Jungkook sighed at the
contact. Right now there was nothing but an inch between their lips but there was the muzzle of a
gun between their chests. Then Taehyung was shifting ever so slightly to kiss him, the first kiss in
such a long time that made him feel something. Jungkook let him slowly deepen the kiss until he
could feel his tongue on his, his breath against his cheek. When he broke the contact Jungkook
closed his eyes and he told him that he loved him.

Then Taehyung’s fingers applied pressure against his and the trigger pulled back with an almighty
bang.

Jungkook felt the impact of the bullet exiting the chamber hard and fast, the force going all of the
way up to his shoulder. The gun bucked in his hand and for a second Taehyung tightened his grip
on his hand. Then he loosened it and he heard him falling backwards to hit the bed with a strangely
soft thumping sound. He could feel something on his face and he didn’t need to reach up and wipe
it free to know that it was blood for he could feel it on the back of his hand and droplets soaking
into his shirt; a fine mist of blood.
Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out again and then he opened his eyes. He could see
Taehyung lying slumped in front of him and he avoided looking at his face and rather just at the
gunshot wound on his chest. It was only small but there was something around it that he
recognized as scorch marks and he knew that the exit hole was a lot bigger. It wouldn’t be a small
hole so much as a gaping crater where the bullet had punched through. Pretty soon the silken sheets
would be soaked with blood but he didn’t want to move to get off the bed.

After several minutes of silence, punctuated only by his ringing ears, Jungkook lifted the gun and
studied it. Then he pressed it against the side of his head and he felt the weight of it in his hand. All
it took was a little pressure and then he would find out if Taehyung was right and the pain really
did stop. He kept his finger on the trigger guard for quite some time, and he had just been
considering slipping it in place against the trigger when he felt the phone vibrating on the bed
where he had left it. The ringtone started chirping at him and so Jungkook picked it up and
answered the call.

“…Hello?”

“Oh god!” Hoseok practically moaned down the other end of the line. “Kookie, is that you, please
god, tell me that’s fucking you Kookie?”

“It’s me,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Shit, I was thinking that you weren’t gonna pick on me as I was so scared.” He heard him
breathing out in unsteady relief down the line. “Kim. Is he…did he show up? Is he…?”

“Dead,” Jungkook said as he dropped his eyes to the body lying in front of him. “He’s dead,
Hoseok.” Hoseok must have detected something in his voice because his friend didn’t rejoice or
say anything on the matter but rather remained silent. “Right now I don’t really wanna live that
much either.”

“Kookie?”

“I mean, I really need to get away from all of this. I can’t have this Hoseok I’m going fucking
crazy.” Jungkook still had the gun held in his other hand and it was shaking. “There’s nothing left,
I got nothing left.”

“You’ve got me, brother,” Hoseok said in a soft voice. “And I ain’t gonna leave you.”
Jungkook thought about how everyone he had ever loved was dead: Yoongi, Jimin, now
Taehyung, or fucked up like Seokjin and Namjoon. He had told Taehyung that he destroyed
everything but it seemed to not be the case. It seemed that he was the one that destroyed
everything. If Hoseok stayed by his side then he would ruin him too, just like everyone else.

“I’m at the airport right now, sitting in the lot. I never boarded that fucking plane and I told you
that I never would,” Hoseok muttered. “You say the word Kookie and I’ll be right back at the
house.”

“I just…I just wanted to be loved,” Jungkook said as he lowered the gun to his lap. “All of my life I
just wanted to be fucking loved.”

“I’m coming back. OK? I’m coming back and then we can just go, like you said. Go anywhere you
fucking want.” He heard something on the other end of the line, the rumbling of a car engine.

“I didn’t wanna kill him,” he confided as he let go of the gun and clutched the phone in both hands
instead. “I didn’t wanna but…but I had to.”

“For Yoongi.”

Jungkook didn’t tell him that the reason he had killed Taehyung was because he had asked him to.
Instead he just ended the call and stared at the gun before knocking it off the bed and onto the
floor. Then he shifted to lie down on the bed beside him and he stared up at the glass ceiling
overhead.

Taehyung was looking up at the stars right now with empty eyes and he was too. Maybe, just
maybe Yoongi and Jimin were up there and maybe he would find something other than pain. He
had just wanted to be loved and he knew now that that was all that Taehyung had wanted too.

Jungkook had never wished on a star before.

Instead, he prayed on it.

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