Firewatch

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/42246480.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin
Character: Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Seokjin | Jin,
Kim Namjoon | RM, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Min Yoongi | Suga
Additional Tags: Thriller, Retro, Memory Loss, Firefighter Jeon Jungkook, kind of, Dancer
Park Jimin (BTS), Forests, Stalking, Past Abuse, Park Jimin is Trying
His Best (BTS), Jeon Jungkook is a Mess, Jeon Jungkook is Trying His
Best, Top Jeon Jungkook, Bottom Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V
is a Little Shit, as usual, Kim Seokjin is also a Little Shit, side taegi, side
namjin, Murder, Guns, Happy Ending, I promise
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-11-01 Completed: 2022-12-27 Words: 88,560
Chapters: 10/10

Firewatch
by Ashlyn17

Summary

Jeongguk loves his job. He loves being out in the forest all year, watching the seasons
change from his fire tower above it all. He especially loves the summer, when he can sit out
in the warmth of the woods and relax in between spotting forest fires. But the quiet, the
solitude, is what he loves the most.

Until he saves Park Jimin from a car wreck in the middle of the woods. Park Jimin, with no
memory of who he is or where he comes from. And when Park Jimin’s appearance is
immediately followed by mysterious forest fires, break-ins, and radio static, Jeongguk
doesn’t find the isolation quite as inviting anymore.
 Kindling
Chapter Notes

I want us all to take a moment and imagine in our collective mind's eye a world in
which I'm the kind of person who finishes one fic before moving on to the next one.

I would now like us to take a deep breath and acknowledge that I am not that person.
"Ash," you yell, "What about Mirror Mirror?" Well, I put it down for three months and
LITERALLY FORGOT THE PLOT THAT I CAME UP WITH. ♀️ ♀️ I'm not lying
to you when I say that I have no clue what I wanted to do with that story. I have a short
memory. I'm so sorry. Maybe one day I'll remember, but until then-

A NEW FIC. AND THIS ONE'S ALREADY COMPLETELY FINISHED. SO

DON'T WORRY.

Also-- this fic isn't going to have my usual ridiculously long chapters. I can't do that
anymore; my focus is too bad these days. This fic is very much a passion project, and
it'll go how it goes ksjdfhkjsdf.

ANYWAY HERE'S CHAPTER ONE

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When it gets quiet enough, Jeongguk likes to imagine that he can hear the voices of the trees.
There’s the faint murmur of an oak, cavorting next to the more innocent maples. They syllabicate
in shushed murmurs, speaking just quietly enough that Jeongguk can’t quite make out what they’re
saying.

The most likely situation is that they’re saying something along the lines of, “You, Jeon Jeongguk,
are fucking crazy.” Which, unfortunately, is starting to feel a little too accurate for his liking.

Jeongguk lets out a sigh and tips onto the back two legs of his wooden chair, scrubbing at his eyes
as they burn from staring out of his binoculars all day. One look in the small mirror propped up
against the windowed wall in front of him tells Jeongguk that, yes, he does have circular imprints
from the device pressed around his face. And some stubble growing , Jeongguk frowns. It’ll have to
be taken care of later, when the sun is high enough in the sky to ensure safe passage to and from
the supply-drop box all the way on Taehyung’s side of the forest.

As it stands, it’s much too early for him to attempt shaving himself without accidentally slitting his
throat in the process. The sun is barely beginning to peek over the mountains in the distance,
casting its rays of golden-yellow out in a blanket of tentative warmth. The light glints over the
dew-laden treetops and turns them into a glittering display of liquid starlight—one that also blinds
Jeongguk’s retinas when he stares for too long.
Jeongguk stands to stretch his legs and feels his lower back twinge in complaint. He must’ve
accidentally slept at the desk yesterday. It’d certainly explain why his neck feels like he’s been run
over by a tractor. It probably also explains the smudges of ink resting on his left cheek, smeared
from the latest report that he’d been writing. Tentatively, Jeongguk picks at the front of his
ranger’s uniform and gives it a surreptitious sniff. He grimaces—he smells like a wet dog.

As Jeongguk hobbles over to his small chest in the corner, praying that he’s got another spare
uniform left because he really, really doesn’t want to have to venture down to the stream to wash
all of his laundry today, his walkie-talkie spits to life on his desk.

“This is Kim Taehyung from Snowshoe Pass Tower, clocking in at precisely five-thirty in the
morning,” Taehyung’s morning-gruff voice announces in a wave of static. “Currently, I’m
watching Jeon Jeongguk’s electrifying performance of ‘How Many Times Can I Trip Over My Rug
Before It Becomes Obvious That I’m A Toddler?’ For all you folks at home, the answer is two.”

Jeongguk glowers, rubbing his tailbone as he sits on the floor. He had indeed just tripped twice
over the corner of his red-brown rug and landed ass-first on the cold hardwood floor. Jeongguk
stands and shoots a middle finger towards his westward-facing window, snagging his walkie-talkie
with his free hand.

“You know, it’s considered bad manners to spy on people when they’re getting dressed,” Jeongguk
bitches through the receiver.

A garbled snort comes out from the other end. “Is that what you were doing?” Taehyung laughs,
“It looked like you were auditioning for a role in Swan Lake.”

“Would it hurt either of you to consider someone other than yourselves for once in your life?”
Seokjin’s voice interrupts on the channel. There’s a yawn and then he adds, “Not all of us wake up
at the crack of dawn just to have private conversations on the public channel.”

Seokjin is situated in the northernmost tower—Bear Creek Tower—and is one of the least
morning-type-people that Jeongguk’s ever met. “Hyung, as your subordinate, I feel that it’s
necessary to remind you that you were the one who instituted the five-thirty wake-up ordinance.”

“And I feel it necessary to ask why neither of you assholes fought me harder about the mandate,”
Seokjin’s reply crackles right back.

Jeongguk chuffs good-humoredly and sets down his receiver as Taehyung and Seokjin begin their
daily mid-morning scuffle. Drawing the wooden blinds to retain whatever small vestige of modesty
he might still have, Jeongguk strips off his green-and-tan ranger’s uniform. The actual process is
more like peeling an onion because the uniform clings to Jeongguk like a second skin, partly
because it’s already stiflingly humid in the tower and partly because Jeongguk is soaked through
with sweat.

He doesn’t have to search through the recesses of his mind to know that he had another nightmare
—and from the amount of moisture wicking off his clothes, it was a bad one. The shapes of it still
loom in the forefront of his thoughts, another cloudy mix of past and present sent to remind
Jeongguk of everything he’d left behind.

With a determined shake of his head, Jeongguk rummages through his chest. He finds one spare
shirt smashed underneath his running sneakers. ‘Ranger’s Camp, ’87’ the shirt announces proudly
as Jeongguk attempts to smooth some of the worst wrinkles out of it. It’s a bright, electrifying
shade of yellow stamped with bright red font, and it lacks a collar, a breast pocket, or any note of
formality.
With a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that Seokjin hasn’t materialized out of thin air to
tan his backside about maintaining decorum, Jeongguk fights the t-shirt into submission. It’s
several sizes too small by now, having seen its heyday back when Jeongguk was still a gangly
sixteen-year old, and Jeongguk is more than a little glad that Taehyung can’t see his undignified
one-footed hopping as he wrestles it over his shoulders.

He’s also glad that the blinds hide the way his face falls as he catches sight of his torso in the small
mirror on the desk as his eyes fall on the little crisscrossing scars on his chest—and the wicked one
that slices down in between his ribcage.

Jeongguk tugs the shirt over his chest and swallows hard.

“-and that’s why, in my opinion, we should be focusing more on the social aspects of reintroducing
native bears to the forest,” Taehyung concludes from over the receiver.

Seokjin’s sigh is long-suffering and heavy with the weight of two idiotic subordinates. “’Because I
want one’ isn’t a sufficient reason for reintroducing a new type of fauna,” Seokjin reminds
Taehyung. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I just feel like if you really considered my point of view for once-”

“Are we going to get any actual business done on this call, or are we going to attempt to put
Seokjin in an early grave all day?” Jeongguk pipes up, rolling up the blinds again. He sifts absently
through the stack of topographical maps on his desk and runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a creak from Seokjin’s end as he presumably rolls out of bed and onto the floor, and then,
“Just the usual. Fire danger is set to ‘Moderate’ for today, so be sure to adjust the dials on your
lookout tower. We’re also experiencing an influx of tourists down at the West Bay, Taehyung, so
keep an eye out for bonfire smoke and illegal fireworks. The display last summer nearly burned us
to the ground.”

“I remember,” Taehyung sighs. Jeongguk grimaces at the memory too, though the flames hadn’t
crossed the river dividing the West forest from the East. He still remembers the burnt-umber glow
of the flames in the distance and the thick smell of smoke trailing up into the midnight sky. The
scars of the fire spread from just behind Taehyung’s tower directly to the rear of it—he’d been
lucky to escape with his life.

Jeongguk remembers the panic he’d felt as he watched the search and rescue helicopter turn in
impotent circles as it attempted to locate Taehyung amid the chaos. Thankfully, Yoongi, the pilot,
is hellishly good at his job, and Taehyung had made it out with no more than two burnt eyebrows
and some smoke inhalation.

“Oh, and be on the lookout for Long-Horned Beetles. There’s been a spike in the population, and
forestry has asked us to keep a close eye on the whole situation,” Seokjin adds, effectively
wrenching Jeongguk from his thoughts.

“Beatlemania!” Taehyung hoots through the static. “They’re taking over again!”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk chimes in before Seokjin can give himself an ulcer. “Did Hoseok drop
the supplies yet?” he asks. “I know he’s just coming back from vacation, but I’m in desperate need
of a razor. I haven’t shaved in a week, and it feels like my chin is trying to light itself on fire.”

“Doubtful.”
“He did the drop-off last night,” Seokjin talks over Taehyung’s attempted jibe, “Supplies for the
week should be ready to pick up at Box Four-Oh-Four. Oh—the cookies are for me, Taehyung, and
if you want your own, order them ahead of time like any responsible adult.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows flick up in surprise. “How’d you convince Hoseok to deliver during the
night? I thought he said he’d rather slide down a trail of razors into a pool of hydrogen peroxide
before he walked through the forest at night.”

“Level ten persuasion,” Seokjin clucks proudly. There’s a momentary pause, and then he adds,
somewhat worriedly, “Taehyung, did you hear me about the cookies?”

When there’s no immediate reply, Seokjin starts, “Jeongguk-”

“I’m on it,” Jeongguk replies with a snort. “No one touches your cookies without a fight.”

He’s absolutely certain that, at the first mention of Seokjin’s precious supply of frosted animal
crackers, Taehyung had peeled out of his tower in the hopes of beating Seokjin to the box. It’s been
an ongoing feud, starting two summers ago when Seokjin had ‘accidentally’ taken Taehyung’s
mother’s homemade strawberry bars from the drop box. It had quickly escalated into all-out snack
warfare with Jeongguk caught in the crossfire.

“You deserve a raise, kid,” Seokjin says gratefully.

Jeongguk hefts his hiking backpack onto his desk and rummages through with one hand, checking
his supplies. “A new blanket would be plenty. Mine is covered with moth holes, and I’m pretty
sure it was fabricated during World War One.”

“New blanket added to the list. Good luck today, Jeongguk. I’ll check in with you both later
tonight. And if you see Taehyung at the drop box, drop kick him for me. Seokjin signing off.”

“See you,” Jeongguk says, but Seokjin’s already dropped off. Jeongguk is alone in his tower once
again, surrounded by the small desk and the wooden bookcase and the sealed cherrywood chest
that hides underneath the bed, out of sight and out of mind.

But Jeongguk decided a long time ago that he’s not one to dwell on the past. He’s learned from
experience that looking backwards, even for a moment, can be pretty catastrophic. So Jeongguk
spends as much time as possible immersed in the present and looking forward to tomorrow. And
right now, he’s focused on saving Seokjin’s cookies from Taehyung’s thievery.

Without a second thought about the box of memories hiding under his bed, Jeongguk checks his
climbing gear, harnesses, air horn, and miscellaneous survival accoutrement. He clicks his walkie
onto the belt loop of his pants, slaps the matching emerald baseball cap onto his head, and heads
out the door into the wilderness.

There’s not a lot that Jeongguk is afraid of.

Clowns once briefly terrified him, but that was more of a fleeting fear. All it took was one venture
behind the polka-dot curtain at his town’s fair and the discovery that underneath all that
horrendous makeup was a human being to dismiss Jeongguk’s coulrophobia.
There’d also been a brief but terrifying spat with a fear of heights, but Jeongguk hadn’t been
allowed to dwell on that one for too long. It’s hard to spend days and nights in a firewatch tower
slung dozens of feet in the air and not get over that particular fear.

And besides, Jeongguk has always liked to consider himself a fairly logical, somewhat rational
person. He’d long since discovered that, if he can understand the phenomenon he’s afraid of, it
isn’t quite so horrible. According to the gospel of Jeongguk, fear can be rationalized, assessed for
its evolutionary viability, and accepted or discarded accordingly.

Unfortunately, theory is always easier than praxis, and there are some things that still make cold
beads of sweat run down the curve of Jeongguk’s back.

So as Jeongguk stands at the rocky shore of Bear Creek, the river that runs from Seokjin’s tower
southward and divides the forest into neat hemispheres, he tries to talk himself out of his particular
fear.

It’s only a stream, he reminds himself. It comes up to your mid-calf. You’ve crossed it before, there
haven’t been any floods recently, and there’s no moss growing on the rocks to make you slip.
You’ve got this. You can do this.

But his fingers are trembling, and his breath is coming quicker, and Jeongguk is finding it hard to
not give in to the flood of emotion that clogs up his throat.

“You can swim,” Jeongguk says firmly to the river as it babbles by. “You didn’t have that option
last time. You’re stronger now.” The river burbles along, unimpressed and uncaring, but the words
buoy Jeongguk’s confidence.

With a quick breath and an expletive, Jeongguk hops and skips across the water-slick rocks that
protrude from the river’s crystal-clear water. It’s one-two-three-four jumps, and then Jeongguk is
safely on the other side feeling quite foolish.

He glances around sheepishly. There’s no one around, not this far east. All of the campgrounds are
more to the west and south, and only a handful of trails cut this deep into the wood. Still, Jeongguk
feels the judgmental gaze of the maples swaying around him and wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Well, you try it,” he grumbles at the trees, hiking his pack higher up on his shoulder. It’s almost
noon, and the sun burns bright in the middle of the sky that peeks through the canopy. Jeongguk
trudges down the fire trail and enjoys the sound his boots make as they crunch their way through
the well-packed dirt.

As he walks, he hums to himself. They’re just little bits and pieces of lyrics he’s come up with and
tried to remember, but they work wonders at warding off loneliness out here. Jeongguk’s fingers
twitch across an imaginary fretboard as he imagines the chords he could fit his lyrics to, wishing
for the umpteenth time that he could afford to have a guitar shipped out here. He knows that
Namjoon has one down in the first-aid pavilion by the south entrance, but it’s not worth a three-day
hike one way just to play guitar for ten minutes.

Maybe you should buy a ukulele, Jeongguk muses as he ducks under the bough of a particularly
vivacious tree. They’re portable, easier to play. Affordable, but limited tonally. It’s worth
considering, at least. Any hobby is a good hobby up here, he figures.

By the time Jeongguk has hammered out a steady melody to accompany his bit of lyricism, it’s
well into the afternoon. The sun has moved further west, glaring in his eyes and making him curse
his lack of forethought for not bringing his sunglasses.
He’s squinting and sweating profusely by the time he arrives in the small clearing. It’s circled by
sun-kissed trees and spats of wildflowers, and supply Box Four-Oh-Four. Usually, if it’s quiet
enough, Jeongguk can sit on one of the granite rocks in the clearing and watch the magpies that hop
around periodically. He’d even caught a glimpse of a deer once.

No such wildlife sits in the clearing today, but Taehyung is doing a remarkable impression of a
self-satisfied lynx from where he perches on a rock, savoring a bag of stolen animal crackers.

“Seokjin’s going to kill you for that,” Jeongguk calls by way of greeting, but he feels a smile
creeping up his face. It’s been a while since he’s run into Taehyung—two months at least—and the
presence of another human being is heartening.

Taehyung pushes his aviators up with one crumb-clad, black-painted fingernail and shrugs. His
white teeth gleam as he puts on a shit-eating grin. “When’s the last time Seokjin’s walked this far
south this early in the day? I swear that guy’s an owl disguised as an old man.”

“You’re horrible,” Jeongguk accuses. “Give me a cookie.”

With a laugh, Taehyung pats the seat on the rock next to him. He scooches to make room and dusts
off his (decidedly not uniform) volleyball shorts. “And you’re easily corrupted. Here—have
another. You look gaunt as hell.”

Deciding that stolen animal crackers taste better than their honestly-obtained counterparts,
Jeongguk accepts eagerly. “Gaunt?” he teases.

“I’ve been reading lately. Sue me.” Taehyung pushes his sunglasses up into his chestnut brown
hair and sweeps his auburn eyes up and down Jeongguk critically. “You look like hell. Are you
sleeping alright?”

Taehyung, Jeongguk decides, is one of the only people he’s ever met who can balance charming
aloofness with knife-edged perception gracefully. “I’ve slept better,” he replies. “Just had a few
nightmares recently is all.” Catching the way Taehyung’s eyes narrow, Jeongguk hastily tacks on,
“It’s nothing to be worried about. Really. I’m handling it.”

“You’ve made an appointment to see Namjoon, then?” When he’s met with silence, Taehyung
sighs and knocks his shoulder into Jeongguk’s. “Come on, Jeongguk. You know it’s important to
talk to someone about it. It’s not really something you should be putting off.”

The grass below Jeongguk’s feet is suddenly very interesting, and fixes his eyes on a trail of ants
snaking their way through the blades towards the supply box. “I’m not putting it off per say. It’s
just been busy lately.”

Taehyung snorts. “ Right . You’ve been real busy, what with all the reading and the binocular-
using.”

“So you are spying on me!” Jeongguk exclaims.

“I was never hiding it. I spy on everyone. That’s half the reason I took this job—people are
fascinating as hell. And weird , too. Did I tell you that I saw someone try to sneak a rubber ducky, a
canister of jumping snakes, and a snowshoe in the other day?” Taehyung rambles, distracted.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows tick up. “A snowshoe? What were they planning to do with that?”

“We’ll never know. But I’m now the proud owner of a rubber ducky, a can of jumping snakes, and
one single snowshoe, so I’ll let you know what I come up with,” Taehyung grins down at him. The
lines around his eyes have deepened a touch over the years, and they catch in the light as Jeongguk
glances up at his friend.

It almost feels like a lifetime since he met Taehyung at a ranger’s camp ten years ago. It’s even
more strange to reconcile that hesitant, shy sixteen-year-old with the recalcitrant twenty-six-year-
old sitting next to him. Especially when he dispenses wisdom like a vending machine gives out
cans of coke. It’s a jarring sort of incongruity that Jeongguk’s certain he couldn’t live without.

They lapse into an easy silence for a while, occasionally comparing the shapes they see in the
clouds that drift overhead. Taehyung swears that he sees a snowshoe in one of them; Jeongguk
thinks he’s full of shit.

It isn’t until Jeongguk is opening the chipped yellow lid to the supply box that Taehyung brings it
up again. Jeongguk’s shoving his hygiene set, freeze-dried meals, and other bits and bobs into his
pack when Taehyung says gently, “Promise me that you’ll make an appointment, Jeongguk.”

The box’s lid drops with a dull ‘thump’, and Jeongguk clicks the lock shut with one hand. “I’ll…
think about it,” he mutters, zipping up his heavier pack and hefting it onto his shoulders. He looks
up in time to catch the flicker of worry that crosses over Taehyung’s eyes, but it’s gone before
Jeongguk is sure he’s actually seen it at all.

“That’s not what I asked you to promise me, but since I’m so unselfish—” here Taehyung pauses
to shove the remaining bags of stolen cookies into his pack, “—I’ll accept for now.” He frowns a
little and adjusts the straps on his bag. “You know I’m only bugging you so much about this
because I care about you, right? It’s not a patronizing thing.”

Despite himself, Jeongguk smiles. “I know,” he says, flicking Taehyung’s nose insolently. “You
just can’t help the patronizing tone. It must be genetic.”

“You’re such a brat. I hate your guts. But seriously, if you ever need to talk, I’m on the other side
of the radio.” After a brief, dramatic pause, Taehyung says in his best actor-voice, “ Always,
brother.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and makes his way back towards the trail that he’d come down earlier.
“You know who else is at the other end of the line? Seokjin.”

Taehyung huffs. “Yeah, he’s a problem. I can work on assassinating him if you want.”

“Who’d sign our paychecks then?”

“Touché.” Clicking his fingers and walking backwards towards the setting sun, Taehyung
exclaims, “Hey, wait, I know! We can finally perfect our heliograph codes! Speak by flashing
mirrors at one another. It’s very James Bond.”

“Have you ever even seen a James Bond movie?” Jeongguk calls over the wind that picks up in the
clearing.

Taehyung waves his hand around dismissively. “No, but I bet he’s a maverick when it comes to
mirror talking, and I’m determined to be his Moneypenny.”

With a wave and a shout goodbye, Jeongguk turns to go. All the worries that sweep into his head at
the thought of Namjoon and their appointments are effectively banished as a bag of animal
crackers sweeps through the air, smacks him on the back of his head, and falls to the floor.

Seokjin’s going to be pissed , Jeongguk thinks delightedly.

Seokjin is pissed, and Jeongguk hears all about it on his hike back to his tower. He hears about
how inconsiderate Taehyung is while he shimmies between two sides of a rock’s cleft, sucking in
his stomach to slip through.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?” Jeongguk half-wheezes, winded from the ascent back
eastwards. He looks sadly up at the rope dangling from the thirty-foot rock face in front of him that
connects with the trail above. It’s easy enough to descend the face, but it’s a bitch to climb back up
after a day’s exercise.

Seokjin harrumphs haughtily. “Me? Harsh? As if. If anything, I’ve spoiled the two of you in your
time here. I’m not so sunny with anyone else.”

“You don’t work with anyone else,” Jeongguk points out. He slides his harness on under his thighs
and secures the rope to his carabiner, hefting himself up and feeling the pull in his shoulders. He’s
not small anymore, nor is he by any means weak, but his lats ache with the strain.

“Well, I wasn’t so nice with the two fire-watchers who preceded you guys. They were real jerks.
Cut and run as soon as fire season was over,” Seokjin complains through the line.

Jeongguk shimmies higher up the cliff face. Sweat is already beading along his brow and tanning
the back of his neck. He wishes, not for the first time, that he had a bathtub back at his tower
instead of a tepid water spigot that Seokjin tries to call a shower. “That’s the job,” he says through
clenched teeth, “Technically, we’re not supposed to stay in the watchtowers year-round. You
lucked out with us.”

“I guess. Where else am I going to find two hard workers with zero ties to the outside world?
Which, coming back to my original point, is why I spoil you both so much.”

“I have a threadbare blanket and a faulty power generator.”

“I told you, I’m working on that. Where are you, by the way? I don’t see you in your tower.”
Seokjin’s line goes staticky for a moment like it always does when he descends the steps of his
tower. Being furthest north, Seokjin has the best radio reception out of all of them. He can call all
the way down to Namjoon’s southern medical center and, on a good day, can use the little
television he keeps hidden away in his wardrobe. When he descends, the quality of his radio signal
deteriorates into indistinct mumbles like the rest of them.

“Please tell me that you’re not going to take up spying too,” Jeongguk huffs, pulling himself to lie
flat on his stomach at the top of the rock wall. “It’s bad enough to have one peeping tom in the
business. You and Taehyung are really giving fire-watchers a bad name.”

Seokjin grumbles. “I have better things to do than watching you day and night. I’m still mad about
Taehyung. Thank you for betraying his confidence and tattling to me.”

“It isn’t tattling if I know he’s listening to us,” Jeongguk laughs. He unclips his harness and stands
at the edge of the small cliff looking down. The soil out here is dark brown and spotted with black-
and-white pieces of granite that gleam in the late afternoon sun. From his perch above the gully, he
can see over the treetops below and out into the distance. He’s not as high as he is in his tower, but
he’s high enough to see the Bear Creek winding happily southward. “I’m headed back to the tower.
Supply drops take all day.”

“Anything unusual to report?” Seokjin asks. He curses a moment later, and Jeongguk hears the
telltale snap of a branch that tells him Seokjin’s just been backhanded by a tree.

Jeongguk shrugs even though Seokjin can’t see him. “Unless you count Taehyung’s newfound
interest in jorts, no. I haven’t actually seen anyone today—not even our usual hikers. It’s a bit
lonely, actually.”

“It’s still early in the season,” Seokjin reminds him. “Give it time, and before you know it, you’ll
be up to your ears in tourists camping offroad and illegal firework shows. Namjoon said there are
hundreds of people coming in through the south gate. They should be here in the coming days, so
enjoy your peace while it lasts.”

“Got it. Anything else?” Jeongguk doesn’t mean to come across as cranky, but it’s late and he’s
starving, and he’d left off at a really good part of his book last night. His yellow shirt has turned to
a sickly shade of light brown from sweat and grime, and Jeongguk would kill to be able to shave.
It’s the small pleasures in life that keep him going. Seokjin is impinging on his small pleasures.

With a hum, Seokjin says, “That should be everything. Make sure you’re practicing with your
heliographs, alright? I know you and Taehyung hate them, but there’s a reason that we have them.
Someday you’re going to be glad that you know how to use them.”

“Undoubtedly.” Jeongguk sees his tower rising a few more miles in the distance and picks up his
pace to a slow jog. “I’ll see you bright and early at five-thirty tomorrow, okay, hyung?”

“Don’t remind me,” comes Seokjin’s response. Radio silence descends afterwards, and Jeongguk
clicks his walkie to his hip again to race up the final slope home.

It’s interesting to Jeongguk how his fire tower has assumed that status in his life— home . It’s
really nothing more than a wooden crows-nest built on hundred-foot stilts, but it’s comforting. His
is the last tower that hasn’t yet been retrofitted to be galvanized metal, but Jeongguk sort of likes
that it’s made of the same wood that surrounds it. It smells like earth and sky and all of the things
that Jeongguk loves about being out here.

Underneath the tower is Jeongguk’s manual generator to be used in emergencies, and his outhouse-
slash-shower room lies a few meters away under the shade of the tower. There’s a pile of wood
kindling stacked against the shack and a small stone firepit dug into the ground. Technically, he’s
not supposed to have a firepit, but what Seokjin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Jeongguk trudges up the hundred or so stairs to his loft in the sky and comes trudging right back
down a few minutes later with a towel, his soap-on-a-rope, and a spare pair of pajama bottoms in
hand. He makes quick work of washing all of the day’s grime away underneath the spray of the
water spigot and pats himself dry. He makes a mental note to do his washing tomorrow and hangs
his towel out on the clothesline.

Dinner is a pot of freeze-dried pot of spaghetti rehydrated with water and cooked over his small
campfire. Sparks fly out in crackles of red-gold, lifting into the air briefly like fireflies before
burning out in small bursts of glory. Jeongguk watches the flicker of the light and eats his spaghetti
in silence, wondering how he managed to end up here.

Here, in the place where he’s safe for the first time in his life. Where he’s surrounded by the quiet
of the trees and the companionship of his books. Where nothing in the outside world can really
touch him. And though the solitude sometimes gets to him, Jeongguk’s long since made his peace
with the fact that he’s going to grow old and die alone out here. Even that in and of itself is a small
comfort.

He’s not tied to anyone or anything. He doesn’t have to worry about letting someone down or
getting hurt again.

And if the worst thing that happens is that Jeongguk gets sick of himself, well—there are always
ways to deal with that further down the line.

So Jeongguk dries his hair off in the warm glow of the fire and gazes up at the constellations
overhead, recalling the stories of each in his mind as he contemplates how tiny he is in comparison.
Infinitesimally, indescribably small and unimportant when compared to Andromeda and Cassiopeia
and Hercules.

Every night, sitting here at his bonfire by himself, Jeongguk finds himself falling in love with the
forest all over again, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The peace doesn’t last through the night.

It never does.

For a moment, caught between a nightmare and reality, Jeongguk struggles to breathe. Behind his
closed eyes, he can feel the press of fingers that weigh him down, holding tight around his throat
and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing tight until his head feels all light and fuzzy and he’s not sure
which way is up.

Water rushes up his nose and into his ears. Jeongguk thrashes below the surface, vision hazy under
the linoleum lights that swing in above the water. Someone is screaming in the background, but it
isn’t him. It can’t be him, because the moment Jeongguk opens up his mouth to shout, water pours
in and down his lungs like liquid fire.

It burns, Jeongguk remembers thinking as he scrabbles mightily at the grip on his throat, raking his
nails across the calloused hands holding him under. It burns. Make it stop.

You can make it stop any time you want, the small, insidious little voice whispers into his ear. You
have the power to make it stop. Just take a few deep breaths and this will all be over.

But I don’t want to die, Jeongguk thinks desperately, even as he feels the life draining away from
his limbs. I don’t want to die here. I’ve barely lived.

The voice in his ear laughs darkly. I don’t think you really have much of a choice, it whispers
melancholically, He wants you dead. And what he wants, he gets.

The hands around Jeongguk’s throat squeeze tighter. Jeongguk thrashes violently once again,
giving his last-ditch effort at salvation all of his remaining strength, and-

Falls to the wooden floor.

For a moment, Jeongguk just lies there, staring up at the ceiling that spins dizzily above him, trying
to get his bearings.

“You’re alright. It was just a nightmare,” Jeongguk says out loud, just to prove it to himself. His
hands shake as he runs his fingers over his neck. He can still feel the ghost of the hands that pinned
him underwater. He can even still feel the water itself.

A quick swipe across his forehead tells Jeongguk that it’s not water—he’s just sweat through his
clothes. Better than the alternative, Jeongguk sighs. He lies on the floor a minute longer and scrubs
at his eyes, counting on his fingers the days since he managed to sleep through the night. . It’s been
ten days.

The nightmares always get worse around this time of year.

Jeongguk heaves himself up to sitting and nearly has a heart attack when he finds that he can’t
move his legs. He looks down. His sheet is tangled around his leg in what appears to be a very
intricate sailor’s knot, and Jeongguk disentangles himself with hands shaky from panic. Only once
he’s lobbed the sheet back onto his wooden bed does the worst of the feeling begin to dispel.

Pushing himself to sit back against the wall, Jeongguk wraps his arms around his knees and drops
his head. He sits there and breathes deeply through the spinning. He really needs to make an
appointment to see Namjoon. He needs to, but he’d rather not. Because dealing with a few
nightmares is better than having to tell someone everything that’s happened to him. It’s better than
watching the looks of pity swim over their faces as they understand for the first time just how
fragile he is. How pathetic, how weak, how-

“No,” Jeongguk says decisively as the negative voice in his head starts to sound a bit too much like
the man from his past. “You’re not weak,” he tells himself, using the affirmations Namjoon told
him to try. “You’re strong. You’re safe. You have people who care about you.”

The pull of the downward spiral is relentless, but Jeongguk resists with all his might. Jeongguk
won’t let him win this time. He won’t give him the power to make him miserable again. He’s
already taken enough from Jeongguk, and he won’t take tonight as well.

Like he always does to ward off the ghosts of his past, Jeongguk lugs himself to his feet and
staggers over to his desk by the window. He tugs open his blinds, pulls on his zip-up jacket, and
grabs his binoculars. The sky is clear tonight, and Jeongguk can see the moon starting to rise in the
distance. A look at his clock tells him that it’s just past midnight.

Jeongguk settles into his chair and looks out into the night, binoculars held in one hand and his pen
in the other, watching for nothing and everything.

“-guk.”

Jeongguk grunts and readjusts his head on his desk. Whoever wants him can try again when the
sun’s actually up and he’s not in the middle of very important business.

“Jeongguk!” It’s Seokjin’s voice. The fact that Seokjin is calling in the middle of the night
probably means that something important is happening, but Jeongguk can’t find it within himself
to care.

He searches across the desk for his radio, eyes still closed, and presses the button on the side. “Go
away,” Jeongguk grumbles down the line. “Throw yourself out a window. I’m busy.”

“Jeongguk, this is important.” Seokjin’s voice has already taken on his Business voice, complete
with zero traces of humor or patience, and it’s enough to have Jeongguk begrudgingly lifting his
head from the desk.

A glance outside the window tells Jeongguk that it’s well before dawn, probably only an hour or so
after midnight. Jeongguk runs a hand through his tousled hair. “What’s going on?” he peeks out of
his window again. “I don’t see any smoke.”

“It’s not a fire. I just got a call from a backpacker down near the base of Bear Creek. Seems like
they heard a loud noise from the other side of the river and are pretty freaked out about it,”
Seokjin says through a yawn.

“A sound in the forest?” Jeongguk complains, but he’s already putting on his baseball cap and
looking around for his bag. “Don’t they know it’s probably just a bear or something? This is a
forest, after all. And the base of Bear Creek is literally almost at Namjoon’s medical center—why
isn’t he picking this up?”

Seokjin snorts. “He’s afraid of bears.”

“Fair enough.” With one last, wistful glance at his desk, Jeongguk slings his backpack over his
shoulder, grabs his flashlight and bear spray, and closes the door to the fire tower behind him. “I’m
headed out now. Where exactly am I supposed to be looking?”

There’s a rustling from the other line as Seokjin presumably looks over his map of the unfamiliar
terrain. “Down between Box One-One-Nine and Clearwater Lake. I’d say near the road leading to
the medical building.”

“I’m actually going to murder Namjoon when I see him next,” Jeongguk bitches under his breath.
To Seokjin he mutters, “Okay. I’ll see what there is to see.”

“Keep me posted.” Seokjin’s line statics out.

Jeongguk descends the stairs until he’s standing on the springy forest floor. He shines his flashlight
around the trees hugging the circumference of his clearing and does his best to work the kink out of
his neck with his other hand. And Jeongguk sets off on the southern trail towards Clearwater Lake.

It’s not often that Jeongguk’s called out to go a night survey of the terrain. Common sense and best
practice suggest that the safest place for fire-watchers at night is in their tower, but sometimes
unforeseeable circumstances arise and Jeongguk is forced into the wilderness at night.

And wilderness it is. Familiar roads and sounds are always a bit more menacing at night, even for a
tree-hugger like Jeongguk. It’s why he sweeps his flashlight through the trees every few seconds
and keeps his can of bear spray tight in hand. But nothing in the forest moves except for him. Even
the birds are quiet this early in the morning.

Jeongguk blinks his tired eyes and tries not to think about all the horror movies he’s seen in his
short life that start out in exactly this fashion. Friday the 13 th , his brain supplies unhelpfully. The
Burning. Pet Sematary.

“You’re being idiotic,” Jeongguk berates himself. “You know there’s nothing out here. Stop being
a wuss.” The power coaching gets Jeongguk through most of the hike south, all the way to Bear
Creek and down toward its mouth that empties into Clearwater Lake.

Jeongguk hears the dismayed campers before he sees them. They’re talking loudly enough to wake
whatever animals are in the surrounding area, and Jeongguk can smell the faint aroma of smoke as
he approaches their camp. He clicks his flashlight a few times to alert them to his presence before
stepping out of the woods and into one of the forest’s smaller campsites.

The couple sits around the very obviously hidden remnants of a campfire clutching each other’s
arms. It’s a man and a woman, both in their mid-thirties, looking at Jeongguk like he’s just risen
from the dead.

“Hey there. I’m Jeon Jeongguk, a ranger. I heard that you needed some help down here?” he
introduces himself, looking disdainfully down at the still-smoldering ashes of a hastily put out fire.

The woman rises from her canvas chair and approaches with her hand held out to shake. “Sorry to
bother you, especially so late at night” she says apologetically, bowing her head slightly. “We just
heard something in the woods, and you know how it goes.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeongguk shakes her hand, unimpressed. “Can you describe the noise?”

“Sort of a screeching sound,” the man pipes up from where he still sits near the abandoned
campfire. “And then a crunch. Like bones snapping. Heard it coming from that direction.” He
points southwest, deeper into the forest.

Jeongguk nods and looks briefly around their campfire. There’s a bright orange tent off to the side,
and a set of bear-proof backpacks slung up around trees on the opposite end of the campground.
Jeongguk catches sight of a half-covered soju bottle peeking out from underneath the flaps of the
tent.

Drunk, he sighs internally. Also prohibited.

“Well, I’ll take a look, alright? I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about. We don’t get many
accidents out here.” Jeongguk tugs down the brim of his baseball hat and continues in the direction
indicated by the man. Before he steps back into the shadows of the trees, he calls over his shoulder,
“Bears are attracted to fire, you know. It’s why they’re prohibited out here.”

It’s a load of bullshit, but the campers are either too drunk or too inexperienced to know that. The
woman lets out a sheepish ‘eep!’ and scuttles back to her partner to talk in worried, hushed tones.

Jeongguk suppresses a smile and continues on his way.

It takes a while for Jeongguk to comb through the forest, especially when he has no idea what he’s
looking for. Undergrowth crunches underfoot as he steps carefully over abandoned animal nests
and treacherous root systems rising up from the uneven terrain.

Jeongguk is prepared to call his search a quits and chalk it up to no more than drunken
hallucinations when he smells it. The scent of burnt rubber wafts through the air, distinctly out of
place in the middle of the wilderness. Jeongguk pauses in the small clearing cut around Supply Box
One-One-Nine and waits.

The wind is blowing up from the south, pushing the scent along with it. Jeongguk adjusts his
course and picks up into a run. “Seokjin, do you read me?”

It takes several minutes before Jeongguk’s radio crackles to life. “Reluctantly, yes. I read you.
What’s the situation looking like?”

“Campers heard a screech coming from the southern bend of Bear Creek past the supply box. I can
smell burned rubber,” Jeongguk pants out as he runs.

“Crap. It’s probably a collision or a stalled car coming up from south gate. Do you need me to
call Namjoon?”

Jeongguk hesitates. The campers had reported a screech and a crunch, and a crunching sound is
never good where automobiles are concerned. “Just to be safe. We don’t know what we’re dealing
with yet, but I’d hate for someone to bleed out in the middle of nowhere on my watch.”

“Such a selfless soul,” Seokjin half-teases. “I’m on it. Give him twenty minutes to get there and
keep me updated as you go. Over and out.”

The smell of burning rubber intensifies as Jeongguk reaches the paved road that leads from south
gate up to Clearwater Lake’s larger campsite. Jeongguk shines his flashlight onto the asphalt before
venturing out into the road.

The trees on both sides of the highway are cut back to form a firebreak on either side, and
Jeongguk is halfway through negotiating his way up the semi-steep slope of the break when he
sees the source of the awful smell.

It’s a car on the other side of the highway, turned upside-down and lying on its roof in the
firebreak. Its back wheels are closest to Jeongguk, and he can’t make out the front end of the
vehicle from here.

“Shit,” Jeongguk curses, adrenaline surging as he bounds up the remaining slope. “Seokjin, it’s an
overturned vehicle. I’m checking for passengers as we speak. Tell Namjoon to hurry the hell up.”

Seokjin’s reply comes quick and after a string of expletives. “Copy that. Don’t attempt to move
anyone you find unless the car looks like it’s about to explode. We don’t want to cause any
additional damage.”

“How exactly can you tell if a car is going to explode?” Jeongguk asks sincerely as his heart
pounds in his ears. His flashlight shines over the tar-black highway as he sprints across its distance.
He can see the half-doughnut tracks seared into the asphalt by the car’s spinning tires as he crosses,
and plumes of black-grey smoke rise from the front end of the vehicle, glinting in the flashlight’s
bright beam.

“I don’t know exactly. Should I call Yoongi and ask?”

Jeongguk reaches the car and coughs as smoke does its best to fill his lungs. “Please. I want to
know when to run.”

“Give me a minute.”
“Hello?” Jeongguk shouts as he comes up alongside the car. He shines his flashlight into the back
windows but is met with nothing more than his reflection in the window. “Is anyone in there?
Hello?”

He rushes to the driver’s side of the car. The door is ajar, which he takes as a good sign, but his
efforts at sweeping the ground with his flashlight yield nothing more than a coffee cup and a
Snickers wrapper. Jeongguk kneels and palms the cup—it’s still hot. Whoever’s been here has been
here recently.

“Seokjin, I don’t see anyone in the car,” he reports back. “I’m going to scope the immediate area
while I wait for Namjoon.” Seokjin doesn’t reply, occupied as he is with dialing search and rescue.

Jeongguk half-jogs half-runs in slowly expanding semi-circles through the surrounding woods. He
can hear his pulse in his ears, hammering away wildly. The acrid smell of smoke burns his lungs
as he moves, but he’s determined to find whoever’s stuck out here. Just as Jeongguk is finishing
his most recent semi-circle, ending a few hundred feet away from the car on the highway, he finds
a shoe.

It’s one of a pair of black Converse a size or two smaller than his own feet. Jeongguk breathes
heavily as he flicks back the tongue. It’s a man’s shoe. “Seokjin, I think our victim is a man,
probably about one-hundred-seventy centimeters. I found a shoe nearby the crash site, and-”

Before he can continue, the car behind him explodes into flames. Jeongguk yelps and scrambles
away on all fours before he can be hit by any projectiles the car hurls his way. The heat of the fire
burns the back of his neck even at his distance, and Jeongguk looks back in horror to get a glimpse
of what’s happened.

The hood of the car is engulfed in flames that lick onto the grass of the firebreak. It’s not a large
fire, but it’s burning brightly. It’s been a dry season so far, and Jeongguk knows that they’re about
to have one hell of a forest fire on their hands if it’s not put out immediately.

“Yoongi says that if you can see smoke, the car is most likely going to catch on fire,” Seokjin’s
voice says a bit too late. “He says you should turn off the engine and pop—but not open—the
hood.”

“Fucking hell oh crap oh god,” Jeongguk curses. “Seokjin, we need fire services out here now. The
car’s on fire.”

“What?!” Seokjin yelps in a panic. “Oh shit. Okay. Give me a minute.”

Jeongguk rushes to his feet and sprints towards the car. The fire under the hood is pretty isolated,
but the heat of it singes the hairs along Jeongguk’s arms as he approaches. There’s a voice in the
back of his head that tells him that what he’s doing is unbelievably stupid and reckless, but
Jeongguk pushes it away in favor of ducking into the driver’s side.

The keys are thankfully still in the ignition, and Jeongguk clicks the car off with a determined flick
of his wrist. He reaches up, fingers fumbling to find the switch to pop the car’s hood and struggling
to find it while the car’s upside down. A mechanical ‘clunk’ tells him that he’s found it, and
Jeongguk scrambles out of the vehicle in the next second.

“Car’s off and the hood is popped,” Jeongguk heaves into the receiver of his walkie. He watches as
the grass catches flame around the hood and slowly creeps the fire towards the tree line. “What do
I do now? The fire’s moving already!”
“Just keep looking for the driver. Don’t try to put it out, Jeongguk, I mean it. Fire services are five
minutes out, and you’re no use to anyone dead,” Seokjin warns, voice pitched low with worry.

Jeongguk swallows hard. His skin itches, and he feels like he should be doing something more than
just watching as the fire engulfs the firebreak, but he forces himself to turn around and keep
moving. “Okay. Okay. Will do.” A small, thin wail from further south tells Jeongguk that
Namjoon’s ambulance is ricocheting up the road at breakneck speed.

He turns around to watch as the red-blue lights fling multicolored shadows along the pitch-black
canopy of trees, mouth half-opened to tell Seokjin that Namjoon has arrived when he sees the
driver of the vehicle, lying face-down in the middle of the road.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk half-yells, turning on his heel and sprinting back the way he came. It’s no
wonder he didn’t see the man when he first emerged from the opposite side of the woods. He’s
small, and the all-black ensemble he’s wearing makes him nearly invisible to the naked eye under
the cover of darkness.

The lights from Namjoon’s ambulance shoot closer and closer, and all Jeongguk can really think as
he kneels in the middle of the road by the prone man is that it’d be really ironic to be killed by an
incoming ambulance.

“Hey, hello, can you hear me?!” Jeongguk shouts to be heard over the increasingly-loud cacophony
of the approaching sirens. “Sir, can you hear me?”

The man doesn’t move or give any indication of being awake. Jeongguk spots a small puddle of
blood creeping out from underneath the man’s head.

What do I do? Jeongguk thinks wildly, mind racing in time with his pounding heart. You’re not
supposed to move a possible head injury, he reminds himself, risking a glance up at the road to his
right. Namjoon’s ambulance is only a quarter-mile away. But becoming roadkill doesn’t sound so
good either.

Jeongguk looks desperately down at the man’s body. “Oh, man,” he bitches to himself. “If I die
trying to keep you from becoming a paraplegic, I’m going to murder you.” Jeongguk rises and turns
on his heel, looking angrily down at the man. “Don’t make me regret this!” he yells as he throws
himself into the road directly in front of Namjoon’s incoming ambulance, flashlight in hand.

He waves the flashlight on the ground frantically, jumping up and down and shouting at the top of
his lungs. “Hey!” Jeongguk screams himself hoarse, “Namjoon, stop!”

“What’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice carries over the noise. “Jeongguk? Are you okay?
Jeongguk?”

The lights are blinding by now, and Jeongguk can’t tell if the car is speeding up or slowing down,
but he holds his ground. Please don’t kill me, Jeongguk half-prays and closes his eyes against the
light so that he doesn’t have to meet his death with eyes wide open.

He hears the ambulance come screeching to a stop several heartbeats later, only daring to open his
eyes once he’s sufficiently reassured himself that he’s still alive and breathing. The ambulance has
stopped only a few inches from Jeongguk’s feet.

Jeongguk feels like throwing up as Namjoon clambers out of the car, dyed-white hair shining in the
darkness. “Jeongguk?” Namjoon shouts, clearly upset. “What the hell are you doing? I could’ve
killed you!”
 Small black dots appear in Jeongguk’s vision as the accumulated adrenaline starts to ebb away. He
falls to his knees in the darkness and takes deep breaths, vowing to never try and be a good
Samaritan again in his life.

“Jeongguk?” Namjoon calls again, more worried this time.

“Jeongguk?” Seokjin echoes from the radio.

The Jeongguk in question only falls onto his backside, turns his head to look at the still-prone form
of the man he’d just saved, and wheezes, “You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

A moment later, as the world swims in front of him from smoke inhalation and a lack of oxygen, he
adds, “And I’m going to pass out now.”

And Jeongguk falls to the ground and has one of the most restful sleeps of his life, right out there
on the highway next to a burning car and a bloody body.

Chapter End Notes

"Ash stop making your characters faint" challenge FAIL

Anyway I hope you enjoyed! Chapter 2 coming next week. In the meantime, please be
nice to me because a 6 year old gave me COVID and I am one cough away from
passing out.

ANYWAY happy halloween!!

-Ash
*cough*
 Spark
Chapter Notes

The other night, I had a dream that Machine Gun Kelly was a literal horse, and the two
of us were competing in a rodeo together. We won. If you're wondering why this is
relevant, it's just to give you a little insight into my headspace this last week.
Hopefully that explains why I almost forgot to post today. Monday posts fuck me up
man. :)

ANYWAY, here's chapter two! I'm in love with this Jeongguk, if that isn't clear. I love
torturing my main characters. I love making them go off the rails. Man I really like 80s
forest horror.

ENJOY

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“How’re you feeling?” Namjoon asks as Jeongguk starts to come around. “You smacked your head
on the asphalt pretty good.”

Truth be told, Jeongguk feels better than he has in weeks. Who knew that all he needed in order to
get a full night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep was to save a dying man from impending vehicular
manslaughter?

Jeongguk cracks open his eyes, wincing against the harsh fluorescent lights in Namjoon’s medical
bay. He licks his lips and looks around—everything in here looks the same as it always has. The
walls are that particular shade of blue that doctors worldwide decided was the soothing color for
patients, and there are several medical cots separated by thin white linen curtains. Currently,
Jeongguk is alone in the room apart from Namjoon, who sits with a furrowed brow on the brown
leather chair next to Jeongguk’s bed.

“Never better,” Jeongguk croaks out in a voice like gravel. Namjoon instinctively reaches for the
cup of ice chips on the side table. Jeongguk accepts them gratefully. “How long was I out?”

Namjoon takes a deep inhale and rubs his hand along his lips thoughtfully. He shakes his head and
looks up under his lashes. “Three years,” he says solemnly. “You’ve been in a coma for three
years.”

It takes a second for Jeongguk’s brain to register the humor. “Then how come you still look like
that?” Jeongguk teases weakly, playing along. “Don’t tell me that you still think platinum hair was
a good choice after three years.”

“It is a good choice. Seokjin says so. Shut up and eat your ice chips.”
“Seokjin will say anything to try and convince you to let him take you to dinner,” Jeongguk says
with a roll of his eyes. He winces at the slight pain that it shoots through his skull.

Namjoon, the ever-perfect physician, notices immediately and produces a painkiller from his front
white pocket. “As if,” he mutters, but Jeongguk sees the way the tips of his ears pink up. Namjoon
clears his throat and awkwardly segues, “So you should be all good to go pretty soon. There’s
nothing wrong with you apart from bad judgement and some minor smoke inhalation. I gave you
some oxygen while you were sleeping and monitored you already. You’re in the clear.”

“That explains the sore throat at least,” Jeongguk hums. He rubs at his neck absently.

“Well, that and the fact that you snore like an elephant.” Namjoon nods sagely when Jeongguk
shoots him an incredulous look. “Oh, yeah, buddy. Loud enough to wake up every animal in the
surrounding woods for a mile. The walls were shaking.”

Embarrassment surges through Jeongguk, white-hot. He’s never shared a bed with anyone long
enough for them to tell him about his sleeping habits. Subconsciously, he makes a note to ask for
something to help with his snoring in the next supply drop.

Jeongguk clears his throat. “What happened to the guy?”

Blinking, Namjoon asks, “What guy?”

“The guy that was lying in the middle of the road with me.” Jeongguk frowns as Namjoon’s face
remains blank. “Hello? The literal man who was lying in a pool of his own blood a few hours ago?
Is this ringing a bell?”

The color drains from Namjoon’s face. He reaches over and takes Jeongguk’s free hand, pressing it
comfortingly as he says, “Jeongguk, you were alone on the highway when I found you.”

“What?” Jeongguk half-exclaims, heart ratcheting up a notch. “No, I swear to god he was there,
and-” Jeongguk stops when he catches sight of Namjoon’s smothered grin. He wrenches his hand
free from Namjoon’s grip and reaches his hand into his paper cup to lob an ice chip at Namjoon’s
head.

Snickering, Namjoon ducks out of the way and comes to his feet. “God, you’re so easy ,” he laughs
merrily. “But yes, he’s stable for now. He hasn’t woken up yet, but he doesn’t seem to have
suffered anything but a minor laceration to his scalp. He might have a small concussion and some
bruised ribs, but that’s the worst of the damage. He’s in for a hell of a headache, though.”

A relieved sigh works its way past Jeongguk’s lips. At least his trip through the midnight forest
hadn’t been for nothing. He’d managed to do something right. “That’s good,” Jeongguk says.
“Where is he?” He gestures around to the empty cots surrounding him.

“He’s still in the exam room,” Namjoon says. He checks his watch, a nervous habit of his,
acquired while working as a neurosurgeon back in Seoul. Jeongguk has never asked what made
Namjoon decide to quit his prestigious job for a life secluded in the woods, and Namjoon’s never
seemed to want to talk about it, so they both just leave it be. “Do you want to see him?”

“Sure. Help me up?” Jeongguk sets the cup back down on the small table near the head of his bed
and swings his legs over the side of the cot. He’s surprised to see that he still has his shoes and
gear on. “What, did you just pick me up and throw me on a bed, hoping for the best?” he jokes,
taking Namjoon’s offered hand.

With a derisive snort, Namjoon retorts, “ You try moving a grown man’s unconscious body. You’re
practically made of lead. Besides, I knew you were fine. You’ve got a thick head if nothing else.”

“God, the bedside manner here is atrocious .” Jeongguk leans heavily on Namjoon in retribution
even though his legs are perfectly fine. Namjoon shoulders Jeongguk’s weight like it’s nothing at
all—further proving Jeongguk’s assumption that Namjoon is a lying snake—and guides them out
of the door and into the hallway.

Jeongguk has only been to the medical center a few times: once a few years back to get some
poison ivy treated, again two days later for the same condition, and once to get his pinky finger
reset after he’d fallen from a small cliff. Even though it’s been a while, the interior looks the same
as it always has.

The floors are standard hospital linoleum, but the hallway walls are the same polished wood as the
exterior of the building, lending the center more of a cozy cabin aesthetic than a doctor’s office.
There’s a little gurney parked in the hallway by the abandoned receptionist’s desk, and light
streams in through the double glass doors on the other end of the hallway.

“Hoseok’s not in yet?” Jeongguk asks as they turn away from the doors and head to the back of the
hospital.

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s five in the morning. He’s not due for another hour or so,” he says
conversationally. “I heard he may need to smuggle in some more animal crackers for Seokjin
though, huh?”

“That was all Taehyung. I played no part in the thievery,” Jeongguk defends. “And when did you
have the time to talk to Seokjin?”

Color rises up Namjoon’s neck. “That’s not important. Shut up.”

“He likes you. He loves you,” Jeongguk singsongs.

“You know, I was going to say how good it was to see you again, but I find myself wondering why
I’ve ever considered you one of my friends. You’re kind of an asshole.” Namjoon turns them to the
right and into another corridor lined with darker wood doors.

Jeongguk half-shrugs and takes his weight off of Namjoon. “I’ve got a rakish sort of charm. That
must be it.”

“Or an over-inflated sense of self-confidence.”

“Or that.”

Namjoon stops them in front of one of the doors. He checks the clipboard hung up on a peg near
the doorframe and nods. “Head laceration and mild concussion. That’s our guy,” he says. Namjoon
pushes the door open and peeks his head in, withdrawing a moment later. “You can go on in and
see him if you like. He’s still not awake.”

“Where are you going?” Jeongguk asks as Namjoon starts to head back down the hall. “You don’t
want to spend any more time with me?”

“I’m going to check my appointment book to make our next session official,” Namjoon calls as he
turns the corner. “Now that I’ve got you here, we’re hammering out some plans.”

A frown downturns Jeongguk’s lips, but he doesn’t protest. It’s not like he can change Namjoon’s
mind. So Jeongguk decides to sulk a little while later and shoulders the door open.
The blinds on the rectangular windows are drawn, and the inside of the room is dark except for a
small bedside lamp clicked on. The man lies on a cot in the middle of the room with an I.V.
running out of the back of his left hand. He’s got a small bandage plastered to one of his temples
and is pretty pale but doesn’t look too much worse for wear.

“You really lucked out, huh?” Jeongguk says conversationally. He pulls up a rollie doctor’s chair
and takes a seat, scooting closer to the man’s side. “Nothing more than a mild concussion and
some bruised ribs. You could have died, sir.”

The man doesn’t answer. His chest rises and falls rhythmically under the blue-patterned hospital
gown and bedsheet combo.

Jeongguk nods as though the man’s spoken. “You did lose a shoe, that’s right. I got it for you
though, so you should be alright to walk out of here.” He looks around the room thoughtfully. “I
wonder where it went.”

He spots a pile of neatly-folded clothes on the sideboard on the wall across from him. A pair of
Converse are lined up neatly between the chair legs, ready for the man to put on at a moment’s
notice. Jeongguk rolls on over, struck by the thought that the man might have a wallet somewhere
in his belongings.

Jeongguk rummages briefly through the man’s hoodie and jeans, but he doesn’t find anything until
he sticks his hand inside of the man’s thin black t-shirt. There, sewn into the inside of the fabric, is
a small pocket. Something hard and plastic is inside; Jeongguk plucks it out and sets the shirt
down.

It’s a photo ID. Jeongguk glances back at the man on the bed. “Weird hiding place for
identification. I really hope I didn’t save a crazed murderer tonight.” When the man still doesn’t
reply, Jeongguk turns his attention back to the ID in front of him.

“Park Jimin, huh,” Jeongguk mutters to himself. A remarkably good photograph of the man stares
back at him from the ID. The man— Jimin , Jeongguk corrects—is one-seventy-four centimeters,
brown-eyed, and brown-haired. He’s also remarkably pretty, current injuries notwithstanding.

“I gotta say, you’re kind of a looker,” Jeongguk hums, wrinkling his nose at himself a moment
later. “Feels weird to compliment a comatose body,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Well, Mr. Park Jimin, if that is your real name, I’ll be borrowing your ID. Don’t worry, Namjoon
will have it up at the front desk, and you’ll have it back in no time.” Jeongguk glides smoothly
back over to the doorway and rises. “I’ll come check in on you again later, okay? Don’t do
anything overtly exciting in my absence.”

Park Jimin, the patient with a head laceration and a mild concussion, doesn’t reply.

“Good talk.”

“Did he wake up?” Namjoon asks when he sees Jeongguk come towards the reception desk.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Nah. But I did find his ID. Park Jimin, twenty-seven, one-seventy-four
centimeters. He’s also an organ donor.”

“You planning on harvesting anything for yourself?” Namjoon jokes as he takes the card. “Thanks
for this. I’ll try to pull up records.”

Nodding, Jeongguk shoves his hands into his pajama bottom pockets and nods to the doorway.
“Sure thing. I’ll come back tomorrow to check in on him. See you, hyung.”

Namjoon springs out from behind the reception desk with remarkable agility, business card in
hand. “Not so fast,” he says, sliding the card into Jeongguk’s palm. “You’re not getting out of our
sessions. I made one for next week and a recurring one after. If you don’t come, I’ll sic Hoseok on
you.”

“Hyung-”

“No excuses,” Namjoon says firmly. He claps a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder and squeezes.
“Okay? No excuses.”

Jeongguk suppresses a sigh and plasters on an overly-bright smile. “Sure thing, hyung,” he chirps,
slipping out the glass doors and into the quiet comfort of the early morning forest beyond.

It’s midmorning by the time Jeongguk gets all the way back to his tower. The climb up the stairs
has never felt like more of a burden, but he pushes through with remarkable endurance. Jeongguk
huffs and puffs his way into his small room and collapses onto the chair by the desk, hoping
against hope that Taehyung hasn’t been watching his tower like a hawk.

His prayers go unanswered, because Taehyung’s voice chirps over the radio a moment later, “So?
How’d your midnight escapade go? Don’t make that face at me. I’m asking because I care. And
I’m nosy.”

“God, what kind of binoculars are you using?” Jeongguk harrumphs right back. He tilts forward
and squints through his own set of binoculars, but even with his perfect vision, he can’t make out
more than a shadowy shape in Taehyung’s tower.

“A good magician never reveals his secrets.” Taehyung’s shadow moves to and fro in his tower as
though he’s pacing. “So? What’s the guy like?”

Jeongguk rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “He’s still asleep. When I
found him, he was passed out in the middle of the road. Namjoon almost ran the both of us over.”

“So I heard. Seokjin told me,” Taehyung hums. “Do you know anything about who he is?”

“Not much. His name’s Park Jimin, but that’s about all I can get out of his driver’s license. Oh, and
he’s an organ donor.”

Taehyung makes an appreciative noise. “Perfect for my black-market organ ring. I was in need of
a kidney or two.”

A begrudging laugh escapes Jeongguk’s throat. “I never know if you’re joking when you say
things like that.”

“And you never will. So I guess your distinct lack of information about Park Jimin means that you
didn’t find out how he ended up out here, huh?” Taehyung asks.

“Not so much.” Jeongguk pauses, furrowing his brow. “You know what—it’s strange. His car was
headed up north like he was en route to Clearwater Lake, but he didn’t have anything in his car.”

Taehyung grunts. “Nothing at all? Not even a sleeping bag?”

“No. I’m sure of it. Actually, there wasn’t even anything on him to suggest that he should’ve been
in the forest at all. He drove in wearing jeans and converse.” Now that Jeongguk truly thinks about
it, it is rather odd for someone so ill-prepared to strike out into the forest to come so far north.

“Maybe he’s a first-timer. He could’ve been heading up to the general store in Clearwater, you
know. They sell camping supplies there,” Taehyung suggests helpfully.

It’s possible, but the explanation sits strangely in Jeongguk’s chest. He twirls his pen between his
fingers nervously. “I guess.”

“You’ll get the full story next time you go back to see him. And we’ll place bets on whether or not
you were right. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Taehyung’s blinds close in the distance. “I’ll let you go now. Take a nap or something—who knows
if Seokjin has another late-night adventure planned for you. Over and out.”

Jeongguk puts the radio down, but he’s suddenly wide awake. There are few things in this life that
Jeongguk would consider himself truly good at, but reading people is definitely one of them. It’s
his intuition that’s kept him alive so far, and it’s his intuition that’s now whispering to him that
there’s something not-quite-right about Jimin’s sudden appearance in the forest.

He doesn’t have enough information to even begin exploring the possibilities, but as Jeongguk
leans back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling, he’s absolutely certain of at least one thing—
Park Jimin was not supposed to be in the forest last night.

Two days later sees Jeongguk back at Namjoon’s medical pavilion. It’s late in the afternoon when
Jeongguk arrives at the polished-wood building and he’s already dreading the hike back to his
tower in the near-darkness. He would’ve come earlier today—or yesterday, preferably—but there’s
only so much shirking of his duties that he can get away with. He’d been called out to shoo some
curious hikers out of a wildlife preserve spot and then all the way to the eastern edge of the forest
to steer some lost travelers back on the right path to south gate.

So instead of sitting and luxuriating back at his camp, hanging his damp clothes out to dry and
whistling tunes softly under his breath into the darkening sky, Jeongguk is all the way down south,
sweating bullets. It’s unseasonably and unreasonably hot today, and by the time Jeongguk’s hit
with the cold blast of air piped into the hospital, he’s about ready to melt into a puddle on the
floor.

Hoseok sits behind the desk when Jeongguk stumbles into the room, greeting him with a smile and
a jaunty wave. “Hard hike?” Hoseok calls by way of greeting. He bends to reach under the small
desk and emerges with a bottle of water that he lobs Jeongguk’s way.

Jeongguk nearly catches it with his face but shoots a hand up just in time to prevent serious
damage. He guzzles half of the bottle before responding. “Made harder by almost being killed by a
water bottle. Have you been working out? You nearly took my head off.”

“Wuss,” Hoseok grins. He looks down at the manilla folder stack in front of him for a moment and
reaches for a pen inside the front pocket of his blue scrub top. “You must be here to see Jimin.
Namjoon told me you might swing by.”

Nodding, Jeongguk walks over to the desk. “Is he awake yet?” he asks, peering down over onto
Hoseok’s side to get a better look at the patient file. He manages to make out the phrase ‘Awake
and responsive’ in Namjoon’s chicken scratch before Hoseok slams his palms face down over the
folder.

“Hey! Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?” Hoseok huffs, flicking his slightly-overgrown

auburn hair out of his eyes. “I know that Namjoon’s told you the basics, but we’re supposed to at
least pretend to care about patient privacy over here.”

Jeongguk nods sagely. “So he’s awake. Thanks, Hoseok!” As Jeongguk heads down the hall to
Jimin’s private room, he hears Hoseok yelling after him to at least sign the visitor’s sheet.
Jeongguk just figures he’ll sign it afterwards—it’s not like the clinic gets more than ten patients a
week. He’s almost certain that Jimin is alone in the ward right now.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be in-office right now. Jeongguk catches sight of his white coat hung up
on a peg at the opposite end of the hall and figures he’s probably out on his daily nature hike.
Perfect, Jeongguk thinks. It’ll give him time to talk to Jimin one-on-one.

It’s probably a little inappropriate what he’s doing, and definitely something he should clear with
Namjoon before attempting, but hey, Jeongguk is already standing outside of Jimin’s door before
his common sense kicks in. He knocks twice and pushes the door open tentatively.

The inside of the room is largely the same, though the blinds have been rolled up to let in the
afternoon sunlight. It soaks into the room in thick golden rays to drench the opposite wall in light.
Jimin sits upright in the cot, staring out the window at the woods beyond, unmoving.

“Hello,” Jeongguk says tentatively as he closes the door behind him. “You’re Park Jimin, right?”

Jimin jumps a little bit like he’d been too absorbed in his thoughts to notice Jeongguk’s entrance
and swivels his head around. Jeongguk is immediately taken aback. If Jimin was a looker while
unconscious, he’s a stunner when awake. Even bruised and bandaged, there’s something about the
way he moves that’s entrancing.

Jeongguk swallows and forces himself to not immediately start nervously chattering as wide,
honey-brown eyes land on Jeongguk with a notable amount of suspicion. “Who wants to know?”
Jimin croaks out hoarsely.

The corner of Jeongguk’s mouth ticks upward. He plunks down on the swivel chair in the room
and scoots to the edge of Jimin’s bed before saying casually, “The guy who saved your life.”
Surprised confusion overtakes Jimin’s face, and his mouth drops open as Jeongguk sticks out a
hand and introduces himself. “Jeon Jeongguk. It’s nice to meet you now that you’re awake and not
bleeding out on the asphalt.”

Jimin blinks. “Bleeding out…?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“Yeah. From your car crash,” Jeongguk explains. He gestures out at the trees beyond the window’s
paned glass. “Two nights ago. I found you in the middle of the road and kept you from being run
over.”

Jeongguk watches as Jimin’s expression changes from complete confusion to the beginnings of
shock. His eyebrows draw up and together, and Jimin’s hands clench where they’re lying on the
bedsheet. “Is that what happened?” he asks carefully. “I- I don’t remember any of that.”

“You… don’t?” Jeongguk cocks his head to the side. Mild concussion, Namjoon has said.
Jeongguk isn’t really sure if memory loss is a common side effect of being concussed, but it’s
probably not a good thing. “I’m sorry. I- Didn’t Namj- Er… Dr. Kim talk to you yet?”

Jimin nods, visibly relieved to recognize a name. “He did, but he only told me that I’d been in an
accident. He was supposed to come back to run some tests. Are you another nurse?”

Regret washes down the back of Jeongguk’s spine as he realizes that he’s really not supposed to be
here without Namjoon knowing right now. It’s likely that Namjoon left without telling Hoseok that
Jimin wasn’t allowed visitors quite yet, and now Jeongguk is left with the task of trying to figure
out how to carefully extricate himself without Namjoon ever finding out he was here at all.

“I see. That’s—Alright. I see,” Jeongguk stammers as he rises from the swivel chair and kicks it
back across the room. “I’m… sure Namjoon will be back soon and will fill you in on all the
details. I should really, uh… be going. And if you could just never mention to Dr. Kim that I was
here at all, I’d really appreciate it.”

He turns to run out the door and to the receptionist’s desk to bribe Hoseok to not rat him out when
his hand is gripped by Jimin’s. Startled, Jeongguk casts a glance over his shoulder at Jimin.

“Thanks,” Jimin mutters sheepishly, “For saving me. Even if I don’t remember, I’m grateful.” He
squeezes Jeongguk’s hand, fingers soft and determined on the flesh of his palm, and Jeongguk is
suddenly finding it hard to string words together.

“Uh-huh, anytime,” Jeongguk babbles. He detaches Jimin’s hand from his own and drops it onto
the bed. “Take care of yourself, Jimin. I’ll come say hello again before you’re discharged if you
want, and, oh! Remember what we talked about. Not a word to Dr. Kim, okay?”

Jeongguk leaves a very confused-looking Jimin sitting bolt upright in bed. He rushes out of the
room, slams the door behind him, and hightails it back out to the reception area. So he doesn’t
remember anything , Jeongguk thinks, what part of that has to do with a mild concussion?
Something about the whole situation doesn’t feel right, but Jeongguk is nowhere close to a medical
professional, so he lets it go.

He doesn’t notice that Namjoon is back until he’s run smack into him in the reception area.
Namjoon stands stalk still wearing a look of disapproval so poignant it makes the hairs on the back
of Jeongguk’s neck stand on end.

“Decided to let yourself in, then?” Namjoon asks, ticking up his eyebrow.

Jeongguk nervously juts his thumb back towards Jimin’s room. “Oh, him? I was just… Saying hi.”

“Uh-huh,” Namjoon tuts critically. “I should probably rat you out to Seokjin.”

“It’s partly my fault,” Hoseok interjects, rising from his receptionist’s chair, “I wasn’t aware that
Jimin hadn’t been briefed yet. You can rat us both out if that helps.”

Jeongguk realizes right then and there how Hoseok is really too good for this world. Thankfully,
Namjoon’s expression softens a bit, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “This can’t happen again, is that
clear? You want to see him, you go through me first,” Namjoon says. He points his forefinger at
Jeongguk menacingly.

“Okay. That’s fair. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for telling him about his accident,” Jeongguk
apologizes and sheepishly pushes his hair out of his eyes.

Namjoon’s own eyes bulge. “You what?”

“Nothing!” Jeongguk half-shrieks, ducking out of Namjoon’s hand that swipes to grab his collar, “I
didn’t tell him anything—ask Jimin!”

“One of these days, Jeongguk, I’m going to throw you off of the top of your tower. But right now,
I’m going to go and fix your mess,” Namjoon bitches as he heads down the hallway. He disappears
around the bend, and Jeongguk wrinkles his nose apologetically.

Hoseok catches sight of his discomfort. He reaches across the desk and puts a comforting hand on
Jeongguk’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassures. “Namjoon isn’t one to hold a
grudge. Just keep your head down for a day or two.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeongguk grumbles. He’d played it off, but he still feels a little seed of shame
burning away in the pit of his stomach. Disappointing Namjoon leaves him with a metallic taste in
his mouth. “Tell me when it’s safe to visit again, okay?”

Hoseok offers a nod and a sympathetic smile. “Will do. Oh, and take a registration form for next
week’s training camp,” Hoseok says while thrusting a bright yellow half-sheet of paper in
Jeongguk’s direction. “All the rangers and fire-watchers from the area are coming down again. It’ll
be fun! And there’s free food just in case the prospect of meeting a ton of new people isn’t
enticing.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Jeongguk snags the flyer and offers a two-finger salute to Hoseok. “I’ll see you
there.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know why he does it—he really doesn’t. In fact, when someone asks Jeongguk
why he did it many years later at a reunion, his answer is still a shrug and a “who knows?”

But on the way back to his tower from visiting Jimin, Jeongguk decides to head towards
Clearwater Lake. His feet move faster than his brain, and before Jeongguk knows it, he’s retracing
his steps to the site of Jimin’s accident.

He knows in the back of his head that Jimin’s car is probably still there. It’d take a tow truck at
least a few days to come up from the city several dozen miles out, and Jeongguk’s willing to bet
that they haven’t towed it yet. So Jeongguk’s heart thuds faster in his chest as he pushes his way
out of the tree line and into the firebreak on the east side of the highway.

Jeongguk skids down into the gulley and crawls up on his hands and knees to come to a halt on the
sun-scorched highway. “Where are you?” he mumbles under his breath, shading his eyes under the
setting western sun as he looks up and down the stretch of abandoned road.

It takes a while for Jeongguk to spot the wreckage. It’s about a half a mile north of where he’s
standing. Jeongguk hikes his pack higher up on his shoulders and starts the trek. He’s mentally
going through a list of what supplies he needs to put in requests for—maybe another bag of cookies
for Seokjin, and maybe an extra one for Jimin—when he sees a shape moving in the hazy half-
light.

It’s a person. They circle the car like a vulture, peeking in through the windows and ducking to
look under the up-turned hood.

And maybe Jeongguk has watched too many spy thrillers in his life because he immediately skids
down into the firebreak on his right until he’s hidden from view from the road. As his heartbeat
pounds in his ears, Jeongguk fumbles with the zipper on his pack to pull out his set of binoculars.
Quietly as he can, Jeongguk peeks his head up over the lip of the firebreak and peers through the
equipment.

It’s definitely a person, clad in a bulky, black hoodie, a mask, and a black baseball cap with a hood
pulled over it. They move jerkily, like they’re nervous as they look. The car is still unlocked, and
the person shoves halfway into the driver’s side to rummage around.

“What’re you looking for?” Jeongguk breathes. His grip on the binoculars tightens as his palms
start to sweat—because he knew it. He fucking knew that there was something weird about this
whole situation, and it’s damn nice to know that his intuition hasn’t led him astray this time either.

The person emerges from the car empty-handed and is in the process of moving to the other side of
the car. Afraid of losing his visual, Jeongguk subtly adjusts his stance in the firebreak. At least, he
tries to subtly adjust. Instead, his hiking boot slips over a particularly smooth branch, and Jeongguk
goes colliding chest-first with the grassy wall of the break. His binoculars go clattering several feet
out onto the open road faster than he can catch them, and the noise echoes like a diesel freighter in
the forest’s calm silence.

For several moments, Jeongguk doesn’t dare move. He’s torn between immediately rushing up the
slope and chasing the stalker down and the actual reality that he doesn’t know if the person
hanging around is armed, dangerous, or both.

In the end, the decision is made for him. He hears the sound of footsteps rushing towards him from
the crash site and holds his breath. The steps pass right by him, briefly pausing directly above his
hiding place before carrying on hurriedly.

Jeongguk cranes his neck over the edge of the break as the footsteps die off in the distance, but the
person is already gone. A look at the road confirms that his binoculars are gone too. “Shit,”
Jeongguk curses as he clambers up onto the road. Those were his only binoculars—he’ll have to
beg Seokjin to ship him some new ones.

“Prick!” Jeongguk can’t help but shout at the forest surrounding him even though he knows it’s
probably a bad idea.

He turns back to Jimin’s wrecked car. Whoever’d tried to loot the car clearly had a reason for
being there, and last Jeongguk saw, they left empty-handed which means there’s a fair chance that
whatever they’d been looking for is still there.

Jeongguk darts quick glances over his shoulder as he jogs to the car. Adrenaline has broken his
skin out in goosebumps, and he has a feeling that the woods are watching him. It’s idiotic, but the
dying light casts everything with an eerie shadow, and Jeongguk doesn’t want to have to be out
here playing amateur detective longer than he has to.
Which reminds him—

“Seokjin, do you copy?” he says into his walkie.

A beat, and then: “I copy. What’s up?”

“I’m at Jimin’s crash site from the other day, and I saw someone trying to loot the car.” Jeongguk
walks up to the half-burned wreckage and pauses. “I just wanted to let you know where I am. Just
in case.”

“’Just in case’? Did you run into a serial killer out there?” Seokjin jokes, but there’s a bit of worry
coloring his voice.

Jeongguk half-laughs. “Possibly. I didn’t get a good look at them, but they were acting really
suspicious. I think we should keep an eye on this whole thing.”

“Good thinking,” Seokjin agrees. “And thanks for giving me your location. Stay safe out there and
let me know when you get back to your tower.”

“Roger. Over and out.” Jeongguk clicks the walkie back onto his belt. There, he thinks, at least if I
die out here, someone will know what happened to me. Jeongguk isn’t about to let himself become
one of those awful horror movie protagonists that audiences are always screaming at to ‘hurry the
fuck up and run!’.

Jeongguk decides it’s time to hurry the fuck up and get out of there. He makes quick work of
checking the ground surrounding the car—like two nights ago, he isn’t able to find anything apart
from charred grass and little bits of glass and plastic.

He ducks his head inside the passenger’s side door and casts a look around. The inside of
someone’s car says a lot about them, and right now, Jimin’s car is speaking volumes. It’s
practically empty. There’s no trash, no personal mementos—nothing at all. It almost looks like this
car is a rental; it looks like the type of car that someone who’s running at full speed would take.

Further inspection of the glovebox reveals nothing. There’s not even a registration sheet tucked
into the owner’s manual. But the person had to have been looking for something , and Jeongguk
isn’t about to leave before he finds it.

Just as Jeongguk is about to look uselessly around at the ground again, he catches sight of a piece
of laminated plastic lodged on the underside of the shotgun seat. With a self-satisfied grunt,
Jeongguk reaches down and tugs as hard as he can. The plastic is caught pretty good, but relentless
pressure dislodges it in a few seconds.

“Huh.” Jeongguk looks at the picture staring up at him. It’s another identification card—not a
driver’s license and not governmentally issued though. The top of the card reads ‘ARABESQUE
STUDIOS’, and the bottom of the card reads ‘Coach; Manager; Personal Trainer’. In between the
two lines of text is a photo of Park Jimin. He beams up from the plastic card at the viewer.

Jeongguk is thoroughly baffled. “Arabesque Studios,” he mutters. It sounds like either a dance
academy or a theatre troupe, and Jeongguk isn’t sure which is worse. “Why would somebody want
this?” He turns the ID card contemplatively over in his hand and sucks in a breath through his
teeth.

Because on the opposite, blank side of the card is a half-written note. The message is smudged and
in the scrawl of someone who’d been hurrying. It says:
Mom—

I’m not planning on coming home.

You don’t know everything about

The card cuts off there. There’s a smudge after the final word, possibly a name or a place, but
Jeongguk can’t make it out. But it’s clear that this is definitely what the thief had been looking for.

The sound of a twig snapping in the nearby forest pulls Jeongguk out of his stunned silence and
ricochets him quite cruelly back into his present situation. Jeongguk doesn’t waste a minute turning
on his flashlight to look around or shout out a useless ‘Hello?’ into the darkness.

Instead, he turns on his heel and books it all the way back to his tower, heartbeat slamming in his
throat all the way.

Darkness falls the next night as Jeongguk sits up in his tower. He’s lying down on his pallet bed
and staring up at the ceiling while Seokjin yells in his ear.

“Do you know how expensive those binoculars are?” he screeches through the receiver.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Jeongguk replies wryly. “And hey—it’s not exactly my fault that I lost
them! They were stolen . By the same guy who’s chasing after Jimin, apparently.”

Seokjin makes a reluctant noise of sympathy. “Fine. But this is your last pair, okay?” There’s a
brief pause, during which Seokjin presumably fills out a request for a new set of binoculars in the
next supply drop, and then he comes crackling back over the line. “Did you report what happened
to the ranger’s station at south gate?”

Jeongguk nods to himself. “Yeah. They said they’d keep a closer watch on tourists moving in and
out to try and catch the guy.” Jeongguk doesn’t particularly enjoy having to speak with the rangers
down at the gate. They’re the only forestry workers who are allowed to carry weapons, and they
always walk with swagger and act like they’re god’s gift to the forestry service.

“Well, that’s good at least. I told Namjoon about what you found. He said to bring the ID by for
Jimin to take a look at sometime next week. He thinks it might jog his memory a bit,” Seokjin says.

Jeongguk pushes himself to sit up against the headboard, suddenly interested. It’s been a while
since he’s heard any update about Jimin. Jeongguk tells himself that it’s basic curiosity and not at
all to do with the fact that he saw through space and time when Jimin grabbed his hand the other
day. “Oh, yeah? So Jimin’s memory still hasn’t come back, huh?”

“I see your attempt to pump me for information about Jimin, and I applaud your confidence, but
you should know that Namjoon doesn’t actually tell me anything medically important about him,”
Seokjin laughs. “Unlike you, he’s pretty strict about the patient confidentiality thing.”
“It was an honest mistake!” Jeongguk protests hotly. His cheeks heat up, and Jeongguk presses the
back of his hand against them to cool them down.

“What was an honest mistake?” Taehyung’s voice pipes into the conversation. He sounds sleepy
—reasonably so, Jeongguk thinks. The west end of the forest has been booming these last few days,
and Taehyung has barely had time to sit in his tower and stalk Jeongguk in between all of the
broken-up bonfires and firework shows.

“Jeongguk’s blatant disregard for medical best practice in his haste to make a good impression on
Jimin,” Seokjin explains helpfully. “He’s got a crush on him.”

Jeongguk sputters and chokes. “I do not!”

“Ah, I see,” Taehyung grunts with a yawn. “It’s probably for the best though. It’s been ages since
Jeongguk’s dared to look at another human man.”

As much as Jeongguk would like to reach through the receiver and throttle Taehyung with his bare
hands, he can’t help but admit that it’s at least partially true. It’s been several years since
Jeongguk’s met anybody he’s been moderately interested in and longer than that since he’s
actually gone on a date.

Romantic prospects are pretty slim when Jeongguk spends all year stuck in a forest. Not many
people are willing to drive into a forest and hike up a trail to go on a lunch picnic with some
strange man they’d never met before, and Jeongguk has honestly stopped trying at all. If his
options are date someone within the service or stay alone forever, he’d honestly choose the latter.

“I would really love to not be having this conversation right now,” Jeongguk complains over the
sound of Seokjin’s mirthful laughter. “Why my love life is any of your concern is beyond me. Also
—Jimin’s literally in the hospital right now. What kind of sicko would I have to be to hit on a
hospital patient with no memory?”

“You’d have to be pretty desperate,” Seokjin jests. “And honestly, I wouldn’t put the prospect past
you.”

Jeongguk scoffs derisively. “And on that note—I’m signing off. I’ll see both of you tomorrow.”
Taehyung and Seokjin say their goodbyes, and Jeongguk plugs his walkie into the little charging
platform on one corner of his small dresser.

He closes his blinds and locks his door before rummaging through his clothes chest for something
to wear to bed tonight. As he bends, his eyes unwillingly fall on the small box pushed underneath
his bed and against the wall. Jeongguk’s fingers hesitate on the flannel pajama bottoms he’d been
picking out.

You should put Jimin’s ID in there, the rational part of his brain whispers, For safe-keeping until
you can see him again. It’s probably a smart move to lock away the ID card in the little box,
especially since there’s clearly someone in the forest who’d been looking for it. Still, the prospect
of opening the Pandora’s Box of his life is less than appealing.

It takes several minutes for Jeongguk to work up the courage, but he eventually reaches under his
bed to tug out the small wooden chest. It has a silver lock on the front that’s rusted with age and
Jeongguk’s name scratched onto the front paneling with a pen knife.

Deep breaths, Jeongguk reminds himself. They’re only memories now.

After a quick look around to make sure that his blinds are secured and that no one can possibly
peek in through them, Jeongguk lifts one corner of the rug in his room and feels along the grains of
wood for the small wooden slat that stands slightly elevated from the others. His fingers catch on
the lip, and Jeongguk tugs the slat off with a grunt.

In the space under the floorboard lies a small silver key, a perfect match to the box’s lock.
Jeongguk takes it out, slides it into the keyhole, and unlocks the box with trembling hands.

It opens, and Jeongguk tries and fails not to take stock of all of the bits and bobs stored within.

The box contains: a purple hospital wristband with the name Jeon Jeongguk, D.N.R written on it; a
perfect abalone shell covered in whorls of silver-blue-green; a faded red dog’s collar; a lock of
silver-grey hair; an old cassette with the name Youngsoo written in old sharpie; and the gold key to
the place where Jeongguk used to live.

As quickly as he can, Jeongguk shoves Jimin’s ID and note into the box, slams the lid and locks it
tightly, and replaces the silver key under the floorboard. He kicks the rug back over the hidden
wood slat and shoves the lockbox far back into the recesses of the under-bed.

“Goddamn,” Jeongguk breathes shakily. He runs his hands nervously through his hair and sits in a
heap on the floor. Opening the box is never easy. “Maybe you should go see Namjoon,” he dryly
says into the silence of his room.

The room doesn’t offer any reply, but Jeongguk sees his walkie flashing out of the corner of his
eye. It’s the bright blue light on the side of the walkie that signals that someone on another channel
wants to talk to him.

Jeongguk frowns and crawls over to retrieve his device. Sometimes Taehyung likes to talk on
another channel that no one else ever uses, usually to plan his latest prank on Seokjin in
confidence.

So Jeongguk flicks the channel knob to channel number one and asks, “What is it, Taehyung? I’m
tired.”

No one answers. Static gurgles on the other side of the line for several long seconds.

Jeongguk makes a little ‘huh’ noise in the back of his throat and holds his walkie out in front of
him. The blue light has stopped flashing, indicating that he’s on the correct line. He tries again.
“Taehyung? Hello?”

More garbled static. And then, so quiet that Jeongguk isn’t entirely sure that he hears anything at
all, is the sound of someone breathing.

Goosebumps rise along the back of Jeongguk’s neck all at once, and he scrambles to his feet. He
doesn’t say anything else, but he holds the walkie closer to his ear to better hear the faint noise.
Jeongguk’s heart kicks up into an allegro and pounds away against his ribcage as he realizes that
someone is on the other line breathing at him. It all feels way too murdery for his liking, and
Jeongguk is about to throw his walkie against the wall when a shriek of feedback rings through the
line.

Feedback, Jeongguk’s brain registers as he curses soundly, ears throbbing. Feedback only happens
when two walkies get too close to each other.

Which means that whoever was breathing on the other line was doing so within five feet of where
Jeongguk is now standing. Which means-
 Right on cue, Jeongguk notices the sound of footsteps thumping their way down the stairs of his
firewatch tower. Without stopping to consider the consequences, Jeongguk grabs his survival knife
and throws his door open. He leaps down the stairs three at a time, hot on the heels of whoever’s
ahead of him.

“Hey!” Jeongguk shouts over the sound of blood roaring through his ears. “Stop!”

The person ahead picks up the pace, scrambling down the final few steps and speeding across the
clearing and into the thick woods beyond Jeongguk’s tower.

Jeongguk comes screeching to a halt at the base of his stairs. Adrenaline pounds through his veins
as he catches sight of a beam of light receding deeper and deeper into the surrounding forest.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes shakily, holding the walkie to his ear to listen for the same breathing
that he’d heard earlier.

There’s no sound from the other end of the line. Whoever was on the channel has since signed off.
Jeongguk wipes a hand across his forehead and rushes back up into the safety of his tower. He
locks the doors behind him and sleeps with his knife within easy reach that night.

It doesn’t occur to him much later that whoever was at his door had a walkie of their own that
could pick up his channel. The thought leaves him with a cold sweat, and Jeongguk has the
horrible realization that whoever’s following him also has access to the forestry service’s channels.

Which means that, more than likely, they’re in the service themselves—and Jeongguk isn’t quite as
safe as he first thought.

Chapter End Notes

Some of you have asked if I played the game "Firewatch"-- yes I have! It inspired the
setting for this fic, hahah. Easily one of my favorite games of all time! Bravo if you
caught all the references. I'm working on working in a turtle somewhere ;)

See you next week!

 Embers
Chapter Notes

Well hello everyone, and happy Monday to you all. Unless you live in a different time
zone than I do, in which case-- Happy Tuesday morning, probably!

I have to say-- I didn't really anticipate people enjoying this story so much SDKJFHSD
It's more of a thing that I accidentally started writing than an actual, planned story. I do
just want to reiterate that this is primarily a horror/thriller thing with romance
elements, so if you're hovering over the keyboard at the end of this ready to scream at
me that it isn't as romantic as it could be-- I KNOW I'M SORRY OKAY I DID MY
BEST

Anyway! Enjoy chapter three :))

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It is a fact known to most that Jeongguk isn’t the best at parties. Or get-togethers, or casual hang-
outs, or running into acquaintances at any time of the day, really, or having to just exist in close
proximity with any group of people that contains a surplus of individuals he’s never met before.

Jeongguk has never really figured out why that is, exactly. It isn’t the people themselves—
Jeongguk knows this, because once he gets into the swing of a party, he’s a hoot—and it certainly
isn’t the alcohol that makes him uncomfortable—because once he starts drinking, he’s also a hoot.
It might be the combination of awkwardly shaking hands, receiving cologne-and-perfume soaked
hugs that combine into a sort of miasmatic cloud around his head afterwards, or the fact that he has
to use the same small-talk topics over and over again—no, it is unseasonably warm, isn’t it; this-or-
that sports team is performing poorly, he agrees; and yes, it would be fun to get together more
often.

So Jeongguk tends to just hover around the edge of any sort of gathering, hiding behind people he
knows while pleasantries are disposed with. He emerges once everyone’s had one or two drinks
and all of the well-wishing is over. Which, as it just so happens, is right about now.

“I’d say it’s pretty safe to show your face now,” Taehyung says over the shoulder that Jeongguk is
currently crouched behind defensively. “Seokjin’s started a conga line around the bonfire, so I
think the chances of you being the center of attention are slim for the next forty minutes.”

Jeongguk slinks out from behind Taehyung’s Hawaiian-patterned shirt and peers around the lot.
The spot itself is a few miles north of Namjoon’s medical center—a large, dirt-trod circle that
spans a few hundred feet in any direction. A bonfire blazes in the center of the clearing, a sensible
distance away from the tree-line, because if anybody is going to be responsibly irresponsible, it’s a
group of rangers and firefighters. Seokjin prances around the bonfire in widening circles, swaying
his hips as a line of twenty half-drunk rangers follow him, hooting and scream-singing at the top of
their lungs. Lawn chairs and tree-stump benches litter the dirt around the firepit, and party
accoutrements are dispersed haphazardly over every empty surface: disposable cups, empty alcohol
bottles, portable grills, paper plates and plastic utensils, streamers and sparklers, shirts stripped off
in the spur of the moment, and a curiously out of place bright blue beach towel.

“I must always block out this part of the training,” Jeongguk mutters as he stops by Taehyung’s
side.

Taehyung shrugs and sips at the lip of his bottle. “I’m always just too blacked out by this point to
remember anything. But it always ends with me half-naked, twenty miles from here, sleeping on
my back.”

“I remember,” Jeongguk snorts. “Last year you went to sleep in a patch of poison oak. That was
fun. Remember when Namjoon had to spread ointment over your ass for a week straight
afterwards?”

Taehyung groans. “Don’t remind me. If I had to choose anyone to spread lotion on my ass, he’d be
second-to-last on my list. He’s second only to Yoongi.”

“Who’s second only to me?” a familiar voice asks from close at hand. Yoongi emerges from the
crowd, Hoseok following by his side. Both of them have the slightly-blissed-out look of someone
who’s had a half-drink too many. Yoongi is still wearing his ‘Search & Rescue’ pilot’s shirt, but
Hoseok’s seems to have mysteriously disappeared into the ether of the party.

Yoongi casually pushes his blue-black hair out of his eyes and smiles sleepily at Taehyung, who’s
suddenly doing a very good impression of a fish out of water floundering about in a mad dash for a
breathable atmosphere. “I- Uh,” Taehyung stutters fantastically. “You’re here.”

“I RSVP’d,” Yoongi hums congenially. “It’s the responsible thing to do.”

“Responsibility!” Hoseok shouts at the top of his lungs and holds his beer bottle up in a toast. The
cry is echoed by all the party-goers and is immediately followed by several drained bottles clinking
to the ground in rapid succession.

Taehyung nods. “Responsibility, right.” He licks his lips in what he probably thinks is a casual,
nonchalant way, but that falls short by a football field. “And you’re very ho- responsible! You’re
responsible. And I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation. Jeongguk, hold down the fort.”

As Taehyung recedes into the crowd towards the alcohol table, red ears flaming in the darkness,
Jeongguk greets the others with a grin. “You make him nervous, hyung. I wish you were around
more often. It’s fun seeing him like this.”

Hoseok snorts. “Fun? Yoongi’s evil . You can’t just play with someone’s emotions like that, it’s-”
Hoseok cuts off with a disconcerting ‘hurk!’ and claps a hand over his mouth. A seasick sort of
green passes over his face, and he swallows hard. “Excuse me,” he chirps, walking unsteadily
away.

“Poor guy,” Yoongi says, watching Hoseok teeter away. “Every year.” He ticks an eyebrow up at
Jeongguk, adding, “And I’m sure I don’t have a clue what you mean about Taehyung. I don’t play
with him at all. If saying hello and wearing shirts that are a size too small just to get a rise out of
him is evil, then I don’t know what the world’s coming too.”

Jeongguk eyes the biceps that strain at his shirt sleeves critically. “Uh-huh. You’re the picture of
innocence. Just ask him out before he has a hernia, okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” They stand drinking in companionable silence for a moment, during which
Jeongguk catches sight of Taehyung jumping into the conga-line fray that’s expanded to include
another twenty people, because Seokjin’s cult-like popularity knows no bounds.

Jeongguk absentmindedly finds himself giving Yoongi a once-over. He’s grown up a lot this past
season, filled out in a way that Jeongguk never saw coming, and his catalogue of scars has grown.
He’s got a new one running down his right forearm and a little bruise that’s healing on his
cheekbone. As far as jobs in the forestry service go, Yoongi arguably has one of the most
dangerous ones, and Jeongguk wonders for the umpteenth time how Yoongi’s helicopter can carry
his balls of steel everywhere.

“I heard about your brush with a flaming death the other day,” Yoongi hums conversationally.
“I’m glad you didn’t get blown to bits.”

Jeongguk’s alcohol-addled brain fizzes to life. “Oh, hey- I actually wanted to talk to you about
that,” he starts, “Something actually happened afterwards that I need to talk about, and I-”

Jeongguk’s information is tabled for a moment as two search and rescue cadets practically skip up
to Yoongi’s side. One is a young-looking girl, probably no older than Jeongguk, with her hair
cropped short to her shoulders and dyed a vivid shade of blue, and the other is a twenty-something-
year-old, tired looking man. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks preemptively hungover.

“Sir!” the girl bubbles enthusiastically as she approaches. “There you are—Sanghoon and I have
been looking for you everywhere. We need your help beating the fire recruits at beer pong, and
since you were bragging about your skill all day yesterday, we figured—who’s this?” Her attention
snaps to Jeongguk, and she gives him a once-over so unsurreptitious that Jeongguk wants to curl up
into a ball and pass swiftly away.

Yoongi gives Jeongguk a forced smile and stiffly says, “Jeongguk, meet my two new shadows. The
zombie-looking one is Sanghoon, and the one who looks like her energy could power a nuclear
plant is Eunji.”

“Ah,” Jeongguk greets them both with a stiff handshake. Yoongi always hates his new recruits.
He’ll spend three months putting them through menial tasks and glaring at them annoyedly, but
he’ll always end up proudly crying when they graduate from the academy a year later. It’s a
vicious cycle, one that Jeongguk thoroughly loves watching play out. “It’s nice to meet you,” he
says.

Eunji bobs her head enthusiastically. “You too!” she babbles, “Hey- we heard about your accident
last week. Wow! What a killer way to kick off the season, huh?”

“Yeah, it was, uhm. It was something,” Jeongguk says eloquently, casting a ‘help me!’ glance at
Yoongi.

Yoongi nods almost imperceptibly. “Jeongguk and I are sort of in the middle of something,” he
addresses his twin shadows. “Could you give us a moment?”

“Oh! Sure,” Eunji says cheerfully. They take a few steps away from Yoongi and studiously turn in
the other direction. Sanghoon looks like he’d rather be anywhere else and sits down on the dirt
road, sulking.

“God, I hate the new kids,” Yoongi mutters in a voice that’s already altogether too fond. “What
was it you needed to tell me?”

Jeongguk lowers his voice into a half-whisper and leans in close. “There was someone outside of
my tower the other day. They were on my walkie channel just- just breathing at me. And then I
heard them outside, and they ran away into the woods.”

Yoongi squints like he’s trying to see the point. “That’s creepy, sure, but is it… worrisome?”

“It is when you combine it with the fact that I saw someone raiding Jimin’s car a few days after the
incident. They were looking for the ID tag that I found. What if they saw me taking it and
followed me to my tower?” Jeongguk hisses urgently.

A small furrow forms between Yoongi’s brows. “You reported this, right?” Jeongguk nods, and
Yoongi continues, “Well, as long as the rangers have some idea of what’s going on, I’d say you’re
pretty safe. But keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and lock your doors at night.”

“Lock my doors?” Jeongguk parrots. “That’s the best advice you can give me against a crazy,
stalking criminal?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m search and rescue, not the police,” Yoongi whispers
right back, “And I’m drunk. I can’t arrest anyone or give good advice at the moment. But I’ll tell
some of my subordinates to keep an eye on your tower, okay?”

Jeongguk nods and tries to convince himself—somewhat uselessly—that everything is going to be

okay now that Yoongi is on the case. He still feels a little queasy about the whole thing, but that
might also be attributed to the two-and-a-half beers he’s thrown back in the last hour. “Fine,” he
says. “I think this whole thing with Jimin just has me a little freaked out.”

Sanghoon’s shoulders tense in the corner of Jeongguk’s eye, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

“It has us all a little freaked out,” Yoongi says comfortingly. “The worst accidents we usually get
are hikers that’ve fallen to their deaths.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Jeongguk gawks.

Yoongi waves a hand mysteriously about in the air. “Well, you know, when they fall off a cliff or a
tree or a rock face, they’re mostly already dead. The pressure’s off, right? But when someone
crashes their car in the forest and wakes up with amnesia and a stalker on their tail, well, that’s a
whole different kind of pressure.”

“You’re trashed,” Jeongguk says summarily.

Yoongi nods and hiccups affirmatively. Then he catches sight of something over Jeongguk’s
shoulder and gestures towards it with his raised cup. “Speaketh of the devilith and heith shall
appeareth.” He furrows his brow. “That didn’t sound right.”

The devil, in this case, is someone Jeongguk knows. Jeongguk turns to look as Jimin comes
walking across the clearing, eyes wide to take in all of the hypocrisy around him. His gaze catches
on Jeongguk, and he raises a hand and waves.

Jeongguk nods back awkwardly and spins on his heel. “How do I look? Sober? Drunk? Do you
think that matters?” He fumbles to pat down his hair, momentarily forgetting that he’s wearing a
hat, and then he pauses to have a brief existential crisis about why he’s wearing a hat in the middle
of the night.
“You look amazing,” Yoongi says, clapping a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone
to get your Romeo on. Don’t try any of your pickup lines.” And then he turns towards his cadets
and announces, “It is time for us to leave, children.”

Eunji nods and bounces away with Yoongi in tow, but Sanghoon has long-since vanished into the
party.

Jeongguk stares at the ground and tries to hyperventilate quietly until Jimin taps on his shoulder.
Then he whirls around and says in the best sober-voice he can muster, “Jimin! Head contusion,
minor concussion, apparent amnesia—nice to see you again!” And then, redundantly, he confesses,
“I’m drunk.”

The corners of Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, and it’s a beautiful kind of smile. It’s a smile that
could fell Goliath or save Troy. Jeongguk tries not to faint on the spot. “I’ve noticed,” Jimin says
rather cheekily. “Save any alcohol for the rest of us?”

“There’s a whole table over there,” Jeongguk says and points to the aforementioned fold-up table
on the other side of the clearing. “But you’d have to breach Seokjin’s conga line to get over there,
so it might not be worth the risk anyway.”

Jimin hums and bounces on the balls of his feet. His hands are in his shorts—banana yellow and a
size and a half too big, which tells Jeongguk that Namjoon has lent Jimin some clothing—and he
admits, “It’s for the best. Namjoon tells me I’m not allowed to drink just yet.”

Jeongguk lets out a hearty ‘boo!’ that gets echoed by all of the other party-goers. Jimin laughs in
what might be a giggle, and which might stop Jeongguk’s heart on the spot.

Like he can read Jeongguk’s mind, Jimin quirks an eyebrow and drawls, “You know, it’s getting
embarrassing.”

“What is?” Jeongguk asks, like a fool.

“Your crush on me.”

There isn’t a word to describe the shade of red that hurdles up Jeongguk’s body from toes to nose,
but it’s somewhere between a vivid scarlet and plump tomato red. Jeongguk clears his throat and
pleads that his voice doesn’t crack. “I don’t have a crush on me. I mean—on you,” Jeongguk says,
voice crackling up to heaven.

Jimin nods in the way that one might nod to a small child. “Try it again, but look me in the eyes
this time.”

Jeongguk looks down at Jimin’s faded sneakers, also from Namjoon, and tells them, “I don’t have
a crush on you.”

“Okay, you were nowhere near my eyes,” Jimin snickers. He pats Jeongguk conciliatorily on the
shoulder.

Once Jeongguk takes a minute to jump-start his heart back into working order, he muses over the
situation that he’s in. He can’t recall the last time that he had a crush on someone—an honest to
god crush , the kind where he could sit around and daydream and doodle embarrassing things on
the cover of his notebook—probably because he’s never really had one before. And this is the,
what, second time he’s spoken to Jimin?

You, Jeongguk says to himself, have got to get a grip on this. You don’t know anything about him.
He’s nearly a stranger, and he has amnesia. Who cares if he’s pretty?

“I care if he’s pretty,” Jeongguk accidentally says out loud, watching in horror as Jimin’s face
contorts into a shit-eating grin.

“You think I’m pretty?” he teases. “Me? Head contusion, minor concussion, apparent amnesia?”

Jeongguk lets out a long groan. “Did you come here with the sole purpose of making my life
hard?” he complains.

There must be a god out there somewhere, because Jimin takes pity on him and removes his hand
from Jeongguk’s shoulder. He tucks it back into his pocket and nods towards the south end of the
clearing. “Nah. Namjoon just thought it’d be good for me to get some air. I’ve been holed up in the
clinic for, what, a week?”

“Thereabouts,” Jeongguk says. “Did Namjoon send out a missing person’s alert yet?”

“He did. We’re just waiting for the police to give us a call that someone recognizes me and notices
that I’m missing.” Jimin sounds entirely too casual about the whole thing, which immediately tells
Jeongguk that he cares very deeply about his current situation.

As empathetically as he can, Jeongguk asks, “Does it bother you? Not remembering where you
came from?” It’s an idiotic question, because of course it does, but Jeongguk is drunk and
incapable of being sensitive.

Jimin doesn’t look too bothered, though. He shrugs. “Yes and no. I don’t really know how I’m
supposed to feel about this whole situation, because I don’t know how the past Jimin would’ve felt
about this whole situation, but as for me, now, I’m doing alright.” He pauses, squints into the
firelight that dances about the clearing. “You know, it’s strange. It almost feels like a weight’s
been lifted off of my chest, but I can’t remember why.”

“Huh,” Jeongguk says, because that’s really all the input he can give right now.

“Yeah. I’m just taking it a day at a time, seeing how I feel in the moment,” Jimin tells him.

Jeongguk watches the little flecks of orange-gold dance across Jimin’s features and asks, “And
how are you feeling now?”

Biting back a smile, Jimin says, “Now? In this moment? I’m feeling pretty good.”

Jeongguk can’t stop a smile of his own from edging over his features. “Well, that’s good, then.”
And because he doesn’t really know how to flirt or deal with the fact that Jimin is flirting with him,
he says, “Namjoon’s shorts look good on you.”

“Thanks. I’ve never really thought that banana-yellow was my color, but I’ve been told that it suits
me,” Jimin laughs.

Yellow like the sun, Jeongguk drunkenly muses, or like stardust. Or the color of pre-dawn light
over the tips of the trees. Or the color of your smile. He decides that it does, indeed, suit Jimin.

A shout comes from the south end of the clearing, and Namjoon is standing there with his arms
crossed and legs in an A-frame, like a parent watching their child at a playground. He nods hello to
Jeongguk.

“Ah, well, I better go before Namjoon decides that this is entirely too much fun for me to handle
and locks me back inside for another week.” Jimin starts to walk backwards, still looking at
Jeongguk. “You’ll come back to see me again soon?”

Jeongguk blinks slowly. “You want me to?”

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

“I- I don’t think I’d mind it either,” Jeongguk stammers. GO JEONGGUK, the proud little
wingman voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Taehyung screams, YOU GOT GAME!

Another shout from Namjoon sends Jimin walking away a bit faster. “Okay, great! I’m gonna go
now,” he says.

Jeongguk nods and sketches a wave. “Okay. I’m going to go be sick in a bush.” He watches as
Jimin turns and bounces away towards Namjoon, and then he walks to the edge of the clearing,
daintily puts his cup down on the tree stump next to Hoseok’s and is promptly sick in a bush.

Hangovers, unlike dogs, are not a man’s best friend. Especially when that man has to complete an
emergency drill in the dense forest immediately following a raucous night on the town—then
they’re really not a man’s best friend.

Jeon Jeongguk is discovering this truth as he bumps his way through the undergrowth, cursing all
the way. He’s currently halfway through an evacuation drill, although it’s starting to feel more like
torture. According to Yoongi, who happens to head this particular drill, the situation is supposed to
simulate a scenario in which a wayward forestry worker (in this case Jeongguk) is caught at the
border of a blazing forest fire (in this case several other forestry workers walking through the
woods with squirt guns) and must try and make it to safety in time (in this case Yoongi’s helipad a
few miles west of the medical center).

Jeongguk can hear the squirt-gun-clad rangers racing along behind him. They whoop gleefully, in
a way that indicates that they’re taking way too much pleasure in chasing Jeongguk down. And
Jeongguk knows these forests like the back of his hand—if he were sober, this drill wouldn’t even
be a competition. But someone is jackhammering at his skull, creating little fireworks behind his
eyes, and it’s really quite hard to keep track of where he’s placing his feet when he can barely see.

When Jeongguk trips over his third root and goes sprawling flat onto his chest again, he curses
louder than before. “I’m going to kill him,” Jeongguk promises himself, “I’m going to rip Yoongi
limb from limb.”

“I don’t think he’d like that,” says a voice from the forest so alarmingly near that Jeongguk
actually squeaks. He’s never squeaked before in his life. He decides that he doesn’t like how it
sounds on him.

Scrabbling to his feet, Jeongguk calls into the foliage, “If that’s a ranger, just know that I hope both
you and your squirt guns rot in hell.”

A snicker comes from the bush, and Eunji and Sanghoon crawl out from underneath the foliage.
Eunji does indeed have a squirt gun in her hand, and she makes a little ‘pew!’ noise as she shoots a
jet of ice water at Jeongguk’s chest.
“There you go,” she says brightly, “You can go back to the main camp now.”

Jeongguk finds himself feeling grateful that this whole hellscape is over. “Thank god,” he mutters
under his breath. He picks his way out from the root system that’d tripped him up and follows as
Sanghoon quietly trudges back towards Yoongi’s improvised headquarters.

“Drill’s over, everyone!” Eunji announces to a chorus of disappointed groans, “Let’s head back.”
She catches up with Jeongguk and Sanghoon in two quick bounds and knocks her shoulder into
Jeongguk’s. “Don’t feel too bad. Sanghoon’s been stalking you since the beginning of the drill.
You were bound to lose eventually.”

Sanghoon shoots her a murderous look and tugs on the strings of his black hoodie, clearly
embarrassed. “Eunji,” he says, wounded.

She just snorts. “Oh, come on. You’ve been obsessed with keeping an eye on him since Yoongi
told you about the stalker guy.”

“Yoongi told you about that?” he asks.

“Didn’t he tell you? We’re gonna be keeping an eye on you for a while. He said he told you at the
party,” Eunji says. She looks over at Jeongguk quizzically and side steps around a particularly
large boulder.

Jeongguk furrows his brow. He does vaguely remember Yoongi mentioning something about that
last night. “Oh,” he says. “I didn’t know he meant you two.”

“You offend me. Sanghoon’s already memorized all the details of your case,” Eunji teases lightly.
He pokes her partner in the ribs. “Someone’s in love,” she singsongs.

Mild irritation passes over Sanghoon’s brow, and he elbows her away. “Be quiet,” he mutters under
his breath, pushing forward through the underbrush that slaps against his sides and blushing
furiously the whole time.

Jeongguk allows himself to fall a step or two behind the others until the main camp begins to swim
back into view. He catches sight of Yoongi behind a fold-up table labeled, ‘Event Coordinator’,
bright yellow megaphone in his hand and sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

Just as Jeongguk is about to walk over, another shape materializes in front of him. It’s a person,
smaller than him and dressed in another offensively-colored pair of banana-yellow shorts. It is, of
course, Jimin.

“Jeongguk!” Jimin calls, bounding out from under the shade of the Easy-Up tent with a water bottle
in hand. “How’s the hangover treating you?”

Jeongguk does a very quick mental inventory about what he’s wearing and if he looks entirely too
horrendous to allow Jimin to talk to him. “Why do you always have the habit of catching me when
I look my worst?” Jeongguk complains under his breath and does his best to smooth down his cow-
licked hair.

“Oh, shush,” Jimin laughs, because of course he heard. “You look great.” He offers Jeongguk a
water bottle, and Jeongguk tries and fails to not notice how their fingers brush together for a split
second. He feels like he’s been catapulted into Victorian England when the prospect of seeing an
ankle or holding hands was considered scandalous.

Because that’s how everything feels with Jimin. Electric and a little bit terrifying, like the bit on a
rollercoaster just before it plunges and his stomach rises uncomfortably in his chest as gravity
lessens. It’s distracting, and Jeongguk finds that he doesn’t hate it at all.

“I do?” Jeongguk asks. He clears his throat sheepishly, belatedly noticing his crackling voice. He
busies himself with taking a swig of water to hide the blush on his cheeks.

The little smirk Jimin sends his way tells him that Jimin’s already noticed it, but he’s nice enough
to not immediately bring it up. “Yeah. The whole sweat-soaked, muscle-tee thing works for you.”

Ah, hell, Jeongguk internally groans as he feels the blood rush straight to his face. “What a relief,”
he stutters. “W-What’re you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be with Namjoon in the hospital?”

Jimin rolls his eyes skyward and sighs heavily. “I needed to get out of that hellhole. It’s boring in
there. I’ve already alphabetized all of the patient files in the lobby, which wasn’t that hard,
considering that there are only, like, two hundred forestry workers anyway. And then I went on a
run—which is something that I’m good at, apparently—made breakfast, and did laundry.”

“And then what?” Jeongguk grins, ridiculously endeared by Jimin’s penchant for rambling.

“And then it was eight in the morning,” Jimin bitches. A smile spreads smoothly over his face,
pleased when Jeongguk laughs gently. Jimin seems to bloom under the attention, because there’s
more attitude in his voice when he says, “I’m going mad in there. I even volunteered to hand out
water at this event. I volunteered. ”

I thought you came out for me, Jeongguk considers teasing, and then abruptly decides that he’s not
suave or cool or smooth enough to pull off saying something like that. “That is pretty desperate,”
he says instead, “So I take it that you don’t have any big plans about heading out of Namjoon’s
care any time soon?”

“Not for right now, no.” Jimin pauses, scratches his nose as he considers something. His
expression tightens, eyes narrowing. “I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m not desperate to leave
just yet. Something’s telling me that I came here for a reason—something in my stomach. I figure
that I should probably listen to that, right?”

Jeongguk, who knows first-hand how important instincts are, nods. Instincts are what saved his
life, back then. “Sounds reasonable,” he says. Jeongguk absently plucks the sweat-soaked t-shirt
away from his chest and tries not to think about how the dampness trickling down his chest feels
like rivulets running from a water faucet as he’s held down and-

“Yeah,” Jimin’s voice breaks in. “The only downside is that it’s incredibly boring out here.” He
looks up at Jeongguk, eyes full of skepticism, as though he can’t quite fathom Jeongguk’s job, and
huffs, “Not that I don’t love hiking, but what the hell do you do up here all summer?”

“All year, actually,” Jeongguk corrects.

Sheer horror splits Jimin’s face. His eyes go wide and he grimaces—a contradictory set of
movements that make his face look like it’s going to war with itself, and squawks, “All year? You
don’t ever go home?”

Jeongguk doesn’t have the words to explain to Jimin precisely why he can’t go home, or that the
notion of going home requires one to have a home in the first place, nor does he feel particularly
inclined to relive any of the events leading up to his running away from home in the first place, so
he says in a voice that’s probably too clipped considering the tone of the conversation, “No.”

Visions of the back of closets and the bottom of bathtubs and floorboards stained red with the
blood from his nose swarm his vision. In the back of his mind, Jeongguk remembers the sounds of
his house—the wooden floor creaking under the weight of steel-toed boots, the squeak of the
faucet, the skittering in the walls that always reminded Jeongguk of ghosts living between sheets of
plaster.

He surreptitiously shakes his head and tries to tune back into what Jimin is saying, dispelling the
way his head suddenly feels like it’s been filled with cotton balls.

“…what do you do, then?” Jimin finishes asking. There’s a note of hesitance in his voice, and his
eyebrows are pulled together in a way that tells Jeongguk that he hadn’t been as subtle as he
thought he’d been.

Jeongguk shifts his weight between the balls of his feet and squints against the rising sun. “Watch
for fires, catch people skinny-dipping, confiscating fireworks. That sort of thing. It’s more fun than
it sounds,” he says, noting Jimin’s still skeptical glance.

“Huh,” Jimin hums. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

All the time, Jeongguk almost admits. Now more than ever, he almost says. But he can’t say that to
Jimin, because they’ve just met and it’s a lot of emotion to layer onto a near-stranger who doesn’t
even know who they are. So Jeongguk absently watches a bead of sweat drip from Jimin’s hairline
down the side of his neck and tries his best to sound noncommittal. “Occasionally. Why? Are you
offering to come along and keep me company?”

Jeongguk knows the second he sees Jimin’s crackling smile that he’s made a grave error. “That
sounds like a great suggestion,” Jimin says. He sounds altogether too pleased with himself.

Ice trickles down Jeongguk’s spine. “I was joking-“

“I’m not. Please take me with you,” Jimin pleads. He reaches forward and grabs Jeongguk’s hand,
effectively stopping Jeongguk’s heart along with his train of thought, and says, “Just for a night. Or
two. I’m begging you here. If I have to listen to Namjoon’s snores from the back room for another
night, I’ll go insane. I have a feeling that I’m prone to that sort of thing.”

He wants to stay for a night! Jeongguk’s downstairs brain hoots and yells and stamps its
metaphorical feet in metaphorical glee.

Jeongguk’s much more rational upstairs brain recognizes that he’d have no idea what to do with
Jimin inhabiting the same room with him for a whole night. “I- Well…” Jeongguk trails off,
uncertain.

“Come on,” Jimin drawls, giving Jeongguk’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “Say yes. You like me
too much to say no.”

When the ground doesn’t open up to swallow Jeongguk whole like he prays for it to, he reluctantly
concedes. “I… fuck. Fine. As long as Namjoon’s okay with it.”

Jimin’s answering smile is more blinding than the sun rising over the trees in the distance. “He is. I
checked this morning.”

Jeongguk blinks. “What?”

But then Jimin is racing away towards the medical pavilion, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back
with my bag in a minute—wait for me!”
“Wait—wait!” Jeongguk shouts after him, disregarding the startled looks of the rangers around
him. “You played me!”

Jimin’s laughter filters back to him through the mid-morning air until he disappears from sight.

Jeongguk can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed.

Here is how Jeongguk’s first stay in the hospital went:

Oh, you’re awake! You gave us quite a scare. We weren’t sure that you were going to wake up. Do
you remember how you got here?

Jeongguk said that he didn’t, but he did, and he still does.

That’s too bad. You have visitors. Would you like to let them in?

Jeongguk said no, thank you, he’d rather sit quietly on his own if that’s okay, thanks.

Oh, sure, that’s just fine. Do you like Jell-o? We can bring some up for you. Green or red?

Red, Jeongguk said, thank you again. Red like cherries and strawberries and the iron taste in his
mouth. He fingered the purple wristband around his wrist that told the doctors that he wasn’t worth
bringing back to life and stared out the window, waiting for dawn.

“So, here we are,” Jeongguk says. He opens the door with a flourish, half-bending at the waist in
mock gallantry. It’s mostly to hide how fucking nervous he is right now than it is to elicit a laugh
from Jimin, but it serves both purposes. And he’s really nervous—after all, Jeongguk has never
had anyone up here. Not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not even Namjoon. The only other person who’s
ever seen the inside of Jeongguk’s fire tower is Seokjin, and that was years ago during Jeongguk’s
first orientation.

So it’s a bit strange to close the door behind him and see someone else taking up space in the small
room. Jeongguk tries valiantly to come up with something to say as he watches Jimin slowly take
in the close quarters, but he comes up blank. His fingers absently twist themselves together behind
his back instead.

“Well, it’s small,” Jimin teases. “Comfy, though. How the hell did you get that bookcase up here?”
He points to the hardwood shelves that line the wall in between Jeongguk’s headboard and the side
of his desk.

Jeongguk smiles. “I’m sorry if you were expecting something more like Versailles. And the
bookcase was a bitch to haul up here. I had to radio for Taehyung to come up and help me, and let
me tell you, that was no easy feat.”

“Taehyung?” Jimin asks. He plops down onto the foot of Jeongguk’s bed with the kind of easy
familiarity that Jeongguk has tried all his life to emulate. He gets the feeling just then that Jimin
must be the kind of person who can fit in anywhere—likeable, adaptable, upbeat. Jeongguk
wonders quietly what the hell someone like Jimin is doing someplace like this, but he pushes the
thought aside.

“Oh, yeah—he’s the ranger in the west-most tower. I’ve known him most of my life, and I hate his
guts. You’d absolutely love him.”

Jimin tilts his head back and laughs. “Well, with such a stellar review from you, how could I not?”
he says, half-sarcastic.

“I just mean that the two of you have a penchant for making me uncomfortable and enjoying it just
a bit too much,” Jeongguk huffs. He peels himself away from the door and spins the chair at his
desk around so that it faces Jimin. When Jeongguk sits, their knees are nearly touching, and that
Victorian-shiver wracks through his body again at the touch.

Jimin knocks his knee into Jeongguk’s with a snort and leans back on his hands, the line of his
body turning taut. “I make you uncomfortable?” he says in a voice that clearly indicates that he
knows what he’s doing.

Swallowing hard, Jeongguk leans back into his chair and away from Jimin, knowing in the back of
his head that if he allows himself to get any closer, the night is going to take a very different turn
very quickly, and he’s not entirely sure that he’s ready for that quite yet. Despite himself,
Jeongguk licks his lips—trying and failing to not notice how Jimin’s eyes track the movement—
and mutters, “I’m not sure that ‘uncomfortable’ is the right word.”

Jimin pounces. “And what is the right word, Jeongguk?” He leans forward so suddenly that
Jeongguk practically ricochets out of his chair in surprise. It falls backwards onto the wood-
paneled floor with a heavy, humiliating ‘thunk!’ that sends Jimin dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up,” Jeongguk grumbles, ears so hot they feel like they’re on fire.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin titters and falls flat onto his back, “I had honorable intentions. It’s just so easy to
embarrass you.”

Jeongguk eyes the thin line of exposed skin between Jimin’s yellow shorts and his t-shirt
skeptically. Honorable intentions my ass, he thinks moodily. “Toying with someone’s emotions
isn’t attractive, Jimin. I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you that,” he says, righting the chair and
trying to recover some of his dignity.

The last of the laughter dies in Jimin’s throat, and he looks up at Jeongguk through his eyelashes.
“I’m not toying with your emotions. I’m flirting. I thought it was obvious,” he says.

It is obvious, Jeongguk wants to say. What’s less obvious is what I’m supposed to do about it. He
feels altogether too much like a fish out of water, unsure whether he’s supposed to be encouraging
this dynamic with Jimin or putting a stop to it. After all, Jimin is going to leave as soon as he’s
able, and it’ll be Jeongguk who’s left alone in his tower remembering how nice it was to have
someone up here with him. It’s clear that, should anything happen between them, it’d be a fling,
and while that’s something that Jeongguk isn’t opposed to in theory, he’s startlingly sure that Jimin
isn’t the kind of person he’d want to have a fling with.

Jimin is, arguably, relationship material. Or at least break-your-heart-into-a-million-pieces

material, even if he doesn’t remember where he came from or who he is.

So Jeongguk just stands there, looking down at Jimin and trying to remember how to breathe
normally. It teeters on the edge of becoming awkward when Jeongguk’s walkie crackles to life
from the corner of his desk where it’d been charging all day.

“Hey, Jeongguk,” Taehyung asks from the other line. “Who’s that with you in your tower? He’s
cute.”

Jeongguk experiences one second of murderous wrath before he whirls on his heel and slams his
blinds down with as much force as he can muster. He scrabbles for the receiver, ignoring the
quizzical look Jimin sends him. “Haven’t we talked about how rude it is to watch someone through
their blinds?” Jeongguk bitches.

“No, you talked, and I pretended not to hear. So who is it? And why’s he on your bed? I thought
you had a crush on—oh, my god, wait. Is that Jimin?” Taehyung screeches.

“Taehyung, I swear to god-”

Taehyung, as usual, continues without concern for Jeongguk’s sanity or overall well-being. “Tell
him I think he’s gorgeous. And possibly too good for you. Oh, my god, why is he on your bed? I
thought you got nervous just talking to him. Do you actually have game? ”

“Tae!” Jeongguk half-shouts to drown out Jimin’s chorus of laughter behind him. He hisses into
the receiver, “He can hear you.”

A dramatic gasp sounds from the other end of the line. “Hi, Jimin! It’s so nice to meet my future
brother-in-”

Jeongguk turns his walkie off with a satisfying little ‘click’ and sets it down decisively.
Reluctantly, he turns around to face Jimin, who’s lying down, chest heaving and face pink, tear
tracks crawling down his cheeks. “That was Taehyung,” Jeongguk deadpans.

“You’re right,” Jimin gasps for air, “I love him. So wait—you talk about me? To other people?
Out loud? You’ve only known me for, like, two weeks.”

Jeongguk sits back down and drops his face into his hands. It’s too late to pretend to be anything
besides the loser that he is, so he screws his eyes up tight and tries to envision his happy place.
Which just so happens to be in his firewatch tower, which, at the moment, isn’t feeling too tranquil
or relaxing. “Please, please just shut up,” he sighs. “Yes, I have a crush on you, and yes, it’s
embarrassing, but are we nine years old? Let’s just forget it and move on before I actually die.”

It’s blissfully quiet for a moment, but Jeongguk can practically hear Jimin mulling something over
in his head. When he dares to peek out from behind his fingers, he catches sight of Jimin looking
up at the ceiling, blushing for the first time Jeongguk’s ever seen, lower lip pulled between his
teeth. Jimin lets it go with a little ‘pop’ and admits quietly, “It’s not embarrassing. I mean—I talk
about you too, you know.”

And that gets Jeongguk’s attention. He snaps his head out of his hands and stares openly at Jimin
in shock. “But you just met me!” he exclaims, perfectly echoing Jimin’s earlier point. “And you
barely know me.”

“Yeah, well, I have eyes, you know? And you’re not exactly difficult to look at. And you sort of
saved my life, so I mean.” Jimin stops abruptly and scrunches up his nose. “Did I ever stand a
chance?”

And Jeongguk’s heart is in his throat in a way that he always thought was metaphorical. “I think
that’s supposed to be my question,” he whispers.

And then he’s leaning forward in his chair before he even realizes what he’s doing, but it’s alright,
because Jimin is leaning towards him, too, and everything finally, finally is starting to make sense.
Jimin’s breath ghosts across Jeongguk’s cheekbones, and Jeongguk is only absently aware of the
way he half-rises out of his chair and plants his hands on the bed on either side of Jimin.

He hardly notices that Jimin’s hands brush against his own, because then Jeongguk is slipping his
eyes closed and barely daring to breathe. Jimin is close enough that Jeongguk can feel the warmth
radiating from him, and then Jimin’s lips are ghosting across his own and Jeongguk’s head goes
blank.

Neither of them moves for several, thudding heartbeats. Jeongguk stays stock still, Jimin’s lower
lip plush against his own in the semi-darkness. And then Jimin is pushing forward just a touch,
just enough to let Jeongguk know that it’s okay what they’re doing, and Jeongguk dips deeper into
the kiss.

He can taste the ChapStick on Jimin’s lips and the minty-gum of Jimin’s breath. Jimin lets out a
shaky breath and brings his hands up to cup Jeongguk’s face between his palms. He turns
Jeongguk’s face to the side, one hand trailing down the side of Jeongguk’s neck to rest gently on
his shoulder and pull him down, down, down until Jimin’s lying on his back and Jeongguk is
caging him in with his body, and holy shit Jeongguk has never felt like this before, and there are
fireworks going off behind his eyes, and-

There are fireworks going off. They’re loud and popping and very much real. Jeongguk opens his
eyes and, yup, there are sparks of blue-red showering down over the forest through the south-
facing window which, unfortunately, falls within his jurisdiction.

“Fireworks,” Jeongguk says. He barely recognizes the voice as his own, it’s so affected. He pulls
back a few inches and watches as Jimin’s eyelids flutter as he comes back into himself.

“What?” Jimin asks slowly. His eyes are glazed over, and his grip on Jeongguk is hard to dislodge.

Reluctantly, Jeongguk peels himself up from the bed and half-stumbles over towards his gear on
the desk, head spinning. “I- uh… there are fireworks,” he stammers, pointing with his thumb over
towards the window, “I need to go talk to the campers setting them off. Fire hazard. You can, uh,
wait here? If that’s okay.”

Jimin sits up and shakes out his disheveled hair. He blinks once, twice. “Oh! Yeah. You have a job
to do,” he laughs almost nervously, “Go do it. I’ll be here.”
Jeongguk can’t meet his eyes as he tugs on his shoes and backpack and grabs his jacket. He nods
awkwardly, ignores the thud-thud-thud that his heart still hammers away against his ribs, and
mutters a quick goodbye.

The cool air is nice against his overheated skin, quelling most of the desire that’d been licking up
his spine inside the cabin as he clambers down the stairs. “You’re insane,” Jeongguk tells himself,
but he can’t quite banish the smile that lingers on his still-tingling lips. “You’re absolutely insane.”

But for the life of him, Jeongguk can’t quite bring himself to care.

The fireworks are easy enough to take care of. It’s only a handful of drunk teenagers who mope
about and cry incoherently while Jeongguk confiscates their fireworks and tells them calmly that
they’ll need to vacate the premises immediately. It takes them an hour of moping around before
Jeongguk convinces them to follow him down to the ranger’s station in between his tower and
Namjoon’s medical center. By the time the whole situation is taken care of, it’s solidly midnight.

Jeongguk trudges back along the trail to his own tower, flashlight beam dancing in the darkness as
he stifles a yawn with his elbow. His eyes are bleary and exhaustion from the day—and last night
—weighs him down, but Jeongguk has a feeling that his night isn’t going to turn out to be entirely
restful. Because, as it turns out, the thoughts racing through his head are slightly more difficult to
master.

Pictures of kissing Jimin flit across his vision, closely followed by warring emotions: pride that he
managed to kiss Jimin at all, embarrassment from kissing Jimin and enjoying it so much,
excitement that Jimin is still in the tower and waiting for him to come back, and horror as he
realizes that, oh no, he only has one bed. The whole thing reads a bit too much like a teen romance
novel for his liking, but it was Jeongguk who got himself tied up in the Jimin-mess in the first
place, so he really doesn’t have anyone to blame other than himself.

A little chorus of, “It’s going to be so awkward when you get back,” dances around his brain as he
climbs up the last incline towards his tower. Jeongguk tries to quash down the feeling as he clicks
off his flashlight. Jimin is an adult. Jeongguk is an adult. They’re two adults, and they can handle
what just happened in an adult way. Whatever that means.

But then Jeongguk looks up at his tower, and all coherent thought about resolving the issue
‘adultly’ abruptly vanish. Jimin has opened the blinds that face west, and the light that spills from
Jeongguk’s table lamp pools in the darkness all the way on the ground. Inside, Jimin is laughing
and talking to someone up in the tower. The faint radio static crackle tells Jeongguk that it might be
Taehyung on the other line.

None of this is what stops Jeongguk in his tracks. It’s the fact that Jimin is in the process of
tugging his shirt off of his head to change into his pajamas. Jeongguk’s poor brain short-circuits as
he catches sight of the landscape of Jimin’s back, painted with tattoos of the phases of the moon
down his spine and adorned with moonlight from the open window.

Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat, and he sighs.

Wait, Jeongguk thinks, because he didn’t sigh. His mouth is still closed, and he can barely breathe.
He didn’t sigh. But there was definitely a sigh.

Jeongguk comes crashing back down into himself, momentarily forgetting about Jimin. His
heartbeat starts ticking up as Jeongguk peers around into the darkness surrounding him, barely
daring to turn his head from side to side. He searches the darkness, but his eyes can’t make out
anything other than the foliage immediately in front of him and the tower in the near distance.

Swallowing the impulse to immediately shout, “Hello? Who’s there?” Jeongguk silently
maneuvers his backpack around until it’s on his chest, forming a sort of armor. He unzips the main
pouch slowly and searches around in the dark until his hand closes around the solid length of his
pepper spray canister. And then Jeongguk waits, flashlight in hand and blood pulsing through his
ears, until he hears another noise immediately to the right of him.

It’s the sound of a twig snapping underfoot, and Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He whirls to his right
and clicks on the flashlight. The beam of light lands squarely on the front of a black-clad figure
rising out of the undergrowth, shock evident in its posture. The split second that follows feels like
an eternity, and in it, Jeongguk catches sight of his own missing binoculars on the ground,
surrounded by a crumpled bag of chips and a water bottle.

And then the figure explodes into action. It leaps towards Jeongguk with a sudden burst of
movement, catching him so off-guard that he drops the flashlight. “Hey!” Jeongguk manages to
shout just before he’s caught squarely in the chest by the person’s shoulder and is sent sprawling
onto his back on the forest floor.

Jeongguk gasps as all the breath whooshes out of him, scrabbling with his hands on the damp forest
floor. The light from his flashlight illuminates the person from behind as they advance on him.
There’s a glint in the shadows, and Jeongguk catches sight of a knife in the person’s hand.

Before he can move or scream or kick his leg out, the person crashes all of their weight down onto
him, knife-clad hand poised in a menacing arc over Jeongguk’s chest. The other of the stranger’s
arms goes to press down on Jeongguk’s throat.

Head under water, Jeongguk thrashes and screams as suffocation bleeds into his consciousness-

Instinctually, Jeongguk’s hands fly up as he tries to gouge at his assailant’s eyes, only to realize
that they’re wearing a black Halloween mask, hard and plastic and protective. Jeongguk gasps
against the weight at his throat and pushes frantically at the weight atop him. He shoves at the
figure’s shoulders with all of his strength, but it doesn’t do much.

“You’re drowning,” Jeongguk remembers thinking. “You’re drowning.” There’s water in his ears
and his nose and his throat. He imagines it bleeding into his eyes, too, like it’s trying to force its
way inside.

Jeongguk can only watch as the figure raises its knife and plunges it down into Jeongguk’s chest.
Or what would normally be Jeongguk’s chest, but what is now replaced by a sheet of backpack
armor. A ripple of confusion must pass through the attacker because the arm on Jeongguk’s throat
goes slack for a second as they pull the knife out and look at it, stupefied.
 It’s enough for Jeongguk to muster enough force to shove the person on top of him off. They go
flying backwards in the other direction, and Jeongguk scrambles to his feet. He sees the canister of
pepper spray on the ground a few feet away from him and dives for it, rolling onto his back just in
time to see the stranger coming for him again.

The black-clad figure descends onto him again, knife swinging in the darkness, but this time,
Jeongguk is ready. As they get closer, Jeongguk swipes at their face with enough to knock the
Halloween mask clean off of their face, but he doesn’t get a good look before he has to screw his
own eyes tightly shut against the backdraft of the pepper spray he unleashes on his attacker.

There’s a strangled noise from above him and the clattering sound of someone in excruciating pain
stumbling through the undergrowth, and then silence. Jeongguk lies there panting for exactly three
seconds, thanking whoever’s listening up in the clouds that he’s alive, before he grabs his
flashlight and races in a blind panic towards his firewatch tower.

Jeongguk takes the stairs two, three at a time and bursts through the door with enough force to send
it slamming back against its hinges.

Jimin turns to look at him, mouth open in a perfectly shocked ‘O’. “Jeongguk? What’re you-”
Jimin breaks off as his eyes trail down Jeongguk’s body. “Oh, my god, your arm. Jeongguk, what
the hell?”

Adrenaline pumps so thoroughly through Jeongguk’s veins that he barely feels the long gash in his
arm that he must’ve gotten in the tussle, barely feels the way the sticky blood soaks into his pants
and drips onto the floor.

“Call Yoongi,” he gasps through his panic. “Because I think someone just tried to kill me.”

Chapter End Notes

I really am having the time of life reading some of the theories in the comments,
though none of them are accurate LMAOSKSDJHF
But seriously, all of you should be detectives, because how do you notice EVERY
DETAIL. I'm SICK.

Chapter four is up next week! I'll see you then.

Ash
 Ignition
Chapter Notes

So my friends. Welcome back.

THERE ARE A FEW THINGS TO MENTION: I didn't tag homophobia in this story,
because it happens once in reference, and this is your warning for this chapter! Second!
I tagged past abuse, and I'm drawing your attention to it once more because here we
see Ash start stepping on the gas pedal for this story, and I would like all of it to go
into it with our eyes wide open.

I'm on Thanksgiving break right now, so! I'll be replying to comments finally :')
THAT BEING SAID: i am enjoying all of your theories. None of them are entirely
right <3

OKAY ENJOY

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It isn’t exactly that Jeongguk is scared of water. He does perfectly well when he has to take a
shower or a bath, or use a hose, or walk over a creek in the middle of the woods (this last one is a
recent development, but still equally as valid, thank you very much). The part that Jeongguk has
trouble getting behind is the whole… submersion aspect of being in close proximity with a large
body of water.

There’s something about the idea of having gallons of water pushing against him from all sides,
creeping up his nose or into his mouth, pulling him down below the surface that doesn’t sit right
with him. Someone told Jeongguk once that being submerged in water was nothing to be afraid of
—swimming is relaxing, after all, and people seem to actually enjoy it.

Not Jeongguk. Even the thought of it gets his palms sweating and his pulse jumping and makes his
legs all jittery with panic, even though he has no idea where the fear comes from.

Well. That’s not exactly true.

Jeongguk knows precisely where it comes from, and he avoids thinking about it as much as
possible. But there’s a little box full of keepsakes stashed under his bed that constantly remind him
about why he’s here, in the middle of nowhere, hiding from his life back home. Jeongguk tries to
ignore that, too, and focuses instead on thinking about how this situation is pretty similar to feeling
trapped underwater.
For one, his heart is certainly racing as Jimin guides him to sit on the foot of his bed. Jeongguk
goes, blinking in shock at the little puddle of blood he leaves in his wake. “Is that mine?” he asks to
nobody in particular—because it doesn’t seem like it should be his. Jeongguk is used to all of his
blood being inside of his body, and the amount that’s leaked out onto the floor is more than he’s
ever seen.

“Is it—Shit, Jeongguk,” Jimin says, halfway to being completely panicked. “Yes, it’s yours. Don’t
you have a first aid kit anywhere up here, or some bandages or anything?” He looks around the
room with wide eyes that are clearly searching for something that he can use to staunch the slow
throbbing flow of blood leaking out from Jeongguk’s left arm.

“A first aid kit?” Jeongguk parrots. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he’s cold. He nods to
himself and tells Jimin, “I think I’m going into shock.”

Jimin blanches and stands from the chair he’d been sitting in in front of Jeongguk. “Okay- just-
hold on for one second, okay? Please don’t die.”

“I’m not going to die,” Jeongguk reassures, but he yawns a moment later, and the image of
confidence is shattered. “I was stabbed, did you know that? Did I scream? I don’t remember if I
screamed.” He looks down at his red-stained arm a second later, turning the image over in his
mind. It’s a fairly deep slice, cut along the back of his forearm from his elbow to his wrist, about a
half-inch deep. He has the thought, then, that the inside of him looks very similar to a fish filet and
quickly looks away.

Jimin comes back from his rummaging around the room armed with a little first aid kit that
Jeongguk didn’t even know that he had. “I found it in one of your desk drawers,” Jimin explains.
His fingers shake as he unclasps the latch on the top and starts taking out supplies. “You’ll need
alcohol, probably, and… crap, which of these bandages is the right one?”

Jeongguk nods to the roll of gauze that’s bound in plastic. “That one.”

“Thanks.” Jimin sets his lips into a thin, tight line and makes quick work of washing Jeongguk’s
cut and dressing it properly. Once he’s finished tying a knot with the gauze, he sits back and looks
at his work. Jeongguk doesn’t immediately bleed through the dressing, and Jimin nods once,
satisfied. “There,” he says, and then flicks his gaze up to Jeongguk’s face. “You’re pale. Like,
really, worryingly pale. Should I call Namjoon?”

Jeongguk’s head is still swimming a little, but he doesn’t feel like he’s in any immediate danger of
passing out or bleeding out, and he’s a little less cold, so he shakes his head. “I’ll just go see him in
the morning. Did you call Yoongi?”

“I didn’t know which channel he was on, but I called the park rangers while you were staring into
space,” Jimin says. He starts to rub his face, catches sight of the blood that stains his hands, and
immediately thinks better of it. “I- I didn’t know exactly what to tell them, because you didn’t tell
me what happened, but they seemed to think that the best course of action would be to stay here
and lock your doors and windows.”

Figures, Jeongguk thinks. “The windows don’t lock,” he says instead, “The door locks, but that’s
the extent of our defense. I guess whoever built this tower wasn’t thinking that there’d be a murder
out here in the woods.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, and he sits down next to Jeongguk, reflexively taking his hand. “A
murderer? Is that-- you said someone was trying to kill you, right?”
“Well, if I’m being perfectly honest, I think they’re trying to get to you, and I just happened to be in
the way.” Jeongguk doesn’t know if it’s the loss of blood that loosens his tongue or the fact that
Jimin is hanging onto his hand for dear life, but something is certainly making him blab like an
idiot. “I think it was the same person who I found snooping around your car last week. Actually, I
know it was the same person, because they left my binoculars behind, and— shit!”

Jimin jumps halfway off of the bed as Jeongguk wrenches himself up suddenly and starts to head
towards the door on autopilot. “What? What?” Jimin screeches, following Jeongguk to the door.
“Where the hell are you going?!”

“I left my binoculars out there! They’re expensive, and Seokjin already ordered me a new pair, and
—man, he’s going to be so pissed that he bought a new set for nothing.” Jeongguk talks, and he
knows that he sounds like a lunatic, but focusing on the binoculars is a lot easier than dealing with
the fact that he’d nearly died.

Thankfully, Jimin seems to be focused enough for the both of them. “Oh, my god. No. Get your ass
in here,” he says, shoving in front of Jeongguk and slamming the door shut. He turns the lock
behind him, grabs Jeongguk by the shoulders, and walks him back towards the bed. “I’m pretty
sure that you’re in shock or something, but there’s no way in hell that I’m letting you go back out
there. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Possibly,” Jeongguk replies honestly. He lets himself be manhandled and watches, rapt, as Jimin
starts to undo the laces on his shoes. “What’re you doing?”

Jimin looks up from where he’s crouched on the floor with an ‘are you serious?’ expression
plastered across his face. “I’m trying to get you cleaned up. Jeongguk, you’re covered in blood and
dirt, and you’re shaking like a leaf,” he says.

“Oh.” Now that Jimin brings it up, Jeongguk does feel a little chilly—a lot chilly, in fact, possibly
freezingly cold. He helps Jimin by toeing off his shoes and kicking them into a corner.

“Where do you keep your pajamas?” Jimin asks. Jeongguk points to the chest at the foot of his bed
and Jimin starts a new round of rummaging.

This whole situation should probably feel a little more bizarre than it does, Jeongguk thinks,
because it doesn’t feel particularly bizarre at all. Watching Jimin approach with a set of heather
grey pajama bottoms and wiggling out of his dirt-stained pants in the company of a near stranger—
who he’d kissed an hour ago—should be a lot more bizarre. But Jeongguk is sitting in his pajama
bottoms and bending in half to help Jimin strip him out of his t-shirt, and he can’t really bring
himself to feel anything other than completely exhausted.

“Huh,” Jimin says, bringing Jeongguk back into the present. His eyes are locked on the
constellation tattooed across Jeongguk’s rib cage. “Are those… uhm…”

“Cigarette burns. Yeah.” Jeongguk looks down at the sky painted onto his stomach. Small blotchy
burn scars are integrated into the constellation tattoo, marking out a map of stars across his torso. “I
had a rough childhood,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t mention the crisscrossing scars
on his chest or the one between his ribs.

Not yet, he decides.

Jimin snorts. “I’ll say.” His eyes linger for a moment longer, gaze dipping down to the vee of
Jeongguk’s hips and the cut of his muscles before flicking casually away. “Do you have a wash
basin up here or anything?”
“I should have soap and some water in the cupboard by the door,” Jeongguk tells him. He starts
automatically cleaning up the mess of bandages that litter the bedspread and tucks the kit back into
the drawer from whence it came. By the time he’s finished, Jimin is at the ready again, armed with
a basin of cold water and a bar of soap.

The cleaning up process is efficient and a little awkward now that Jeongguk is aware enough to
recognize that Jimin’s hands and fingers are tracing his bicep and the side of his chest where the
blood had spread. Jimin, thankfully, is professional about the whole ordeal, even if he doesn’t
speak the whole time. And then he’s washing his hands in the water and tossing the bloodied lot
out one of the open windows.

“We’ll have to clean the floor later,” Jimin mutters under his breath. “You should probably get
some sleep now.”

Jeongguk almost wants to laugh, because sleeping right now seems like it’d be a more difficult task
than walking barefoot into hell, but he’s still existing in a space half in and half out of
consciousness, so he settles for looking sadly at the bed and saying aloud, “There’s only one bed.”

Jimin nods slowly. “Yes. And you’re going to be the one taking it.” He raises his pointer finger in
protest the second Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue. “I’m not hearing it. One of us was turned
into an extra in a slasher movie tonight, and since it wasn’t me, I will be sleeping on the floor. No
arguments.”

And though he’d really like to force chivalry and be the nice guy here, Jeongguk doesn’t think he’d
make it through an argument with Jimin right now. Instead, he nods and eases himself back on the
bed, pulling the covers up and over his chest to stave off the worst of the chill.

Jimin clicks off the lamp on the table a moment later, casting the room into near darkness. The
only illumination comes from the light of the moon that trickles in through the slats in the blinds.
It’s by this light that Jimin changes, stripping off his newly stained shirt to tug on one of the ones
he’d found in Jeongguk’s chest, the silvery glow softening his form.

It feels like a private moment, just then, and Jeongguk closes his eyes and turns onto his other side.
He settles into the darkness and wills himself to go to sleep. And even though he’s exhausted,
injured, and still a little bit hungover, sleep doesn’t quickly move in to cloud his head. Judging
from the amount of shifting going on on the ground next to him, Jeongguk guesses that Jimin can’t
sleep either.

And then, suddenly, Jimin whispers, “…we’ll be fine in here, right?” There’s just the barest hint of
fear in his voice, but Jeongguk hears it loud and clear.

Jeongguk rolls back to face the side of the bed that Jimin’s on and peers down into the darkness.
Wordlessly, the peels back the covers and makes room. Jimin eases up off of the floor and lowers
himself onto the bed, tugs the covers up to his shoulders. They settle like that, face to face, just
looking at each other in the moonlight.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk whispers right back, watching as a breeze from the window rustles its fingers
through Jimin’s hair. He’s painted silver-white and glowing like a moonstone from within, and it’s
really rather breathtaking.

“We’ll be alright.”

Jimin smiles.
Jeongguk wakes up in the middle of the night to find that Jimin has tucked himself right into his
arms, pressed against Jeongguk’s chest and snoring softly.

But it’s warm having Jimin in his arms, and Jeongguk falls asleep again within seconds, so it
might’ve been a dream after all.

“You never talk about your father,” Namjoon had said once, in one of their earlier sessions before
he learned everything about Jeongguk.

Jeongguk, younger back then, twisted his hands in his lap. “I don’t like to think about him,” he’d
said.

“Can you tell me anything about him?” Namjoon pressed. He’d been wearing his white coat that
day—that much Jeongguk remembers in perfect detail.

Jeongguk had hesitated. After all, what was there to tell? What parts of himself could he share
before it became too much to hear out loud? Before it became something that derived power from
being spoken about; before it became strong enough to keep Jeongguk living in the past?

It was during that session that Jeongguk learned the truth about himself. He realized that he could
split himself right down the middle, clone himself into two different people. ‘Here,’ he would tell
his friends, ‘This is the Jeongguk that you want to be around. He’s nice, and calm, and isn’t he
fun?’ And no one would ever have to know about the other Jeongguk living in the back of his head,
remembering everything enough for both halves of himself.

Jeongguk realized that splitting from himself meant that he could make it through each day. It
meant that each day got a little bit easier, until it wasn’t so difficult to just exist anymore.

So he’d looked Namjoon in the eye and said, “There isn’t much to tell.”

And he’d seen as Namjoon’s gaze inadvertently drifted to the center of his chest. “Jeongguk-” he’d
started.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Jeongguk repeated, and the issue dropped.

Here’s what Jeongguk should’ve said:

Do you want me to tell you about the times I went to the hospital?
or,

Would you like to know what I did that was so horrible?

or,

Do you know what it feels like to have someone take a meat cleaver to your chest?

But Jeongguk had sat there, staring into space, and imagined splitting himself in two.

“How’re you doing?” Jeongguk asks as he sinks into the couch across from Namjoon’s swivel
chair. It’s a battered old thing, the original velvety blue gone navy with age. It’s the next day, and
Jeongguk’s still a little sweaty from his hike down to the medical center with Jimin. He plucks
uncomfortably at his shirt where it sticks to his chest.

Namjoon looks perfectly put together, as always, and raises an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses.
“That’s what I should be asking you,” he says, tapping his pen against his clipboard, “You’re the
one who had someone take a Bowie knife to your arm last night.”

It’s absolutely wild to Jeongguk that that’d happened fewer than twelve hours ago. It feels like
something that happened a lifetime ago. There’s a voice in the back of his head that whispers that
he should really be more concerned about this whole situation, but Jeongguk can’t quite bring
himself to listen to it. Instead, he shrugs and runs a hand through his sweat-flecked hair. “It wasn’t
that bad,” he says noncommittally.

The sound Namjoon makes is halfway between a scoff and a choking noise. “Someone tried to
murder you.” Incredulity spreads across Namjoon’s face, and the hand that’s holding onto his
battered clipboard goes white as he grips it tighter.

“Yeah, and they didn’t do a very good job at it, did they?” It comes out more like a joke than
Jeongguk means it to. He scrunches up his nose in distaste.

Namjoon fixes him with a stare that could probably bore a hole through solid diamond. He pauses
for a moment, assessing with narrowed eyes, and settles so far back in his chair that the springs
squeak in protest. After a few tense heartbeats, he asks quietly, “Why’re you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Jeongguk blinks.

“Downplaying this,” Namjoon says, unable to keep his voice completely free of concern, “It was a
big deal, Jeongguk. It’s okay to treat it like a big deal.”

Jeongguk grimaces and tries his best to become one with the couch. He presses further back into
the cushions and wishes for the umpteenth time in the last year that he didn’t have to do these
sessions with Namjoon to keep working here. Sure, he had one little catastrophic meltdown last
year that nearly killed him, but the whole ‘mandatory therapy’ for at least a year has always
seemed a little over the top to him. Jeongguk’s been through worse than a mental breakdown, so
the whole situation has always felt a little patronizing.
It’s not Namjoon’s fault, Jeongguk knows, because Namjoon really does care. He really is doing
this because he cares about Jeongguk, and that makes this whole situation a million times more
embarrassing. So Jeongguk always tries to keep their sessions light and easy, which always seems
to prove to Namjoon just how much Jeongguk needs to be here in the first place.

“It isn’t a big deal, though, is it?” Jeongguk mutters, picking at a thread that springs out of one of
the cushions “Someone tried to kill me, and they didn’t quite manage. You know what is a big deal
—this person’s stalking Jimin. I think that we should be focusing on that right now.”

Namjoon looks unimpressed by this redirection, as usual, and doesn’t take the bait, as usual.
“We’re handling that situation. Yoongi’s coming down later today to have a talk with you guys
about what happened. But that’s not why we’re here,” he reminds Jeongguk, “We’re here to talk
about you.”

Absorb me whole, Jeongguk prays to the couch. When it doesn’t listen to his groveling, Jeongguk
looks down at his hands and murmurs, “I don’t want to talk about me.”

He can practically hear Namjoon’s brain turning. “That’s okay,” Namjoon says a moment later.
The springs in his chair squeak as he tilts forwards. “Why don’t you talk to me about your family,
then? We can discuss them instead if you want.”

No.

“I don’t want to talk about them, either,” Jeongguk says, listening to the voice that shouts in his
head.

Namjoon purses his lips and doesn’t push the issue. A little furrow forms briefly between his
brows before he’s speaking again. “Okay. Well, how about you tell me about your time in
secondary school. Is that easier to talk about?”

Jeongguk sneaks what he hopes is a surreptitious glance at the clock behind Namjoon’s head. It’s
only a quarter after one. There’s no way he makes it through the remaining thirty minutes without
having to discuss anything about his past. Figuring that he can at least bullshit something about his
time in school, Jeongguk agrees. “I can do that,” he says.

“Great. What were you like back then?” Namjoon’s never been one for dancing around an issue,
and he clearly isn’t about to start now. He clicks his pen and holds it, hovering, above what
Jeongguk presumes is a blank piece of lined paper.

Jeongguk’s always wondered what Namjoon writes down. Probably something along the lines of,
‘He’s fucking crazy. Like, bonkers ,’ but Jeongguk has never asked.

“When I was fifteen?” Jeongguk starts, whistling out a breath of air between his teeth. “Hoo, boy. I
was… awkward. Gangly. No one really liked me, but I think that’s because no one really likes
anyone at fifteen, you know?” Namjoon smiles encouragingly, and Jeongguk continues a little
louder. “I didn’t take it personally. I did my homework, got good grades. I joined the school band
and made a few friends.”

“Is that where you met Youngsoo?” Namjoon’s question cuts across the room with an edge that
tells Jeongguk it was premeditated.

And despite all the years that’ve passed, Jeongguk can’t help but smile as he thinks about
Youngsoo. He lets himself remember then, just for a moment, what Youngsoo was like. Bright-
eyed, effervescent, confident. Always ready with a joke or a compliment and easy with himself in a
way that made Jeongguk’s chest hurt. Even after what happened, Jeongguk can’t really think of
him with anything other than fondness.

“Yeah. He played the piano. I played the guitar. We made a good rhythm section,” Jeongguk says.
Namjoon’s room fades out of focus for a moment, and Jeongguk can picture the music room where
he’d seen Youngsoo for the first time. Jeongguk is there, sitting on his big amplifier and tuning his
strings, and Youngsoo is plunking out some chords on the keyboard. Jeongguk remembers looking
up at him and thinking, ‘wow.’

Namjoon makes an interested noise. “I bet you did. Why don’t you tell me a little bit more about
him?”

And Jeongguk doesn’t really need the prompting because he’s right back there in that grey-walled
room, looking up at Youngsoo. He swirls around Youngsoo, examining him in memory like an
object held up in the light, turned this way and that.

“Well, he was everything I wasn’t,” Jeongguk says honestly. “He was tall, and strong, and he had
that gift for not caring what other people thought about him—like, he could walk through the
school in a Speedo, and nobody would say a word.” Jeongguk pauses for a moment to laugh, and
then adds, “You know. That level of charisma. Everybody liked him.”

“You too, I’m guessing,” Namjoon says, like it isn’t obvious.

Jeongguk nods. In his mind’s eye, he sees Youngsoo turning to him and smiling in the blinding
way that he always did. “Yeah. Me too. But how could I not? He was perfect. He was my idol.”
The image in Jeongguk’s mind darkens and drips away back into the recesses of his memory, and
then Jeongguk’s back in Namjoon’s office talking about things he’s never told anybody.

Before he can stop himself, he admits, “I think I was in love with him.”

“Oh?”

“Actually,” Jeongguk interrupts Namjoon’s interjection. “Actually, I know I was in love with him.
You know what we used to do?” Jeongguk says, sitting up straighter and grinning, “We’d always
go and hang out behind the bleachers on the field and read books or listen to music. Just us. Just
the two of us back there. And he’d tell me, ‘Jeongguk, you don’t have to try so hard to get people
to like you,’ which I always thought was a little weird because I never really thought that I was
trying too hard. I didn’t think that I was trying at all.”

Namjoon hums. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. I think it was hard to care, back then.”

“Care about what?”

Jeongguk realizes that he’s talking too much, but the words are pouring out of him faster than he
can collect them all and shepherd them back into their neat little box. He takes a beat to rein
himself back in. When he regains his voice, he finds himself answering a question that Namjoon
hadn’t actually asked.

Did you ever tell him that you loved him?

“I gave him a mixtape once. I gave him a mixtape, and I told him I loved him, and then the next
day he gave it right back to me and said he didn’t want to hang out with me anymore. I still have
it,” Jeongguk tells anybody, everybody in the room with him, all of his ghosts, “I’ve still got
Youngsoo’s mixtape locked in a box under my bed, and I haven’t listened to it in ten years. Is that
sad?”

Namjoon blinks, taken aback. “I-”

“He told people about me. Did I ever tell you that? He told the whole graduating class what I said
to him, and someone told the headmaster, who told my dad. I remember thinking that day, ‘You
can’t go home,’ but I didn’t know where else to go. Youngsoo was my best friend. He was who I
would’ve gone to. But I couldn’t, so I went home.”

Jeongguk is only vaguely aware that his voice is rising, that his throat hurts from the force of it, but
he can’t stop.

“I went home,” he says, “And Mom was making dinner that night. She was cooking, and her
knives were out right there on the counter. And he was just standing there.”

“Who was?” Namjoon’s voice is small, almost scared, when he asks.

Jeongguk nods. There’s a strange emotion building in his head, one that teeters too close to
numbness for him to touch. “My dad. He was standing there, and I saw him look at the knife, and
then at me, and I remember thinking, ‘ He’s going to kill you.’”

A beat passes in stunned silence. Namjoon speaks through a thick throat. “And then what
happened?”

But Jeongguk doesn’t feel like talking anymore, and the thirty minutes are almost up, and he
doesn’t want to spend any more time thinking about that day when he’d come home heartbroken
and left home in pieces. He feels himself flying up and out of his body like he used to whenever
he’d get his panic attacks, and the voice that comes out of his mouth is only vaguely his own.

“So, when I say that what happened last night isn’t really a big deal, I mean it,” declares the
Jeongguk sitting in Namjoon’s chair, the half of him that isn’t tasked with dealing with the hard
emotions. “I don’t even need stitches!”

The other Jeongguk, the other half of himself, the one screaming from the ceiling, watches as its
twin on the sofa plasters a concerned look on his face and asks, “Oh—have you checked on Jimin
yet? He seemed pretty shaken up.”

Jimin is waiting for Jeongguk when he comes out of Namjoon’s back office. He springs up from
his seat in the waiting room where he’d been dozing and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Bags hang
heavily under his eyes. Jimin didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night, and Jeongguk felt every
toss-and-turn minute of it.

“How’d it go?” Jimin asks through a yawn.

Jeongguk looks blankly at Jimin standing in front of him and tries to come back to himself. His
head is a little bit fuzzy and he doesn’t really remember everything that happened in Namjoon’s
office. It takes a moment for his brain to jumpstart. “Hm?” he hums. “Oh, fine, fine. Yoongi here
yet?”
“Nah. Hoseok says he’ll be here soon, though.” He pauses and rummages around in his pocket for
a Snickers bar that he’d clearly stolen from Hoseok’s snack drawer. “Here. Thought you might be
hungry.”

As if summoned to life, Jeongguk’s stomach emits a warbling growl that’s both thoroughly
embarrassing and entirely endearing. “Ah, thank you. I haven’t gone on a supply hike yet, and I’m
painfully low on food supplies,” he speaks through a mouthful of chocolate nougat.

Jimin’s eyebrows tick up as he smiles. He rocks back onto his heels, hands in the pockets of the
joggers he’d stolen from Jeongguk, and smirks, “I noticed. You have, like, two granola bars and a
half of a banana, though it’s so fermented it might count as alcohol now.”

Jeongguk knows the exact banana he’s talking about. It’d come from the supply drop three weeks
ago, and an exhausted Jeongguk had decided to see how long it held its shape. For science. “Too
bad Hoseok already dropped all the supplies up in the box, or I could just pick them up here. I
might have to go tonight, then.”

Abruptly, Jimin stops bouncing on his heels. He fixes Jeongguk with an ‘are you serious’ stare and
crosses his arms. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jeongguk asks, swallowing the last of the Snickers and three-pointer-ing it
into a trash can on the opposite wall.

“Uhm,” Jimin huffs, “There’s a stalker-slash-murderer on the loose. Hello? Were we in the same
place last night?”

Jeongguk nods and raises his hands like he’s soothing a wild animal. Jimin bats them spitefully out
of the way. “And while that would usually be a very good reason to stay indoors, I’m at risk of
starving to death by Monday if I don’t brave the hike.”

Several emotions war for dominance on Jimin’s face, and Jeongguk can make out none of them
save for mild irritation. Eventually, Jimin’s brow eases and he asks, “Do you want me to go with
you? Maybe lessen the odds that you’ll be brutally murdered out in the forest on your own.”

“You, the person that the stalker is stalking?” Jeongguk points out with a laugh. “No. I think you’d
probably be safer here in a building that has more than one lock and sealable windows.”

Jimin looks disappointed, but he nods slowly. “Touché, Jeon Jeongguk.” His gaze falls down to the
bandage wrapping around Jeongguk’s arm that’s only slightly soaked through with blood. Jimin
reaches out and grips Jeongguk’s wrist gingerly, turning it over to look at the damage. “How’s the
arm?” he asks quietly.

There’s a brief pang in Jeongguk’s chest, a little bubble of frantic emotion that he squishes down.
“I’m holding up fine,” Jeongguk mutters. Before he can think better of it, he brings his non-injured
hand up to brush Jimin’s hair out of his eyes, palm resting against Jimin’s cheek. “What about you?
Are you okay?”

Jimin looks startled, and rightfully so, but he does his best to hide it. He licks his lips—and
Jeongguk does not track the movement—and stammers, “I’m, uhm, I-”

The double doors to the hospital swing open, and Yoongi comes walking in with the stride of a
high-powered attorney who’s late to a meeting. He carries a knapsack in one hand that he holds up
like a trophy as he walks. “Hey! Sorry I’m late, but I come bearing gifts,” Yoongi announces as
Jeongguk whips his hand away like he’s been burned. Jimin drops his wrist equally as fast, and
they spring apart like two magnets forcibly pushed together.

Yoongi rummages around in his bag as Eunji walks into the building as well. By the time she’s
standing next to her commander, Yoongi’s found what he’s looking for. “For Jeongguk, a new can
of bear spray and a taser,” he says, handing both items over to Jeongguk ceremoniously, “For
Jimin, a Bowie knife.”

Jimin takes it like it’s a bomb, holding it by the tip of its handle at least six inches away from his
body. “Wow. This isn’t ominous at all,” he deadpans. “I could skin a bear with this thing.”

Eunji laughs, a high, tinkling sound, and fixes her bright gaze on Jeongguk. “Hi! I heard about
what happened last night. Are you two alright? I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you guys.”

Forcing a smile, Jeongguk says, “We’re doing okay. Where’s your twin?” He sends around a
cursory glance, but Sanghoon is nowhere to be found.

A frown passes over Eunji’s face, and she makes a vague sort of gesture in the air. “Sanghoon has
bad allergies today. You should fucking see his eyes—it looks like he’s been stung by a nest of
bees. I had to sit up with him all night. It was awful.” Her eyes—and Yoongi’s—are indeed
bloodshot, a surefire indication of staying up into the small hours of the morning.

“You must be Yoongi,” Jimin says. He bows formally to Yoongi and then sticks out his hand to
shake.

The combination of gestures brings a rare smile to Yoongi’s lips, and he mimics Jimin perfectly. A
bow, then a handshake. “And you must be Jimin, our stalking victim,” he greets, “It’s nice to meet
you.”

“It might be nicer under better circumstances. I’m quite a catch,” says Jimin. He wrinkles his nose
as though upset that someone has the audacity to stalk him and ruin his shot at a good first
impression. Which, knowing Jimin, is very possible.

Either way, his sass coaxes a laugh out of Yoongi’s throat. “You’re probably right. Oh—this is
Eunji. I don’t think you’ve met.” Eunji bows briefly, and then Yoongi is nodding to one of the two
conference rooms built into the medical center on the rare occasion that Namjoon has more than
two visitors at a time and muttering, “Shall we?”

The rest of them follow Yoongi down the hall and into the strangely circular room like ducklings.
As they all settle around the equally circular table, Jeongguk asks, “Did you have a chance to get
an update on Jimin’s situation?”

Yoongi hums and steeples his fingers. “I did, but it’s not going very well at the moment. Whoever
you were, Jimin, you were pretty meticulous about hiding yourself,” he explains. And Jimin may
not know Yoongi well enough to recognize the assessing look that’s currently raking him over, but
Jeongguk does. It means that Yoongi is assessing all of the reasons why someone like Jimin would
need to hide in the first place and doesn’t like any of them.

Jimin, to his credit, isn’t cowed. “The ID didn’t even help?” asks Jimin. He leans onto his elbows
on the table, and Jeongguk tries not to be very endeared by the gesture.

“The police found your old dance studio, but no one there knows anything about you. Seems like
you were a secretive guy.”

Even Eunji, who’s just met Jimin, looks skeptical. Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat.
“Huh,” he grunts. “That seems hard to imagine.”
And there’s a little tingling sensation in the back of Jeongguk’s head that tells him there’s a real
possibility that they’re not considering here, but he can’t for the life of him bring what it is to the
tip of his tongue. Jeongguk shakes his head and asks, “You didn’t find an address or anything? Not
even from the car’s registration?”

“No,” Yoongi sighs. He looks particularly frustrated by this. “The car was registered under a
different name—Lee Jaeun. Do you recognize the name?”

It’s clear that Jimin’s really trying his best to bring a memory to the forefront of his mind—his eyes
are screwed up, his mouth pursed, and his nose all crinkled—but several tense seconds yield
nothing more than a blank stare. “No, sorry,” Jimin says apologetically. “And that’s all you were
able to find about me?”

The drum of Yoongi’s fingers against the table is the only thing that hints at his anxiety. Yoongi
likes to know things—everything, if possible—and Jeongguk can only imagine how much this
mystery is killing him. “One of your coworkers mentioned that you were working part time at a
nightclub in Itaewon. So we’re pursuing that lead, too.”

“Itaewon? That’s like three hours from here. What’re you doing so far from home?” Jeongguk’s
question is rhetorical, but Jimin has apparently reached maximum capacity for frustration.

He casts a bitchy look at Jeongguk and huffs, “If I knew that, we wouldn’t be in this mess, would
we?”

“Fair enough.” Jeongguk splays his hands out on the table and frowns. “So, what happens now?”

“Now we wait to get more information. Hopefully Jimin’s amnesia starts to fade,” Yoongi says. As
if on cue, all eyes in the room turn to focus on Jimin expectantly, like the sheer force of their
combined stare will magically reverse the damage incurred in his accident.

Jimin shrinks back into his chair under the sudden scrutiny. “I’m working on it, okay?” he says in a
voice that’s uncharacteristically small. “It isn’t something I can do on command.”

“No one’s saying it is,” Yoongi soothes, which is also uncharacteristic, but he must be feeling
particularly sympathetic. “But until we hear back from the Seoul Police Agency, you’re to stay
here with me and Namjoon.”

Jeongguk blinks once, twice, and looks owlishly at Yoongi. “Wait—you’re coming down to stay
here? What about your job?”

“As of right now, this is my job. And Sanghoon is going to come down with an ATV for me to use
on ground rescues tonight. We’ll set up a temporary base here and go from there.” Yoongi starts to
stand like the meeting’s over.

“You and Sanghoon are going to be staying here, too?” Jeongguk asks.

Eunji jumps in on his behalf. “Sanghoon and I follow wherever our commander goes. It’s policy,”
she exclaims.

“Huh,” Jeongguk teases, a half-smile on his face. “He’s taken a real liking to you guys, hasn’t he?”

“No more questions,” Yoongi barks, blushing furiously. He walks out of the conference room with
Eunji in tow, who turns to sketch one last bow before trailing out after him. The door closes with a
soft ‘snick’, and then the silence in the room grows into this big, stifling creature that takes up a
disproportionate amount of space in the conference room. Jeongguk can almost feel it raking its
claws down his back, and he starts to sweat.

The feeling lasts for what Jeongguk is convinced is an eternity but is probably more like fifteen
seconds before Jimin is asking softly, “…are you okay?”

Jeongguk flicks his eyes up at Jimin from across the table and shrugs. Jimin bites his lip when he’s
concerned, which is really unfair, and Jeongguk swallows hard. “Yeah. I’m just a little shaken up
about this whole thing. I just—I just really, really want this all to be over so we can have a regular,
vanilla summer.” The worry laces throughout his voice heavily.

Jimin doesn’t immediately reply. He waits a heartbeat or two, and then he’s rising out of his seat,
crossing the room in two quick strides, and sitting down in the vacant chair right by Jeongguk’s
side. Before Jeongguk even knows what’s happening, his injured hand is cradled between Jimin’s
palms.

“Are you going to be okay alone tonight?” Jimin asks carefully, like this question is even remotely
connected to what they were talking about before.

Yes, absolutely, Jeongguk wants to say, but it’s like both halves of himself come crashing back into
one Jeongguk all at once, and fear climbs up his throat as he realizes for the first time that he’s
going to have to make his way back through the woods, to the supply drop, and to his tower on his
own. Sans Jimin.

No, Jeongguk’s brain corrects immediately upon having this revelation, but Jeongguk makes
himself swallow and says, “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to make the supply drop and come right
back.”

“Okay,” Jimin mutters, but he seems unsatisfied. “Just be careful, okay? Whoever’s out there is
after me, and I really don’t want anyone else to get caught in the crossfire. Especially you.”

There’s a bit too much sincerity in his tone for Jeongguk to deal with at the moment, so Jeongguk
cracks what might possibly pass as a smile in another universe and snarks, “How considerate.”

But it has the desired effect, because Jimin smiles. “Shut up.”

And it becomes very apparent to Jeongguk very quickly that Jimin is sitting here in the conference
room, and they’re alone, and Jeongguk doesn’t have the best self-control. The second he tries to
voice the goodbye that bubbles up in his throat, though, Jimin is tugging Jeongguk back into his
seat.

“What?” is all that Jeongguk has time to ask before Jimin is leaning forward to press a kiss onto
Jeongguk’s lips. It’s feather-light and barely more than a peck, but it stops Jeongguk dead in his
tracks. “What?” Jeongguk echoes again, like an idiot.

Jimin has that look on his face again—the hesitant one that makes him look much younger than he
is—when he says, “I know that things got kind of crazy after we kissed, but… I guess I just want
you to know that I’m not sorry that it happened, because I never said it, and I want you to know.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk says dumbly. He blinks at Jimin, and when he talks, his voice is so scratchy that
he barely recognizes it as his own. “Me too.”

The smile that Jimin erupts into should be painted and hung in the Louvre, but Jeongguk settles for
basking in its light. “Yeah?”

And Jeongguk is only human, so leans forward and kisses Jimin soundly right on the blinding
smile. He cups Jimin’s chin with his free hand and bites gently on Jimin’s lower lip with a level of
finesse that he didn’t think he actually possessed. He pulls back, head foggy, and clarifies, “Yeah,”
like the eloquent scholar that he is.

“Good. Now don’t die on me, okay?” Jimin half-teases.

Jeongguk wonders if Jimin is conscious of the fact that he’s leaning forward to chase after
Jeongguk’s lips and decides abruptly that he doesn’t mind in the slightest. Just before Jimin sinks
into him again, Jeongguk smirks and promises, “I’ll do my very best.”

“So did you die?”

The question comes crackling out of Jeongguk’s radio so suddenly that he abruptly drops the towel
he’d been using to dry his hair off and lets out a less-than-manly squeak of shock. Jeongguk’s head
whips around the room, looking for an intruder before realizing that the sound came from the
device on his desk.

And Jeongguk recognizes the voice on the other end of the line, but a glance at the clock confirms
that it is, indeed, two in the morning, and there’s no way Jimin would be calling this late. Still, he
reaches over and asks, “…Jimin?”

“Who else is going to have that intensely personal kind of inside joke with you? ” says Jimin in a
drawl.

Jeongguk can’t help but smile, because it’s two in the morning and Jimin is calling him . Jeongguk
sits on the edge of his bed and tries not to smile like an idiot. It’s a lot harder to achieve than it
sounds. “Do you want me to answer that seriously?” he says.

“No,” Jimin huffs, and then adds impatiently, “You didn’t answer my original question, though.”

“About whether or not I died? Don’t you think the answer’s obvious by now?” Jeongguk tries to
make his voice sound smooth and conversational, but there’s a distinctly nervous twinge to it that
he hopes doesn’t travel through the static of the receiver. He flops onto his back on the bed and
stares up at the wooden slats of his ceiling, heart thudding in his chest.

Jimin makes a sound like a bird getting plucked of its foliage. “How should I know? We’re in the
woods. Spooky things happen in the woods. You could be decapitated somewhere in the forest, and
I could be talking to a ghost for all I know.” Jimin lets the words sink in before he says, “Too
soon?” and Jeongguk can practically hear the shit-eating grin that Jimin probably has plastered
across his face.

“Nah,” he snorts. “It’s okay. And no, I didn’t die, and no, you’re not speaking to a ghost. Just to
allay all of your fears.”

Jimin sighs appreciatively from the other end. “That’s great, because I really didn’t have time to
form a proper séance circle, and I really don’t want to be haunted for the rest of my life. What’re
you wearing?”

Jimin is a fan of randomly inserting non sequiturs into regular conversations just to see Jeongguk’s
head fly off. Jeongguk makes a choking noise. “What? Are you serious?” he hisses into the
receiver, and then casts an instinctive look at his bare chest and pajama-pant-clad legs, considering
for a minute before he thinks better of it. “Taehyung’s on this channel.”

“Taehyung would also like to know what you’re wearing!” Like the devil, Taehyung also
apparently comes when called. His voice echoes startlingly loud in Jeongguk’s ear.

“Oh, my god. We both know that you can literally see me. You already know what I’m wearing,”
Jeongguk bitches as he pulls himself out of his seat and over to close the blinds of his windows. He
patently ignores the way Taehyung’s using a flashlight and a helioscope to morse code the phrase
G-E-T-N-A-K-E-D through the window.

As Jeongguk closes the blinds decisively, Jimin interjects, “Taehyung, be straight with me. What’s
he wearing?”

There’s the briefest of pauses from Taehyung’s end, full of evil intentions and pure demonic spirit.
“Nothing,” says Taehyung a heartbeat later.

“You liar!” Jeongguk half-shouts into the quiet of his room. No one’s even around to see him
blush, but he does it anyway.

Jimin makes an interested noise. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” Taehyung confirms smugly.

Sighing dreamily, Jimin says, “How exciting. Do a twirl, Jeongguk.”

“I’m not naked!” Jeongguk screeches again, feeling distinctly like he’s in hell.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Jimin huffs, “You’d probably look good naked.”

Before Jeongguk can process, Taehyung barks out a laugh. “He does. But tonight, his one-man
peep show is disappointing on all fronts.”

Jeongguk has approximately one second to process that Taehyung has apparently watched him strip
on prior occasions before a fourth, more tired, more dead-inside voice comes onto the speaker.
“Do any of you realize that some of us are trying to sleep?” Seokjin yawns. “Some of us are thirty.
Some of us need beauty sleep.”

A small pause, and then Jimin asks suspiciously, “Who’s this?”

“What do you mean ‘who’s this?’ Who the hell are you? ” Seokjin bitches back instantly.

Jimin makes a disgruntled noise. “This is Jimin.”

And Jeongguk can practically hear all of the gears in Seokjin’s head turning as he connects two and
two and comes away with the fact that this is the guy Jeongguk has a major crush on. The whole
process takes a millisecond, and then Seokjin is cooing in an entirely lewd voice, “Ah, the mythic
Jimin. I’m Kim Seokjin, Jeongguk’s Forest Daddy. Also, don’t take this personally, but go to hell.”

“That’s not very neighborly, Seokjin,” Taehyung criticizes, “I’m not impressed with you right
now. And we’ll circle back to how much I hate you hearing ‘Forest Daddy’ with every fiber of my
being later.”

For the tenth time in as many hours, Jeongguk wishes that he could kill Seokjin and get away with
it. Sometimes when he wishes that, he’s not even mad at Seokjin, but he does it instinctively. Just
to practice. “Not that this isn’t fun, but I need to sleep. I’m gonna sign off now,” Jeongguk
interrupts before the three musketeers actually talk him into doing a strip-tease.

“Awh, buzzkill,” Jimin pouts through the receiver, and Jeongguk really thinks that that’s unfair.

“If he gets to sleep, then I do too,” Seokjin says, relieved, “Goodnight. I hope you all die.”

Taehyung tuts menacingly. “Uh-uh, hyung. Jeongguk may be going, but you’re stuck with me.”
Radio silence follows for a moment. “Hyung?” Taehyung repeats, “Hyung? Do you guys think I
killed him?”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Tae,” he says dryly, turning the knob of his radio so that it’s
on another unoccupied channel. Jeongguk’s barely turned off the lamp and crawled onto his bed
when he sees the blinking light indicating that there’s someone who wants to talk on channel five.

Apprehension floods Jeongguk’s system as he remembers the last time this’d happened, but he’s
already plodding back over to the table and answering the call. “…hello?” he says hesitantly.

“Jeongguk?”

It’s Jimin, and the tension fades. Jeongguk climbs back into his bed. “Yeah. Is it just us now?”

“I hope so,” says Jimin, “Have I told you I’m in love with Taehyung?”

“That’s a bummer, because he’s madly in love with Yoongi, and I distinctly remember you kissing
me last night.”

Jimin laughs in a high, lilting sort of way that’s considered a felony in Jeongguk’s court of law.
“‘Distinctly’ huh?” Jimin teases.

“You’re hard to forget.”

With a snort, Jimin replies statically, “I wish I could remember me as well as you seem to.”

“So why’d you call?” Jeongguk asks suddenly, because he’s sort of been dying to know, and he’s
been remarkably patient throughout the whole Magic Mike audition that just happened. “Not that I
don’t appreciate the company.”

There’s a beat before Jimin replies. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Lucky I’m not around to see you blush, then.”

“I don’t blush. I bloom,” Jimin retorts.

“Whatever that means. Stop distracting me.” And then Jeongguk waits, because he hears Jimin at
war with himself, and it’s almost a little bit fun to make him squirm as much as he makes Jeongguk
squirm.

It is indeed worth it when Jimin admits, clearly shy, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

And that is exactly the right answer, because Jeongguk instantly feels like he should be lying on
his back and kicking his feet in excitement like all those teenage girls do in the movies. “That’s so
sweet,” Jeongguk only half-teases, “Oh, my god, you’re sweet. That’s incredible.”

“And you, apparently, are a jerk. I will leave you on this line.”
 It’s a hollow threat, but Jeongguk still rises to the occasion. “No!” he yelps, feigning being stung.

Immediately, Jimin quips, “That eager?”

“Go to hell. What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Going to hell, I think,” Jimin hums.

And Jeongguk isn’t sure if there’s a verbal-sparring kink that exists out there, but he feels like he’s
remarkably close to discovering something like that about himself. Instead, he rolls onto his side
and stares out the south windows, imagines he can see Jimin in his room at Namjoon’s doing the
same. “Do you want to come up with me to the supply box? Could be fun.”

“You mean, do I want to hike with you through the wilderness to grab rations from a dusty-ass box
before hiking all the way back? That’s your first date move?” Jimin drawls, but there’s amusement
behind his voice and something else that Jeongguk can’t quite place.

“We’re in a forest,” Jeongguk reminds him, staring out at the tops of the trees that whisper
together, “There’s not a lot of moves to use. And it’s not a date.” He regrets the words the second
they leave his mouth, even before Jimin replies, voice softer.

“It’s not?”

Jeongguk swallows. “I mean—should it be?” He sits up again, suddenly wide awake.

“I-”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Taehyung interrupts, popping in suddenly like a Jack-In-The-
Box from hell. “I saw the line blinking and felt excluded. Include me. What’re we talking about?”

Jeongguk is a fool for thinking that Jimin won’t out him, because Jimin waits all of one second
before pouncing. “Apparently, I’m not datable.”

Taehyung emits a sound like a teapot boiling over. “What!” he screeches.

“I regret ever letting you two talk to each other,” Jeongguk complains, not sure how he feels about
the whole ‘is it a date?’ Jeopardy question bouncing around his head. His heart is halfway between
his chest and his toes, like it can’t decide whether to be excited or disappointed. “See you
tomorrow?” he asks before he leaves.

“Sure,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk settles for being excited. “See you tomorrow.”

“So will I. Now get off the line. My husband and I have much to discuss about why we hate you,”
Taehyung dismisses, and who is Jeongguk to argue with the Devil Incarnate?

He switches off the line and clambers back into bed, imagining that Jimin is feeling just as topsy-
turvy as he is.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter End Notes

*evil laughing*

I'll see you next week!!

 Smolder
Chapter Notes

Well hello my friends. Welcome back!!

Now that we're officially halfway through the fic, I am excited to announce that it gets
DARKER FROM HERE :D

It's been so fun to read all of your comments-- I really love and appreciate them, even
if I don't respond-- especially about what happened to JK. And who the stalker is!!!
The urge to post the last 5 chapters all at once is strong, but I must resist.

Quick reminder that I started this fic on Halloween, and it is very much a Halloween
fic.
That being said-- Enjoy!!

My twitter
Erin, the Best Beta's, twitter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Do you think,” Jeongguk asked, back then, “That we’re happy?”

His reflection in the mirror hadn’t said anything back. It stared at him, black and blue, and
grimaced.

“Do you think,” Jeongguk reprised, “Do you think that we could be happy?”

His reflection shook its head. It looks disappointed at the prospect.

“And do you think,” Jeongguk asked, “That we’ll make it to sixteen?”

‘No,’ his reflection mouthed at him, ‘We won’t.’

Jeongguk nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

And he’d looked down at the knife in his hands with a weary sort of hope.

Bright and early on a Friday morning, Jeongguk thumps down the stairs of his tower, rubbing at
his eyes, and comes across a sight that he’s never seen before in all his years in the forestry service.
At the bottom of his tower—just like he’s jumped out of a fairytale book—is a handsome Prince.

Jeongguk supposes that he’s a more-muscular Rapunzel in this particular metaphor, but he can’t
really find it in himself to care. Jimin is standing there looking beautiful and perfect and for once
not wearing the offensive yellow banana shorts. The shorts he has on now are undoubtedly stolen
from Hoseok’s workout clothes stash, because they cut off at a nearly-indecent length (read: mid
thigh) and are an unapologetic shade of red. He has a white T-shirt on that’s too large—Namjoon’s,
Jeongguk supposes—and his signature black ball cap tugged down over his head.

“You’re early,” Jeongguk says, because all rational thought has fled from the light of Jimin’s
perfectly sculpted legs.

Jimin looks up at him, eyes trailing over Jeongguk’s own ensemble. It’s just a black shirt with the
sleeves cut off and a pair of running shorts, but Jimin’s look makes him feel like he’s ready to walk
the Milan runway during fashion week. “I wanted to make a good impression,” Jimin says with a
smile.

“Really?”

“Nah,” Jimin snorts. “Namjoon just set my alarm clock to four in the morning. I think he’s getting
back at me for talking to Seokjin about him the other night.” He smirks and hefts his backpack
higher onto one shoulder in a way that probably isn’t meant to be attractive but that is one-hundred-
percent a turn-on.

Jeongguk takes a breath and checks himself. “The other night?” he volleys back and casually
knocks their shoulders together, “Co-opting all my friends already, huh? You sure don’t waste any
time.”

“There’s not exactly a lot to do up here. I’m not a doctor, and I don’t find filing things particularly
fun, so I basically sit around the hospital all day,” Jimin says with a roll of his eyes, but there’s
enough amusement in them that Jeongguk doesn’t take the criticism of his job personally.

Jeongguk hums. “Well, you were a dancer, right?”

“Apparently.”

“Have you tried dancing?” asks Jeongguk. The surprised-then-thoughtful expression that flits
across Jimin’s face is priceless.

Jimin nods and turns the barest shade of pink. “See, that’s the sort of thing I probably should’ve
been doing instead of hiding Skittles in Hoseok’s filing cabinets, but I didn’t think of that.”

Blinking, Jeongguk asks, “What?”

But Jimin just waves him off with the forced casualness of a criminal caught halfway through
committing a crime. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and then, “Should we head out?”

Jeongguk spends all of one second pondering the political impacts of not warning Hoseok that he’s
going to have sticky drawers in two days time before shrugging and heading out on the trail
towards Clearwater Lake. “You have a water bottle in there?” he asks as he takes the lead down the
dirt trail.

“And snacks,” Jimin says proudly as he pats his backpack, “I’m practically a hiking genius.”

“You’re wearing Chucks,” Jeongguk points out. “So.”

Jimin scoffs, affronted. He swipes at Jeongguk with one hand and lands a smack on his chest.
“Hey! These are the only ones I brought with me on whatever trip I decided to go on before I got
into a car crash.”

His shoes are dusty with the dirt on the trail, and the soles are worn down so much that they’re
starting to look a little sad, and Jeongguk represses the urge to grimace at the blisters that future-
Jimin is going to have as a little reminder of their time together today. “Did you try asking Seokjin
to order you some more supplies?” Jeongguk says instead. “It might be nice to have clothes that
actually fit you, you know.”

Jimin goes uncomfortably quiet. “Ah… I would, but…”

And Jeongguk can fill in the blanks. “But you’re not sure how long you’re going to be staying
here,” Jeongguk says, shrugging with what he hopes is a devil-may-care attitude. “That’s fair. I get
it.”

The way Jimin looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes highlights that, no, Jeongguk wasn’t
quite as cavalier as he had hoped. “I’m sorry,” Jimin says quietly.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. This whole thing. Crashing into your life pretty explosively and then bailing. I mean
—you probably weren’t expecting your summer to be like this,” Jimin says all at once.

Jeongguk looks down at him, considering. He watches the shadows cast by the trees in the
midmorning sun as they flit across the bridge of Jimin’s nose and realizes that he doesn’t really
mind Jimin’s disastrous appearance. In fact, it’s pretty nice to have someone to be hiking this trail
with. It’s nice to have someone spending the night in his tower with him. The whole thing is just…
nice .

So he says, “It’s usually a lot of stopping fireworks and skinny-dippers, so in a way, I’m grateful.
It’s certainly more interesting this year.”

“Only you would think that nearly getting murdered is interesting,” Jimin mumbles under his
breath, but he doesn’t sound quite so regretful now, so Jeongguk counts it as a win.

They walk in silence for a mile or so, the silence broken only to point out a deer or an interesting
butterfly or a rock to watch out for. Jimin learns that he’s actually very athletically inclined;
Jeongguk watches as he jumps over boulders and clambers up slopes without breaking a sweat.
Discovering this truth about himself sets Jimin’s face alight with a smile for the next few minutes.
Jeongguk is glad he gets to be a part of it.

It’s only after they start on their descent towards Clearwater Lake that Jeongguk speaks again.
“This is kind of strange, isn’t it?” he says, mostly to himself.

Jimin looks back over his shoulder—because he’s taken the lead despite not knowing where he’s
going—and quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

With a shrug, Jeongguk says, “Like, right now I’d probably be asking you all sorts of personal
questions to get to know you better. Like a usual date.”

“So you admit it. This is a date.” Jimin smirks victoriously and wipes the sweat off his forehead
with the back of his hand.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Not anymore,” he retorts, “I’m dumping you.”
“How rude. You never even asked me out,” Jimin says in mock-offense. But then he’s slowing his
pace to walk beside Jeongguk through an outcropping of rock in the middle of a shaded glen and
humming in consideration. “I guess you’re right,” he concedes, “Trust me, though, there’s really
nothing I’d like more than to tell you the ins-and-outs of my family lineage, but I can’t remember
it.”

He shoots a mischievous glance at Jeongguk. “I can make something up for you, if you want.”

Jeongguk laughs. “Oh yeah? Give it your best shot.”

“You have to ask me a question first.” Jimin waits patiently, eyes half-closed as he thinks up a
backstory for himself.

“Ah, of course, how stupid of me,” Jeongguk drawls. He pauses to think and takes a swig from his
water bottle before settling on an easy question. “Okay. Where were you born?”

Jimin lets out a bark of laughter. “Busan, probably. In case the accent didn’t make that clear
enough. You need to ask me something harder.” He looks over at Jeongguk with a challenge
written clearly in his eyes.

Jeongguk takes the bait. “What’d you want to be when you grew up?” he asks as they exit the
dense foliage and exit onto the southern base of Clearwater Lake. The drop location is just up
ahead, but Jeongguk doesn’t really want their hike to end, so he tries to surreptitiously slow their
pace.

“An ornithologist,” Jimin answers confidently. His expression is so sure that, for a split second,
Jeongguk almost believes him.

“An ornithologist,” Jeongguk parrots, “ Really?”

Jimin nods. “Yes. I’ve always been passionate about eye health.”

“That’s an ophthalmologist,” Jeongguk corrects with a bark of laughter.

He watches as Jimin’s face screws up in annoyance. “Oh. Really? What the hell is an ornithologist,
then?”

“A bird researcher.”

“ Huh.” Jimin’s voice is full of disbelief, like Jeongguk is making up a profession just to screw
with him.

Jeongguk holds his hands out defensively and teases, “Don’t look at me. It’s your pretend
childhood dream. So tell me, Bird Man, what made you so inclined to study birds?”

Jimin shoots him a glare that could curdle milk and spends a second writing himself a backstory.
After a moment, he declares, “I always liked how free they looked. I found them inspiring.”

“That’s a cliché. Try again,” Jeongguk rejects with a shake of his head.

Exasperated, Jimin kicks at a pebble on the path and throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine. I really
wanted to make a jacket out of bird feathers, and becoming an ornithologist was the one job that
would get me in close proximity with a high volume of birds to pluck. Better?”

“Much.”
“Next question.”

“What were your parents like?” Jeongguk asks. And he genuinely wants to know. He supposes it’s
some kind of morbid curiosity. A part of him wants to know how someone else imagines what
family is like, just so he can get a glimpse into that kind of life. Into something other than cold
metal and the noises at night that he associates with his own.

It’s clear that Jimin has already thought about this. “Mom was a taekwondo prodigy,” he declares.
He pauses for a moment to rub at a fly that dances around his nose and leaves behind a smudge of
dirt that Jeongguk has to resist the urge to swipe away. “She wanted me to follow in her footsteps.
Imagine her surprise when I said I wanted to be a professional bird plucker.”

Jeongguk snorts. “For the record, I don’t think that’s what ornithologists actually do,” he clarifies.
“What about your fictitious dad?”

Jimin lowers his voice until it’s just above a whisper and laced with steel, like the voice of men in
those American Western movies and husks, “He’s in jail. A bad man.”

“Why?” Jeongguk laughs.

“He killed a man,” Jimin deadpans with such gravitas that Jeongguk actually shudders.

Jeongguk’s laughter stops dead in his throat. He killed a man, a voice whispers in the back of his
head. But he forces himself to ask, “Why?”

“I dunno,” Jimin says easily, like it doesn’t matter. Jeongguk supposes that it doesn’t, to him.
“Pops never talked about it. He claims that it was in self-defense, but the court didn’t believe him.
‘Murder is murder,’ they said, and I never saw him again,” Jimin says and shoots Jeongguk a
dazzling smile. “How’s that?”

Swallowing hard, Jeongguk half-grimaces. “That’s… certainly tragic,” Jeongguk says and licks his
lips. He redirects, “But I’m still wondering how a potential ornithologist with a taekwondo mother
and a deadbeat dad became a professional dancer.”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Jimin says with a cheeky wink. He pauses by the sign that
declares that they’ve arrived at ‘CLEARWATER LAKE’ and nods to himself before asking, “Well,
what about you?”

Jeongguk feels his heart land somewhere in the dirt around his feet. “What about me?” he asks, but
he already knows, and he’s already thinking of lies.

“You’re the one who actually remembers his life, so it’s your turn. What did you want to be when
you grew up?”

A little bit of relief passes through Jeongguk. He doesn’t have to lie about this one. He passes
Jimin and starts to lead them down the grass-edged slope towards the water’s edge and calls over
his shoulder, “A musician.”

Jimin makes a little noise of excitement. “That’s so cool!” he enthuses, “Do you play any
instruments?”

“The guitar. And I sing. I’m just an amateur, though. Not a prodigy or anything,” Jeongguk says
humbly. In truth, he’s a little bit better than that, but he doesn’t want to come off like an asshole,
especially when Jimin is looking at him with stars in his eyes.
Jimin smiles with his teeth. “You’ll have to serenade me some time,” he decides for the both of
them. “Okay, next question. How did a potential musician turn into a fire watch guy? I’m guessing
there’s a story in there somewhere.”

Jeongguk can answer this one honestly, too. It’s something that he’s spent a lot of time thinking
about—why the solitude of the forest is so appealing to him. Why the ways the rustle of the leaves
and the endless darkness at night are appealing to him. “It’s just quiet out here,” Jeongguk admits,
taking off his shoes as the dirt turns to mud by the creek that feeds the lake, “And my house wasn’t
like this growing up. I like the peace. Being away from everyone.”

“You had a noisy family, then?” Jimin pushes, clearly interested. He reaches down and shucks off
his own shoes, feet sucking down into the mud as he treads after Jeongguk. “Siblings?”

“No siblings.” And Jeongguk’s just starting to realize that Jimin is going to ask about his parents
next, and he can feel the first signs of panic creeping up his throat, but he can’t decide how to get
this over with fast enough.

And sure enough, Jimin’s next question is, “No siblings, got it. What were your parents like?”

Jeongguk watches as the mud sucks his feet down and down beneath the depths when he stops,
heart in his throat. “My parents. They were… they, uhm,” he says under his breath, trying to come
up with a half-truth that’s both plausible and also demands no further questions. “They…” he trails
off.

To his credit, Jimin seems to realize that this is a sensitive subject. He reaches forward and puts a
hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, says, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about them.”

But then Jeongguk is feeling a strange kind of profound guilt for not sharing about himself when
Jimin’s already given so much of himself, when he’s already been so vulnerable. And Namjoon’s
always saying that Jeongguk needs to talk about these things to heal from them, so Jeongguk takes
in a deep breath through his teeth and says, “No, it’s okay. Just—give me a second.”

He takes a second, and then another, and once he feels like he’s not about to get dragged
underwater, Jeongguk resumes his hike to the waterfront and says into the midmorning air, “My
mom was nice at one point, I guess. Though she kind of got worn down over the years by the force
of my dad’s personality. Near the end, she was just… there. Like a ghost. I don’t really remember a
lot about her.”

“Your dad must be headstrong,” Jimin says carefully, squelching along behind Jeongguk.

Jeongguk scoffs. “That’s one word for it. I’d settle for ‘asshole’ myself.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

“Is he the one who gave you those cigarette burns on your chest?” There’s a certain disgust in
Jimin’s voice that indicates he already knows the answer, and Jeongguk freezes.

For a second, Jeongguk can feel the sizzle of his skin and the smell of burning flesh, the searing
pain and bubbling, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He stops in his tracks and breathes in
through his mouth.

Jimin notices immediately, because of course he does. “I’m sorry,” he rushes, hurrying around to
face Jeongguk with wide eyes. “That was way over the line. I’m sorry.”

But then the strange wave of cold passes over Jeongguk—the one that always floods through him
whenever he gets too worked up, like that time last year when he had a breakdown laid in his bed
for a month without getting up once—and Jeongguk feels himself split in two again.

The Jeongguk who’s left behind is reserved and unemotional when he says, “Yeah. He was the one
who did it. And he did worse, too.” He taps the center of his chest, watches as Jimin’s eyes fall on
the top of the long scar from a meat cleaver that peeks out from over the lip of Jeongguk’s shirt.

Jimin swallows hard, throat bobbing. Softly, he asks, “Why?

Jeongguk shrugs. “He hated me. Hated that I looked like my mom, hated that I was scrawny, hated
that I was gay. The usual.”

“Oh,” is all Jimin says, because that’s really all there is to say.

And this isn’t really what Jeongguk wanted to talk about on a first date, but here they are, and
Jeongguk has the split-second realization that he’ll answer whatever Jimin asks him right now.
He’ll answer truthfully, too, like he never has with Namjoon, and Jeongguk doesn’t know why.

But he thinks— Ask me what happened to him. I’ll tell you if you ask me, right here, right now. Ask
me.

Jimin doesn’t ask, distracted by something over Jeongguk’s shoulder, and Jeongguk swallows the
truth of who he is and who he was all over again. He turns to watch as Taehyung runs towards
them.

Taehyung approaches, the subject drops, and Jeongguk comes back from two people into one.

Jimin and Taehyung get along well, because of course they would. If there’s anything that
Taehyung can bond with someone over, it’s Jeongguk’s embarrassing stories. The three of them sit
on a rocky protrusion that hangs a few feet over the wide blue lake beneath them eating the animal
crackers that Taehyung swiped from Seokjin’s stash.

Jeongguk sits with his back to the water and watches as Jimin laughs so loud that a few crumbs
tumble out of his mouth and onto his shirt. Taehyung is vividly describing the time Jeongguk
tumbled down his entire flight of stairs while he was a rookie. The way Taehyung tells it, the
whole thing was less of a life-threatening accident and more of a comedy show audition, but
Jeongguk was there and he remembers how unamused Taehyung was at the time.

Still, he doesn’t say anything because Jimin is smiling with his eyes. “So wait—how’d you two
even meet?” Jimin asks, gesturing with a headless lion between Taehyung and Jeongguk.

“It was, what… ten years ago?” Taehyung asks with a grin. He reaches over and pokes Jeongguk in
the ribs conspiratorially. “Look at us. Best buds for a decade.”

“I’m pretty sure that best buds don’t spy on each other naked,” Jeongguk grumbles under his
breath, but he doesn’t really mean it. He tosses a handful of the animal cookies back and decides
that, yes, stolen food really does taste the best.

Jimin blinks, eyes widening as he processes. And then they narrow as Jimin asks, “Wait, ten years
ago would’ve made both of you… sixteen? Is that right?”

“I was seventeen,” Taehyung corrects with a self-satisfied smirk, “He’s a year younger than I am.
And I never let him forget it.”

“So you both started working here when you were teenagers? Is that legal? Did you two even finish
high school?” Jimin, Jeongguk realizes, gesticulates when he talks. Right now, his hands are
springing around in the air in incredulity.

Jeongguk leans back on his hands. “I didn’t finish high school,” he says casually, “And Taehyung
is, like, loaded . His dad pulled a backroom deal, he graduated early, and now he volunteers his
time out here.”

Jimin’s head whips between the two of them so quickly that he must be hurting his neck. It takes
him a moment to decide between who he wants to question to death first—his eyes dance from
Taehyung to Jeongguk and back again.

He decides on Taehyung. “You’re rich?” he gawks, “Like, how rich?”

“I’d never have to work a day in my life. Let’s put it like that,” Taehyung says. He looks altogether
too smug and leans back on his hands, wind ruffling his chestnut-brown hair and making him the
picture of easy living.

Jimin practically chokes. “Oh, my god. You’re a trust fund baby, aren’t you?” He reaches down
and picks up a pebble, lobbing it accusatorially at Taehyung.

“Yes.” Taehyung dodges the rock easily. He smirks.

“Then why the hell do you work here?” Jimin shouts.

“Hey!” Jeongguk interrupts, indignant, “Some of us happen to like it here.” He isn’t as quick to
dodge Jimin’s thrown pebble. It hits him squarely in the forehead, and Jeongguk grumbles as he
rubs at the small sore spot.

Jimin fixes his attention on Taehyung like he’s an alien. “Why here?” he asks again.

Taehyung lifts one eyebrow. “I like the forest. Plus, Jeongguk is here, and someone has to look
after him,” Taehyung says with a shrug. He probably means it to come off as a joke, but he doesn’t
quite manage. It sounds like an admission, like he’s taking responsibility for Jeongguk’s health and
well-being—like the only reason he’s hung around these last ten years really is because of
Jeongguk.

And Jeongguk hopes it’s not true. The fact of not knowing settles into the pit of his stomach like a
rock thrown out of a plane and into a pond—at terminal velocity.

“Yeah, right,” Jeongguk scoffs, picking at the seam of his pants and looking off into the clouds
peppering the midafternoon sky. “You probably just got bored with the family business.”

Jimin, thankfully, misses the whole undertone of the conversation. “What’s the family business?”
he pipes up, clearly interested.

“Legally, I can’t tell you,” Taehyung deadpans.

And Jimin, who’s just getting used to Taehyung’s sudden demeanor changes, takes this as a joke.
“That’s funny,” Jimin says with a smile. It takes several painful heartbeats spent looking at
Taehyung’s immobile face before Jimin’s smile falters and he asks hesitantly, “Wait. Are you
serious?”

Jeongguk takes pity on him. “He is,” Jeongguk says with a vague gesture Taehyung’s way. “I don’t
know what his family’s involved in either. Seokjin thinks that he’s in the military-weapons
business.”

“Only god knows,” Taehyung whispers sagely, but the smug smile on his face indicates that he and
god are clearly in cahoots.

Jeongguk shivers at the possibility of Taehyung—who wore snapbacks unironically until he was
twenty-two, who is deathly afraid of lima beans, and who has yet to learn how to swim—is in some
way connected to the intricate goings-on of the South Korean military-industrial-complex. He has a
sudden vision of Taehyung sitting behind a big black desk, clad in flip flops and shorts cut just
below the curve of his ass, deciding whether or not to press a big red button to launch missiles at
another country.

It’s entirely possible, and Jeongguk banishes the thought with a shake of his head.

“So you’re filthy fucking rich,” Jimin accuses with a damning point of his pointer finger, “And
you’re slumming it in a fire tower in the middle of nowhere. Talk about squandered wealth.”

Taehyung looks rightfully taken aback at this. He sits up straight for the first time in twenty years
and defends, “Hey! Who do you think donates enough money to keep this place so well-staffed,
and clean, and full of top-quality equipment?”

“…you?” Jimin hazards a guess.

“Yes! Me! I’m not exactly ‘squandering’ my wealth,” Taehyung finishes with a huff. He looks a
little bit winded, like having to defend his trust fund birthright for the first time in a decade has
thoroughly taken the wind out of him.

Jimin takes a few seconds to muse over these new facts about his companions. The light from the
sun high above dapples through the tree branches overlooking the rock they sit on, spreading
spotted shadows across his features. The little line between his brows is emphasized where it sits in
the shadows of his face. Eventually, Jimin nods and says, “I’ve decided that I both respect and hate
you a little more now.”

Jeongguk lets out a bark of startled laughter, but Taehyung looks completely unperturbed. “I tend to
have that effect on people,” he says. But then the half-smile is slipping off of his face, and he’s
casting a quick glance over to where Jeongguk is sitting. Taehyung lowers his voice and admits in
a conspiratorial whisper, “And I really am here for Jeongguk, too. He’s a part of my life. Like a
third limb. I haven’t been able to amputate him since he latched onto me at Fire Training Summer
Camp ten years back.”

Jeongguk—having heard all of this because Taehyung’s version of a whisper is a normal person’s
speaking volume—squawks in protest. “You’re the one who latched onto me because I was taller,
and you didn’t want to have your ass beat in American dodgeball!” he shouts, giving Taehyung’s
shoulder a shove from across the way.

“Semantics,” Taehyung huffs. He ducks and rolls out of the way of Jeongguk’s flying fists all the
way behind a very amused-looking Jimin, which does nothing but prove Jeongguk’s initial point.

“So, Taehyung’s rich,” Jimin says, patting Taehyung’s thigh comfortingly where it rests behind
him, “And you’re a high school dropout?”

Taehyung makes a half-choking noise that ends up sounding like a dog hacking up a furball.
“Harsh,” he croaks when he recovers from his initial shock.

Jimin swats at his thigh with a level of intimacy that’s entirely inappropriate for someone he’s only
just met in person and completely appropriate for the strange relationship they seem to be building
in seconds. “You know what I meant,” Jimin says.

Jeongguk sort of wishes that he were the one sitting behind Jimin and having his thigh swatted—
he’s got great thighs—but he tamps down his irrational jealousy mercilessly. “Yeah. I’m a
dropout,” Jeongguk says with a shrug.

“Why?”

Taehyung’s eyes meet Jeongguk’s from behind Jimin’s shoulder, and Taehyung has an entire
conversation with Jeongguk with only his eyebrows. It goes something like this:

Are you okay with telling him? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Yeah, it’s okay, Jeongguk says back in a slight squint, I don’t mind him knowing.

A raised eyebrow from Taehyung asks, Are you sure? I know your past is a pretty touchy subject
that you haven’t even disclosed to me, your Best Forest Friend, and I would certainly understand if
you were loath to talk about the intimate details with this newly-acquired peasant, cute or not.

It’s fine, Jeongguk’s tiny nod says in reply.

Clowns smoke to the northwest; be wary of bears from overseas, says Taehyung’s returning nod,
but Jeongguk acknowledges that he probably misread that last expression.

“I’m technically a runaway,” Jeongguk says in the seconds after his intense eye-conversation with
Taehyung. “That’s why I dropped out.”

This makes Jimin’s eyes widen impossibly further. “A runaway? Are you serious?” He casts a
desperate glance around the clearing as though someone with more brain cells is going to
materialize between the trees and tell him that it’s all okay. “Doesn’t anyone normal work here?”

“Namjoon’s a disgraced neurosurgeon, Seokjin worked on Broadway for twenty years before he
broke both his ankles and entered early retirement, Yoongi is an ex-military pilot, and Hoseok is
actually a really successful architect. He designed the medical building,” Taehyung rattles off, not
attempting to offer comfort in the slightest.

Jimin balks. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. That medical building design that Hoseok made actually won awards.”

“This job tends to collect weirdos,” Jeongguk breaks in with a sympathetic smile cast Jimin’s way.
“Who else tends to take jobs that require you to spend all of your time in the remote wilderness?”

Jeongguk watches as Jimin’s face turns red from the force of all of his questions until he eventually
bubbles over. “How’d Seokjin break his ankles? And wait—Yoongi is military? Why does that
make sense?” He pauses, shakes his head, and says, “I’m getting distracted. My original question
—why’d you run away? Are you, like, a criminal?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk answers at once, completely honestly.

Jimin doesn’t see the truth for what it is, and Jeongguk lets it go. “You couldn’t commit a crime if
you tried,” Jimin says confidently.

“You’re probably right,” Jeongguk offers back in reply, but he’s already listing all of the ways that
Jimin is wrong in his head. There’s the theft, and the vandalism, and then—of course—the m-

“I wish that we knew what you were like before you came here,” Taehyung says suddenly,
dreamily. It takes him a full sixty seconds to notice that he’s currently being looked at with
expressions containing various levels of shock. “What?” he harrumphs, “We were all thinking it.
And for the record, I bet Jimin was completely wild .”

Jimin looks vaguely taken aback. He stops midway through chewing the animal cracker he’d
swiped from Taehyung’s bag and says, “You think so?”

“Your ears are pierced,” Taehyung points out. “And you worked as a dancer in Itaewon. In a club,
probably.” He then turns to Jeongguk, who is filled head-to-toe with dread, and asks, “Do you
think he was a stripper?”

Images of a scantily-clad Jimin swinging around from a pole, or aerial silks, or throwing it back on
stage suddenly overtake Jeongguk, and Jeongguk is only a man , for god’s sake. He feels the blood
simultaneously flood south and flood north, and he coughs to hide how deeply uncomfortable the
moment has become for him. “You can’t just ask someone if they’re a stripper, Tae,” he hisses
through clenched teeth. But he can’t quite stop himself from turning to Jimin and asking quietly,
“…were you, though?”

“Are you seriously expecting me to answer that?” Jimin chirps, thankfully looking every bit as
horrified to have his stripper potential being addressed in public. “That’s between me and god!”

“Satan, more like,” Taehyung quips merrily. “And hey, if you don’t remember, get up and give us
a strip tease. If it comes out naturally, we’ll all know what your last job was.” This time, Taehyung
isn’t fast enough to avoid the deft clap to his ear that Jimin sends his way.

“As if you could handle the thought of me as a stripper,” Jimin retorts viciously, thoroughly
embarrassed.

Jeongguk interjects quietly, meekly, “Could we please talk about something else?” He feels like
he’s going to pass out, overwhelmed and intensely curious at the same time in a way that’s making
his head spin.

But Jimin is on a tirade. “God, you wouldn’t even be able to handle the clubs that I used to work
at. I mean, they were themed and everything,” Jimin exclaims, “We had cage dancers—I did that
once, it was fun—and, like, there were live tigers at one of the venues, which I’m sure wasn’t
legal, but it made for a hell of a night. I got the most tips of my life that night.”

“What the hell,” Taehyung says through a gasp, echoing Jeongguk’s feelings perfectly.

Jimin, distracted from his rant, raises his eyebrows at the interruption. “What?”

“Are you pretending right now?” Jeongguk asks carefully, “Like we did earlier about your past?”

Jimin looks confused. “No?”

“So that’s all true,” Taehyung double-checks.

“As far as I know.” Jimin’s brows pull together. “Why’re you both looking at me like that?”

A laugh bubbles out of Jeongguk’s throat, mirth laced with excitement. “ Jimin,” he says
meaningfully.

Jimin looks mildly offended. “What?” he bitches. “I only remembered-”

And then, when Jimin realizes, “Oh, shit!”

Jeongguk has seen a lot of things in his decade with the forestry service. There are the things he’d
like to forget—seeing Taehyung dance naked on top of his fire tower is certainly pretty high on
Jeongguk’s ‘never remember’ list—and there are things he’d never want to forget. There’s a pretty
fine line between the two kinds of memories that Jeongguk has about his time spent in the most
remote regions of the forest, but some of the best-slash-worst moments include: confiscating
fireworks with Seokjin and then proceeding to almost blast the both of them to high heaven upon
realizing that said fireworks had already been lit ; going for a ride in Yoongi’s helicopter and
nearly falling out of the sliding door because Jeongguk forgot to strap in his five-point harness in
all five points; being on the receiving end of Namjoon’s medical prowess to fix his poison ivy rash,
or to give Jeongguk stitches, or to meet in Namjoon’s office to talk about the ghosts of the past;
looking over Hoseok’s shoulder while he drew the designs for the new medical building.

Jeongguk’s also witnessed (somewhat less enthusiastically) camp-goers having sex in cars, in
lakes, in flimsy tents, out in the broad daylight, under the cover of dark, in a thicket—that one had
resulted in a very uncomfortable walk with the two offenders to Namjoon’s medical center to have
some burrs removed from a few less-than-dignified places. He’s also seen a couple of forest fires, a
mauling from an unknown animal, and a few stalking incidents that were taken care of fairly
quickly.

It's safe to say that Jeongguk’s seen more than his fair share of wild things in all the time he’s been
working for Seokjin, but he’s never seen anything quite like this .

Several hours after depositing Jimin back into Namjoon’s hands for a few more tests, Jeongguk
turns to make his way back to his own fire tower. It’d been fun playing house with Jimin and
Taehyung for a while, but Seokjin’s nagging voice over the radio had rapidly reacquainted all of
them with the fact that there’s a job to do out here.

Jeongguk, delighted and excited about the prospect of Jimin beginning to recover his memories,
had actually skipped all the way up the trail from Namjoon’s building to the edge of the forest.
He’d had to stop the skipping once he hit the rocky, treacherous trail, but he’d still wanted to.
Because even though there’s a small, nasty part of Jeongguk’s heart that reminds him that Jimin is
one step closer to walking out of the forest for good, the majority of Jeongguk’s heart is just elated
at the fact that he might finally start finding out who Jimin really is.

So Jeongguk whistles as he makes his way through the dense trees. He admires things he hasn’t
taken the time to admire in a long time—the way the sunlight sluices through the canopy overhead
to dapple across the dark-brown dirt of the forest floor, the small noises that the birds make as they
wind down from a busy afternoon of foraging, the burbles and babbles of the river that winds to his
left. It’s entirely pleasant, and Jeongguk falls in love with his job all over again.

It isn’t something that he’d thought possible, especially in light of recent events, because nearly
being killed at his job tends to put a damper on things, but Jeongguk feels lighter than he has in
years as he breaches the clearing that houses his sturdy fire tower.

Jeongguk doesn’t notice anything wrong as he passes by his fire pit, his outhouse, or the
clothesline that hangs in a constant state of neglect. He doesn’t notice anything wrong as he climbs
the hundred stairs that wind around the legs of his tower, and he doesn’t even notice anything
wrong when he reaches the door of his tower.

It’s only as he’s tugging out his key to unlock the tower’s door that he notices it’s already open.
And then Jeongguk notices everything that’s wrong all at once.

The sturdy wooden door is hanging off of the frame by one hinge, looking markedly less sturdy
than usual. It creaks back and forth in the weak summer breeze, croaking occasionally as though in
protest at being treated so poorly.

“Hello?” Jeongguk calls and immediately regrets it. He bites his tongue as he feels a spray of chills
scatter down his spine. He spins his backpack around so that it rests defensively on his chest and
rifles through it, coming out with the pocketknife he’d dug up from the depths of his drawers the
other day and the new can of bear spray Yoongi gifted him. Armed and somewhat dangerous,
Jeongguk reluctantly toes open the rickety door with the sole of his hiking boot.

It swings open with a whine, and Jeongguk quickly steps into the darkness of his tower. The sun’s
just gone down to the west, and only a few brave rays of the dying light poke into the room to cast
ghastly shadows over everything they touch. Jeongguk feels his heartbeat pound in his ears as he
reaches over and flicks on the lamp that stands by his door.

The room is immediately bathed in light, and Jeongguk sucks in a startled breath through his teeth.

The contents of his room have been thoroughly upturned. The drawers of his desk are pulled out,
and their contents are strewn haphazardly across the floor and desk. His journal is opened and
tossed carelessly into the wastebin, and Jeongguk notices with a start that several pages have been
ripped out. Pieces of paper and newspaper articles are likewise crumpled and pepper the
floorboards. The chest with his clothes is lying on its side and spewing out his uniforms and
pajama sets onto the rug. All of the blankets on his bed now lie at the foot of it, and there’s a
gruesome-looking slash mark dug into the mattress itself.

But what alarms Jeongguk the most is that, sitting in the center of the rug, is the small wooden box
that he usually keeps tucked tightly under his bed.

Jeongguk drops his weapons in the doorway with a ‘thump!’ and rushes over to the box. “Oh, shit,”
he curses under his breath. His hands shake as he notices that someone’s gone through the trouble
of retrieving the silver key that usually rests hidden under the floorboards for him. It gleams in its
place by the wooden box with a sinister air about it.

Dread creeps across Jeongguk’s entire body as he picks up the key. Please, he thinks, though he
doesn’t know what or who he’s asking for. Jeongguk slides the key into the lock, flicks the
wooden lid open, and comes face to face with the contents of his box.

All of his keepsakes are missing.

The mixtape is gone. The lock of hair is gone. His hospital bracelet is gone.

In the place of these objects are two small pieces of paper. One is a photograph, taken earlier in the
day, and it shows Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk sitting on the rock overlooking Clearwater Lake,
eating animal crackers and laughing. The photographer has taken it from the shelter of the bushes
—a few branches and leaves poke in from out of frame.

Jeongguk’s heartbeat thumps in his chest as he turns it over, but there’s no signature or date across
the back. He licks his suddenly-dry lips and turns his attention to the other piece of paper in the
chest.

It’s a page from Jeongguk’s journal. He doesn’t even have to look at the date to know what entry it
is.

September 1 st , 1975

I left home today.

And Jeongguk’s blood runs cold. The rest of the page is missing, but Jeongguk can still remember
what it says. In the place of his own handwriting, a little square of journal paper has been taped on.
And in bright red marker, someone has left the message:

I know what you’ve done.

I know all about you.

Fear tears through Jeongguk’s throat in the form of a strangled cry. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe or
think or do anything but sit there in the middle of his room staring at the evidence of his past,
dredged up by a stranger and written in ink like blood.

And then, before Jeongguk knows what’s happening, he’s on his feet and running out the door. He
races onto the landing of his tower, noticing for the first time that there are muddy boot-prints that
aren’t his own leading up to the door. He runs down the stairs and sees that the prints track all the
way down them, too, and across the clearing to his outhouse, his clothing line, and his firepit.

Jeongguk doesn’t know how he didn’t notice them before, because they’re clear as day in the dirt.
Two sets of footprints—one his own, another pair belonging to whoever the hell broke into his
tower. They’re similar in size.

A man, then, Jeongguk thinks. And the print is the same. A man in the forestry service.

And then something different from the terrified adrenaline is pumping through Jeongguk’s veins.
It feels a lot like anger, but it’s filled with vitriol and laced with a kind of hatred Jeongguk hasn’t
felt in ten years.

His body moves on autopilot. His feet take him back up the stairs and into his tower. Jeongguk
grabs his pocket knife off of the floor and fastens his radio to his belt. He catches sight of himself
in the mirror.

‘Do you think,’ his reflection asks him with wide, hopeful eyes, ‘That we’ll catch whoever did this
in the woods?’

Jeongguk looks down at the knife in his hands with a weary sort of hope. “Maybe,” he says to his
reflection.

It grins back at him. ‘Good.’

And then Jeongguk is back down the stairs and across the clearing and into the woods, following
the footprints as they chase into the trail. He whips past the trees, one eye on the prints in front of
him and another on the road ahead, but Jeongguk could honestly sprint this entire trail in the middle
of the night and turned around.

As he runs, he tastes metal in his mouth and feels his blood pound in his ears. Whoever’s after him
is getting bolder. They’ve broken into Jimin’s car, stalked Jimin through the woods, nearly killed
Jeongguk, and broken into a fire tower. Whoever’s in the woods with them is pushing Jeongguk,
pushing him further and further to see how long it takes before he snaps.

Jeongguk finds that he’s coming dangerously close to snapping, but he doesn’t have it in him to
care. These are his woods. This is his life; his job; his friends, and he’s done pretending like he’s
the well-adjusted, soft-spoken, gentle Jeongguk who first tumbled into this world, because he isn’t.
He hasn’t been that Jeongguk in years, and it’s time he stopped pretending that he was.

Jeongguk grips the hilt of the knife tighter in his hand and remembers how it feels to lash out with
a weapon at someone made of flesh and blood and bone, just like himself. He remembers how the
impact jars the whole body and the horrifying give that follows. Jeongguk remembers, and then he
reaches the end of the trail where the footsteps stop.

He looks up and finds himself back at the medical building, back where he just came from.
Jeongguk’s heart hammers away in his chest at the realization that, whoever’s doing all of this,
whoever knows what Jeongguk’s done, they’re in there with Namjoon and Hoseok and Yoongi and
Yoongi’s trainees.

And with Jimin.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, grips the knife, and pushes his way back through the glass double
doors and into the building.

When Jeongguk left home with his hospital bracelet and his mixtape and the lock of his father’s
hair, he wasn’t thinking about where he would go.

He’d grabbed his things, left his mother there sobbing on the floor, and walked straight out the
door and onto a bus. It was a Thursday night, and the bus was crowded with commuters heading
home after a long day at work.

Jeongguk took his seat between a tired-looking older woman and a girl about his age, still dressed
in her high school uniform and holding a badminton racket. He sat in between the two of them and
stared at the collection of artifacts lying in his lap. It occurred to him, briefly, that he had no
money and no ID card, no car, no way to pay for this bus ride or for food or for a way back home,
in the unlikely event that he ever had to go back to that house.

“Hey, kid,” a man said from across the aisle, “You okay?”

Jeongguk looked up at him. He caught sight of the older man’s worried expression, seen the way
his eyes flicked from Jeongguk’s eyes to Jeongguk’s shoes and back again.

Jeongguk looked down at his shoes. He noticed that there were bloody splotches dotting along the
top of the clean white exterior, breaking the smooth surface like ripples in a pond. The bright, vivid
red of fresh blood.

And then Jeongguk looked back up, met the man’s eyes, and said in a voice that wasn’t entirely his
own, “I’m fine. Rough night.”

The man looked doubtful and clutched his briefcase a little tighter but nodded nonetheless.

“Hey,” Jeongguk rasped out, “Where does this bus go?”

“If you take it all the way to the last stop, you’ll end up at the base of the forest. There’s another
bus line that runs from there back up into the city, but it doesn’t run this late at night,” the man
said. The lines between his eyes and around his mouth told Jeongguk that he was deeply
uncomfortable.

Jeongguk nodded his appreciation and turned his attention to the scenery flickering by outside the
window behind the man’s head. Houses and food shops and business places passed by in a blur of
motion, becoming more and more sparse the closer the bus drove to the forest’s edge.

Gradually, the bus’s passengers emptied. Stop after stop, more people got off and trudged through
the long dark back home to the safety of their families. Until eventually, the only one left on the bus
was Jeongguk, sitting in silence and holding his mixtape and his medical bracelet and the piece of
his father’s hair.

And then the bus’s driver was kicking him off, cursing at him for not being able to pay, and
deserting Jeongguk by the side of the road.

Jeongguk found himself staring up at a sign that said ‘ENTRANCE’, on it, with a name in English
over top from which Jeongguk could only translate the word ‘FOREST’. There was a picture of a
finger pointing north into the forest with a pictogram that indicated the presence of a ranger’s
station.

“A forest,” Jeongguk said to himself, out loud. It’s a good hiding place. A great hiding place.

So Jeongguk took his mixtape and his bracelet and his father’s hair and walked right into the
darkness between the trees, swallowed whole and hidden in the darkness just as tightly as the
bloodied knife was hidden in his pants pocket.

And in the trees, Jeon Jeongguk was born again.

Chapter End Notes

Come on. Some of you know what Jeongguk did. I'm absolutely certain that you know.
SPEAK UP SO I MAY READ YOUR GUESSES

See you next week!

 Smokescreen
Chapter Notes

HELLO FIRST OF ALL

...remember when I said I'd reply to comments? I'm sorry for lying :'D IM TRYING
MY BEST!!! but please know that I do read all of them, and they actually are /such/
good motivators. It's nice to know that people like this story sjdfhksdf

SECOND-- I had lots of comments asking if this has a happy ending. Yes it does!!!
I'm sorry for forgetting to tag it and putting you all through such trauma sdkjfsf. I
updated some new tags, too! Just to reflect the story >:)

Well OKAY welcome back to the show, can you smell the climax brewing???
(Some of you have REALLY good guesses by the way)

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Last year, when Jeongguk had his meltdown, he was perfectly fine until he wasn’t. But that’s how it
always goes with him—everything is alright, it’s perfect, and then suddenly he’s exploding all over
the place. All the little bits and pieces that he spent so long convincing himself were things that he
could deal with pile up and pile up, and then Jeongguk is driving Namjoon’s ambulance down the
road towards the outcropping of rocks that hangs over a canyon several hundred feet below.

Jeongguk stood there, looking into the rocky outcroppings below, and thought about nothing at all.
In his head was the slow droning of radio static, keeping his head from realizing that the rest of
him was panicking. When Jeongguk sat down on the ledge and dangled his feet off, he felt nothing
at all.

He didn’t feel anything when he got the screaming radio call from Taehyung, and he didn’t even
feel anything as Namjoon and the rangers pulled him from the edge.

Later, when he sat alone in the back of the stolen ambulance—that’s when he felt everything.

Or maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe, as Jeongguk suspects, he feels everything all at once all
the time, which can feel a lot like nothing at all. Maybe that’s it.

Maybe that’s what led him to do what he did. Maybe it’s what keeps him alive.

Maybe.
The inside of the medical building looks the same as it always does in the falling dusk. The last
rays of the dying sun swirl through the room, casting long shadows from the ottomans and waiting
room chairs that line two of the adjacent walls to Jeongguk’s right. Jimin is sitting in one of these
chairs, lying so his back is across both of the armrests and is reading a book with his head tipped
back. Hoseok sits behind the receptionist’s desk on the other side of the room, pencil in his hand
and a look of intense concentration on his face.

The moment Jeongguk pushes through the glass doors, Jimin notices him. He sits up and puts his
book on the table by his elbow, a smile already beginning to spread across his features before
Jeongguk interrupts him.

“Who’s in the building with you?” Jeongguk asks. He barely recognizes the voice as his own. It’s
deeper than he’s used to, full of more gravel, and it sounds foreign to his own ears.

Apparently, it sounds foreign to Jimin, too. “Jeongguk?” he says, confused, “What’re you doing
here?”

“Jeongguk’s here?” Hoseok calls from behind his desk. He looks up at Jeongguk and offers an
enthusiastic wave. “Oh, Jeongguk! Hi!” The smile on Hoseok’s face drops and a furrow between
his brows manifests as Jeongguk goes hurtling through the reception area and straight back towards
the patient rooms. “Wait, where are you-”

“Hyung, who’s in the building with you?” Jeongguk repeats. He’s already halfway down the long
corridor at this point, taking care to move as quickly and silently as possible in the dim hallways.
The sound of two sets of footsteps following him aren’t so quiet.

Jimin jogs to catch up to him, worry lacing his voice as he asks, “It’s just us, Namjoon, and
Yoongi, but Yoongi left a while ago. Where are you going?”

“Jeongguk, you’re really freaking us out,” Hoseok calls, yelping a little as Jeongguk throws open
the door to an examination room haphazardly. He watches as Jeongguk pokes his head into the
room, looks around quickly, and slams the door shut. “What happened? Jeongguk!”

But Jeongguk has already tuned them out. He continues down the hall, slamming open each and
every examination room door and clearing them one at a time. Each time, there’s no one hiding
under the bed or behind the doors or in the closet. And each time, Jeongguk gets a little bit more
desperate. His pulse thrums in his ears as he turns the corner down the last stretch of the corridor,
not listening to the repeated cries of Hoseok and Jimin who follow.

It isn’t until Jeongguk reaches the last door of the hallway, Namjoon’s door, that he’s snapped out
of his panic. Like the other rooms, Jeongguk smashes in Namjoon’s door without a second thought
and freezes in his tracks. He’s not sure what he’s looking at.

Namjoon sits at the edge of his bed, pants hanging half off of his ankles and shirt discarded on the
floor. There’s a radio sitting next to him on the bed and the sound of Seokjin’s voice making some
kind of cry coming through it. The second Namjoon registers there’s someone else in the room,
though, he flings the radio as hard as he can across the room. It smashes into the wall and falls to
the ground with a sad ‘thump’.

And then Namjoon is on his feet, struggling back into his underwear and reaching down to pick up
his shirt from the floor. “Okay, what the fuck!” Namjoon shouts. His face is as red as Jeongguk has
ever seen it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jeongguk just blinks for a solid ten seconds. His brain catches up with his eyes belatedly.
Namjoon, Seokjin, radio, it says to him. Radio sex. And, huh, wow, that’s quite a mental image
that flashes through Jeongguk’s head, and one that he never wants to see again. It occurs to him in
the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind that he just saw Namjoon’s dick, but he mercilessly
shoves the thought down and away and hopes to never encounter it again.

“…radio sex?” Jeongguk finds himself croaking. Hoseok and Jimin make stifled noises of
amusement from where they’re still standing in the corridor behind him, their earlier panic
momentarily forgotten.

Namjoon flushes from his bare feet all the way up to his hairline. “What do you want?” he barks
throatily, “Why are you even back here? Did Hoseok tell you to come see me? Hoseok! You’re
fired!”

“I didn’t!” Hoseok protests. He shoves his way into the room and looks at Namjoon’s disheveled
appearance with mild interest. “Jeongguk’s acting like a lunatic, and— hey! Get back here!”
Hoseok yells after Jeongguk.

Namjoon makes a strangled noise of surprise as he stumbles over the pants around his ankles,
lunging for Jeongguk. “Hey, wait!” he shouts after them.

Jeongguk is already making his way back to the foyer as the thoughts of Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s
sexcapades fade from his mind. He refocuses, going through a list of possibilities in his head. They
could still be outside, Jeongguk tells himself, or they’re in the basement. Or they’re on the roof—
you have to check the roof. Or they’re back in your tower, or-

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Jimin says. He’s suddenly in front of Jeongguk, eyes wide and hands
placed solidly on Jeongguk’s chest to get him to stop moving. Jeongguk barely registers his
presence, too caught up in his own head to slow down. He side-steps around Jimin’s frame and
pushes through back into the reception area.

“Okay, that’s the opposite of looking at me,” Jimin grumbles from behind as he runs to catch up
again, “Can you please just tell us what the hell is going on?”

And there’s enough fear in Jimin’s voice that Jeongguk finally calls over his shoulder, “I will in a
minute. Hang on.”

“This is incredibly frustrating,” Jimin sighs to Hoseok.

Jeongguk pushes back through the double doors that lead out into the wilderness. A cool summer
breeze immediately rakes its fingers through his hair, cooling the sweat that lingers on his brow.
“Hello?” Jeongguk calls into the darkened silence. He scans the surrounding area, but night has
already fallen, and he can’t make out anything more than the trees that immediately line the
clearing. The shadows are too deep for him to see through, and he doesn’t have a flashlight on him.

“Who’re you looking for?” Namjoon asks. He’s fully dressed now and only slightly mussed, and
he stands next to Jeongguk, looking out at the surrounding trees like he too is trying to see what
Jeongguk sees.

“Yoongi.”

“I told you, he’s out with Sanghoon and Eunji,” Hoseok says from behind them, “They’re
patrolling the forest tonight.” He grabs Jeongguk by the arm as Jeongguk heads back inside with a
surprisingly strong grip. “Are you finally calm enough to tell us what the fuck you’re doing?”

“Also, can you tell us why you have a knife in your hand?” Namjoon adds. He closes the doors
behind them and bolts them carefully.

Jimin’s eyes flicker down to the Bowie knife in Jeongguk’s hand, apparently seeing it for the first
time. He blanches. “Oh, wow. Big knife. Jeongguk, are you okay?” he asks apprehensively.

No, Jeongguk wants to say, but he doesn’t. His pulse has finally stopped thudding through his ears,
and his breath is coming a little bit easier. They’re alone in the medical building. There’s no one
else in here with them, and Jeongguk finally starts to relax. He crosses the room and falls into one
of the armchairs in the waiting area, dropping his knife on the floor as he sighs.

He waits for a moment, eyes closed, until the adrenaline has left his system. It leaves him feeling
shaky and disoriented, so he keeps his eyes screwed up tight as he croaks, “Someone was in my
tower.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Namjoon is asking, “Like, ‘in your tower’ in a visiting kind of
way, or…?”

“In a ‘vandalism and death threats’ kind of way.”

Jimin makes a choked-off noise, and Jeongguk opens his eyes. The other three are sitting around
him, chairs moved so that they make a complete circle, and they’re all staring at him in disbelief.
“Are you serious?” Jimin ventures.

Jeongguk feels frustration bubble in his chest. “Yes. They fucking trashed my place, tore up my
things, stole my-” Jeongguk cuts off his words with a strangled swallow. He can’t tell them what
the intruder stole; none of them know about his past or where he came from or what he did, and
Jeongguk decides that now is definitely not the time to air those secrets in an open forum. So he
bites his tongue and hides his fear and continues, “Whoever broke in left me a note, too.”

Hoseok leans forward in his chair. His hands white-knuckle the armrests. “What did it say?”

Jeongguk hesitates. Why did you bring up the fucking note? he internally admonishes. And since he
can’t tell them what it actually said, Jeongguk lies, “It just said, ‘I’m watching you.’ That’s all.”

“Did you bring it with you?” Namjoon asks, and there’s a distinctly perceptive look in his eye that
Jeongguk doesn’t entirely like. Namjoon has seen Jeongguk in therapy enough times to know when
he’s lying; it occurs to Jeongguk that Namjoon probably realizes he’s lying right now.

“No,” Jeongguk says, and he does his very best to sound convincing. “I left it in my tower and ran
straight here.”

“Why?” Jimin asks. He reaches over and swats Jeongguk as hard as he can, right on his arm. “Why
didn’t you just lock your doors and call Yoongi?”

“Ow,” Jeongguk mutters as Jimin hits him again.

“Jeongguk, are you serious? What if they were still in the woods around your tower? You could’ve
been killed!” Jimin chastises.

Jeongguk rubs at his shoulders and gives Jimin the evil eye, though some small part of him is
pleased to know that Jimin cares about him so much. “They weren’t around,” he says.
“How do you know that?” Namjoon asks.

“Because they left a trail of footprints leading from the foot of my tower back here.” Jeongguk’s
words send a ripple of shock through the group.

Several worried glances are exchanged between Namjoon and Hoseok, between Hoseok and Jimin,
between Jimin and Jeongguk, and back again. Eventually, it’s Jimin who breathes out, “Oh, my
god.”

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks at exactly the same time.

Jeongguk nods his head and looks down at his palms. “Yes, I’m sure. The prints led right up into
the clearing. I’m pretty damn confident that they’re still in the area.”

“God,” Namjoon mutters. He tips back in his chair and wearily runs a hand down his face. All of a
sudden, he looks so much older than his thirty years. The lines of worry that carve his face look
like they’re hewn in stone, like Namjoon’s been weathered down for hundreds of years, all in one
second. “Well, I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is the same person that’s after Jimin.”

Jimin looks startled. He casts a glance at Namjoon. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been around Jeongguk a lot lately. He’s seen you at Jeongguk’s tower. It must be
bothering whoever’s after you—why else go through all the trouble of sending Jeongguk such a
clear message?” Namjoon reasons. “Trouble is, we still have no fucking clue who it is.”

“I know,” Jeongguk sighs, catching Jimin’s eye and offering him a weak smile. It’s okay, he wants
to say, It’s not your fault. But the words don’t come out.

Instead, he asks, “There’s no one else who’s been through here today, right? No one else who
could’ve left those footprints?”

“I mean, we’ve had a few hikers come in for scrapes and bruises today,” Hoseok says, already
rising out of his chair. “I can check the sign-in sheet and see if they’re already checked out of the
forest.”

Namjoon nods, and Jeongguk can almost hear him thinking about what to do next. “Yes, do that.
Oh!” he snaps his fingers, “And call Yoongi back here, while you’re at it. His team shouldn’t be
out in the woods without knowing there’s someone out there with them.”

Hoseok ricochets out of his chair at light-speed, radio already in hand as he speeds towards the
reception desk to run the names through the check-in tower at the base of the forest.

“This is a stupid question, but do you think we’re in danger now? Not the kind of danger we were
in before. I mean, like, serious, murdery danger?” Jimin asks carefully.

Jimin’s hands are in his lap, twisting around together in knots, and Jeongguk is hit with the
overwhelming urge to take his hands and hold them tightly in his own. He needs the comfort as
much as Jimin does, after all. So Jeongguk decides fuck it, and he reaches across the space to lace
the fingers of one hand through Jimin’s.

Jeongguk squeezes lightly and sighs, “You didn’t see what they did to my tower. I think it’s pretty
safe to say that, whoever this is, they’re stepping up their game. So, yeah. I think we’re in the realm
of ‘murdery’ danger right about now.”

Jimin takes in a shaky inhale and grips Jeongguk’s hand tightly.

Namjoon clears his throat. He’s doing a masterful job of hiding how surprised he is at seeing
Jeongguk’s open display of affection, but Jeongguk still catches the way his voice hitches when he
says, “…okay. I think the move right now is to sit tight, lock the doors, and wait for Yoongi to
come back. We should probably radio Eunji and Sanghoon.”

“In case what?” Jimin echoes.

“In case this psychopath decides to start going after everyone who’s been around you lately,”
Jeongguk fills in. “Right?”

Namjoon nods, and Jimin lets out a sad, “Oh.”

And Jeongguk catches all of the words Jimin didn’t say in that one sound. He hears the ‘this is all
my fault,’ and the ‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ and Jeongguk shakes Jimin’s arm with their joined
hands to get his attention.

“This isn’t your fault, Jimin,” he says sincerely, looking into Jimin’s eyes and hoping he can read
how serious he is, “I’m just getting that out of the way right now. You’re not responsible for the
actions of whatever this crazy fuck is doing.”

“Okay,” Jimin says, but he sounds unconvinced.

Jeongguk doesn’t have any more time to reassure Jimin just then, because in the next moment,
Yoongi is slamming into the locked double doors at terminal velocity. He shoves at the doors and
motions to the bolted door, shouting to be heard from behind the thick glass, “Hey! What the hell
is going on here? Hoseok sent out a 119 call.”

Namjoon gets up and scurries over to the doors, unlocking them quickly. “Someone vandalized
Jeongguk’s tower,” he says as Yoongi steps inside.

“What?” Yoongi exclaims as he tries to catch his breath. It’s clear that he sprinted all the way here
—his face is red, and his hair is sweaty, and he’s breathing like he’s going to die.

“And the footprints from the vandalizer led back here,” Jimin adds helpfully.

Yoongi screeches, “ What?!”

“Okay, so everyone who checked in and out of the clinic has already checked out at the ranger’s
station near the southern entrance,” Hoseok interrupts, coming out from behind his reception desk
holding a clipboard in hand. “Which means that they couldn’t have left the footprints. They were
all gone hours beforehand. Hi, Yoongi,” he adds on, “Nice of you to join us. Where are your
shadows?”

“They’ve been patrolling near Seokjin’s and Taehyung’s towers all day,” Yoongi says, waving off
Namjoon’s attempts to get him to sit down. “I’m the only one who’s been in this area all day. And I
went to check on Jeongguk too—I should’ve seen whoever it was entering his tower. How the hell
did I not notice this happening?” A look of intense frustration settles over Yoongi’s features as he
beats himself up.

Namjoon makes an interested noise. “Are we sure that the boot prints don’t belong to Yoongi,
then? He said he was in the area.”

“The size isn’t the same,” Jeongguk says immediately. “The prints are bigger than Yoongi’s—but
the sole pattern is the same.”
“So they’re forestry-issued boots,” Yoongi says, putting the pieces together immediately. “
Fucking hell. They’re one of us.”

“Well, what do we do now? Do we call the police or something? This seems like a police matter to
me,” Jimin interjects.

Yoongi shakes his head. “This is a federal issue now. The most the local police can do is patrol our
borders. We’ll have to contact the ranger’s station and file this officially in the morning. Until then,
we tighten security at the border and keep an eye on things. But tonight, we’re definitely all staying
in here.”

“Shouldn’t we be out there, looking for whoever did this?” Jeongguk protests. He already knows
what Yoongi is going to say, but anger is washing over Jeongguk in waves, and he’s having a hard
time controlling his emotions at the moment. Jimin squeezes his hand once in warning.

“Us and what army?” Yoongi scoffs, “Jeongguk, we don’t even have real weapons to defend
ourselves with. We’ve got, what, five knives between the nine of us and a few cans of bear spray?
Who knows what this asshole has access to! For now, we need to play it safe and stay together so
that none of us end up dead in a ditch.”

And Jeongguk knows he’s right—he knows Yoongi’s right—but his hands are itching to do
something , and he feels so fucking useless right now.

Namjoon, ever the master at reading the emotions that Jeongguk leaks all over the place, says
gently, “I know it’s frustrating, but Yoongi’s right. Let’s just lock the doors and wait for Sanghoon
and Eunji to come back. We can go from there. Hoseok can wait in here while Yoongi and I lock
the west and east wings, and Jeongguk can take the basement and the back door.”

“What about me?” Jimin asks. “I’m not useless, you know. I can help.”

“You can go with Jeongguk,” Yoongi says. “Safety in numbers.” Jimin doesn’t look entirely
convinced, but then Yoongi is clapping his hands together decisively and making his way down
the hall to the west wing. “Let’s go close up and meet back here in ten.”

And then everyone is gone, except for Jeongguk and Jimin who sit in the foyer staring at each
other, holding each other’s hand. Several empty seconds pass, and then Jimin is reluctantly
removing his hand from under Jeongguk’s. “So I guess we should…”

“Yes. The back door,” Jeongguk finishes neatly. He rises to his feet and nods towards the corridor
he’d just run down twice. “Come on.”

They walk down the hallway, which seems substantially more menacing in light of recent events.
Jeongguk has never really noticed the duality of this place. Usually, the blue walls and yellow
lights look warm, almost comforting; tonight, they look anything but. Jeongguk imagines that the
blue is looking a little more dingey than usual, and the flickering yellow lights are more fetid-
looking. He supposes that there’s some credence to the film technique of always staging the most
intense scenes in clinics or hospitals.

Jimin pads after him quietly, footfalls landing noiselessly as he walks. “I didn’t know that this
place had so many entrances, did you?” Jimin chatters. He sticks close to Jeongguk’s side, and his
eyes dance around the hallway like he’s truly seeing them for the first time.

“I’m here a lot,” Jeongguk reminds him, hanging a left at the fork in the hallway this time, “So
yeah, I knew.”
“Oh,” Jimin says. He waits a beat, and then asks, “Why?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I have therapy sessions with Namjoon. They’re supposed to be once a week, but
I’m doing my best to whittle them down to once every blue moon.”

Jimin makes a little surprised noise in the back of his throat. “Oh. Sorry for asking,” he says
quickly. “I guess I’m just really nervous right now, and my usual filter isn’t working as it normally
does. I’ll say anything right now, I expect.”

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk snorts. Truth be told, the distraction is welcome. Because if Jimin wasn’t
right here forcing him to participate in a conversation, Jeongguk’s head would be flying off his
shoulders at the fact that they’re basically sitting ducks right now. But Jimin’s here, and he’s
talking about doors and therapy sessions, and that’s infinitely better than the grisly alternative.
Still, therapy isn’t exactly the most comfortable topic for Jeongguk, so he redirects clunkily,
“Remember anything else recently?”

“You mean in the five hours since I last remembered something?” Jimin teases. “No. I haven’t
even had time to tell Namjoon about my last one. He was… busy with Seokjin all evening.”

Jeongguk laughs, and the sound bounces off of the linoleum floor as they turn right at the next fork
in the hallway. “Oh, god. Does Namjoon do that a lot with him?”

“More than he probably should,” Jimin murmurs, and then he shudders with his whole body. A
haunted expression flits across his face, like a soldier remembering their final, bloody battlefield.
“Once a day, at least. But I guess I can’t really blame him.”

Jeongguk tilts his head to look down at Jimin. “No? Why not?”

“I mean. I’ve thought about doing it before, so I’d be a bit of a hypocrite for judging,” Jimin
explains casually, but Jeongguk catches the pink that tinges his cheeks in the low lighting.

Brows rising to his hairline, Jeongguk sputters, “ Radio sex? With whom?” And then it hits him.
“Oh. Oh. Really? But it’s a public channel.”

“So?” Jimin says cheekily, and Jeongguk has to bite his tongue to stop the endeared scream that
wants to claw out of his throat at the sight of Jimin winking at him conspiratorially.

When Jeongguk remembers how to talk again, he croaks, “…interesting. Here’s the back door.”

“Ah, Jeongguk, master of segues,” Jimin snickers. “But I did an excellent job of taking your mind
off of things, didn’t I?”

Jeongguk huffs and reaches for the heavy dead bolt of the back door. These doors are made of
thick metal, complete with a shiny kick-cover at the bottom that gleans under the fluorescents
overhead. He pulls the lock through with a ‘clunk!’ and admits, “Yeah, but only for a little. Come
on. To the basement.”

They head back the way they came from, stopping just before the corridor’s junction. There’s a
heavy metal door at the end of the hall that leads to the basement, and Jeongguk tugs it open. He
holds it open for Jimin. “After you,” Jeongguk says with a nod.

“How courageous. If there’s an axe murderer down there, I’ll die first,” Jimin huffs, but he walks
into the solid darkness headfirst anyway.

Jeongguk has only been down these stairs a handful of times, and he hadn’t liked it then. There’s
nothing in the space under the medical building but a few generators, some storage shelves, and a
slew of nightmare-inducing shadows on every wall. It grates against Jeongguk’s bones to be
disobeying Horror Movie Rule Number One— don’t go into dark, creepy places from which there
is no obvious escape— but they have to lock the second door at the bottom of the staircase, so
Jeongguk bites his tongue and pretends like he’s not a wuss.

“Jeongguk?” Jimin asks so suddenly that Jeongguk nearly jumps right out of his skin.

With his blood pressure up fifty points, Jeongguk croaks out, “Yeah?”

They reach the bottom of the stairs, and Jimin waits for Jeongguk to lock the door at the base. As
they turn to head back up, Jimin asks, “Do you think I’m putting you all in danger by staying
here?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk replies without thinking. He cringes in the darkness a moment later, but the words
are already out of his mouth.

Jimin grunts. “Ouch. Brutal.”

“I’m just being honest,” Jeongguk defends, feeling like an idiot for being ruthlessly honest. It’s
funny how it bubbles up inside of him now and again, because Jeongguk would definitely not
describe himself as an honest person, but it might just be the combination of adrenaline and
residual terror that make him speak his mind.

Jeongguk pushes out of the door at the top of the stairs and adds, “I mean. If whoever’s out there is
after you, then of course we’re in danger around you. But that doesn’t mean that you’re responsible
for their actions, or that we’re going to abandon you. We’re in this together.”

“Cheesy,” Jimin grumbles, wrinkling his nose, but he looks a little less pale under the lights than
he did earlier.

“Cheesy but true.” Jeongguk leans down to knock their shoulders together, feeling altogether too
much like an awkward teenager around Jimin. “But we’ve got your back, okay? And maybe once
this whole thing is figured out, we can go on a proper date.”

And this isn’t really the most ideal time to be discussing their situationship, but Jimin grins
gratefully up at Jeongguk like he knows what Jeongguk’s doing. “You mean our one earlier didn’t
count?” Jimin asks innocently.

“I don’t know. Do you usually bring your best friend along to third-wheel on a proper first date?”
Jeongguk teases right back, guiding Jimin back towards the foyer.

Jimin hums. “I guess not. Though I assume that you’d never really know what Taehyung thinks is
normal.” And then Jimin stops dead in the middle of the doorway to the foyer, a thoughtful look on
his face.

“What?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin hesitates, licks his lips. “You’re probably going to think that I’m overreacting,” Jimin
prefaces, “But do you think we should maybe warn Taehyung and Seokjin?”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, again.

“There’s a potentially murderous stalker out in the woods right now,” Jimin explains, looking
distinctly more nervous now, “We know the stalker was around your tower and the medical
building, but you said it yourself—we don’t know where they went. And if they saw you with me,
they also must’ve seen Taehyung with me. I’ve been around him twice now. And Taehyung and
Seokjin are still-”

“Sitting in their towers, completely oblivious,” Jeongguk groans as his stomach drops all the way
down to his feet. He’d just assumed that the trail of footprints led into the medical building.
Jeongguk never even stopped to consider the possibility that the trail picked back up on the other
side of the medical building, right near the entrance to the trail that leads straight to Taehyung’s
tower.

“Oh, shit,” Jeongguk curses. This time, when Jeongguk runs, Jimin is sprinting right on his heels.

They fly through the foyer together past a very put-upon Namjoon, who calls as they pass, “Where
are you going?”

“Hang on!” Jeongguk yells over his shoulder.

“Awh man, are we seriously going to play this guessing game again?” Hoseok complains from
behind the desk. He stands from his rolling chair and hustles over to where Jeongguk and Jimin are
fiddling with the deadbolt in the front door.

Yoongi appears from around a corner, makes a choking noise, and barks, “Where the hell do you
think you’re going?”

“Outside,” Jimin says casually, and then he’s slipping out into the darkness after Jeongguk.

Namjoon lets out a long-suffering sigh. Jeongguk thinks he hears him say, ‘I hate young people,’
but he isn’t sure.

Jeongguk retraces his footsteps back to where he’d burst out of the clearing an hour or so ago. His
footprints are fresh, the ground still slightly moist around the divots left by the soles of his shoes.
They lie right next to the other pair of boot prints. Motioning for Jimin to stay close, Jeongguk jogs
around the back of the medical building, past Namjoon’s parked ambulance, and right to the
beginning of the trail leading to Snowshoe Pass Tower.

Sure enough, at the base of the trail is a matching set of boot prints. The light of the moon catches
on the grooves and dips in the footprint, and it stands out against the dark forest floor like a stain.

“Shit,” Jeongguk breathes. He hears Jimin’s footsteps recede back into the building behind them,
but Jeongguk stays frozen in place, just for a moment. He has the feeling then—the one that he’d
felt all those nights ago—the one that makes him feel as though he’s ready for anything. Like he’s
capable of anything . It’s not a particularly good feeling; it’s more like he’s been run through with a
live wire and scraped from the inside-out. Jeongguk takes a deep breath, sets his teeth, and sprints
after Jimin.

When he locks the double doors behind him, Jimin is already explaining, “Hoseok’s hailing
Taehyung as we speak.” All of the others are crowded around Hoseok’s receptionist’s desk.
Jeongguk sees the way Yoongi white-knuckles the edge of the deck. His nostrils are flared and the
space between his eyebrows is pinched, and Jeongguk thinks that he’s never seen Yoongi look like
that before.

“Should I head up there?” Yoongi asks, uncharacteristically unsure.

Namjoon claps an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “He’s probably okay,” Namjoon says and
then takes a beat. “He should be okay. I hope he’s okay.”
“You’re not instilling a lot of confidence right now,” Yoongi half-growls. He watches, tense, as
Hoseok fumbles with the dials on the walkie-talkie.

“Tae?” Hoseok says into the receiver, “Do you copy?”

There’s nothing from the other line but torturous, slow static. Jeongguk feels his heart drop all the
way down to his feet. He isn’t aware that he’s sweating until a trickle runs down the back of his
neck, between his shoulder blades, and makes him shiver. Jeongguk licks his lips nervously.
“Come on, Tae,” he urges, “Pick up. You always fucking pick up. What the hell are you doing?”

“Taehyung?” Hoseok tries again. Static follows. Everyone in the group holds their breath for one,
two, three seconds, until-

“Hello?” Jeongguk almost whoops in relief until he realizes that it’s Seokjin speaking from the
other line.

Hoseok nearly drops the walkie. “Seokjin?” he croaks out urgently.

“Obviously. Why’re you blowing up my radio at midnight?” Seokjin asks, sounding very clearly
annoyed.

Yoongi, looking very clearly annoyed himself, reaches across the counter and deftly plucks the
radio from Hoseok’s grasp. “Have you heard from Taehyung lately?” he asks, wasting no time.

Seokjin makes a thoughtful noise and yawns. “Not since he signed off earlier tonight. But
sometimes he goes AWOL while he goes on his midnight walks.”

“His what?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi looks seconds away from having a major cardiac episode in the middle of the foyer.
Jeongguk winces. Taehyung’s unpredictability is usually endearing, sometimes annoying, but
thoroughly terrifying in this very specific instance. It’s not at all charming or idiosyncratic when
there’s a potential crazed murderer on the loose.

“Is that Jimin? Hi, Jimin!” Seokjin chirps happily.

“Do you think he’s out in the forest right now?” Yoongi manages to choke out.

Once more, Seokjin yawns. “There’s no telling,” he says, “Taehyung’s as erratic as they come.”

To himself, Namjoon asks, “Who the hell goes on midnight walks?”

“You do, hyung,” Jeongguk points out.

“Not when there’s a killer on the loose!”

“There’s a killer on the loose?” Seokjin asks, sounding markedly more interested in the
conversation now.

Jimin leans over the counter and contributes, “A potential killer.”

“How is that- What’s going on?” When Seokjin speaks again, the vague amusement is gone from
his voice. He’s snapped into the version of himself that Jeongguk’s only seen a handful of times—
the cool-under-pressure, level-headed, emotionally-balanced Seokjin. “Is Taehyung alright?”

“It’s a long story. Just stay in your tower tonight and lock your doors, okay?” Hoseok says. He
glances at the rest of them, concern in his stare. If Taehyung is out in the forest and he’s not
responding, then something’s wrong. Taehyung has his radio glued to his hip because he’s afraid to
miss the latest forest gossip. It’s unlike him to not pick up, and it sends fear striking through
Jeongguk.

Seokjin clears his throat. “What specifically hap-”

“Hello?” Taehyung’s transmission cuts over Seokjin’s words.

Yoongi makes a sound like a kettle boiling over. “Taehyung?”

“The one and only,” Taehyung chirps right back, and Jeongguk lets out a breath that he didn’t
know he’d been holding.

Jimin’s blood starts to finally come back to his face. He leans heavily on his elbows on the counter
and exhales through his nose. “We thought you were dead,” he bleats.

“Jimin? Is Jeongguk there, too? Are you guys having a party without me?” Taehyung huffs.

There’s a distinctive crinkling sound in the background of Taehyung’s transmission. It’s the
crinkling of a freshly-opened back of animal crackers, the kind that Seokjin orders that only comes
from one place. Yoongi hears it too. He asks, “Taehyung, where are you right now?”

“Supply Box One-Oh-One,” Taehyung replies. There’s a munching noise, and then, “My radio’s
battery crapped out, and I forgot to pick up my rations today. So I’m picking them up right now,
because Seokjin always gets on my ass when I let my walkie go dead for long periods of time. Plus
I knew that he ordered those crackers again, and I’m a weak man.”

“This is so not my fault,” Seokjin interjects.

“Seokjin? Wow, the gang’s all there,” Taehyung says, and he sounds distinctly crestfallen at being
left out of the loop.

Namjoon takes the radio from Yoongi, who looks like he’s a step from passing out on the cold
linoleum floor, and says, “Taehyung, go back to your tower. Now.”

“Sheesh,” Taehyung grumbles, “I’m already going. But I would like you all to know that I’m
absolutely gutted that I wasn’t invited to this get-together. Severely hurt. I may never recover.”

“Taehyung, there’s a potential killer in the woods,” Namjoon says. He rubs the bridge of his nose.

Taehyung grunts. “A ‘potential’ killer? How does that work? Has he been certificated and just not
cleared his status yet?”

“Can you just fucking listen for once and get your ass back to the tower?” Yoongi asks in a voice
that sounds so unlike him that Jeongguk sees the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck rise. Jeongguk
feels himself break out in goosebumps.

Taehyung seems to feel the same. “Okay. God. I’m on my way. No need to be mean about it.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi apologizes, but the relief coloring his features indicates that his heart isn’t really
in the apology.

There’s a heartbeat of tense silence, and then Taehyung is asking, “How exactly do you know that
there’s a potential killer in the woods?”
“They trashed Jeongguk’s tower,” Jimin says. “And followed me back to the medical center.
We’re fairly certain they’re coming for you next.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, and then makes a little ‘ah’ noise. “So that’s why you guys came all the
way out here, right? To escort me back to my tower. But I thought you were at the medical center.”

Everyone in the foyer freezes. They exchange a look that screams ‘Oh, shit,’ but it’s Jeongguk that
reacts first. “We are in the medical center, Tae.”

“But I can see your flashlight from here,” Taehyung insists.

“No, Tae. We’re all here in the foyer right now,” Jimin replies.

Taehyung huffs impatiently, tiring of the prank he thinks is being played on him. “No, you’re not.
You’re coming down the trail towards me. I can literally see Yoongi’s uniform.”

“Oh, my god,” Hoseok breathes.

Jeongguk licks his lips that are suddenly bone-dry. “Taehyung, that’s not us. Yoongi’s cadets
aren’t in your area. Neither are we. That isn’t us.”

“Oh,” says Taehyung. In a small voice, he adds, “Huh.”

Yoongi rights himself and takes a deep breath. In the silence that follows, he takes the radio with a
shaking hand and says in a clear voice—

“Taehyung. Run.”

“I-”

“I said run!” Yoongi yells into the receiver.

A series of sounds comes from the other end of the receiver. There’s a rustling noise, a series of
short gasps, and the sound of feet slamming on a dirt road. And then Taehyung is screaming
through the line, “Oh, shit! Guys, I think they’ve got a gun.”

And then there’s a gunshot sound ripping through the air, a strangled yelp, and Taehyung is
shouting, “Okay, scratch that, they’ve for sure got a gun!”

Yoongi’s already out the door by the time that Jeongguk thinks to follow.

There’s silence in Jeongguk’s head as he rockets out the door after Yoongi, Jimin on his heels. It’s
a particular kind of silence—the sort he hasn’t felt in a while. It takes up all the space in his head
and forces him to focus on one thing at a time.

Closing the ambulance door after Jimin.

Buckling the seatbelt.

Feeling the imprint of the knife in his pocket as it presses into his thigh.

“-be fine, hyung,” Jimin’s reassurance cuts through Jeongguk’s pocket of silence, “Taehyung’s a
fast runner.” But even as he speaks, Jeongguk can see the way Jimin’s white-knuckling the sides of
his chair.

Yoongi doesn’t bother with a reply. He sits in the driver’s seat with his lips pursed and with a
manic look in his eyes. Sweat beads along his hairline and drips down his temples in nervous
rivulets that glint in the reflection the headlights make on the dark paved road.

Jimin doesn’t bother trying to offer any more reassurances. He gulps audibly and presses his back
into the leather seat where he’s sandwiched between Yoongi and Jeongguk. When Yoongi takes a
turn particularly hard, Jimin screws his eyes shut.

It occurs to Jeongguk that this crazed ambulance ride is probably a lot like Jimin’s car crash a few
weeks ago. It also occurs to Jeongguk that he should probably be feeling a lot more panicked than
he is right now. But somewhere in between locking the doors in the medical building and loading
into the ambulance, Jeongguk separated from himself. The panicked part of him is locked away in
the back of his mind, hiding until later.

The Jeongguk that sits in the front seat watches the road ahead closely. He breathes in through his
nose, out with his mouth, four beats at a time. One, two, three, four, and watch the road disappear
between the trees up ahead near the curve.

One, two, three, four, and listen to Yoongi’s ragged breathing as more and more terror sets in.

One, two, three, four, and take a moment to wonder where the light up ahead is coming from.

One, two, three, four, and-

“Stop!” Jeongguk shouts as his brain registers what his eyes are already processing.

On command, Yoongi slams his foot down on the brake pedal. The ambulance screeches as it
comes to a halt, fishtailing madly as the momentum carries through. The sound of the door alarm
goes off in steady ‘ding ding dings’, because Yoongi and Jeongguk have already flung open the
doors to the ambulance.

Steam rises off of the cool asphalt underneath the overheated tires, swirling in the illumination of
the headlights as Jeongguk scrambles out of his five-point harness to reach the shape that’s
slumped on the edge of the firebreak that lines the highway.

“Hey!” Yoongi shouts, banging his flashlight against his palm as he struggles to turn it on,
“Taehyung? Is that you?!”

There’s a peculiar wheezing noise from the slumped figure that sounds halfway between a laugh
and a desperate gasp for air. Yoongi’s flashlight flickers to life and lands squarely on Taehyung’s
prone form.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks as he processes everything all at once. Taehyung sits on the firebreak,
one hand on his chest and one on the swell of his thigh. He’s got his backpack on, the one that he
only wears when he’s intending to steal a particularly large amount of Seokjin’s things. His hair is
matted with sweat, and he’s pale, and his left leg is drenched with blood.

“ Fuck,” Jimin curses. “Yoongi-”

“Get bandages,” Yoongi rasps out. He falls to his knees beside Taehyung and immediately presses
his hands on the bubbling bullet wound. “Hurry!”

Jimin is gone in a flash of movement, racing back towards the ambulance. Yoongi says something
to Jeongguk, but Jeongguk doesn’t process.

His eyes are locked on the blood splatters that decorate the tops of Taehyung’s hiking boots.
They’re like large drops on an empty canvas, a constellation of iron and copper, and the shape of a
memory bubbles up in Jeongguk’s head unbidden.

In an instant, he’s right back there in the bedroom looking down at his shoes and wondering what
just happened. Jeongguk’s sitting on a bus that night asking an older man for directions and
holding his collection of memories. Jeongguk’s entering the forest and leaving his past behind and
running from the police, and it’s all coming back to him now, and the Jeongguk who’s calm and
composed under pressure isn’t so calm and composed any more, and Jeongguk remembers what it
feels like to see that much blood, so much that it almost feels like seeing red.

“We have to get out of here,” Jimin says urgently as he hands rolls of bandages to Yoongi to pack
the wound. “Whoever did this is still out there, and we don’t know how far he is.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says shakily. “Yes, you’re right. I- Tae, fuck, can you move?”

Taehyung shakes his head weakly. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere soon?”

“We can pick him up. There’s a stretcher in the ambulance. Hang on,” Jimin says. And then he’s
gone again.

Yoongi glances up at Jeongguk. “I need some help. Can you-”

“How close behind you was he?” Jeongguk interrupts. There’s iron in his mouth and pounding in
his veins, and Jeongguk can feel the knife in his pocket as heavy as a promise.

Taehyung tries to shrug and winces in pain. “Close enough to put a fucking bullet through me. I
could hear him, and fuck that really fucking hurts,” Taehyung shouts, hand twisting into the fabric
of Yoongi’s jacket.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yoongi is mumbling under his breath like a prayer.

“Okay,” is all Jeongguk says before he grabs the hilt of the knife in his palm and takes off into the
forest. He thinks he hears Yoongi shouting behind him, thinks he maybe hears Jimin ask
something in the distance, but it doesn’t matter.

Jeongguk is seeing and tasting and remembering blood as he sprints across the firebreak and
through the ring of trees that lines the edge. Locating Taehyung’s trail is fairly easy, even in the
darkness, and Jeongguk dashes through the bent foliage and muddied footprints with the
experience of someone who’s made these woods his home for a decade.

Killers, Jeongguk thinks absently, often revisit the scene of their crime. Some never leave at all.

So Jeongguk runs until his lungs burn and his legs ache and he can just make out the bouncing of a
beam of light in the near distance. Whoever’s running isn’t running fast enough. Jeon Jeongguk is
back on the hunt, and the more he closes the distance between the two of them, the more his heart
starts to pick up in anticipation.

“Hey!” Jeongguk shouts at the top of his lungs. The flashlight wavers for a half-second to turn and
point directly in Jeongguk’s eyes. The sudden burst of illumination momentarily blinds him, but it
makes the killer pause long enough for Jeongguk to leap across the distance that separates them.

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He didn’t back then, and he doesn’t now as he brings his Bowie knife
up from his hip in a blinding flash of steel. It makes contact with the same squelching give that he
remembers, pierces straight through flesh and bone and blood and makes whoever’s holding the
flashlight drop it in shocked agony.
“You,” Jeongguk growls into the darkness, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.
“You’ve caused a lot of problems for me. For Jimin. What the fuck do you want?”

A voice that Jeongguk vaguely recognizes hisses right back, “Your head on a fucking wall mount.”
And it’s then that Jeongguk remembers the killer has a gun, because the killer brings it down in a
brilliant arc right against Jeongguk’s skull.

There’s a grotesque ‘crack!’ and Jeongguk is seeing double. He loses his grip on his knife and
stumbles on his feet.

“It’s in your blood, isn’t it?” the figure in the darkness asks in an ugly rasp. “Violence. Your father
had it. You have it. It’s genetic.”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk shouts as stars bloom in front of his eyes to cloud his vision. “Don’t you
dare-”

The killer interrupts him. “I know all about you, Jeon Jeongguk,” says the voice. There’s the
telltale click of a cocked gun. “And so does the Seoul Police Force. Your time is almost up, and
then you’ll be out of my way one way or another. And you’ll end up where you always deserved to
go.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jeongguk says in a scream that tears at his vocal cords. Adrenaline
bursts through his veins, and he judges the distance between himself and the shadow in the
darkness just ahead.

There’s a laugh. “Oh, Jeongguk,” the voice mocks. “Did you really think the blood on your hands
wouldn’t stain? Did you think someone wouldn’t find out what you did?”

And for a moment, Jeongguk hears perfect silence.

Jeongguk jumps.

The gun goes off.

There are moments, Jeongguk hopes, where unspeakable acts of horror are completely justified.
Times where the thin veil between right and wrong lifts—just a touch, just enough to allow the two
dichotomous realms to bleed into a puzzling shade of grey. There are moments; of this Jeongguk is
certain.

He’s experienced one of those moments himself, but no one ever prepared Jeongguk for what
happens after the moment ends and the veil slips decisively down once more.

When Jeongguk had his moment—before the bus and the forest and everything that came after—
there was silence in his head. A loud, screaming silence that rushed through his ears and ripped
him apart from the inside out.

It was Yoongi who found Jeongguk on the edge of the forest when Jeongguk was filled with silence.
Yoongi—a cadet himself, back then—who took Jeongguk to Namjoon, introduced him to Hoseok,
offered him a job.

And Jeongguk discovered that, out here in the forest, was a silence that rivaled his own. It
swallowed him whole, occupied his mind, kept the motions suffocating him at bay underneath
mounds of tedious, repetitive tasks. The forest offered Jeongguk a chance to hide himself for a
decade, and Jeongguk jumped on it.

There are moments, though, when Jeongguk’s unspeakable act comes screaming back at him,
because he’s not a horrible person—really, he’s not, he’s just bound by circumstance and bad
timing—and those moments remind Jeongguk of who he really is.

Sometimes they happen during the day, when he’s skinning a rabbit or hiking through iron-red
topsoil. But more often than not, they happen at night, when Jeongguk’s mind’s eye can perfectly
recall what the screams of a dying man sound like, how the lips twist in on themselves under the
force of the noise, how the eyes bulge in terror.

The silence that comes when the act is done and stays forever thereafter.

In these moments, Jeongguk knows the truth about what he is, and he whispers the word aloud to
himself when he’s lost in the dark, lost in the world, in his mind.

“Murderer,” he says quietly, like a prayer. “You’re a murderer. ”

And the truth of it fills his head with a silence so loud that Jeongguk isn’t sure he’ll ever hear
anything else.

And then Jeongguk is lying in the dirt with his head spinning and a smoking gun on the ground
next to him. There’s a pit in the dirt from the bullet dangerously close to where Jeongguk was last
standing.

Footsteps beat a retreat back into the shadows as Jeongguk struggles to catch his breath.

There’s a loaded gun on the ground next to Jeongguk.

 Jeongguk reaches over and takes the still-warm metal into his hand. And then he smiles. Because
while blood might stain and violence might be genetic, Jeon Jeongguk is the one holding a loaded
gun and staring at a pool of the killer’s blood muddying the dirt.

And for a moment, Jeongguk feels absolutely fucking good .

Chapter End Notes

oops i promise Jeongguk isn't totally bonkers

I did fashion him to be similar to Jinx from Arcane, so :'DDD maybe that's what's
happening here-

SEE YOU
-Ash
 Combustion
Chapter Notes

So my friends. Hello and welcome all to this 7th chapter-- this is your friendly
neighborhood reminder that this fic includes violence (as marked in the rating), and
this chapter is UHHHHHH pretty much where this fic gets worse??? I'm not
dismembering people, but there's blood (not nearly as graphic as when I wrote Good
Housekeeping), but I still thought I'd mention it.

That being said-- if you'd like to skip the worst bit, skip over the italicized section
that's about 1/3 of the way through. It's a flashback, but SDFJHSDF YOU'LL SEE

SECOND! JK has a panic attack in this chapter shortly after the italics bit, so if that's
triggering, ignore that part too! I'll be happy to fill you in on the plot in the comments,
etc.

THIRD! I'm finishing posting this story before January 1st, which means chapters 9/10
will be posted back-to-back on the 30th/31st of December. DOUBLE FEATURES,
WOOOO~

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Yoongi is furious.

Jeongguk knows this because the entire ambulance ride back to the medical building, Yoongi
glared at Jeongguk from the corner of his eyes. He’d also opened his mouth several times, as
though preparing to absolutely ream Jeongguk, but thought better of it after Taehyung’s
uncomfortable coughing.

Jeongguk also knows this because as soon as they get back to the medical building, Yoongi whisks
Taehyung away into one of Namjoon’s operating theatres, Jimin in tow, leaving Jeongguk alone in
the foyer.

It’s quiet in here and deceptively peaceful. Jeongguk locks the double doors behind him and takes
the opportunity to quiet the noises in his head. He’s worried for Taehyung, because of course he is,
and he’s livid at the man in the woods. Most of all, Jeongguk is angry at himself. He was so close
—he was so close— to finally ending this whole thing. If he’d just thought to fire the gun, if he’d
just committed to the act, it could all be over by now. Jimin wouldn’t have to live in fear,
Taehyung would be avenged, and everything could finally go back to business as usual.

But Jeongguk hadn’t fired the gun, hadn’t killed the man in the woods, and instead he’s here,
sitting on an uncomfortable chair in an empty waiting room knowing that he’s pissed off several
people he’d really prefer to have on his side right about now.

A half hour passes, and then another, and Jeongguk’s just made up his mind to storm into the
operating theatre himself and check in on Taehyung when Yoongi comes marching around the
corner.

And Jeongguk has seen Yoongi mad, but never furious. Never like this.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouts, spittle flying as he advances. His hands are balled
into fists and his face is flushed. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line as he stops inches away from
Jeongguk.

Jeongguk glances over his shoulder because he would really rather be anywhere but here right now.
He catches sight of Namjoon and Jimin and Hoseok, all of whom are coming from the back
corridor of the building. “How’s Taehyung?” Jeongguk asks instead, trying and failing to change
the inevitable course of the conversation.

Yoongi is having none of it. “Uh-uh,” he tuts sardonically, “You don’t get to do that. You don’t
get to redirect your way out of this. Not this time.”

“Hyung, come on,” Jeongguk says, trying to calm Yoongi down before he gets himself murdered
on the spot.

It’s Namjoon who interrupts. “No, he’s right, Jeongguk. What you did was reckless and really
fucking stupid.” Namjoon has his arms crossed from where he leans against the opposite wall,
scrubs on and a little bloodied, looking completely harried and completely over Jeongguk’s rash
behavior.

“I just want to know, like, what was going through your head when you decided to run after a killer
into the forest,” Yoongi hisses. He has to rock onto the balls of his feet to lock eyes with Jeongguk,
and it should be comical, but it’s actually pretty terrifying.

And Jeongguk knows that he’s splitting hairs and he really shouldn’t be saying what he’s about to
say, but the words are already tumbling defensively out of his mouth. “He hasn’t actually killed
anyone yet,” Jeongguk mumbles, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you serious?” Jeongguk’s head snaps up to look at Jimin, who stands in the middle of the
room looking just as furious, if not more than Yoongi. “Are you fucking serious? First you get
attacked in the woods and it’s ‘not a big deal’. Then your tower gets broken into and it’s still ‘not a
big deal’. And now, when you chase a psychopath into the woods, even that doesn’t warrant ‘big
deal’ status. Do you really have that much of a death wish that you run towards a criminal? Is that
it?”

And Jeongguk is actually, genuinely surprised. He blinks for a moment. “Why’re you upset?” he
asks before he can think about it—before he hears the words himself and cringes.

“Are you kidding me,” Jimin asks, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what this was like for the
rest of us, to watch you go after him? Do you seriously only think about yourself that much?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have the words or the time to explain that, no, he
went into the woods after the gunman for everyone, to save everyone . He went into the woods
because he could kill the gunman, he knows it. And it occurs to him, briefly, that there’s
something wrong with that sentiment, but Jeongguk doesn’t dwell on it.

“I don’t-”
“You know what—I can’t do this right now,” Jimin says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“I’m going back to keep Tae company. Don’t talk to me until you’ve pulled your head out of your
own ass.”

Jimin watches, gawking, as Jimin stalks away. He’s seen Jimin lots of ways—laughing, scared,
serious—but never like this. Never like he could throw a punch and knock someone’s teeth clean
out of their head.

“What was that about?” Jeongguk asks himself, under his own breath, but everyone else hears it
anyway.

“Gee, I don’t know, Jeongguk,” Yoongi mocks. “Maybe we’re all just a little bit tired of watching
the people we care about have brushes with death. Maybe we’re all a little bit annoyed that, while
the rest of us are concerned with not dying, you seem to be awfully gung-ho about it.”

Hurt lances through Jeongguk, but he compartmentalizes it so fast that it barely stings at all.
Resentment replaces the emotion faster than Jeongguk can process, and then he’s taking a step
forward and feeling the metal of the gun brush against his back and watching Yoongi take an
involuntary step backwards. “That’s not fair,” Jeongguk protests, “I almost got him. I got his
fucking gun. I ran after him because I wanted to end this—for all of us. How is this my fault?”

“You seriously think what you did was a good move, don’t you?” Yoongi asks. He looks up at
Jeongguk with his eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you before,”
Yoongi spits, “I’m not sure that I know this Jeongguk. This guy who seems to need to throw
himself into the fire to make sure that the rest of us are safe. Like we’re children; like we need you
to make all of the decisions in our best interest. But it doesn’t make us respect you, Jeongguk, or
feel grateful. It makes us pity you. Because what a fucking life you must live, making choices for
us and everyone else and pretending like we put that on you. How fucking sad.”

“Okay, why don’t we all just take a moment here,” Hoseok intervenes. He looks from Yoongi to
Jeongguk and back again, worry pinching his eyebrows.

“Don’t defend him. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to go out on his own and nearly get
killed and then get a pat on the fucking back,” Yoongi shoots out. He steps forward, pokes
Jeongguk’s chest with his pointer finger. “We’re a team out here, Jeongguk. We’ve always been a
team. And I don’t know what’s going on with you to make you forget that, but I really fucking
hope that it gets through your head before you get yourself murdered and I have to say, ‘I told you
so.’”

Irritation swims around Jeongguk’s head. Anger follows closely on his heels, because he can’t
make Yoongi understand what it is to deal with someone like this. To deal with someone who
wants them dead, wants them hurt. Jeongguk doesn’t know how to explain that there’s no fucking
time to sit around and deliberate every step of the way when there’s someone like this on the loose.
He doesn’t know how to say that sitting in silence, petrified, wondering what to do next will get
them hurt or killed or in a hospital somewhere with a purple hospital bracelet wrapped around their
wrists, and that the only thing to do is act without worrying about the consequences and just-

“Whatever,” Yoongi says, and Jeongguk realizes that he’s been staring into space for the last
minute. “Do what you want. Get killed. I’m out of here.” And then he, too, is disappearing down
the corridor after Jimin. Hoseok follows on his heels.

“Jeongguk,” Namjoon says, but his voice is far away and there’s this terrible buzzing noise in
Jeongguk’s head.
His thoughts are fuzzy, tinged with the velvet edge of a dream, and Jeongguk is thinking that his
body doesn’t really feel like his own right now. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,”
Jeongguk hears someone say in a voice that’s a lot like his own, “I don’t want to have a session
right now or talk about the consequences of my actions. I just want this to be over. I just want this
to end.”

There must be something wrong with his voice, because Namjoon takes a step forward with his
hand out, saying something, but Jeongguk isn’t listening.

“I need a minute,” Jeongguk gasps out. “I need to take a minute. Give me- give me a minute.” And
then Jeongguk’s feet are carrying him out of the room, down the corridor, into Namjoon’s private
bathroom.

He turns the lock behind him with a ‘click’ and leans back against the cool metal of the door.

Jeongguk closes his eyes but that’s a mistake, because the second he does, everything comes
flooding back to him in vivid color.

Last night was a lot like that night, actually. Jeongguk knows this to be true because he remembers
everything, all of it, down to the last detail.

It was cloudy that night, and cold. It was early September. There was a full moon in the sky on the
night when Jeongguk came home, absolutely certain that his father would be the one to kill him.
He remembers how his face was puffy from crying, one of his nostrils was still stuffed up, how he
had mountains of homework due the next morning that he’d never get to do.

Jeongguk remembers using his gold key to unlock the front door of their small house, sandwiched
between two similarly run-down properties. The door was painted white and flaking around the
edges. And when Jeongguk pushed it open, it betrayed him by speaking to announce his presence.

In the middle of the kitchen was Jeongguk’s mother. She was cooking. It was supposed to be a
celebratory night—as celebratory as it could possibly be, considering the bruises on her wrists and
neck and face, and the tear tracks that slowly were drying on her face. She had on her apron, the
one covered in peonies that Jeongguk really liked.

Not once, not during the whole thing, did she look up at him.

And behind her, like a shadow, was Jeongguk’s father. He stood there, glowering, all six feet of
him primed and ready for a fight.

“How was school?” he’d asked, watching as Jeongguk put down his book bag.

Jeongguk remembers that he swallowed hard and looked at the ground. He’s sure he said
something like, ‘It was okay,’ or ‘The same,’ or something equally noncommittal, but what he said
didn’t really matter much, because his father had already made up his mind.

When the screaming started, Jeongguk remembers standing there, feeling his heart thrumming
slowly in his chest and slowly dropping down, down, down to his new white shoes. He remembers
watching as his father picked up his mother’s cleaver from the counter; Jeongguk knows how
many steps it took his father to cross from the kitchen into the foyer where he was standing—seven.

Seven steps in which to contemplate his fate; seven steps in which for Jeongguk to think about all
the things he might’ve been, things he might’ve seen or done or dreamt of. Seven steps before his
father drew back his arm and launched it forward and struck Jeongguk right in the center of his
chest.

After that, Jeongguk doesn’t remember so much.

There was screaming.

There was blood.

And there was the absolute certainty that there are moments in life when unspeakable acts of
horror are completely justified.

And with some careful planning, some careful preparation, Jeongguk might have one of his own.

“Stop,” Jeongguk whispers in the darkness of the bathroom. He doesn’t know when it was or how
it happened, but he’s on the floor with his back against the door, hands balled into fists on either
side of his head. “Stop,” he pleads with himself.

These aren’t the things that he’s supposed to feel. These are the things that Jeongguk is supposed
to keep hidden in his little box to be dealt with later, if at all, if ever, not things to be dredged up
and remembered in a moment like this.

Jeongguk’s heartbeat thrums in his ears and his breath is coming harder than usual. The room spins
in slow, circular motions, and the whole world is fuzzy around the edges. The shower across the
room is leaky; Jeongguk watches in slow motion as drops of water splash onto the mildewed tile
below.

One, two, three, Jeongguk counts as he tries to steady his breathing. “Stop,” he tells himself again.

Four, five, six, he counts, watching the drops. There’s this great pressure on his chest that he can’t
seem to get rid of. The half of Jeongguk who usually screams from the ceiling is rapidly bubbling
up, skimming the surface of Jeongguk’s control.

Seven. Jeongguk takes a breath and holds it and digs his fingers into the palms of his hands until
the nails form little crescent marks and the world around him is full of shadow spiders dancing in
the gloom.

And then, just as quickly as it came on, the feeling fades away. The pressure lessens, the world
stops turning, and Jeongguk can breathe again.

Jeongguk takes a breath and stands. He walks to the sink, splashes water on his face, and looks
himself in the eye.
“Okay,” he tells his reflection.

Jeongguk dries his face in his t-shirt, walks to the door with the feeling of the gun pressing against
his back, and closes it shut snugly behind him.

When Jeongguk comes back into the foyer after his moment alone in the bathroom, everybody’s
already assembled. Taehyung sits in a wheelchair, sandwiched in between Yoongi and Jimin. He’s
bruised and a little bloodied, but he offers a weak smile anyway. Yoongi and Jimin and Namjoon
do not.

“How’s your leg?” Jeongguk asks as he joins the rough circle composed of chairs that’ve been
pulled into the center of the room. Hoseok sits on his left, Namjoon on his right.

Across from him, Taehyung snorts. “I got shot. It fucking hurts. I can’t walk.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to look at the bandages around Taehyung’s thigh, but he makes himself. He
stares at the dressings until the dread that resides in his bones has subsided enough for him to talk
again. “Fair enough,” Jeongguk croaks, “I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk about our next moves,” Yoongi interrupts. He’s got one hand placed protectively
on Taehyung’s other thigh, and there are bags hanging underneath his eyes. He looks around at the
rest of them, says, “This is getting out of hand, and at this point, I think it’s more than the rangers
can deal with on their own.”

“If you consider what they’re doing now to be anything at all,” Namjoon mumbles cynically.

Jeongguk’s inclined to agree. So far, the rangers have been of remarkably little help. It’s either
apathy or recklessness or a devil-may-care attitude that keeps them from conducting a proper
investigation, but Jeongguk doesn’t really give a shit what it is. This situation should’ve been
resolved weeks ago, and now they’re all sitting here looking at the bandage-covered bullet hole on
Taehyung’s leg.

“I’ll call the Seoul Police again,” Hoseok says, “Maybe they can finally send someone up here for
us.”

Yoongi nods in agreement. “I think that’s the move at this point. Hopefully vandalism and
attempted murder can finally tip the scales and convince them that this is serious enough to
intervene, regardless of their jurisdiction.” He grimaces at the thought of all the red tape to be
navigated in the future and shakes his head.

“We should also evacuate the forest,” Jeongguk adds. All heads in the room snap towards him, and
it takes every ounce of willpower not to squirm under the less-than-happy stares he receives from a
majority of the others. “I mean—we can’t seriously think that having hundreds of civilians in the
forest at the same time as this guy is a good idea. How long will it be before he starts going after
someone else to send us another ‘message’?”

With a heavy, somewhat begrudging sigh, Yoongi says, “That’s going to be a hell of an
undertaking. But you’re right. We need to get non-essential personnel out of here, too. No one who
doesn’t have to be here should be here.”
As the others nod in agreement, Namjoon says, “What about Seokjin?”

“What about him?” Jimin asks.

Namjoon shifts to the edge of his seat. He braces his forearms on his knees and rubs at the scowl
on his face. “We need to bring him down here. He shouldn’t be alone out in the forest right now.”
Namjoon pauses, raising a hand as Yoongi opens his mouth to interject. “And I understand that that
means there’ll be no one watching the forest in case of a fire, but all the civilians will be out of the
woods anyway, and I think it’s better that we’re all together and safe instead of dead alone in a fire
tower.”

“I’ll send out a radio signal,” Hoseok hums. He looks over at Namjoon sympathetically. Jeongguk
understands why—everyone’s here, safe, except for Seokjin, who Namjoon would probably
murder for. Jeongguk doesn’t want to imagine putting himself in Namjoon’s shoes right now.

“Sanghoon and Eunji should still be in the area. They can pick him up and offer him an escort
down to the medical building,” Yoongi agrees gently. When Namjoon nods, a little choked up,
Yoongi sniffs decisively and snaps back into problem-solving mode. “Okay. Here’s what’s going
to happen—the rest of us will go out in teams to evacuate the forest. Taehyung, you’ll have to stay
here with Hoseok.”

Taehyung, indignant, opens his mouth.

Yoongi silences him with a ‘try me, bitch,’ look. “No objections. You can’t walk. You’re not
going.”

“Fine,” Taehyung grumbles. “But I’ll be the one checking in on all of you every half hour. No one
else is getting injured today.”

The words pull a small smile to Yoongi’s lips. “Okay. I’ll go with Namjoon. Jeongguk, Jimin goes
with you. You’ve got a gun. Use it if you have to.”

Jeongguk reflexively reaches back and touches the now-warm metal nestled against his spine.
“Okay,” he says, contemplating murder.

“I want us all back here, in the medical building, before sunset. Got it?” Yoongi pauses, staring
each and every one of them down to make them understand how serious he is, as if his tone wasn’t
enough. “Good. Check in with Taehyung every hour.”

Yoongi stands and pushes the bangs out of his face. “Let’s get this done before this fucker hurts
anyone else.”

Jeongguk and Jimin station themselves to the West in the area of forest that typically falls under
Taehyung’s jurisdiction. Since the Taehyung in question is currently sitting in the medical pavilion
jumping in over the radio every thirty minutes, as promised, his current ability to evacuate campers
near his tower has been temporarily put on hold. So here stands Jeongguk, at the base of the dirt
trail that leads down from the lake and campgrounds, stationed next to a statuesque-Jimin,
directing people to the forest’s exit.
Jeongguk casts a glance over the head of a young woman to look at Jimin. The hike over was
painfully quiet, full of tension-filled sighs and pointed looks, but Jimin’s now smiling at campers
and hikers like nothing’s happened at all. It fills Jeongguk with irritation, though he knows the
mess he’s in right now is at least half his own fault. Still, there’s something about seeing Jimin
smile so brightly at everyone else when he won’t even look in Jeongguk’s direction that sets
Jeongguk’s teeth on edge.

“Why are we leaving? What happened?” Jeongguk’s train of thought is broken by an elderly
woman’s voice. She’s clad in mismatched hiking clothes and a wide-brimmed hat, and she steps
over the roots at the trail’s base rather shakily.

Jeongguk instinctively reaches out a hand and takes her elbow in his grasp, guiding her down the
last few feet of the trailhead. He smiles at her and says in as comforting a voice as he can muster,
“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ve just had some alerts about a possible fire way up to the North.
We’re taking all the necessary precautions for our own campers.”

“Oh, my,” the old woman exclaims, giving Jeongguk a sound pat on the shoulder in thanks.
“Thank you, dear. Stay safe out here. Make sure that you don’t get caught up in the mess. It would
be a terrible shame.”

Jeongguk nods and bows slightly. “Will do, ma’am. Have a nice rest of your day.” He offers her
another warm smile and waves her away after the other tourists that gather near the through-road,
waiting for one of the trams from the ranger’s station to come up and take them to the parking lot
below.

He catches sight of the way Jimin’s nose scrunches up in distaste a half-second before Jimin
snipes, “‘Nothing to worry about’, huh?” Jimin’s words come out in a furious whisper, and he casts
a glance to the approaching tourists, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Jeongguk maneuvers his way through the gaggle of hikers to stand next to Jimin. He pasts a false
smile onto his own lips as he nods at the group passing through. Through his teeth and behind his
grin, Jeongguk hisses right back, “What was I supposed to say? ‘There’s a killer on the loose; get
out while you still can’?”

“Whatever,” Jimin huffs. “It’s not like a warning dissuaded you, either. Why bother trying with all
of them, right?” Jimin’s voice rises as the tail end of the last crowd disappears down the road.
Anger shines in his eyes, and his cheeks are pinking up, and Jeongguk knows instinctively that
Jimin is about two seconds from trying to strangle him with his bare hands.

With a sigh of his own, Jeongguk takes Jimin by the arm and walks them a few feet off the
trailhead and into the surrounding foliage. They end up underneath the boughs of a large tree,
shaded by the leaves and properly muffled. Once Jeongguk is sure there are no civilians around to
witness what’s undoubtedly going to be a bloodbath, he asks, “Are you gonna be like this for the
rest of the day?”

Jimin wrenches his arm away and glowers. “Like what?” he snaps, and it sounds like a challenge.

“Mad at me and making petty remarks,” Jeongguk throws right back. He feels his own temper
bubbling beneath the surface of his skin and is surprised by how worked up he is.

Jimin snorts. “It’s not like you don’t deserve them.”

“Wow. Okay,” Jeongguk scoffs. “If that’s how you feel, then please, feel free to make as many as
you want. Just to make the both of us as miserable as possible. That’ll be a big help, thanks.”
Jimin seems to physically puff up in anger. “Hey. I’m not trying to make you feel miserable, okay?
I’m just trying to make you understand how fucking irresponsible you were because you genuinely
don’t seem to understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” Jeongguk says. He crosses his own arms and squares his shoulders. “You and
everyone else have made it clear numerous times today. I get it, okay? I understand. And look, I’m
sorry, but I can’t go back in time and keep myself from making the same decision. I know it was
stupid, but I don’t regret it, and I’d really just like everyone to understand that I was doing what I
thought was best.”

Jimin lets out a sound like a kettle boiling over and puts his hands on his hips. “I know! You and
everybody else are making all of these decisions that you all think is best. For me. Not what I think
is best, not what I want to do, and—don’t you understand how fucking frustrating that is?” Jimin’s
voice cracks a little bit on the last syllable, and he has to take a deep breath.

“All of you are running around putting yourselves in danger to deal with this guy for me . And
none of you even know me. You don’t know what I’m like or where I’m from or what I’ve done,
and you’re all just so willing to throw yourselves into these positions anyway.”

Jimin shakes his head as Jeongguk starts to open his mouth and silences him with a raised hand.
“I’m not just talking about you. It’s Yoongi and his cadets, and Namjoon, and Taehyung got shot
because of me. And it’s frustrating as hell because none of you will just stop for a minute and think
about the fact that I never asked for any of it. I never asked for any of it.”

“I don’t think it’s occurred to any of you that the best thing to do for yourselves would’ve been to
put me on a cart and send me back to Seoul,” Jimin mutters. He looks down at the floor and
shrugs, visibly deflating. “And then none of you would have to be in this mess.”

And Jeongguk pauses for a second, because that’s guilt that he sees playing across Jimin’s features
in the fading sunlight. It’s guilt, and Jeongguk has felt enough of that particular emotion to
recognize how gnawing it feels. He knows first-hand what it’s like to have people act in his best
interests, whether he wants it or not.

It strikes Jeongguk for the first time that that’s exactly how Jimin must be feeling right now, and
Jeongguk viscerally empathizes with Namjoon and Seokjin and Taehyung, because being on the
other end of the situation—being the person trying to help—isn’t as easy as Jeongguk had
assumed.

“You don’t have to ask,” Jeongguk says eventually, “We’re doing this because you need help.
And, well. We like you.” The words sound suspiciously like ones that Namjoon has said to him
numerous times, and Jeongguk scrunches up his nose in distaste.

Jimin tears his gaze away from the moss-covered floor and levels Jeongguk with a stare. “Why?”
he asks.

Jeongguk blinks. “Why what?”

“Why do you like me?” Jimin must catch the skeptical look that flits across Jeongguk’s features
because he’s taking a half-step closer and reiterating, “No, I’m serious. You don’t know much
about me. So why? What makes this whole thing worth it in your heads?”

Jeongguk looks at him for a second. He sees the way the sunlight sticks to Jimin’s hair and
shimmers, and how the wind is blowing past and ruffling his collar. He hears how serious Jimin
really is. So Jeongguk answers genuinely, “I can’t speak for everyone. But I know that sometimes,
even people as capable as you get into bad situations and need some help out. I don’t really think
that’s something that has to be deserved, but if anyone deserves it, it’d be you.”

“Because you think I’m cute?” Jimin asks cynically. “That’s enough for you?”

“No!” Jeongguk rushes to contradict, cheeks pinking up. “Well, yes, I think you’re beautiful, sure.
But—well. I think that you’re smart, and kind. I know that you’re brave as hell for still being here,
even if you are sort of a brat.”

Jimin laughs begrudgingly, and Jeongguk feels just the tiniest bit proud for lightening the
atmosphere between them. “And besides. It’s not like I have to know your life story to know that
you’re a good person or to know that I like you. I mean—you don’t know everything about me , do
you? And you seem to like me just fine.”

“Someone’s confident,” Jimin retorts, but his tone is softer than it was, and Jeongguk’s stomach
does a little swoop. Jimin nods, considering Jeongguk’s words, and shrugs as he concedes, “I guess
you’re right about that. I like you just fine, and I suppose I can only say the same sort of thing
about you, too. That you’re brave and all that. Reckless, too.”

And Jeongguk is quietly preening until Jimin narrows his eyes and adds, “But you hide a lot, and
you think that no one notices. And I think… I think that whatever it is that you’re keeping to
yourself has something to do with how you’ve been acting recently. And I don’t know why you
don’t take your own advice and realize that we all just want to help you as much as you all want to
help me. I suppose that makes you a bit of a hypocrite, hm?”

This gives Jeongguk pause. He tamps down the little bit of indignation that rose in his chest at the
jibe, because Jimin isn’t exactly wrong. After all, how many times has Jeongguk given Namjoon
shit for making him go to therapy? How many times has he called Seokjin and Taehyung
overbearing?

And maybe it’s because the realization makes Jeongguk feel like an absolute asshole, or maybe it’s
the way Jimin is looking at him so earnestly, but Jeongguk finds himself admitting, “He took
something from me. The stalker. He took something from me—something that no one knows
about, and now he’s threatening me with it.”

Jimin blinks in shock, though he looks pleased that he seems to have gotten through to Jeongguk.
“Oh,” he says, licking his lips. “What, uh. What did he take?”

There’s a voice in the back of Jeongguk’s head screaming at him not to share this information, to
keep it close and deal with it himself, but he’s already talking. “He took a page of my journal,”
Jeongguk says.

Jimin’s brows draw close in confusion. “Oh. Huh,” he grunts. It’s clear that he’s absolutely
confused but reluctant to push too hard and send Jeongguk back into his shell.

“There’s an entry in there that could get me in a lot of trouble,” Jeongguk clarifies. Stop, the voice
in his head shouts, What are you saying? Why are you telling him?

Because it feels good to tell someone, another, much smaller voice whispers back. After all this
time.

“What kind of trouble?” Jimin asks. Somewhere along the way, he’d taken another step closer, and
now he’s near enough to put his hand comfortingly on Jeongguk’s arm.

Jeongguk clears his throat and bites the bullet. “‘ Life in prison’ kind of trouble.”
Jimin’s hand drops away instinctually. There are several beats of silence during which Jeongguk
feels his heart start to pound in his chest. Jimin scrutinizes his face, eyes flicking between
Jeongguk’s own as he assesses.

“Jeongguk?” he asks eventually.

With a hard swallow, Jeongguk croaks, “Yeah?”

“What’d you do?”

Jeongguk almost says it. He almost names it and comes clean right then and there, but it’s all
starting to feel that same kind of overwhelming that threatens to suffocate him, so Jeongguk
euphemizes, “I saved myself.”

There are questions brewing within Jimin, Jeongguk can tell by his expression, but Jeongguk
doesn’t want to ruin the little bit of peace they’ve managed to salvage by coming clean too soon.

He looks over at the trail. It’s empty, and Jeongguk hasn’t heard the bustle of hikers for the last
few minutes anyway. A look at the sky tells him that sunset is rapidly approaching, and any
campers who aren’t down yet are unlikely to begin the journey now.

“Come on. It’s getting dark,” Jeongguk redirects, “We need to be back before Yoongi skins us
both, and it’s a ways away.” He turns back to Jimin and sticks out his hand for Jimin to take. “You
ready to go?”

Jimin stands there for a moment, hesitating. He looks from Jeongguk’s expression to his hand and
back again. There are thoughts clouding Jimin’s eyes, but Jeongguk is a long way from being able
to read them. All he can do is stand there with his hand out and his heart in his throat and wait.

And then Jimin is nodding, threading his fingers through Jeongguk’s, and saying firmly, “Yeah.
I’m ready.”

By the time they make it back to the tower, the sun’s just starting to dip below the horizon. It sets
the forest ablaze with washes of orange-gold late summer light that flits through the boughs of trees
surrounding the medical pavilion and dapples along the flower-studded ground.

Hoseok stands in front of the glass double doors, clipboard in hand, and looks decidedly anxious.
He scans the woods around him every five seconds, only relaxing once he catches sight of
Jeongguk and Jimin entering the clearing.

“Hey. Are we the last ones back?” Jimin calls as they approach, watching as Hoseok visibly
deflates.

With a nod, Hoseok opens the door for them. “Yeah,” he says, “Everyone else is already inside.
I’m just glad we all made it back in one piece.”

‘One piece’ is relative, Jeongguk decides, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods his head in
thanks and slips into the foyer. The inside of the medical building has been transformed in his
absence—it’s either Hoseok’s doing or, more likely, Taehyung’s doing.
All of the uncomfortable chairs are pushed up against the walls, leaving the space in the middle of
the carpeted waiting room completely bare. Several comfortable-looking cushions are placed in a
circle around a camping stove that’s currently boiling a pot of water. There’s also a foldable table
nearby, covered with an assortment of snacks and instant drink packages. Taehyung sits on one of
the cushions with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, steaming mug of coffee in hand, and
wearing a face mask of dubious origin. He sits next to Seokjin, who is similarly decorated.

“Hey, Seokjin,” Jeongguk greets as he pads into the impromptu glamping area. “It’s good to see
you again.”

Seokjin nods gravely, black hair bobbing dangerously as it threatens to escape from under the
headband pushing back his bangs. “I wish it was under better circumstances, but I’ll take what I
can get.” He pats the red-sequin cushion next to him. “Come here. Sit down. You look like death.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, takes off his shoes, and lowers himself down onto the gaudy cushion. He
has half a mind to ask where it came from, but a decade of experience with Taehyung has taught
him never to delve too deeply into such matters.

“You’re probably Jimin, right?” Seokjin asks, watching as Jimin perches on the yellow-striped
cushion to Jeongguk’s right. “Have I seen you before?”

Jimin shrugs. “Maybe. I was at the campfire party thing a few weeks ago. I saw you leading the
conga line.” Jimin nods in thanks, accepting the blanket that Jeongguk plucks from the floor and
drapes around his shoulders.

Seokjin watches the movement and visibly suppresses a smile. His eyes flit between Jimin and
Jeongguk, and Jeongguk just knows that he’s blushing. “Ah, yes, I remember you. Mysterious
banana-shorts guy,” Seokjin hums.

“Is that how I’m known around here?” Jimin complains, burying his head in his hands.

Jeongguk pats him on the back sympathetically and interjects, “You had a safe trip down from
your tower, right? These guys took care of you?” He motions to Sanghoon and Eunji with a jut of
his chin as they trail in from Namjoon’s back rooms.

Seokjin smirks. “Yeah. Turns out that these guys are excellent bodyguards. Even if they are nerds.
They talked my ear off on the way down about the proper way to change helicopter fuel and how
to correctly rotate your tires.”

“Hey!” Eunji protests as she lowers herself down onto the cushion next to Taehyung. “Having
those skills are necessary if you have to work in our business.”

From beside her, Sanghoon says, “Especially if you work with Yoongi . That man can do
everything. We have to at least pretend to be competent.”

“Though it’s nice to know that, if all else fails, we could make a living bodyguarding,” Eunji huffs
from her seat. She wraps herself in the last of the blankets and yawns audibly, just as Yoongi and
Namjoon trail into the room.

“Yes, yes, we’re all very proud of my newest cadets,” Yoongi dismisses, but there’s a note of pride
in his voice that Jeongguk easily picks up. “But we have business to attend to. Hoseok, do you
want to do the talking?”

As the others settle comfortably around the camp stove, Hoseok rises to his feet. He has his
clipboard in front of him again and clears his throat. “Okay. You all know that I called the police
earlier, and there’s good news and bad news,” he says. “The good news is that they’re sending
some squad cars over to us as we speak.”

Hoseok holds up a hand to silence the cheers that break out across the group. “Unfortunately,
considering how far out in the wilderness we are, it’ll take them about six to eight hours to actually
arrive at the medical pavilion.”

“Well, as long as we make it through the night, we’re good. Right?” Jimin asks. He’s practically
bouncing up and down at the news. Jeongguk empathizes— finally there are people on the way
who can catch the killer and end this whole thing. The smiles that play on the faces of the rest of
the group indicate that they have similar sentiments.

With a nod, Namjoon says, “Exactly. I don’t want anyone leaving this building until the cops
arrive, okay? No one moves or breathes without everyone else knowing where you are at all times.
We will make it through tonight unscathed.”

“And I have some more good news,” Hoseok says, interrupting the cheers once again. “When I
was on the call, I also thought that I should check in on the status of Jimin’s case. It’s been a while
since we’ve heard anything from them about him, and as it turns out, they’ve actually found some
records on Jimin.”

Jimin chokes on the tea he’s acquired. “What?” he coughs, “Are you telling me that I was a
criminal in my past life? How is that fair?”

“You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t the one the reports were filed against; you were the one that
filed the reports,” Hoseok corrects.

Apprehension fills the pit of Jeongguk’s stomach. He looks over at Jimin in time to see confusion
and fear darken his expression. “I was?” Jimin asks.

“Yes. You actually filed several reports.” Hoseok pauses, consulting the notes on his clipboard,
and reads off, “You filed for stalking, breaking and entering, aggravated assault, and attempted
murder.”

“Someone tried to kill me before?” Jimin exclaims. His eyes widen as they meet Jeongguk’s.

Jeongguk winces. “Are we really surprised?” he mutters to Jimin. “I mean—look at what’s

happening to you now. Whoever’s doing this is probably the same person that did it to you then.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok interrupts. “That was exactly my thought. So, I asked the police department to
fax over the files. They should be arriving in an hour or so, and we can look over the details.
Whoever’s out in the forest right now is definitely named in those files, I know it. And then we’ll
finally know who this asshole is.”

There’s a noise of surprise from somewhere amongst the general cheering, but it dies quickly
enough that Jeongguk can’t pinpoint who made it.

“That’s actual progress,” Yoongi says, “Good going, Hobi.”

Hoseok stands a little straighter. “Thank you. I do have my uses, you know.”

“You said the reports are coming in an hour,” Jeongguk interrupts. “What are we supposed to do
until then?”

Namjoon glances out the glass doors and into the forest beyond. The sun’s since faded away
behind the screen of trees, draping everything with an indigo-black veil. “I suggest that we all rest.
Most of us have been up for twenty-four hours straight, and I don’t think it’d be a wise move for
all of us to be asleep tonight. Rest while there’s still some light and we have the illusion of safety.”

Taehyung makes an affronted noise in the back of his throat. “Heartening words, hyung,” he
croaks. “Not at all cryptic and murdery.”

“I’m just being honest,” Namjoon shrugs. “I have some cots in the patient rooms that are available
for use. Pick whichever one you want.”

“We’ll meet back here in an hour or so to look at the reports. And until then—” Yoongi pauses in
the middle of his instructions to stare all of them down. “Until then, no one goes in or out, got it?”

A chorus of ‘got it’ and a sarcastic ‘yes, sir’ from Taehyung echoes around the room. And
Jeongguk knows that he should probably be feeling a little bit better now that the end is close at
hand, but there’s something bothering him. Something eating away at the base of his skull letting
him know that there’s something that doesn’t make sense, and it’s right there, right on the tip of his
tongue, but he can’t quite place it.

And then Jimin is putting his hand on Jeongguk’s arm, and the thought drifts away into the chatter
of the room.

When the medical center is quiet, when everyone else is tucked away into the privacy of their
patient rooms, Jeongguk walks the halls.

There’s a stillness in his mind, one that’s born of the knowing that tonight is the night. Whatever
happens, it’s all over tonight. And maybe that’s what makes Jeongguk walk towards Namjoon’s
private room in the back of the hospital—the feeling that now is the last chance he’ll have to
confess before everything goes back to normal and confessions like these no longer seem
acceptable.

So Jeongguk knocks on Namjoon’s door and waits in the silence of the hall.

It only takes a few seconds before Namjoon’s pulling the door open. He hides a yawn behind his
hand, but his expression sobers when he sees Jeongguk’s face. “Jeongguk?” Namjoon asks
carefully, “What is it?”

Jeongguk clears his throat. “Do you have time for a session?”

“Right now?” Namjoon sounds genuinely shocked.

“Right now.”

A moment’s hesitation passes, and then Namjoon is swinging open the door to his room. “Come
in,” he says.

And Jeongguk does.

The door shuts quietly behind him.

There’s something different now, Jeongguk thinks. About himself and about how the world looks.
It’s a little bit brighter, a little bit clearer, like Jeongguk is finally seeing things for what they are.
Like he’s been looking at the shadows that everything casts instead of the things themselves, and
now’s the first time that he’s actually taking everything in.

He walks down the corridor, en route to his own private room, because now he feels like he can
sleep. It’s true what they say about how admitting things feels like a weight’s being removed,
Jeongguk decides. There’s a little voice worrying in the back of Jeongguk’s head that wonders
what Namjoon thinks about him now. Jeongguk pushes it away.

It isn’t until Jeongguk is almost upon Jimin that he notices him. Jimin is coming from the direction
of the foyer with a new cup of steaming liquid in-hand. He freezes when he sees Jeongguk,
momentarily shocked, though it fades quickly.

“Hey,” Jimin greets with a smile. “What’re you doing roaming around in the halls? I thought we
were supposed to be sleeping.”

Jeongguk shrugs nonchalantly and shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing roaming
around in these halls?” he echoes, tongue-in-cheek.

“Touché.” Jimin steps closer and closer, until he’s just a foot or so away from Jeongguk and leans
against the wall. He dunks his teabag back and forth into his cup. “I can’t relax,” Jimin murmurs,
“Something about knowing that there’s someone out there who wants you dead isn’t really
conducive to a good night’s sleep.”

Jeongguk hums thoughtfully. “Understandable. But everything is almost over. You can finally go
home, so that’s something, right?”

“Yeah. I suppose I can,” Jimin says, but he doesn’t look as buoyed by the idea as he probably
should. His shoulders are a little slumped, and there are purple-black bags hanging heavily under
his eyes, and he looks a little bit… disappointed.

And Jeongguk knows why, but he redirects the conversation anyway. Maybe they can side-step
around the little question in between the two of them again. “Have you remembered anything
else?” he asks.

Jimin takes a sip of his tea and lets out a heavy sigh. “No. Nothing at all, not since that one time by
the lake.” Jimin pauses, grimaces, and adds, “Namjoon says it’ll take time, but I’m tired of waiting.
This would all be so much easier if I just knew who I was.”

“Don’t beat yourself up for it. There’s nothing you can do about it—you know that, right?” As
Jeongguk speaks, he finds himself shifting closer and closer, his hand eventually coming to softly
rest on Jimin’s arm.

Jimin’s eyes follow the movement. He hesitates for a moment, eyes settled on the place where
they’re joined. Jimin swallows audibly. “Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?”
“What’re you going to do when I’m gone?”

And there it is—the question that’s been burning a hole in the back of Jeongguk’s head since the
first time he properly met Jimin and realized that he really didn’t want to be without him. It’s the
question that they’ve danced around, put off and put off for a later date. And now the later date’s
come, and Jeongguk still doesn’t have an answer.

“I’ll… be here. I’ll stay here, just like I’ve always done.” Jeongguk’s voice is soft when he speaks,
softer than he thought possible, and he realizes that he sounds undeniably sad . “Time will pass,
and I’ll miss you, but you have to go. Don’t you?”

Jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth and meets Jeongguk’s eyes through his eyelashes. “I think
I do,” he says, worrying his lip. “And… you’re sure that you don’t want to go back? To the city?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I know it’s strange, and a little weird for you, but I love it out here. I can’t imagine
having to go back to… all of that,” Jeongguk euphemizes. He blocks the images of his past that go
searing through his brain. “I can’t go back to all of that.”

Jimin looks worried. “Won’t you be lonely?” he asks quietly.

“Won’t you?” Jeongguk matches Jimin’s stare with his own.

The silence that stretches between them is tense—and loud. So loud, in fact, that Jeongguk can hear
all of the words they’re not saying to each other in the silence that it brings. So loud that when
Jimin speaks again, he almost sounds quieter than the absence surrounding them.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

The admission sends Jeongguk’s stomach swooping to his feet, and he can’t help it. He brings his
hands up to cup Jimin’s chin. “And I don’t want you to go,” Jeongguk says under his breath. “But
there’s nothing we can really do, is there?”

“I can come visit you,” Jimin suggests. His eyes flit back and forth between Jeongguk’s eyes and
his mouth.

Jeongguk snorts. “You work three hours away. You probably live further away.”

“So, what?” Jimin huffs, looking indignant again. But it’s better than the quiet sadness that was
there before. “We’re doomed, then?”

“Probably,” Jeongguk says with a sagely nod. “We’re star-crossed lovers at this point. We face an
insurmountable obstacle.”

The remark brings a small smile to Jimin’s lips, and a little trill goes through Jeongguk’s chest. It
quickly fades when Jimin licks his lips and starts, “Hey, just in case I don’t get the chance later-”

Jeongguk quickly claps a hand over Jimin’s mouth. “Don’t say goodbye right now. It’s a little
ominous when people say goodbye before they actually leave. It’s bad karma.”

Slowly, Jimin reaches one hand up to guide Jeongguk’s hand away. He doesn’t let it go, though.
Their hands hang in between their bodies, fingers interlaced. “In case I don’t get the chance later,”
Jimin tries again, “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Including getting
stabbed and having your tower vandalized.”

And he sounds so genuinely touched that Jeongguk feels like dying inside, just a little. He settles
for placing his hands on Jimin’s hips and tugging him closer. Just a bit—just enough so their hips
brush together. “You’re very welcome,” Jeongguk mutters. “I’d do it all again for you.”

“I don’t know if that’s touching or you’re just actually insane,” Jimin says, but it comes out low
and throaty, and Jimin is looking at his lips very pointedly.

Jeongguk smirks. “Both, probably.”

“Probably,” Jimin says. And then he’s pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, considering for a
moment before he adds, “You know, every proper goodbye in a ‘star-crossed-lovers’ movie has a
really good kiss scene at the end.”

A laugh rushes out of Jeongguk’s throat before he even notices. “Is that so?” Jeongguk chuckles.
“Are you manipulating me, Park Jimin?”

“No,” Jimin says. And then he’s letting go of his mug, letting it clatter to the floor as he reaches up
and balls his fists in the fabric of Jeongguk’s collar. Jimin tugs Jeongguk closer, until Jeongguk can
feel the breath ghosting over his lips, and says, “I’m asking you—very nicely, might I add—to
please just kiss me.”

And well, fuck , Jeongguk is only a man.

Jimin’s lips are soft and warm and everything Jeongguk remembers them being. He tastes like
Chapstick and the green tea he was just drinking, and the feeling of his tongue sliding over
Jeongguk’s lower lip is actually making Jeongguk’s brain short circuit. He’s only vaguely aware of
the embarrassing sound that claws its way out of his chest as he tugs Jimin closer by the waist, only
vaguely aware of how Jimin’s hands are sliding down his neck and shoulders and chest.

But Jeongguk is acutely aware of the moment that Jimin’s hands slide their way up under his shirt.
They run along his lower abdomen, up the planes of his stomach, back down to the notch of his
belt.

Jeongguk deepens the kiss in the reply. He tilts Jimin’s head to the side and nips at his lips, loving
the sounds he’s able to pull from Jimin’s throat. Jeongguk feels a little bit like he’s floating as he
tips Jimin’s head a little further and mouths his way along Jimin’s jawline. He feels the pulse
fluttering in the space just below Jimin’s jaw; Jeongguk lingers on that spot, worrying it between
his lips until he’s certain it’ll leave a mark.

“There-” Jimin’s voice cracks, and he has to try again. “There are beds in this place, right? You’ve
seen them?”

Jeongguk opens his eyes. Somehow, he’s managed to maneuver Jimin against a wall. He’s
managed to press Jimin flat against it, managed to push his thigh between Jimin’s own. Desire
licks up the base of Jeongguk’s spine as he feels Jimin pressing down against him. It’s heightened
by the scrape of Jimin’s fingernails along his stomach, and yeah, Jeongguk would also really like a
bed right now.

“This way,” Jeongguk says in a voice that’s entirely too husky to be his own.

Jimin gives a quick nod before jumping up and locking his legs around Jeongguk’s waist.
Jeongguk’s body reacts like it’s been Pavloved—his hands automatically settle under the swell of
Jimin’s ass, squeezing Jimin to him as he walks them both down the corridor.

Jimin doesn’t let up as they stumble through the halls. He kisses all the way up the column of
Jeongguk’s neck until Jeongguk feels like his heart is actually going to explode out of his chest;
Jimin lets his hands trail restlessly across any part of Jeongguk’s body he can reach.

There’s a thread between the two of them, Jeongguk can feel it. It’s pulled taut like a bowstring and
more than ready to spring free, and god , it’s so close to snapping as Jeongguk fumbles with the
door knob on one of the doors that line the hallway.

He’s so fucking close to having Jimin just how he wants him.

And then Hoseok’s voice clips cheerfully through the radio on Jeongguk’s hip.

“The police reports just came through!” he shouts, and Jimin freezes immediately.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath as several emotions war for dominance within his head. Desire,
unfortunately, is roughly shoehorned out of the way by logic (damn it), and Jeongguk lets his head
‘thump’ against the door behind Jimin with a sigh. “Shit,” he curses.

“Blue balled by Hoseok,” Jimin remarks dryly. “Unexpected.”

“Meet in the foyer,” Yoongi’s voice crackles out of the receiver. “Now.” The line clicks off.

Jimin wriggles in Jeongguk’s hold—which doesn’t really help with Jeongguk’s current downstairs
situation—until Jeongguk lets him drop to the floor. He looks up at Jeongguk, pupils blown wide
and lips a little bruised, a mark decorating his neck. His hair is messy, and Jeongguk thinks he’s
never looked so beautiful.

“Rain check?” Jimin tries to joke.

“I will hold you to that,” Jeongguk grumbles. “If you think I’m joking, I’m not. I’m serious. I’ve
never been so serious before in my life.”

Jimin lets out a snort. “Okay.” He stretches out his hand, eyes still a little unfocused, and says,
“Come on. I guess we’d better go and see who wanted me dead before Yoongi-”

The joke dies in his throat as all of the lights, every single one, turn off all at once.

“There’s no way that’s good, right?” Jimin whispers.

Jeongguk shakes his head. He remembers where he left his gun—right on the table in the foyer. He
wonders if he can get to it in time for whatever’s about to happen.

“No,” Jeongguk says eventually. “There’s no way that’s good.”

And in the dark, Jimin looks at Jeongguk with a wide-eyed stare; Jeongguk looks right back. A
mutual understanding passes between the two of them.

This is it, the look says. Whatever happens tonight, it starts now.

And someone isn’t getting out alive.

Chapter End Notes

*chanting increases in volume* climax, CliMax, CLIMAX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let's all give Rin a round of applause for proofreading this drama coaster and
brainstorming with me

I'll see you all next week :)))

-Ash
 Smoke
Chapter Notes

heyOOOOO welcome :) to this chapter :)

To those of you who are about to find that you don't like JK anymore-- OH WELL
SKJFDHSKDJHF SORRY FRIEND
Reminder of the tags belongs here as well! IT'S A THRILLER OKAY

enjoy :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The plan was simple.

When Jeongguk stepped through the ranger’s station at the base of the forest ten years ago, all he
had to do was become someone else. Jeongguk didn’t think that this would be a particularly
challenging feat. He’d been pretending to be someone else his entire life, anyway.

So when Taehyung sidled up to him at that training camp during Jeongguk’s first year, Jeongguk
pushed down the real version of him—the angry one; the one who lay awake at night plotting and
imagining and coming up with a plan.

And it was so simple .

And it was so easy.

Jeongguk didn’t really expect it to be so easy.

But instead of that Jeongguk, Taehyung received the soft-spoken, shy, halfway-embarrassed
Jeongguk. Over the years, Jeongguk let Taehyung pull him out of his shell—but not all the way,
never all the way, because where one version of Jeongguk goes, the other follows closely.

And in the back of his mind, Jeongguk has always supposed that there would be a day that his past
would finally catch up and explode everywhere all at once.

Jeongguk just kind of thought that he had more time until it happened.

When Jeongguk makes it back to the foyer with Jimin in tow, pitch blackness fills the room.
Though the summer sun sets later than usual, the trees surrounding the medical pavilion reach high
enough into the sky to block out the last dregs of the sunset’s golden light. Everything is filled with
a preternatural sort of darkness, as though shapes are moving through the shadows and whispering
from the ceiling.

“Is everyone here?” Yoongi calls out somewhere to Jeongguk’s right.

“We’re here,” Jimin says in reply. His hand squeezes Jeongguk’s once as though to make sure that
they still exist in the dark.

Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgement in his throat. “Is Jeongguk with you?”

“Yeah,” says Jeongguk. He squints, trying to coax his eyes into adjusting to the darkness, but it’s
no use. Whatever happened to the lights also turned off the exterior lights on the building; the only
illumination comes from the light of the moon that manages to filter through the trees’ boughs, but
it’s a watery half-moon light, and Jeongguk can’t make out his hand in front of his face. “Where’s
everyone else?” he asks.

From the direction of the impromptu campsite to the left, Namjoon says, “I’m here with Seokjin.
We’re trying to get this gas stove lit.” A few frustrated noises coming from the same general
direction indicate that Seokjin is indeed trying and failing to find the dial on the gas canister in the
dark.

“I’m here, too,” Taehyung says on Jeongguk’s right, “Hoseok and I are behind the receptionist’s
desk.”

A cough sounds from directly behind Jeongguk, and Jeongguk almost jumps out of his skin at the
closeness of the sound. He instinctively jerks Jimin away to the left, but it’s only Sanghoon, who
adds, “Eunji and I are here, too. What’s going on?”

There’s a noise of triumph from Seokjin’s general direction, and then a sputter of fire blooms from
the gas canister in the waiting room. It spreads a three-foot circle of low, warm light around itself,
lighting Seokjin and Namjoon’s faces from the bottom-up so that they look like characters from a
horror book.

“The generators are out,” Namjoon says. He picks the canister up and hauls it over to the edge of
the receptionist’s desk. Like moths to a flame, the rest of them circle the light.

Jeongguk furrows his brow and casts a glance over at Yoongi. “They’re out? How’re they out?
Don’t they have a manual shut-off?”

There’s just enough light for Jeongguk to make out Yoongi’s grim expression. “Yeah,” he says,
“They do.”

“But the generators are in the building! In the basement—Jeongguk and I saw them,” Jimin says.
His palm is sticky with sweat where it’s pressed to Jeongguk’s, holding tightly. “Doesn’t that
mean-”

“That Jimin’s crazy stalker ex is already inside the building?” Yoongi finishes. “Yes. It does.”

A hush falls over those assembled. Jeongguk feels his stomach begin the free-fall descent towards
the soles of his feet, and there’s that same sense of doubt nagging at the corner of his
consciousness. Reflexively, he looks behind them, back towards the double-doors that lead into
the corridor and out to the rest of the medical center. The metal doors are pushed open and held by
doorstops, and the space between yawns open around a center of complete darkness.
Jeongguk swallows hard.

“How did he even get in here?” Eunji asks, face pale in the sputtering flame, “Did anyone go
outside?” Her eyes dance nervously around the men surrounding her, and it occurs to Jeongguk that
she’s only a new cadet. She didn’t sign up for this whole mess. Jeongguk would probably be a lot
more empathetic if not for the fact that he, too, didn’t sign up for this.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then Yoongi makes an uncomfortable noise. All eyes pivot to
him as he clears his throat and admits, “I did. Earlier. To check the ambulance. I- I went out the
west door, but I closed and locked it. I’m sure of it—I double-checked.”

“Did you lock it after you when you checked the ambulance outside, or did you leave it open?”
Namjoon hisses.

Jeongguk watches as Yoongi blanches and puts on an expression he’s never seen him wear before.
It’s a mix of half-regret, half-horrified astonishment. “I- I don’t remember. I think I did.”

“Well, this is really ironic,” Seokjin drawls from his spot next to Namjoon. His expression is
twisted into a scowl, arms crossed as he glares at Yoongi. “Mr. Safety himself is the one who let
the crazy stalker into the building.”

Yoongi pinks up, opening his mouth to defend himself, but it’s Taehyung’s voice that comes out.
“Hey! We don’t know for sure what happened, so lay off him. Yoongi’s kept us all alive for the
past two days just fine. Jump off the ‘Let’s Kill Him’ bandwagon, please.”

Taehyung’s eyes blaze from where he sits behind the receptionist’s desk, and he turns a
challenging stare onto the rest of them as though daring them to contradict him. Eunji coughs
uncomfortably in the ensuing silence. Yoongi just looks at Taehyung with an expression of pure
gratitude.

After a tense ten seconds, Jeongguk awkwardly says, “Well. Someone’s going to have to go and
check those doors again.”

“And we need to get the generators back up and running,” Namjoon adds.

“ And I would really appreciate it if someone could go to the supply closet and get our case of
flashlights, because sitting around a gas canister is ridiculous,” Hoseok pipes up. He drums his
fingers nervously against the desktop and leans back in his chair. “If this was a horror movie, we’d
all be dead because of our lack of forethought.”

A nervous chuckle runs through the group, because this whole situation is feeling a little too
similar to a thriller movie for comfort.

“Okay. Same protocol as before,” Yoongi announces, resuming his role of de-facto survival expert.
“Namjoon and I will go to the basement to check the generators. Hoseok, you know the inside of
this building as well as Namjoon does. Take Seokjin and go get those flashlights.” He looks over at
his cadets who stand fidgeting nervously, and says, “You two, check the doors on the east and
west wings. The rest of you stay here . Lock the doors to the corridor until we come back.”

Rumbles of assent move through the rest of them as they band into their teams of two. “Everyone,
be careful,” Namjoon adds unnecessarily, “Back here in ten minutes.”

Jeongguk makes his way over to the cavernous mouth of the corridor and stands by the door,
watching as everyone else passes through and disappears into the darkness beyond. Only once the
back of Namjoon’s head disappears from sight does Jeongguk close the doors and lock them from
his side.

As he hurries to make his way back to the sanctuary of the faux-campfire, Taehyung asks quietly,
“Do you really think that guy is in the building?”

And Jeongguk doesn’t want to think about it—he really doesn’t want to think about it, because that
means there’s the slightest possibility that Jimin’s ex has been roaming around these hallways for
the last hour—but he forces himself to nod.

“He has to be,” Jeongguk says. He sidles up next to Jimin, standing on the opposite side of the desk
that Taehyung sits behind with his wounded leg propped up. “Those generators can’t be remotely
accessed. They’re literally locked behind a metal fence that has to be unlocked with-”

And then Jeongguk stops as he realizes the truth of what he’s saying.

“With what?” Jimin prompts after a moment’s silence.

Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung has just had the same realization that he did. He looks over the
desk at Taehyung and sees the horror he feels perfectly echoed in Taehyung’s expression. Throat
dry and pulse ticking up, Jeongguk croaks out, “It has to be opened with the master key.”

“Master key?”

“The key to all the buildings in the area,” Taehyung explains, clearing his own throat. “Namjoon
has one, and Yoongi has one. So does the captain of the rangers, but he’s all the way at the base of
the forest.”

Jeongguk sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Which means that this guy had to have stolen either
Yoongi’s or Namjoon’s key to get through the grate and turn off the generators.”

“There’s no way that it’s Namjoon’s key. He keeps that thing hidden under the fucking
floorboards. Even Hoseok doesn’t know where it is,” Taehyung says, speaking so urgently that his
words run together.

“Which means it was Yoongi’s key that was stolen, right?” Jimin assesses.

And Jeongguk is having a really horrible epiphany right about now as he says, “It has to be. But
Yoongi isn’t exactly careless. There’s no way someone could break into his base and steal it
without him noticing.”

“I just thought of something exceedingly uncomfortable,” Taehyung says, and Jeongguk already
knows what it is. “Have we ever considered that Jimin’s stalker might be someone that we actually
know?”

Jimin makes a strangled noise in the base of his throat. “What?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, but Hoseok’s ‘Someone could’ve broken into the lockbox and stolen gear’ theory is
bullshit. I’ve tried breaking into those things, and they’re more secure than the National Defense
building,” Taehyung says. He shifts forward towards the firelight, wincing as the movement jostles
his wound.

“I mean, think about it. Jimin doesn’t remember his past, meaning that he doesn’t remember his
ex, either—what he looks like or sounds like or anything . And if we think about it objectively for
a second, this stalker has access to Yoongi’s key.” Taehyung pauses, takes in a shaky breath, and
adds, “Meaning that he’s close enough to Yoongi that he wouldn’t suspect them at all. That we
wouldn’t suspect him. This person would have access to uniforms and keys and guns, just like-”

“Sanghoon,” Jeongguk says. He looks over at Jimin, who in turn looks like someone’s just taken
all of his blood.

Taehyung nods slowly. “Someone like Sanghoon.”

“Who showed up the week after Jimin’s car crashed,” Jeongguk says to the rapid, pulsing beat of
his heart. “Applications to the program are easy enough to get from the ranger’s station. Anyone
can get one and fake their identity—it’s not like the ranger’s vet people who work here too
intensely.”

Jeongguk speaks from experience. He’s forged those sheets before, and if he got through the
process unscathed, then so could Sanghoon.

But he doesn’t tell them that. Not now.

“Are we sure about this?” Jimin pipes up. “ Sanghoon? He’s never exactly seemed murderous and
crazy to me.”

“Do you remember the day after I pepper sprayed the stalker? Sanghoon was out with allergies,”
Jeongguk says as the memory of it hits him, “Eunji said his eyes were red and everything. And
Yoongi said that he’d been inside sleeping all night, but it’s not like he was under lock and key. It’s
possible to sneak out.”

Taehyung’s face pales, and then he’s reaching for the radio that sits on the outer edge of Hoseok’s
desk. “We have to tell them,” he says urgently, finger already pressing down on the button.

Jimin’s hand moves so quickly that Jeongguk doesn’t even see it. One second, Taehyung has the
radio raised to his mouth. The next, it’s snatched up in Jimin’s hand and held high in the air. “We
can’t ,” Jimin hisses in response to Taehyung’s indignant noise of protest, “Eunji is with him. What
happens when we radio, ‘Oh, hey, your partner’s the crazed psychopath’ while she’s still with
him?”

Jeongguk curses under his breath, because he hadn’t even thought of that. They can’t risk radioing
at all, not while Sanghoon is still out in the hallways. “We need to go get them,” Jeongguk decides,
though the prospect of walking the halls in the pitch black to trap a murderous stalker is less than
appealing, “They need to know.”

There’s a voice in Jeongguk’s head just then. It’s the same sense of self-preservation, the same
kind of intuition that whispered into his ear all those years ago when he was back at home. It’s the
one that told him how to tiptoe around his father, how to placate just enough to keep him alive for
another day. And right now, it’s saying that something isn’t right .

Something’s wrong.

Something-

“The generators are smashed in,” Yoongi’s voice bubbles up from the radio in Jimin’s hand so
suddenly that Jimin lets it go like it’s a grenade about to go off. It clatters to the floor and skids
under the reception desk.

As Jimin crouches to retrieve it, Eunji’s voice comes through. “What? How?”

“They’re broken,” Namjoon interjects, “With a bat or a crowbar or something. We can’t turn them
on at all.”

“So, we’re stuck in the darkness,” Jimin says into the receiver as he pulls it out from under the
desk. “Great. Any luck on that flashlight hunt?”

The light on the radio flashes as Seokjin joins the channel. “We’re in the supply closet as we speak.
I’m watching Hoseok get stuck in a box of Christmas decorations.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says with a sigh. “Namjoon and I will head back to the foyer now. How’s
everyone else?”

Taehyung swipes the walkie back out of Jimin’s hand. “We’re fine,” he relays.

“As are we,” Seokjin says.

“I’m alright, too,” Eunji adds. “I just finished checking the east wing. I’m waiting for Sanghoon to
come back.”

A chill runs down the back of Jeongguk’s spine so quickly that it feels like he’s been struck by a
bolt of lightning. If she’s waiting for Sanghoon, he realizes, that means he’s somewhere else,
unsupervised. Jeongguk sees his exact thought reflected in the suddenly-tense expressions of
Taehyung and Jimin.

Slowly, Taehyung presses down the button on the radio that lets him speak. “Eunji,” he says,
licking his lips nervously, “Where did Sanghoon go?”

“He went to the bathroom. He should be back soon, why?” her voice comes scratching through.

“And where are you?”

“Waiting in the main hallway.”

Jeongguk makes a vague hand gesture at Taehyung, who interprets it flawlessly. “Can you come to
the foyer really quick?” Taehyung asks.

There’s a moment’s hesitation from Eunji’s end. “What about Sanghoon?” she asks, worry
bleeding into her tone, “I thought Yoongi didn’t want us to leave each other. Shouldn’t I-”

“He’s getting this transmission just like you are. Sanghoon can come meet you in the foyer once
he’s done in the restroom,” Taehyung relays.

That’s enough to convince Eunji, apparently. “Okay,” she says, “I’m coming.”

A sigh of relief choruses through the three of them surrounding the reception desk. One of them is
out of immediate danger for the next five minutes. Only four to go, Jeongguk thinks, rather
cynically.

“Does anyone know what Hoseok did with my case files?” Jimin asks suddenly.

Jeongguk blinks. “What?”

“I’m just wondering what happened to them. Because, theoretically, wouldn’t Sanghoon’s picture
be in there if he’s my ex?” Jimin says, eyes focused on the flame that slowly sputters out as the rest
of the gas canister empties, “Not that we’d be able to read them now, but it’s just a thought. Just so
we can be sure.”
Taehyung—now invisible again—hums thoughtfully. “They’re probably still on his fax machine.
It’s somewhere behind me, but I don’t really know what any of these machines do,” Taehyung
snorts. “He’ll be back in a minute with the flashlights, anyway. Let’s just-”

“Did someone lock the basement door?” Yoongi’s voice crackles through the radio. “Namjoon
and I can’t get out.”

Jeongguk can’t see Jimin or Taehyung anymore, but he hears the sharp intake of breath that comes
from one of them. Taehyung, still in possession of the radio, is the one that replies for all of them.
“It wasn’t any of us. We haven’t left the foyer.”

“Wasn’t us either,” Hoseok says. “But hang on, we’ll come get you. Seokjin, hurry up.”

“I’m trying!” Seokjin’s voice bleeds through Hoseok’s line. “The door’s stuck. Fucking hell.
We’re locked in, too.”

“Shit,” Jimin curses in the darkness.

Taehyung drops the radio for a moment as he fumbles to reply. “Eunji, hurry up!” he half-shouts,
no longer bothering to try and fake normalcy.

“I’m almost there!” she calls right back, and the sound of her running footsteps echo across her
radio static.

The voice in Jeongguk’s head is back, and this time it’s screaming. Something’s not right! You
need to go, now. Move. An urge like an itch scratches across Jeongguk’s skin, and before he knows
what he’s doing, he’s racing to the double doors leading to the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Jimin shouts from behind, back by the desk.

“Sanghoon is isolating us!” Jeongguk calls back, “If he’s got the master key and he’s locked the
others in, he can pick us off one by one. Yoongi and the others are sitting ducks, and I’ll be
damned if we all die here tonight.”

Taehyung raises his voice in protest. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m fast, and Eunji will be here soon. She can watch the two of you—she’s armed,” Jeongguk
says, fingers fumbling over the door’s locks. “I’ll be quick, but if the others don’t get out now and
we lock Sanghoon in the part of the building they’re in…” He trails off, not wanting to consider
the possibility.

And then the doors are opening in front of him, and he’s racing down the corridor in the direction
of the basement.

Jeongguk doesn’t realize until he’s halfway to the basement that he’d left his gun sitting on a table
in the waiting room. That he’s out here, unarmed, with Sanghoon, and racing against the clock to
be the one who gets to the rest of his team first.

The blood in Jeongguk’s veins rushes through his temples and pounds in his neck. He’s sweating,
from the exertion or the adrenaline dropping into his stomach, he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t
care—Jeongguk’s too busy pulling up a mental image of the corridor he’s running down to focus
on anything other than the sound of his own feet drumming out a rhythm on the linoleum and his
own harsh breathing.

Jeongguk hangs a left, swiveling on his ankle to burst through the last set of double doors before
the basement. Jeongguk bursts through the door—or he tries to. But they don’t swing open under
the pressure of his hands, and he goes smacking head-first into the hard metal faster than he can
process.

“Fuck!” Jeongguk shouts as he falls to the floor, clutching his head. He can hear Yoongi and
Namjoon banging on the basement door just behind the ones he’s crashed into. Stars cloud
Jeongguk’s vision, and he shakes his head to get rid of them. All it does is make him dizzier.

Jeongguk takes slow, deep breaths as he stands and brushes the handles of the door with his
fingers. There’s a chain there, laced through the L-shaped door knobs, locked with a padlock and
held fast against Jeongguk’s pushing.

It takes Jeongguk five seconds to process what’s happening. And at the end of the five seconds,
there’s a bloodcurdling scream coming from the direction of the foyer. It’s Eunji’s voice.

No, Jeongguk thinks as he swirls on his heel and sprints back in the direction that he’s come. No,
because there’s no way that he’s this stupid. There’s no way. No, because-

There’s the sound of a gunshot from down the hall.

“Jimin!” Jeongguk shouts at the top of his lungs, chest aching under the exertion of running so
hard.

Jeongguk reaches the double doors leading into the foyer just as he hears them lock from the other
side. “No!” he yells, putting all of his weight behind the shoulder he slams into the doors. “Come
on!”

From the other side of the door, there’s some muffled shouting. Someone lets out an expletive.
And then there’s a thump, a sickening crunch of someone falling to the floor, and the sound of
shattering glass.

“No, no, no,” Jeongguk chants under his breath. He doesn’t let up his assault of the door, and his
shoulder is bruised and throbbing, but Jimin’s behind that door—Taehyung’s behind that door, and
there was a gunshot, and now there’s nothing coming from behind the door.

On a particularly hard slam of his shoulder, white-hot pain lances up Jeongguk’s right side, and he
collapses with a cry to the ground. He lands on his knees into a puddle of something sticky and
warm and wet, and Jeongguk doesn’t have to look down to know that he’s sitting in a puddle of
blood that’s leaked underneath the door from the other side.

“No,” he says, under his breath, quietly. His fingers drag through the mess below him and come
away slick. The world swirls around him, spinning haphazardly. There’s blood on his hands again
and pain in his bones, and now isn’t the time for this, but Jeongguk can’t stop it.

His breath comes faster and faster until he’s hyperventilating, and the walls are shaking around
him. Jeongguk pushes himself back against the wall, bloodied hands clutching in his hair, and he
can’t move. He can’t see. He can’t breathe.

Jeongguk is drowning on dry land, and he can’t do anything about it. All he can do is listen to the
silence echoing from the other side of the doorway and wonder if, maybe, there’s a chance that
Jimin is still alive.
Time fades in the silence. Jeongguk sits there with his fingers sticky with blood and sweat dripping
down his temples, back against the cold wall as he tries to count his breaths. He doesn’t know
exactly how long he stays like that before the noise starts.

It’s a muffled sound, coming from the foyer, and it sounds like almost like someone is dragging a
body across the floor. It has a rhythm to it, and Jeongguk counts his heartbeats in time with the
sound— drag, one, two, three, drag, one, two, three, it goes. And it’s getting closer and closer to
the double doors that Jeongguk is sitting right beside.

The realization tugs Jeongguk outside of his own head. He sits up, pulse ticking up again for the
fifth time in an hour, and he whispers, “Hello?” It’s a stupid move and one that he kicks himself for
not even half a second later, but then there’s a voice on the other side of the door calling back at
him.

“…gguk,” the voice says. It’s strained with effort and more of a wheeze than a set of coherent
syllables, but Jeongguk has listened to the voice through a radio enough times to recognize it in any
form it comes in.

Relief drops into Jeongguk’s stomach as he calls back, “Taehyung?”

There’s a beat of silence and then a thump on the metal doors. Jeongguk listens closely, thinks he
can maybe hear the sound of Taehyung’s laboured breathing as he sits against the door. And then
there’s a metallic ‘clunk’, and the doors are swinging open under Taehyung’s weight.

The sudden movement startles Jeongguk, and he goes scooting back through the blood puddle.
“Holy shit,” he curses in the pitch black of the corridor, trying to locate Taehyung with his hands
once the shock subsides. “Taehyung? Where are you? Are you okay? What happened in there?
Where’s-”

“Too many questions,” Taehyung wheezes in reply. And Jeongguk can’t see Taehyung, but he
follows the direction of his voice and ends up finding the top of his head right as Taehyung adds
sourly, “Think- I think ‘m bleeding out.”

Alarm bells scream in Jeongguk’s head. “What? What do you-” and then Jeongguk feels the sticky
wetness on the side of Taehyung’s temple, notices the amount of blood that’s dripping into his
hand. “Oh, fuck. What happened to your head?”

“Don’t know. Too dark to see,” Taehyung says slowly, slurring his words together. His hand
reaches up to grip Jeongguk’s in the darkness, and he slowly brings it down to the spot on his thigh
where he’d been shot. There, too, is wet with the promise of fresh blood. “Dizzy,” Taehyung
whispers.

Jeongguk can hear the blood rushing through his ears as he tries to collect his thoughts. The
adrenaline that left his system earlier is doing its best to flood back into him and kickstart Jeongguk
into action, but all it’s really doing is making his hands tremble where they’re placed on Taehyung.

“Fucking- Taehyung, you need help,” Jeongguk says, voice ricocheting off the walls of the
corridor. “I need- I need to get Namjoon. He’ll know what to do.”
Jeongguk stumbles to his feet and reaches for where he thinks the wall is, sliding his palms along it
as he staggers a few feet away. He feels sluggish and a little bit cold, belatedly realizing that he,
too, is probably also in shock.

As Jeongguk tries to convince his legs to move, Taehyung’s voice whispers, “I really don’t want to
die. Tell him not to let me die. Please.” The sound of his voice is so at odds with who Taehyung
is, like all of his vibrance and tenacity is bleeding out of him too.

“You’re not dying,” Jeongguk says firmly, willing himself to believe it just as much as he’s willing
Taehyung to believe it. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, okay?”

Taehyung makes a sound that’s supposed to be a grunt of affirmation, but it turns into a wet-
sounding cough. “Hurry,” he rasps out.

It’s only once Jeongguk’s stumbled his way halfway down the corridor that he remembers he can’t
actually get into the basement. The doorway between the corridor and the basement door is still
locked with a padlock, and Jeongguk doesn’t know where the master key is. Frustration burns
through his entire body for a few seconds, and he feels like crying for the first time in a decade
before he remembers that Namjoon’s got a master key too.

His fingers fumble on the strap of his radio as he frees it from his belt. “Namjoon? Hello? Are you
there?” he radios, no longer caring if Sanghoon is eavesdropping or not because Jeongguk’s best
friend is dying in the hallway, and it’s a little hard to breathe right now, and-

“There you are,” Namjoon responds, voice pitched low and worried. “What the fuck happened?”

“Was that a gunshot?” Hoseok asks as he joins the channel. “Is everyone okay?”

Jeongguk ignores both questions. “Namjoon, I need your master key. I can’t get to you—the door’s
been padlocked.”

“It’s under the floorboards in my bedroom,” Namjoon says, and Jeongguk takes off down the
hallway without replying. His feet carry him on autopilot, memory working to remember the twists
and turns of the hallways that lead up to Namjoon’s private room. He isn’t as far away as he’d
feared, and by the time he’s bursting through the door, Namjoon is pressing again, “What’s
happening?”

Jeongguk drops to the floor beside where he thinks Namjoon’s cot is and reaches underneath,
running the fingers of one hand along the wooden slats as he presses down the button on his radio
with the other. “Taehyung’s bleeding out,” Jeongguk pants. His fingers catch on a slat of wood
that’s just slightly higher than the rest, and Jeongguk tugs at it with his fingernails.

“What?!” Yoongi exclaims from another line, his voice clipped and panicked. “Is he hurt? Did he
get shot? Jeongguk, answer me! ”

“I don’t know! He can’t talk much, but there’s blood on his head, and I’m pretty sure he tore the
stitches on his leg,” Jeongguk rushes out. He dips his fingers into the space beneath the
floorboards and searches for a few desperate seconds until they brush against something hard and
thin and cold. “I’ve got the key!” he announces as he scrambles back to his feet.

“Hurry up,” Yoongi almost shouts.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice. The shaking that was wracking his body has since
subsided, and Jeongguk sprints as hard as he can across the medical building. He skims around the
corners and rushes to the door separating him from the basement, skidding on his heel to stop
himself from crashing into it again.

The padlock falls off of the door without resistance, and Jeongguk pushes through before he’s fully
removed the chains from the handles. Jeongguk runs his hand along the wall until he feels the
metallic basement door cool beneath his palms and fumbles to find the lock. It opens with a
‘snick!’ and Yoongi is slamming through it so quickly he almost breaks Jeongguk’s nose.

“Where is he?” Yoongi shouts as he races down the corridor, Namjoon hot on his heels.

“In the foyer!” Jeongguk calls after him. Their footsteps recede, and Jeongguk takes in a gulp of air
to try and calm the racing of his heart. He’s halfway out of his mind from worrying about
Taehyung and Jimin and even Eunji, but there are shouts coming from the north part of the
building where the supply closet sits.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says to himself, psyching himself back up. “Okay. Okay.” And then he’s
running back down the hallways and away from the foyer. Hoseok’s shouts guide the way, and
before Jeongguk really knows where he is, he’s standing in front of the supply door.

As soon as Seokjin stumbles out of the small room, he asks, “Is Taehyung alright?” He sounds so
worried that Jeongguk doesn’t actually recognize his voice for a minute. It’s full of emotion in a
way that Jeongguk has only heard twice before—once during the fire near Taehyung’s tower last
year and once when Jeongguk was sitting on the edge of a cliff, contemplating falling off.

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk heaves, struggling to catch his breath as he follows Hoseok and Seokjin
out of the north wing. “He’s bleeding a lot. He can’t talk very well.”

Seokjin doesn’t say anything in reply, but he doesn’t have to. Jeongguk can read his silence as well
as anything he could possibly say. The flashlight that Hoseok holds in his hands bounces its ray of
light across the walls of the corridor, and in it, Jeongguk can see the fear coloring their faces. He’s
sure it’s echoed on his own.

Worry hangs like the sword of Damocles over the group as they head back to the foyer. Jeongguk
finds that he can’t quite process what’s happening. There’s too much screaming through his head
for him to keep track of—the thought that Taehyung might die, the bit of doubt lingering from their
earlier discussion about Sanghoon, Jimin. It’s all too much, but Jeongguk is having trouble
separating himself from the moment and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

And then they’re in the hallway that Taehyung is currently lying in. Namjoon and Yoongi are
crouched around his prone body, and Jeongguk feels bile rising in the back of his throat because-

“That- That’s a lot of blood,” Hoseok stammers out, going white as a sheet. He’s right—there’s
more than Jeongguk has ever seen before. More than he’d thought was in one human body.

It pools underneath Taehyung’s leg and drops from his temple; it coats Yoongi’s hands where he’s
pressing them over Taehyung’s bullet wound and spots Namjoon’s frantically-working fingers. But
there’s more than that—in the foyer, right in the center of the room, is a lake of crimson that’s
slightly darker, and it’s attached to a smeared-red trail that leads out of the glass double-doors and
into the wilderness beyond.

The gunshot, Jeongguk thinks, And Eunji’s scream. It’s her blood. And judging from the amount of
it, Eunji probably wasn’t alive when she was dragged out of the building.

“That’s not helpful,” Yoongi hisses, interrupting Jeongguk’s downward spiraling.

Hoseok croaks back, “Sorry.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Seokjin asks. He takes a half-step closer like he wants to help, and then
stops, unsure of what he could possibly do in this situation. His hands clench into fists by his sides.

Namjoon sucks in a breath of air through his teeth and blinks rapidly like he’s trying not to cry.
“He needs to go to a hospital now. He’s lost a lot of blood, and I don’t have enough here to- to keep
him…”

Alive, Jeongguk’s brain supplies helpfully.

“He needs that much?” Yoongi asks quietly. He makes eye contact with Namjoon over the slow
rise-and-fall of Taehyung’s chest.

Namjoon looks away. “We have to get him out of here. Where- Where are the others?”

It’s hard to speak past the thickness that’s suddenly clouded Jeongguk’s throat, but he forces out, “I
don’t know. I- I left to go let all of you out, and Sanghoon locked me in the hallway, and there was
a gunshot and screaming and now- Now they’re gone, and I don’t know where they went.” He
pauses for a moment. “And I think Eunji’s dead.”

“What?” Yoongi says, voice strangled with emotion. “Eunji? And- And you said that Sanghoon is
the one who did it?”

“We think so,” Jeongguk says. “We think he’s Jimin’s ex. Or—he’s Jimin’s ex pretending to be
Sanghoon. But we didn’t check the-” Jeongguk pauses as his eyes widen. “The police report! We
should- Hoseok, where did you put them?”

Hoseok steps gingerly over Taehyung, flashlight beam bouncing as he disappears into the foyer
and behind the receptionist’s desk within. There’s the sound of him opening and closing drawers.

Over the noise of rustling papers, Namjoon says urgently, “Yoongi, we have to move him. Get the
ambulance. Seokjin, come here and keep pressure on his leg.” The two change places seamlessly,
and then Yoongi’s also disappearing out of sight. “Stay with me, Taehyung,” Namjoon says in as
encouraging a tone as he can muster with his fingers plugging the hole in Taehyung’s head.

“I’m doing my best,” Taehyung responds in a whisper. Seokjin’s flashlight is propped on the
ground, and Jeongguk can see how pale Taehyung is in the illumination. It sends a sting of fear
rushing through him all at once.

Seokjin clears his throat and says in a warble, “Tae, when you survive this, I’m buying you a
lifetime supply of animal crackers.”

Taehyung attempts a laugh that trails off into a weak cough. “Okay, hyung,” he murmurs.
“Whatever you say.”

And then Hoseok is reappearing at the scene. He white-knuckles the flashlight in his grip and says
tersely, “The police reports are gone. They were on the fax machine, and now they’re not.
Sanghoon must’ve taken them.”

“The ambulance is missing!” Yoongi interrupts a second later as he comes running back into the
room. “It’s- It’s gone. We’re stuck here, and Taehyung’s bleeding out, and we don’t have an
ambulance.”

There’s exactly one moment in which everyone in the room freezes under the weight of the news.
The silence is punctuated only by the sound of Taehyung’s laboured breathing. And then Namjoon
is saying, “Taehyung isn’t going to make it if we don’t get him out of here.” As if to punctuate his
point, Taehyung groans.

Hoseok lets out a noise and snaps his fingers. “Use Yoongi’s helicopter!” he exclaims, “The
helipad is only about two miles east. It’s the only way we can get out of here in time.”

“The helicopter!” Yoongi bleats. The worry in his brow smooths out, just a touch, as he remembers
that he is, in fact, a pilot. “Yes. Good idea. I’ll—I’ll go get it.”

Namjoon shakes his head as Yoongi starts to move. “You’re not going alone,” he says with a nod
to Hoseok. “Hoseok can go, too.”

“Don’t move,” Yoongi shouts back over his shoulder, already following Hoseok out of the door,
slipping just a little on the trail of Eunji’s blood. “We’ll be right back.” He casts one final look at
Taehyung, hesitance playing over his face, and then he’s pushing through the doors.

Jeongguk stands where they’ve left him. He looks down at Seokjin and Namjoon and Taehyung
and feels as his hands shake. Eunji is dead. The ambulance is gone, and Jimin- Jeongguk swallows
hard. There’s an odd sense of intuition in Jeongguk’s stomach that tells him Jimin is alive; no
stalker goes through this much trouble just to kill him immediately.

“He’s trying to escape,” Jeongguk says. His voice doesn’t sound like his own when it comes out.
“Sanghoon took the ambulance. He’s trying to escape.”

Namjoon looks up from where he’s doing his best to dress Taehyung’s wounds. “There’s no way
he’s driving down the main road south,” Namjoon says, drawing the back of his hand across his
forehead and leaving a smear of blood behind. “It’s crawling with rangers, and he’d be stopped
with the ambulance.”

“There’s the service road. The fire trail that goes past all our towers,” Seokjin adds quietly. He
doesn’t move his eyes from Taehyung’s face, like he’s afraid that if he looks away, Taehyung will
die.

But Jeongguk knows that trail. It’s the one he drove on to get to the edge of the cliff with
Namjoon’s ambulance last year. “That one doesn’t lead out of the forest,” he says with a shake of
his head, “It goes from my tower to Taehyung’s and back down south.”

Seokjin shoots a quick glance up at Jeongguk. “That’s not entirely true. After the fire in the east
end last season, fire services carved out another thoroughfare. An escape route from Taehyung’s
tower that branches off of the main trail,” he says.

Exhaling, Jeongguk runs a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. There are really only two ways
this plays out—Jeongguk stays here with Taehyung, and Sanghoon gets away with Jimin. Or
Jeongguk goes after them.

And it isn’t really even a choice. “I’m going,” Jeongguk says firmly. Automatically, he checks his
pockets, makes sure he has his radio and his survival knife and one of the flashlights Hoseok took
from the supply closet. It’s not much in the way of defense, but it’s the best he can do.

“And do what?” Namjoon challenges immediately. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but
what can you possibly do? Can you even catch up to them in time?”

“I don’t know what I can do, okay?” Jeongguk shouts, voice louder than he means it to be as a
flood of desperation rushes through him. “I don’t know. But I have to do something. The police
aren’t arriving any time soon, and we don’t even know if—we don’t know that Sanghoon
won’t…”
Jeongguk trails off for a moment as emotion chokes him with a steel grip. “We can’t just leave
them, hyung,” he says quietly. “I’m going. And I don’t care what you say. If I take the hiking
trails, I can catch up to them in time. The fire trails are longer than the ones through the forest.”

He levels Namjoon with a stare, and images of his last session with Namjoon flit to mind. “No one
is dying tonight except Sanghoon,” he tells Namjoon.

And he watches as Namjoon swallows hard, because he knows what Jeongguk means. “Do you
even have your gun?” he asks quietly.

“You can’t seriously be considering this,” Seokjin butts in. He whips his neck up to stare down
Namjoon, and when Namjoon doesn’t reply, he pushes, “Namjoon. Hello? This is suicide!”

“Then you try and stop him,” Namjoon shoots right back. A glare passes between the two of them,
and Jeongguk can see the war contained therein.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but now that Jeongguk has made up his mind, every moment he’s
not sprinting at full speed down the hiking trails stretches out like an eternity. Eventually, Seokjin
just shakes his head and scowls at Jeongguk. “If you fucking die, Jeongguk, I will find your body
and desecrate it myself,” he threatens, but there’s an emotion in his eyes that brings a smile to
Jeongguk’s face.

“Noted,” he says softly. And then he’s hefting his flashlight into one hand and clicking it on. “Stay
on the radio line. Don’t let Taehyung die, and I’ll-”

I’ll be back, is what he means to say, but Jeongguk knows that he can’t promise that. He knows,
and he doesn’t care.

Instead, he says, “I’ll do my best.”

Jeongguk takes a breath and leaves the safety of the medical building behind, following the
splotches of blood and the tracks of the ambulance into the darkness of the forest.

Hang on, Jimin, he thinks. Wait for me .

“What did you want to talk about?” Namjoon asked a few hours ago, back when Jeongguk tracked
him down and asked for a session.

Jeongguk sank onto Namjoon’s bed and stared up at Namjoon. “I have a confession to make,” he
said.

“A confession?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk said. He looked down at his hands and through to the floor and whispered,
“There’s something you should know.”
Sometimes, when it gets quiet enough, Jeongguk likes to imagine that he can hear the voices of the
trees. He can hear the murmur of the pines and the soft rustling of the maples. There’s the babbling
of the brook and small noises from the underbrush.

This time, though, it’s Jeongguk’s voice that shouts over the symphony of the forest. “Jimin?” he
yells, lungs screaming with effort as he jogs through the forest. “ Jimin?!” Jeongguk doesn’t
receive an answer, but he’s not really expecting one.

Around him, the forest inhales and holds its breath. The trees have eyes, and they watch as
Jeongguk rips his way through the underbrush. He skids around a rock and ignores the way
branches scratch at his clothing. Jeongguk wants to push himself faster, go faster, but he’s
exhausted and it’s hard to breathe through the panic that fills his throat.

You’re almost there, Jeongguk tells himself, You’re almost to your tower. He can see the edge of
the trail coming into view, but it does little to boost his spirits. For all he knows, Sanghoon has
already driven by with Jimin in tow. Jeongguk might already be too late. He’s probably already too
late.

“Stop it,” Jeongguk chastises himself through gritted teeth. He shakes his head to clear out the
screaming that bounces between his ears and stumbles through the ring of trees and into the
clearing of his tower.

A frantic glance around tells Jeongguk nothing. There’s his outhouse, and his campfire, and the
clothes he’d hung out on the line earlier this week. Nothing in the clearing is out of place;
Jeongguk’s tower rises high into the sky, right against the backdrop of the moon, just like it always
does.

But the red alarm lights that hang under the eaves of his roof have been turned on. They’re the
ones that have to be manually switched on from the inside—the ones meant to signal to all the
other fire towers that there’s an emergency. The lights spin in their plastic coverings, casting
washes of red light through the otherwise darkened clearing.

Jeongguk swallows hard and shifts his flashlight to his other hand. He reaches into his belt for the
Bowie knife he’s got tucked into one loop and palms it. The sallow beam of his flashlight bounces
against the bottom of his staircase as Jeongguk walks up them carefully, one step at a time, trying
to make as little noise as possible.

His heart slams against his ribcage as he ascends. Jeongguk shuts out the part of himself that’s
terrified and brings to the surface the same Jeongguk who’s capable of swinging a knife at
someone and meaning it.

“Here we go,” Jeongguk breathes to himself as he reaches the top of his staircase. A quick shine of
his flashlight across the exterior of the wooden building reveals that the door is slightly ajar. The
lock’s been smashed in, and pieces of it lie in little bits on the floorboards.

Jeongguk holds his breath and presses his ear against the door. It’s hard to hear anything over the
pulse of his blood through his ears, but no sound comes from the interior of his tower. Cautiously,
Jeongguk nudges the door open. He shines his flashlight through the crack, swipes it around the
room quickly, but no one seems to be inside.

Jeongguk lets the breath he was holding slide out of his mouth and steps inside. It looks different
from the last time Jeongguk was here. More of his belongings are thrown haphazardly around the
room: his bed is lumpy and the covers are mussed, all of his clothing is strewn out of his trunks,
and all of his provisions are gone from the cooler in the corner.

And sitting in the middle of the room is Jeongguk’s wooden box. It stands open proudly as
Jeongguk feels his blood run cold. He rushes over and glances inside. Everything is gone except
for the mixtape. The lock of hair is missing, his hospital bracelet is gone, and the knife—the knife
isn’t wrapped in the bit of cloth at the bottom of the box as it usually is.

There’s something wrong, the voice in Jeongguk’s head whispers urgently. What does he want with
your things?

“Namjoon, we’re on our way,” Yoongi’s voice crackles to life through the radio on Jeongguk’s
hip. “Is- Is Taehyung still…”

“He’s alive, but you should probably hurry,” Seokjin answers. “He’s not looking so good.”

There’s a bit of tense silence, and Jeongguk can faintly hear the beat of the helicopter’s blades
cutting through the air in the distance.

“Are you still alive, Jeongguk?” Seokjin asks suddenly. “Did you find them?”

Jeongguk exhales through his teeth and slumps down into his chair, trying and failing to calm the
rapid beat of his heart. “Not yet. I’m okay, though. I’m in my tower, and it looks like they’ve
already been here,” he murmurs through the speaker.

“Okay,” Seokjin says, “Keep us updated. Be careful.” And then the line clicks off.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk curses. He rubs a hand through his hair and over his eyes. His thoughts move a
mile a minute, because he’s missing something. First there was his missing journal, and now his
belongings are gone, and it doesn’t make sense . Jeongguk puts his head in his hands and stares at
the floor, wondering if-

His breath catches for a moment when he sees it. There, stuck underneath the corner of his rug, is a
page of the missing police report. It looks like it’s been trampled on—like Sanghoon hadn’t meant
to drop it during his ransacking. The boot-print on it is brown with mud and red with blood, and it
sends Jeongguk’s heart into his throat as he picks it up.

As quickly as he can, Jeongguk’s eyes scan the page. It’s hard to make out the smeared ink
underneath all of the filth, but he reads:

[Report of incident involving Lee Jaeun, assailant, and Park Jimin, victim. December 17th,
1984, at 12:30 A.M.]

[Victim and occupant of the apartment—27 years of age, Park Jimin, describes the incident
as being one of many. He reports coming back to his apartment after work and finding his
apartment vandalized. Park Jimin says that he called his g-]

Jeongguk squints, trying to make out the rest of the paragraph, but he can’t see through the dirt and
blood splattering across the page. Frustrated, Jeongguk grips the edges of the paper a little tighter
and skips down to the next readable section.

[Assailant, Lee Jaeun—26 years of age. Attacker defends that she didn’t strike Park Jimin.]

And Jeongguk stops reading. He blinks. He reads it again.

[Assailant, Lee Jaeun—26 years of age. Attacker defends that she didn’t strike Park Jimin.]

She? Jeongguk repeats in his head, brain turning frantically. Lee Jaeun is a ‘she’? Because if Lee
Jaeun is a she—if she’s a she, then-

Then the stalker can’t be Sanghoon.

And Jeongguk feels the realization before he actually knows it to be true. It’s on the tip of his
tongue, and just before the name materializes, a flash of light from the direction of Taehyung’s
tower catches his attention.

It’s a pattern of flashes, shining silver in the moonlight. Jeongguk drops the police report and
scrambles for his notepad as the heliograph shines morse code at him. Pencil in hand and heart in
his throat, Jeongguk watches as the pattern repeats one more time.

C-H-E-C-K, Jeongguk transcribes.

B-E-D.

Jeongguk watches, eyes wide, waiting for more. But the message is finished, and Jeongguk can feel
a presence behind his back, coming from the direction of his pallet bed. He licks his lips and stays
stock still for several heartbeats.

And then slowly, as slowly as possible, Jeongguk rises to his feet. He picks up his flashlight and
knife from where he’d placed them on the desk and turns on his heel. His bed is lumpy, that much
Jeongguk already knew, but he’s just now noticing the little puddle of liquid red that collects on the
warped floorboards beneath the headboard.

Jeongguk takes a step forward, holding his blade out in front of him. Easy, Jeongguk, he tries to
calm himself, but it’s no use. Adrenaline bursts through his veins as he comes to a halt by the side
of the bed. Easy.

And Jeongguk reaches forward and pulls back the top cover in one swift movement.

For a moment, time stops as Jeongguk takes in the scene in front of him. Lying on the bed, head
propped against Jeongguk’s pillows, bleeding from the bullet wound in the forehead, is-
Sanghoon, Jeongguk thinks blankly.

He’s dead. If it wasn’t apparent from the hole in his forehead, it’s apparent from the way his eyes
are half-rolled back in his head and the way his tongue lolls out of his mouth. Jeongguk remembers
the puddle of blood in the foyer of the medical pavilion. It was Sanghoon’s blood, not-

Not Eunji’s, Jeongguk thinks, and there it is. Everything clicks together in Jeongguk’s head.

The night after Jeongguk pepper sprayed his attacker, Eunji had bloodshot eyes too.

Eunji has forestry gear, and a uniform, and boots.

Eunji has access to Yoongi’s master key.

And even her name. Eunji, Jeongguk realizes, is incredibly similar to Jaeun.

Pieces of conversation with her flit back through Jeongguk’s memory—

“Turns out these guys are excellent bodyguards. Even if they are nerds. They talked my ear off on
the way down about the proper way to change helicopter fuel and how to correctly rotate your
tires,” Seokjin had said. Eunji can sabotage a car, Jeongguk understands.

“Didn’t he tell you? We’re gonna be keeping an eye on you for a while. He said he told you at the
party,” Eunji had said. She’d been there the whole time, listening to their theories and ideas and
plans.

“Eunji is with him. What happens when we radio, ‘Oh, hey, your partner’s the crazed
psychopath’ while she’s still with him?” Jeongguk remembers Jimin saying. Because Eunji had
also been left alone in the halls of the medical building. Jeongguk had let her into the foyer—he’d
encouraged her to come back into the room with Jimin.

And now Sanghoon is lying dead in Jeongguk’s bed, blood spreading across the covers and the
floor, with a bullet hole in his head from a gun that—

A gun that’s got Jeongguk’s fingerprints all over it. And then it makes sense. The missing journal,
the missing pieces from his box, the threats. She’s planning on framing him. She’s planning on
painting Jeongguk as the murderer, the stalker, the one who comes from a violent past—who’s
killed before and who can do it again.
While she drives out of the forest with Jimin, hands clean and loose ends tied up. Because, after all,
who would suspect her— bubbly, effervescent, helpless Eunji? Jeongguk hadn’t. None of them
had. They’d never noticed how she was just as strong as Sanghoon, just as tall, just as strong, and
just as capable.

Dread fills the pit of Jeongguk’s stomach. And then, from the corner of his eye, Jeongguk catches
sight of another heliograph coming down the line. Three flashes, three longer ones, and three more.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to focus to know what the message says.

S.O.S.

It only plays once, quickly, like it’d been rushed out. Jeongguk knows instinctively who sent the
message. And before Jeongguk realizes what he’s doing, he tears out of his tower and vaults down
the steps two at a time.

Jeongguk sprints back into the forest, headed west to Taehyung’s tower, towards Jimin, following
the sounds of the shrieking in his head that push him forward, push him faster , send his legs
pumping harder .

And Jeongguk is back there all over again, ten years ago, with a knife in his hand and a plan in his
mind, utterly certain that he’s capable of murder.

Jeongguk feels himself separate and detach from the situation as he runs. Until the Jeongguk that
runs through the forest with a blade in his palm is different than the one that was there before—
furious and cold and hungry for blood.

“What is it?” Namjoon had asked, back there in his private rooms with Jeongguk. “What do you
need to confess?”

Jeongguk stared up at him, straight through him, right back into the past. And in the silence that
stretched between them, Jeongguk said—

“I’ve killed a man.”

Namjoon stood there, quiet and surprised.

“I’ve killed a man, and it was easy,” Jeongguk said with a laugh he couldn’t quite rein back in. “I
don’t think I was ready for how easy it’d be.”

“Who- Who did you kill?” Namjoon asked. The color had already drained from his face, and
something like fear flashed behind his eyes.

But Namjoon would never tell anyone about this— couldn’t tell anyone about this, actually, so
Jeongguk shrugged and answered, “My father.”

Namjoon licked his lips nervously. “Why?”

 “Because he was going to kill me. He’d already tried. Do you know how many times he put me in
the hospital? Have I ever shown you the scars?” Jeongguk asked, feeling like himself and not like
himself all at the same time as he pulled up his shirt and pointed to his chest, “From where he tried
to cut my heart out, or the cigarette burns, or where he put his initials on me? Do you see what he
left on me?”

“Jeongguk…” Namjoon breathed, eyes faintly tracing down Jeongguk’s midsection and widened
in horror.

“After the last time he put me in the hospital, I made a plan. I knew that the next time he came for
me, he’d win. So one night, after school, I came home with a knife in my pocket,” Jeongguk
admitted in the low light, “And when he came at me that night, I was ready. I put a knife in his
chest and his stomach and heard him scream. Watched him bleed. And then I left.”

For a few minutes, the room stilled. Namjoon inhaled slowly, locked eyes with Jeongguk, and
asked, “Do you—Do you regret it?”

And Jeongguk thought about it. Sometimes, the answer is yes. Sometimes he lies awake at night and
wonders what kind of person he is. And other times, right now, when his emotions are high and
he’s scared and backed into a corner, Jeongguk doesn’t.

“No,” he’d said. “No, I don’t.”

He nodded to himself, feeling honest and sure for the first time in his life.

“I’d do it all again.”

And it was true.

Chapter End Notes

Listen this is the stupidest twist I've ever done in my life but I'd like you all to
REMEMBER THAT THIS WAS FOR FUN AND NOT A GRAND MASTERPIECE
OKAY IM FRAGILE

anyway, some of you guessed how this was gonna turn out, so kudos for you!
Next update is a double-header.

See you then

 Forest Fire
Chapter Notes

HELLO HERE'S THE CLIMAX

sorry for the all-caps im just so excited okay HERE PLEASE ENJOY

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jeongguk runs, and as he runs, he thinks he can hear the sound of screaming filtering through the
leaves of the trees around him. It’s low and guttural, and the noise of it rips through him and settles
firmly in his lungs, because Jeongguk is the one screaming, after all.

Blood rushes through his lungs, pounds in his throat, shouts in his ears until Jeongguk can’t hear
anything but the sound of the rapid-fire thump of it. Until he can’t see anything through the haze
that clouds his vision but images of Sanghoon’s dead body, and Taehyung bleeding out on the
floor, and Jimin-

Jimin.

Jeongguk grits his teeth a little harder and pushes his way down the rest of the trail. He hopes he’s
not too late—he isn’t that much further from Taehyung’s tower. He’d run as fast as he could to
make it in time, but Eunji is clearly unpredictable. She could be gone. She could have taken Jimin
with her. For all Jeongguk knows, they could both be dead by now.

It’s that thought that carries him hurtling forward through the last bit of the blackened forest and
through the ring of trees that surrounds Taehyung’s clearing. Most of it looks exactly like it had the
last time Jeongguk was here: Taehyung’s tower stands tall and high, decorated with multicolored
windsocks; there’s his obnoxiously yellow-painted outhouse, his grill, and his one-player
badminton court. Jeongguk catches sight of a rubber duck and a can of snakes in the grass that
hasn’t quite grown back since the fire last year.

Jeongguk also catches sight of Namjoon’s ambulance at the edge of the clearing. It makes a
growling noise as the ignition sparks to life, the red of the brake lights flickering off, and Jeongguk
doesn’t think.

“Eunji!” he screams at the top of his lungs, feet pounding on the grass as he hurtles to close the
distance between the two of them before she can exit onto the service road. Jeongguk doesn’t know
why he does it—knows it won’t stop her—but he jumps in front of the ambulance and slams his
hands down on the hood.

He sees her through the windshield. Her blue hair is faded and tangled, like she’s been through a
fight. There’s a delirious look about her eyes. Jeongguk catches sight of the bandage on her arm.
He realizes it must be from the place he’d cut her a few nights ago. Jeongguk wonders how he
didn’t notice it until now.

They lock eyes, and she smiles.

“Get out of the car,” Jeongguk says loud enough to be heard over the drone of the engine.

Slowly, Eunji reaches over and presses the button to lower her window. “Jeongguk! I was
wondering when you’d show up. Though I gotta say—you’re a faster runner than I gave you credit
for,” she says, voice as bright and bubbly as ever. But Jeongguk knows the truth of her now. He
knows what she’s done.

“Get out of the fucking car,” Jeongguk repeats. He slams his hands down onto the front of the car
again, hands pulsing at the sting.

The motion doesn’t do anything but bring a flicker of glee to Eunji’s eyes. She’s enjoying this,
Jeongguk realizes, horrified, She’s playing with me.

Almost on cue, Eunji laughs from deep in her chest. And then her smile dies as she revs the engine.
“I don’t think I will, thanks,” Eunji coos.

Jump, Jeongguk’s instincts scream at him, and Jeongguk has learned by now to listen to them. He
drops his flashlight, throws himself to the right and rolls against the ground just as Eunji steps on
the gas pedal and lurches hard into the space that Jeongguk was just occupying. She pauses for a
second, brow furrowed as she scans the darkness for Jeongguk’s figure.

Jeongguk seizes the opportunity. He lurches to his feet and crosses the distance between them. One
hand is already on the handle to the driver’s side door by the time he hears the telltale ‘click’ of a
gun being cocked. Inhaling through his teeth to calm the adrenaline soaring through his
bloodstream, Jeongguk looks up.

“I’d stop if I were you,” Eunji says down at him. Her expression is twisted into something dark
and viscerally upset. It turns her face into a version of Eunji that Jeongguk’s never seen before—
someone capable of doing all of the things he’d read in the police report.

But Jeongguk has stood up to someone like Eunji before. He isn’t as afraid as he should be.
Jeongguk meets her stare with one of his own and grits out, “What did you do with Jimin?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she retorts acidly. Eunji’s grip on the gun tightens
infinitesimally.

Jeongguk licks his lips and scans her face for any sign that she’s going to pull the trigger. He’s
lived through abuse; he knows all the signs of someone about to snap. Eunji isn’t there yet. “He’s
my boyfriend,” Jeongguk pushes her further, “So I’ll ask again. What did you do with Jimin?”

And there it is—the way Eunji’s eye twitches slightly, the murderous glare that spreads across her
face. Jeongguk knows that he’s got her where he wants her. And he’s right, because Eunji’s voice
is a shout as she spits, “He was mine first! He was mine!”

You’re fucking crazy, Jeongguk almost says out loud, but he forces himself to swallow it down. He
needs to keep her talking, needs to get her to admit where Jimin is. “Why are you doing this?” he
asks instead, “What do you want?” His hand on the door handle still hasn’t let go; Jeongguk hopes
that she hasn’t noticed that yet.

Eunji’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re chatty for someone who has a gun pointed at their
head.”
“You don’t scare me,” Jeongguk spits back before he can think about it. And he’s a little surprised
to find out that he means it. He’s not scared of her, not really, not even now that she has a gun at
his head. Because fundamentally, Jeongguk isn’t too concerned about what happens to him. He just
needs to make sure Jimin gets out of this alive. He needs to make sure Taehyung lives.

Eunji lets out a growl of frustration. She leans a little closer, presses the muzzle of the gun into the
middle of Jeongguk’s forehead until he can feel the indent the cool metal leaves against his skin. “I
should. I should really scare you,” she hisses.

Jeongguk scoffs. “I’ve dealt with people like you before,” he challenges, voice just as low as hers
is. “I know what you’re like.”

“And what kind of person would that be?” Eunji’s lips pull back into a snarl as she presses harder
against Jeongguk’s head. It’s clear that she’s visibly annoyed that Jeongguk isn’t cowering under
the pressure of the gun.

Jeongguk watches color spread up her neck as she gets more and more worked up. Almost,
Jeongguk thinks, Almost there . “People who think they’re in charge. People who have an over-
inflated sense of self-confidence,” Jeongguk tells her, “You think you can get away with anything.”

And Jeongguk is expecting her anger to spread. He’s expecting her to lunge for him, maybe shoot
him, but what he’s not expecting is for her to laugh, full-throated. It startles him a little bit, and
Jeongguk shifts subtly backwards.

“Oh, right!” Eunji laughs. Her entire demeanor shifts on a dime until she doesn’t look like she’s
hanging off of the edge of her own control. She looks like she’s a predator now, and for the first
time, Jeongguk feels a lick of fear catch fire in his stomach. It grows a little stronger when Eunji
croons, “Your dad! I almost forgot about him. Do I remind you of him? Is that it?”

Jeongguk feels like he’s been smacked. He’d forgotten that Eunji knows everything about him.
“Where’s Jimin? I’m not gonna ask again,” Jeongguk demands one more time, trying to keep the
shock from bleeding into his tone, because she’s right. She does remind Jeongguk of his father.
Eunji is cold and calculating and erratic—she’s violent, unabashedly so, and she’s made it clear
that she’s playing to win. Jeongguk suddenly feels like he’s ten feet underwater.

Eunji seems to notice the effect her words have on Jeongguk. She takes her other hand off the
steering wheel and brings it to brush Jeongguk’s sweaty fringe out of his eyes. “I do remind you of
him, don’t I? Tell me, Jeongguk,” she murmurs condescendingly, “Do you feel the same way
about me that you did about your dad? Wanna do the same things to me, hm? Decide if I should
live or die?”

Breathing is difficult all of a sudden. Jeongguk doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to talk about
this. But this isn’t one of his sessions with Namjoon. He can’t just press pause on the question until
a later date. He can’t shake the dread that screams through his chest and lungs like he usually does.

Feebly, Jeongguk redirects, “You’re a fucking coward. Hiding behind someone else and then
running away with your tail between your legs.”

His words have the desired effect. Eunji snaps backward like she’s been burned as her prowess is
called into question. It had worked with Jeongguk’s dad, after all. It works with Eunji. “I’m not a
coward,” she says viscously. “I’m smart . I hid behind stupid fucking Sanghoon. Do you know
how easy it was to frame him? And you all just ate it up!” Eunji’s voice ratchets higher and higher
as she talks, “You didn’t even entertain the possibility that it was me! It’s not cowardice,
Jeongguk. It’s called playing the game.”
“And what game do you think you’re playing?” Jeongguk challenges. He’s in control again.
Jeongguk leans closer, pressing back against the gun, and adjusts his grip on the door handle. He
just has to wait until she’s distracted.

Eunji smirks. “Double homicide,” she says, and Jeongguk’s blood runs cold.

“Did you- Did you kill Jimin?” Jeongguk asks as her words run in circles through his brain. “Is he
dead?” Jeongguk’s chest suddenly feels like it’s too small to contain the emotion that wars inside of
it; he feels like he’s being pulled apart from the inside out as Eunji offers him a sultry smile.

She opens her mouth, says, “That’s-” and is immediately cut off by the sound of the metal divider
separating the front of the ambulance from the back.

Jeongguk only has one second to process what he’s seeing before everything springs into chaos.
Jimin materializes in the doorway behind Eunji’s head. He’s got a bruise blossoming across one
cheekbone and a trail of dried blood snaking down one side of his face from his temple, but Jimin
is wearing an expression so furious that even Jeongguk is taken aback.

“Fucking shut up,” Jimin snaps. And then he’s bringing his bound hands up and around Eunji’s
headrest, tugging her neck back and back and back until she’s pressed flushed to the seat as she’s
garroted.

Jeongguk feels shaky as he breathes, “ Jimin,” over the sound of Eunji’s startled choking noises.

“You- bitch-” Eunji splutters. Her face turns red under the strain as she works the hand not
currently holding the gun under Jimin’s hands. She grabs Jimin’s wrist and squeezes it so hard that
Jimin grunts in pain.

The sound brings Jeongguk out of whatever spell he’d been under. He seizes Eunji’s moment of
distraction. Jeongguk reaches down to the knife holstered to his hip and slides the jagged metal
blade out. In one smooth movement, Jeongguk leans down and slashes a hole in Eunji’s front tire.

The ‘hiss’ of air leaking from the popped tire draws Eunji’s attention. Her glare is cold as she
levels the gun at Jeongguk and fires.

The noise echoes in a ‘pop’ around the clearing, and Jeongguk feels the cold forest floor
underneath his cheek. He’d thrown himself to the ground a millisecond before Eunji pulled the
trigger. You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay, Jeongguk tells himself shakily.

“Jeongguk!” Jimin screams from where he still stands in the ambulance, arms latched firmly
around Eunji’s neck. “Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk rolls out of the way before Eunji can fire again. He forces himself to his hands and knees
and uses the side of the ambulance to help him stand. “Get-” Jeongguk breaks off, has to start
again as emotion clogs his throat. “Get out of the car!” he shouts at Jimin.

“Open the back!” Jimin calls right back. His voice is thick with relief and pain, and Jeongguk can
tell that he’s losing a battle with his stamina.

Jeongguk forces himself to take deep breaths as he runs around to the back of the ambulance. He
grabs hold of the metal handle and wrenches it upward and out of its latch. A tug opens the back of
the ambulance easy enough. It’s too dark to see anything inside but a large puddle of blood that
Jeongguk assumes was Sanghoon’s. “Come on,” he calls, barely able to make out the sight of
Jimin’s back from here.
In seconds, Jimin has managed to unsling his wrists from around Eunji’s neck. He leaps out of the
back of the ambulance and goes hurtling towards Jeongguk, barely even pausing to shout over his
shoulder, “The tower! We can radio for help.”

Jeongguk hesitates. He looks around the side of the ambulance. Eunji is half-falling out of the
driver’s seat. The gun is on the ground in the dirt, only a few feet away from Eunji’s hand.
Jeongguk tenses in anticipation—he wonders if he can dive for the gun before Eunji manages to
get a hold of it.

But then Jimin is screaming, “Hurry up!” and Eunji’s wrapping her fingers around the gun, and
the choice is made for Jeongguk.

He twists on his heel and vaults across the distance to the base of the fire tower. Jeongguk pounds
his way up the metal stairs two at a time. Over the sound of the blood pumping through his ears,
Jeongguk can hear the sounds of Eunji giving chase several steps below.

“Get back here!” she bellows loud enough to shake the trees.

A gunshot splits the air, and Jeongguk’s heart lurches, but he doesn’t stop running. By the time
Jeongguk makes it up the staircase in the pitch dark, he’s sweating and panting heavily. There’s a
stitch building in his side, but Jeongguk just presses a hand to it and hobbles the last few steps to
the tower’s wooden doorway.

“Get inside,” Jimin whispers urgently. Jeongguk doesn’t know why. There’s only one place they
could possibly go up here; Eunji already knows where they’re going to hole up. But Jeongguk still
follows Jimin’s order.

The door slams closed behind them, and Jeongguk makes quick work of grabbing Taehyung’s
dresser from across the room and pushing it up against the doorway. He whirls around, eyes
frantically tracing the room for a good place to hide, only belatedly realizing-

“Fuck. The windows,” Jeongguk hisses. They’re surrounded on three sides by crystal clear glass.
Taehyung doesn’t even have proper blinds. All he’s got are sheer white curtains that don’t do
anything other than slightly diffuse the light.

Jimin stands in the center of the room. He turns in quick circles, clearly also deciding where they
can hide. “The bed,” he hisses, jolting a finger at the low-slung bed frame. “Under the bed.”

“You take it,” Jeongguk says right back. He doesn’t even have to think about it. Jeongguk is
already looking for somewhere else he can fit.

“Jeongguk-”

Jeongguk cuts off his protests mercilessly as the sound of Eunji’s footsteps draw closer to the top
of the staircase. “You’re the one who can fit! Hide!” Jeongguk mutters furiously. Jeongguk
glowers at Jimin until Jimin reluctantly clambers onto his hands and knees and slides into the
darkness underneath the bed. It’s a tight enough fit that no part of Jimin is visible, and Jeongguk
feels an inappropriate twinge of relief cut through him.

“I know you’re up here.” Eunji’s voice cuts through his momentary reprieve, and Jeongguk drops
into a crouch instinctively. It’s not a moment too soon. Jeongguk barely has time to suck in a quick
breath before Eunji’s shadow, backlit by the moon, cuts across the floor of Taehyung’s tower.

Jeongguk, still by the door, tracks her progress carefully. He orients himself as quickly as possible:
Taehyung’s door faces south, which means Jeongguk’s currently looking north. Eunji’s shadow is
being thrown into the room through the east window. She’s on his right.

As quietly as possible, Jeongguk sidles closer to the tall bookcase Taehyung has pressed against his
south wall, right by the windows. Jeongguk presses himself against its width and prays it’s enough
to conceal his figure. He meets Jimin’s terrified stare as Jimin peers at him from under the bed a
few feet away and offers a weak smile in response.

“You’re trapped. Was this the best rescue attempt you could come up with?” Eunji laughs
condescendingly. Her footsteps creak along the east wall, and Jeongguk presses himself further
into the wall, already scanning for a new place to hide. “Pathetic. You know, I’m surprised that
you realized it was me after all. I wonder if you would’ve unraveled the whole thing without my
present.”

Sanghoon, Jeongguk realizes, bile rising in his throat. She means Sanghoon.

He barely has a second to feel nauseated before Eunji is rounding the corner to pace along the
north wall. Jeongguk moves as quickly and silently as possible. He hurtles his weight forward until
he’s pressed against the bottom of Taehyung’s bed, hidden behind the rise and fall of the wooden
footboard.

Jimin’s hand reaches out and grasps lightly at his ankle, squeezing reassuringly, and it nearly
scares Jeongguk out of his skin.

“That guy,” Eunji mutters, almost to herself. “God. He was everywhere . Always following me
around, always trying to keep me, poor, unprotected Eunji, safe. He really should’ve minded his
own business. All of you should’ve.”

Jeongguk tracks the progress her shadow makes across the floor. His eyes flick up to the desk
against the west wall. On the desk is Taehyung’s radio charger. Nothing sits in the charging port,
and Jeongguk realizes with a sinking sense of dread that Taehyung took his radio with him down to
the medical center.

They’re trapped.

They’re trapped, and Jeongguk’s radio must’ve gotten lost in his rush to get to Jimin.

They’re trapped, and there’s no way for them to call for help.

And then Jeongguk’s eyes catch on the set of illegal fireworks that Taehyung confiscated a few
weeks ago. Some of them are serious fireworks—the kind that shoot into the sky and start forest
fires. It’s a way to signal Yoongi’s helicopter; it’s a way to safety.

So as Eunji rounds the west corner, Jeongguk jumps across the room and presses himself against
the west wall. He holds his breath as Eunji comes to a stop just above him, peering through the
window. From here, Jeongguk can barely make out the wide-eyed stare that Jimin is sending his
way.

‘Don’t move,’ Jeongguk mouths at him. His hands are sweaty, and Jeongguk rubs them on his
pants before silently reaching one hand up and over the desk, searching for the largest of the
firecrackers.

Above him, Eunji speaks. “And I tried so hard. I tried so hard to track Jimin down. Imagine my
surprise when he doesn’t remember me at all! Fuck, it was so easy. It was barely any fun at all.”

Jeongguk’s fingers catch on one of the fireworks. He tugs it towards him, misjudging the distance
just enough that he accidently knocks over the radio charger. It clatters to the floor at Jeongguk’s
feet.

For a single heartbeat, nothing moves.

And then Eunji growls out, “Got you.” She shoots at the window directly above Jeongguk’s head.
Jeongguk shouts in surprise as pieces of glass rain down over his head and slice at his arms and
then yells again as one of Eunji’s hands reaches down, grabs him by the hair hard enough to hurt ,
and yanks him bodily out of the window backwards.

“Fuck!” Jeongguk cries as shards of glass still stuck in the window frame scrape at his back as he’s
thrown forcibly to the landing outside the tower. He thinks he hears Jimin scream in the
background, but he doesn’t manage to do anything but suck in a shocked breath before Eunji is
tackling Jeongguk to the ground.

Her knee comes to rest on Jeongguk’s torso, and all of the air rushes out of Jeongguk as manages to
yell, “Jimin, run!” And then there’s an arm at his throat, and Jeongguk can’t say much at all.

“Jimin, stay!” Eunji singsongs above him. She pins Jeongguk down through his struggles with
determination, muscles bulging under the strain. Sweat drips from her brow and onto Jeongguk’s
cheek. “It’s sort of cute how you’re willing to die for him,” Eunji says through little pants. “It’s a
nice sentiment. But I have him. He doesn’t need you.”

With a strained roar, Jeongguk manages to get his legs up and around Eunji’s hips. He deftly rolls
them over until he’s caging her in below him. “You don’t have him,” Jeongguk snarls right back,
heart racing and blood dripping down his ribboned back. He draws back his arm, slams his fist into
Eunji’s cheek hard enough that her head snaps to the side.

Blood runs down her teeth when she smiles back at him. “He has me whether he wants me or not,”
Eunji whispers maliciously. And then she’s bringing the butt of the gun in her hand across
Jeongguk’s temple, and Jeongguk is seeing stars. Eunji slithers out from under him and hauls
Jeongguk to his feet. Nausea courses through Jeongguk’s body as he’s thrown against the metal
railing, pinned with Eunji’s entire weight.

“He can’t leave me. I won’t let him,” Eunji growls right into his ear. “Can you even imagine how
much if fucking hurt to realize that he was cheating on me with you?”

Jeongguk shoves at Eunji’s shoulders hard enough to have her stumbling backwards. “Cheating?
Are you kidding? You’re the one who assaulted him!” Jeongguk wheezes out. He lands a solid
kick on one of Eunji’s legs, and she buckles down for a moment.

“Love makes you do crazy things, Jeongguk. You of all people should realize that.” She looks up
at Jeongguk through her lashes, stare dark and chin bloodied, and smirks. “You think you’d die for
Jimin? Let’s test it.”

And then Eunji is hurtling forward and catching Jeongguk around the waist with enough force that
when he slams against the metal railing behind him, he thinks he hears something in his back crack
ominously. Eunji hefts him higher and higher, dragging him to hang over the railing.

Jeongguk’s hands scrabble for purchase on the metal railing as the ground below disappears into
nothing more than a void. A fall from this height would kill him instantly, Jeongguk realizes. His
movements turn desperate, because Eunji is fucking strong , and she’s only lifting him higher,
further over the railing.
“Get away from him!” Jimin’s shout comes out of nowhere, much like the heavy plastic snowshoe
he brings against the side of Eunji’s head with all his force. A sickening ‘crack!’ splits through the
air as Eunji falls to the ground, moaning in pain.

Jeongguk hovers precariously on the edge of the metal railing for one heart-stopping second, but
then Jimin fists his hand in the front of Jeongguk’s shirt and tugs him back onto the platform.
“Let’s go!” Jimin urges, already pushing Jeongguk back towards the staircase, and Jeongguk
doesn’t need to be told twice.

They bound down the staircase, and the stitch in Jeongguk’s side is really making it difficult to
gasp in breaths in between steps. Jimin reaches back to frantically grasp at Jeongguk’s hand. He
laces their fingers together and tugs Jeongguk down the remaining stairs.

“Where?” Jimin heaves out. His grip on Jeongguk’s hand is ironclad, and it cuts Jeongguk’s
circulation off. He’d care if he wasn’t also gripping onto Jimin just as hard.

Jeongguk jerks his chin at the outhouse to the left of them. It’s veiled in darkness and tucked into
the side of the clearing, out of view in the shadows. “There,” Jeongguk says under his breath. He
takes the lead and hefts Jimin behind the wooden outhouse. They stand together against the cool
wood, waiting in the darkness. The sound of Taehyung’s generator ‘whirrs’ quietly next to them.

“I won’t let you get away again, Jimin!” Eunji’s voice tears through the clearing, much closer than
anticipated, and Jimin has to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle the yelp that tries to escape. “I
won’t let you leave me again. I won’t let you leave with him.”

The sound of her footsteps crunching over the still-burned grass echoes around the clearing.
Jeongguk listens intently and tries to place her location, but it sounds like her voice is coming from
everywhere. He grips Jimin’s hand a little tighter.

When Eunji speaks next, she’s further away. “Jimin, honey, if you come with me, I’ll let Jeongguk
live.”

Jimin stiffens next to Jeongguk, like he’s actually thinking about taking the offer. Jeongguk tugs
Jimin closer to him, wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and pulls them together. “No,” he
whispers into Jimin’s ear, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Jeongguk-”

“ No.” Jeongguk buries his face into Jimin’s neck, feels how Jimin grips the back of his shirt like
he’s going to disappear.

“Jiminie, where are you? Why’re you hiding from me?” Eunji calls out. Her footsteps crunch
nearer, so near, in fact, that Jeongguk thinks he can actually hear the sound of her breathing. “You
know I don’t like playing games.”

Jimin rocks up onto his toes and tugs Jeongguk’s head down enough so he can whisper, impossibly
quiet, “We need to leave. How do we get out of here?”

A few tense seconds pass between them as Eunji’s footsteps come to a halt. Jeongguk hangs onto
Jimin for dear life, only daring to let out his breath in a shaky exhale when she crunches away
again. “We can try and make it to the main road before she does. The fire trail you two were
driving on is only about a mile north of here.”

“I’m a fast runner,” Jimin assures him. “Which way do we go?”

Jeongguk reluctantly lets go of Jimin. He inches to his right, just enough that he can dare a peek
around the edge of the outhouse. The ambulance is on the far side of the clearing, brake lights and
headlights casting that side in an eerie shade of deep-red. Eunji stands in the light, eyes sweeping
over the clearing.

Jeongguk darts back behind the outhouse for cover. “The trail head starts past the ambulance, but
she’s right there. We can’t get past her.”

“Answer me when I call, Jimin!” Eunji shouts, and Jimin flinches.

Several situations flash through Jeongguk’s mind in a split second. The first option is that they
both run over to Eunji together, but he dismisses it immediately, since it would basically be a
suicide run. The second option is that they exit into the forest immediately in front of them, circle
back around to the trail head, and take it from there. This also gets dismissed. They’d make too
much noise, and Eunji knows this forest better than Jimin does. She’d catch him, if not Jeongguk,
in minutes.

The third option—the one Jeongguk voices aloud, is, “I’ll run the other way to pull her attention.
When she moves away from the ambulance, you run.”

Jimin blinks up at him in the darkness like he’s lost his mind. “Jeongguk, no,” he says firmly. “She
won’t hurt me. If you run, she’ll shoot you. Don’t.”

“Please, Jimin.” Jeongguk’s voice is soft when it comes out, and he brings his palm up to the side
of Jimin’s face, pleading with him to understand. “You need to be the one to make it out of here.”

Jimin pulls back like he’s been stung. “What does that mean?”

“I-”

“ Jimin!” Eunji screams. Another gunshot cleaves the air in two, and Jeongguk takes that as his
cue.

Heart in his throat, Jeongguk takes Jimin’s face in his hands. “Are you ready?” Jeongguk whispers.
Jeongguk will never tell Jimin this, but he spends several seconds memorizing the lines of Jimin’s
face. The slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the way the corner of his eyes pinch when he’s
worried. Jeongguk commits him to memory, just in case.

“Yeah,” Jimin says. “I’m ready.” And then he’s surging up to place one last kiss on Jeongguk’s
lips. It’s hard and a little painful, but Jeongguk takes it for what it is. A goodbye, a ‘just in case’
from Jimin himself.

Jeongguk pulls away first, ignoring the pang in his chest that tells him with certainty something is
going to go wrong. But he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. Instead, he turns on his heel, mutters
“Go,” and sprints away from the outhouse, away from the ambulance, praying Jimin runs.

“Hey!” Eunji screeches. Like Jeongguk planned, she runs forward to Jeongguk, gun raised as she
lets another of her bullets fly. It hits the spot Jeongguk was previously in, landing with a ‘thunk’ in
the side of Taehyung’s generator. Several sparks fly out of the generator and land on the grass,
catching on the already-dry grass. Small tongues of flame lick into the sky, but Jeongguk forces
himself not to worry, to just keep running until he can hide safely behind one of the thick metal
legs of the fire tower.

Please let Jimin be safe, Jeongguk asks the universe. Please.

“God, you’re such a nuisance,” Eunji spits. There’s a sound like she’s reloading her gun. “Why is
Jimin settling for you?”

You need to move, Jeongguk realizes as Eunji’s voice marches closer. But where? He looks around,
but there’s nowhere to go. The only possible place to hide is in the cover of the forest, but then he
can’t circle back to get Jimin. But if it’s the only option… Jeongguk lurches half a step forward.

And then Eunji is rounding on him, placing herself in between him and the forest. The ambulance
is at Jeongguk’s back, and the red light flickers across her features, painting her more red than the
blood that drips down the side of her face.

“Don’t fucking move,” she snarls, cocking the gun.

Jeongguk freezes instinctively. He doesn’t dare move or breathe, because Jimin needs him alive.
He needs to show Jimin how to get out of here. In the corner of his eye, the flames surrounding the
generator blaze brighter and higher. They expand to consume the generator, jump over to the wood
of the outhouse.

“Jimin, do you even know who Jeongguk is?” Eunji calls. She jerks with her gun, motioning for
Jeongguk to walk backwards into the center of the clearing. He goes, and she follows, adds, “Do
you even know who you’re defending?”

Jeongguk’s heart drops into his stomach. “Shut up,” he snaps.

Eunji jolts the gun forward, and Jeongguk makes himself screw his mouth shut. He’s in the middle
of the clearing now, the flames to the right of him warming his face as Eunji threatens, “Should I
tell him, or do you want to?”

Something inside of Jeongguk is screaming for him to do something, because this isn’t how Jimin
was supposed to find out about him. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. “Stop,” Jeongguk
tries again, hating how pleading he sounds, “It’s-”

“Jeongguk is a murderer,” Eunji yells into the void, “Did he tell you that?”

The world falls out from under Jeongguk’s feet, sucks in and out of itself until Jeongguk feels like
he’s spinning. He’s going to hate you, some small part of Jeongguk whispers. It’s over now. “You
bitch,” Jeongguk screams, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice as it tears out of his
lungs.

But Eunji isn’t done. “I found your case file, you know. It’s pretty viscous. Ten stab wounds?” she
laughs, “I get that you hated the guy, but was that necessary?”

“You’re the one that put a bullet through an innocent man’s head. Was that necessary?” Jeongguk
says, feeling completely outside of himself. He’s seeing red, but he can’t tell if it’s from the fire or
from the ambulance or from the fury that coats him inside and out.

Eunji isn’t deterred. She steps closer. “But stabbing is so much more personal, isn’t it?” she
smirks. “Did you enjoy it? Do you still think about it?”

“Stop,” Jeongguk breathes out despite himself. He’s absently aware of the way his body shakes. It
doesn’t matter. All he can see is Eunji’s face looming closer in the dark.

“Hit a nerve, hm?” Eunji tuts. “You’re still the weak little boy too scared of your daddy to move,
aren’t you?”
Jeongguk’s breath comes harder and faster. He wills himself not to fall into the memory that’s
threatening to cloud his vision. He wills himself to not listen to the screams of a dying man
ricocheting around inside of his head. “Stop,” Jeongguk grunts, at himself and at Eunji, “Shut up,
shut up, shut up.”

“I bet you miss him a little though, don’t you? Do you miss him?” Eunji coos. She steps closer, and
now Jeongguk can feel the gunmetal poking at his chest. “Do you, Jeongguk?”

“Stop.” Another voice cuts through the fog whirling around Jeongguk’s head. It’s Jimin.

Jeongguk whips his head around, eyes wide as Jimin steps out from behind the ambulance. He’s lit
from the side by the fire that roars, jumping into the tops of the trees. A crown fire, some small part
of Jeongguk realizes as a gust of wind whips past his face, an independent crown fire. It jumps
from treetop to treetop, blazing hot, and Jeongguk can’t breathe.

“Stop,” Jimin repeats. His voice doesn’t waver as he walks closer. “Let him be.”

“There you are, baby,” Eunji whispers, sounding almost fond as she takes a step away from
Jeongguk. “I was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

Jimin comes to a halt right next to Jeongguk. His fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach
out and grip Jeongguk’s hand one more time. But Jimin stays stock still and asks again, “Just let
him leave.”

Eunji’s gaze shoots from Jeongguk to Jimin and back again. Something wars across her features,
but she doesn’t lower her gun. “I’m not sure I should. He knows too much,” Eunji says, voice
pitched low as she talks only to Jimin.

Jeongguk is close enough to hear the hitch in Jimin’s breathing as he sucks in a deep breath. And
then Jimin is taking a step forward, towards her, and lowering his voice seductively. “Please? For
me?” he coos sweetly, and it makes Jeongguk’s stomach roil. “I’m sorry for making you so mad.
Just- Just leave him be.”

“I’m not mad at you, baby,” Eunji corrects. Her expression morphs into something resembling
affection, and Jeongguk is so mad that he thinks he can feel his blood boiling beneath the surface
of his skin. Eunji reaches out and grabs Jimin’s wrist, tugs him close. “I’m mad that you left me,
sure, but I’m not mad at you.”

She wraps a hand around Jimin’s waist, and Jeongguk wants to scream. “Fucking furious that you
thought you could leave me behind, but I’m not mad at you.” And then she raises her gun, levels it
at Jeongguk’s head, and snarls, “ Him, though? Him I’m mad at.”

There’s a frantic edge to Jimin’s voice as he places a hand on Eunji’s chin and pleads, “Eu- Jaeun,
you promised to let him go if I came with you. You said you wouldn’t hurt him. You promised.”

“I changed my mind,” she snaps back.

But Jimin isn’t prepared to give in. He leans in a little closer. “There’s- There’s nothing I can do to
convince you? Nothing?”

Stop, Jeongguk wants to scream when Eunji brings one of her hands up to grip Jimin’s chin tightly.
Stop it!

“Ah, there’s the Jimin I know,” she purrs. Her stare flickers down to Jimin’s lips. “You know…
maybe I could be convinced.”
Jimin flutters his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eunji hums over the roar of the flames in the background. “Maybe if-”

The exact millisecond she closes her eyes and leans in to kiss Jimin, Jimin hurls all of his weight
forward. His shoulder makes contact with the arm Eunji’s using to hold onto the gun, and it goes
clattering to the ground. Jeongguk moves without even thinking about it—he dives for the gun.

“You bitch!” Eunji screams as she’s knocked to the ground as Jimin shifts his weight and launches
himself against her.

He lands on top of her chest and brings his palm down to slam Eunji’s nose with a sickening
‘crunch!’ “Go to hell,” he spits right in her face.

Jeongguk crawls to close the distance between himself and the gun, fingers a hair’s breadth away
from the metal when Eunji bellows, “No!” and rolls Jimin over smoothly. She kicks him in the
stomach and turns to grab at Jeongguk’s ankle, pulling him back towards her.

“Fuck!” Jeongguk shouts as he’s dragged away from the gun and right underneath Eunji. He
catches sight of Jimin wheezing a few feet away, backlit by the flames spreading around the
clearing. Smoke clogs Jeongguk’s throat as he shouts, “Don’t touch him!”

Eunji hovers above Jeongguk, kneeing him in the stomach as she spits, “I’ll kill you. I’m going to
kill you for all the shit you put me through.”

There’s an itch underneath Jeongguk’s skin as he winds a hand in Eunji’s hair and rips with all his
strength. As she screams, Jeongguk says, “The shit he’s put you through? What about everything
you put Jimin through? What you put us through?”

“That’s different. Jimin belongs to me. Not you.” The rest of Eunji’s speech dies in her throat as
Jimin jumps onto her back, twisting until she collapses off of Jeongguk.

She screams in pain, and Jeongguk seizes the opportunity to roll onto his stomach and grab the gun
a few feet away. He swings around, cocking the trigger in time to watch as Jimin yanks himself out
of Eunji’s grip. She tries to rise, but it’s Jimin who stands next to Jeongguk and shouts, “Stay
down! Don’t fucking move.”

Eunji’s gaze flicks to the gun in Jeongguk’s hand and over to Jimin. Understanding dawns on her
face, and she twists it into a scowl. “You’re choosing him? Over me? After all I did for you?”
Eunji hisses from where she kneels, bloodied and dirty, on the grass.

Jimin’s hand grasps Jeongguk’s free hand and squeezes. “It’s not even a contest.”

“You-” Eunji lurches to her feet.

“Don’t move,” Jeongguk says again. His voice is low and gravelly from smoke inhalation, but he
doesn’t pay it any attention.

And for the first time, Jeongguk thinks he sees fear dance behind Eunji’s carefully guarded
expression. Her hands come up placatingly, a little crazed, as she rushes, “I know things about you,
Jeongguk. Things that no one else does.”

“Stop talking,” Jeongguk says with a shake of his head, seeing it for the plea to live that it is.

Eunji licks her lips. “I know how it-”

“Stop. Talking.”

“He’s not dead, Jeongguk.”

The words cut through Jeongguk like a knife, and he finds himself blinking in shock for several
seconds. His throat is dry as dread sinks into his stomach. “What?”

A viscous grin splits Eunji’s bloodied face. “Your father,” she drawls, regaining her confidence,
“You didn’t kill him.” There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she looks at Jeongguk’s stricken expression
gleefully. “You didn’t kill him.”

“What?” Jimin breathes out.

Jeongguk doesn’t move. He’s frozen on the spot. He remembers the knife in his hand—he’d felt
his father stop struggling underneath him. There’s no way he’s alive. And yet…

And yet…

“And if you kill me, you’ll never know where he is. You’ll spend the rest of your life looking over
your shoulder,” Eunji keeps talking. Her voice rises to be heard over the sound of the blaze that
encircles the clearing completely.

Jimin’s grip on his hand tightens. “Jeongguk,” he says, but the rest of his words fade out as the
humming in Jeongguk’s head crescendos to a forte.

Do you regret it? Namjoon had asked Jeongguk earlier. Do you regret killing your father?

No, Jeongguk said, because he didn’t. It was necessary. I’d do it again.

These are the words that shout through Jeongguk’s consciousness, consuming him whole as Eunji
shouts confidently, “You can’t kill me. You won’t kill me. We both know that you don’t have
the-”

Jeongguk pulls the trigger and puts a bullet right in between Eunji’s wide eyes.

She falls to the ground.

Jimin screams.

Jeongguk’s head is quiet.

Alive, is the only thing echoing through Jeongguk’s mind. He’s alive. He’s alive?
“J-Jeongguk,” Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. He tugs on Jeongguk’s arm, voice raised to a yell.
“Jeongguk, we need to go.”

It takes a minute for Jeongguk’s brain to catch up to what’s happening. For a second, he just stands
in the middle of the clearing. Jeongguk looks down at the smoking gun in his hand. He looks at
Eunji’s corpse a few feet away. Jeongguk sees that the crimson blaze of the flames has spread all
around the clearing, moving north. He sees Jimin’s face, wide-eyed and dirty with soot and tears.

Jeongguk takes a step towards Jimin. Almost instinctively, Jimin takes a quick step back.

Oh, Jeongguk thinks as hurt pours down his back. He’s afraid of you.

Oh.

“Let’s go,” Jimin shouts again. His grip on Jeongguk’s arm is tremulous, but he yanks Jeongguk in
the direction of the fire trail.

Jeongguk plants his feet and shakes his head. A look over at the ambulance tells him everything he
needs to know. The car is up in flames, burning hot and emitting smoke, and the flames that coat it
extend onto the trailhead.

“We can’t,” Jeongguk rasps out. His voice is scratchy from smoke inhalation, but for the life of
him, he can’t seem to organize his thoughts enough to remember what to do about it. “The fire is
blocking the trailhead. We- We have to go north and hope we hit the trail.”

Jimin nods, follows as Jeongguk leads them slowly towards the north end of the clearing. “The
fireworks,” he says suddenly as they pass Taehyung’s fire tower. “We can still use them to signal
the others. We have to get the fireworks.”

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder. The blaze has already crossed the clearing to lick up the metal
legs of the fire tower. It’s moving fast, Jeongguk realizes, and if they hang around much longer,
they won’t be able to leave the clearing.

“I’ll get them,” Jeongguk decides. He grips Jimin by the shoulders and lightly shoves him towards
the north side of the clearing. “You go ahead. Run as fast as you can, and don’t change course. An
offshoot of Bear Creek runs down this way—you can’t miss it. Cross the river and wait for me. I’ll
catch up.”

Jimin’s giving him that look again, that ‘are you crazy’ look. “No,” Jimin says.

“Jimin.”

“No,” Jimin protests. He leans forward and gives Jeongguk’s chest a shove of his own. “You’re
out of your goddamned mind if you think I’m leaving you again. You almost got fucking shot the
last time I left you. So no. There’s no way.” And then he leans forward and pushes past Jeongguk.
“Now, I’m going up. Are you coming, or not?”

Jeongguk nods obediently and slightly embarrassed. He follows Jimin’s quick steps up the stairs
and waits on the landing as Jimin rummages around inside Taehyung’s cabin. While he waits,
Jeongguk looks down at the clearing below—the path towards the north end is rapidly shrinking,
and if they want to make it out alive, they have to go now .

Just as he’s about to open his mouth and call for Jimin, Jimin reappears with a backpack strapped
around his shoulders. One of the largest fireworks is in his hand, and the other holds a small
lighter. “Ready,” Jimin says.
Jeongguk reaches out with the hand not still holding the gun and takes Jimin’s hand. “Ready,” he
says right back.

They descend down Taehyung’s tower for what’s probably the last time. The way the flames are
spreading, Jeongguk would be surprised if the tower makes it through the carnage. Just as
Jeongguk thought, by the time they make it to the base of the tower, the way through the clearing
is almost nonexistent.

Jeongguk grits his teeth and shoulders ahead of Jimin. The heat of the fire scalds at his skin and
singes the tips of his hair. It’s so hot that Jeongguk is half-afraid that his belt is going to melt into
his skin, but Jeongguk forces them to keep moving. Jimin stumbles behind him, wheezing hard, as
Jeongguk tugs the pair of them through the ring of trees surrounding the tower’s clearing.

The fire’s extended out here, too. Tongues of flame dance from bough to bough, spreading well
ahead of their current progress. Jeongguk knows all too well that they can’t outrun a crown fire.
Not with how fast the wind is moving. Not with how dry the trees in the area already are from last
year’s fire.

Jeongguk bites his lip. He doesn’t want to tell Jimin that their prospects are slim, especially after
everything they’ve already been through. He doesn’t want to tell him, but Jimin isn’t an idiot.

“We’re not going to make it, are we?” Jimin pants as he catches up to Jeongguk. He follows
Jeongguk over a fallen log and beats wayward branches out of his eye-line. “We’re going to get
burned alive.”

“No,” Jeongguk denies fervently. But his heart squeezes with the truth of it. He grits his teeth and
pushes forward, over an outcropping of rocks glinting in the light of the flame above. “We’re not
dying here. You’re not dying here tonight.”

Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Is there- Is there somewhere we can wait for
Yoongi?”

“There’s a small cliff-face a half-mile ahead,” Jeongguk shouts to be heard over the roar around
them. “If we can climb the ledge, we can probably set off the firework on top.”

Jimin doesn’t reply. He just nods bleakly and runs after Jeongguk, backpack bouncing up and
down on his small frame.

They go careening through the foliage that Jeongguk’s been memorizing for a decade. Jeongguk
leads Jimin across the stream; he guides Jimin around boulders too large to jump over and fallen
logs too big to vault; he avoids bits of the forest floor that’ve twisted his ankle before.

Jeongguk runs with Jimin, and as he runs, Jeongguk realizes the truth of the matter. He’s stared
down a gun for Jimin today. He’s put himself in danger for Jimin and watched as Jimin did the
same. He’s threatened a killer, run break-neck through the forest, and committed murder.

And he is, without a doubt, one-hundred percent, unequivocally in love with Jimin.

Jimin, who makes Jeongguk brave enough that it almost makes him stupid. Who makes Jeongguk
feel like he’s more than just a sum of all of the pieces of his past—like he’s a person to be valued
and treasured, and though it’s a little strange, loved in return.

And now isn’t really the ideal time to have these revelations, let alone act on them, Jeongguk finds
that he can’t keep the realization quiet now that it’s sprung into his mind.
So once they reach the cliff face and Jimin is holding onto the rope that’s always hung there, feet
on the rock wall and forest fire at his back, Jeongguk looks up into his red-rimmed eyes and
announces, “I love you.”

For several moments, Jimin just blinks down at him. A smile tries to bleed onto his face, but it’s
quickly dampened down by a look of total incredulity. Jimin shouts, “And you thought now was
the best time to tell me?!”

“I’m sorry!” Jeongguk shouts right back. He doesn’t try to hide his smile. “I just realized it!”

“I can’t believe you!” Jimin screeches down at Jeongguk, but now there is a smile on his face, and
Jimin just shakes his head as chaos burns around them. “You’re a fucking loser. I love you, too.”

Jeongguk beams. “Great,” he calls, and then immediately breaks into a fit of hacking coughs.

Jimin winces. “How about we finish this conversation once we’re out of a forest fire?” he yells.

Jeongguk nods. Wise move , he thinks, watching as Jimin makes quick work of ascending the rope.
He waits until Jimin is leaning over the edge of the cliff some thirty feet above. When Jimin gives
him a thumbs-up, Jeongguk braces his feet on the cliff wall and scrambles up the line. He’s helped
up the last few feet by one of Jimin’s hands.

“Get the firework,” Jeongguk huffs. He bends forward, hands braced on his knees as he tries to
catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jimin prepping the fireworks on the
ground several dozen feet away. Straight ahead of Jeongguk, thirty feet below, spans the stretch of
forest they’d just left beyond.

The trees that Jeongguk has called home for decades, the ones that took him in and hid him from
all of his past mistakes—all of them are consumed in wreathes of flame. Smoke jumps into the sky,
dancing dark against the backdrop of pale moonlight and glimmering stars. Wind pushes the fire
further and further; Jeongguk stands to watch the extent of the damage.

His eyes catch on the sight of Taehyung’s tower, standing lonely and proud in the middle of the
forest fire several miles away. It reaches to the sky, haloed in light, a beacon in the darkness.
Jeongguk thinks that he feels his heart break in his chest.

And then Jimin is setting off the firework and rushing right back to Jeongguk’s side. He grasps
Jeongguk’s hand and holds on tight as the fuse on the base of the firecracker burns down to the
quick. There’s nothing for a brief second, and then the world explodes.

A fierce ‘crack!’ cleaves the air in two as light burgeons forth from the explosive. Brilliant sparks
of white and purple leap into the air, exploding into drops of pastels that linger for just a while.
Several more of the explosives pop and crack—white screamers that shriek their way through their
short lifespan, vibrant shimmers of golden light that move like curtains in the breeze, and green
curls that spiral and sputter out.

Jeongguk watches them all with rapt attention. Jimin squeezes at his hand. Fire blazes to the left of
them, to the right of them, all around.

And in the distance comes the faint sound of helicopter blades.

Chapter End Notes

aren't you glad i didn't leave you on a cliffhanger DFSLDKJFLKJSFD

PROCEED FRIEND
 Phoenix
Chapter Notes

Well, THANK YOU FOR READING THIS STORY! I know it took a while to
publish, but I hope this chapter makes up for it ah ha... ha

There's smut in it :'D So proceed with caution if that's something you would like to
avoid.

AnywaY-- Big thank you to my beta reader, Rin, who read this even though I
completely changed the idea from the a/b/o fic it was supposed to be into THIS horror
monstrosity. I promise I'll write you a/b/o eventually KJSJS

Thank you to everyone who leaves me comments and tweets! It was lovely to follow
along with your theories.

Enjoy!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jeongguk wakes up to sunlight streaming through the white linen curtains. It falls on his face in
warm rays that light up the edges of the enormous room Jeongguk has been sequestered into. With
a groan, Jeongguk leverages himself up on one arm and peers around the room.

The space is truly huge—it’s at last four times the size of the inside of Jeongguk’s fire tower. The
King-sized bed that Jeongguk lies in sits in the center of one of the white-paneled walls; one wall is
composed of floor-to-ceiling windows, one of which opens out onto a private balcony; an actual
fucking chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, right over the crème ottoman and reading
nook.

Jeongguk can’t believe that Taehyung grew up in this house.

In the hours immediately following Yoongi’s rescue, Taehyung bullied them all to live in his
summer estate for the ensuing weeks. It’s only been three days since Jeongguk’s been here, and
he’s already been professionally examined by Taehyung’s private doctor, had all of his meals made
by a full-time chef, had his clothes laundered, pressed, and folded, and he’s taken about ten
showers in one of Taehyung’s extraordinarily large bathroom.

Jeongguk also hasn’t seen another person since the first few hours they were here. The estate is
truly sprawling. It has four wings and hundreds of windows and a dedicated rose garden. Jeongguk
hasn’t dared to step out of his room out of fear of getting lost and never being found again.

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk swings his legs over the side of the bed and stares at the lush,
carpeted floor beneath his feet. It’s so different from the hard, splintering wood that he’s used to
that it honestly gives Jeongguk vertigo. The transition to this kind of life has been more than a little
jarring. It’s an odd feeling to be haunted by nightmares when Jeongguk is surrounded by expensive
furniture and a full-time security staff.

It’s as Jeongguk forces himself to trudge across the room to the bathroom that he sees the little
embossed note that’s been slipped under his door sometime during the night. He bends, picks it up,
realizes that it’s wax sealed and scented with rose water and addressed to him.

Meet in the main living room when you wake up.

I drew you a map.

It’s written in Taehyung’s handwriting. Jeongguk snorts, tracing over the crappy little map in the
bottom left corner. But Jeongguk is no stranger to navigating by using Taehyung’s shitty
shorthand, so Jeongguk tugs on a white hoodie that’s been thoughtfully placed on one of the five
chairs in the room and pads out into the hall with sock-clad feet.

He turns down hallway after hallway, hired housekeepers and cleaners waving at him as he passes.
Sunlight flits through plated glass and stained glass windows alike, and this whole thing feels like
some kind of bizarre dream after the hellscape that has been Jeongguk’s last few months.

By the time he finds the living room Taehyung directed him to, everyone else is already assembled
on the sofa or one of the stuffed chairs pushed near to the glittering fireplace. All heads turn
towards Jeongguk as he pushes into the room.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says sheepishly. His stare instinctively searches for Jimin—he finds Jimin sitting
on one of the crimson loveseats nearest to the fire. Jeongguk only hesitates for a second before he’s
crossing the room and sinking onto the chair, so close to Jimin that their legs press together.

Something like relief floods through Jeongguk at the contact. It’s been less than a week since the
last time he’s seen Jimin, but it still feels like too long. Jimin leans a bit closer, and Jeongguk can’t
help the little wave of warmth that shoots through him as Jimin reaches over and takes his hand.

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung greets with too much enthusiasm for eight in the morning. He looks
nothing like the Taehyung that Jeongguk usually sees in the woods. Gone are the messy t-shirts
and volleyball shorts. In their place is a white silk robe and well-crafted crème slippers. He’s sitting
across the room, one leg bandaged firmly, head wrapped with similar bandages, and grinning
brightly. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” Taehyung laments.

Jeongguk snorts. “It’s been three days,” he reminds them, rolling his eyes in a way he doesn’t
mean. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m officially no longer in danger of imminently dying, so I’d say that I’m doing pretty well,”
Taehyung hums. He motions to his bandages and Namjoon in turn. “Namjoon did a really good job
keeping me alive in the helicopter. Even my private physician was impressed.”

Namjoon crosses his arms defensively and huffs out, “I am a doctor, you know.” Seokjin pats his
shoulder conciliatorily.

“A disgraced doctor,” Seokjin adds, effectively undermining his show of support.

“Why’re you taking his side?” Namjoon whines, and the group descends into a round of bickering.

Jeongguk is on Taehyung’s side for this one. He can still remember what the helicopter ride was
like. Jeongguk can still hear the sounds of Yoongi’s panicked shouts through the headset, yelling
back at Namjoon to keep Taehyung alive. Jeongguk can still smell the metallic tang of Taehyung’s
blood diluting the motor-oil smell of the helicopter’s interior, can still feel it sticking against his
boots.

There was a moment during the ride that Jeongguk was convinced that all of this was for nothing.
That he’d committed murder, saved Jimin, and run through a forest fire only to lose one of them.

But Namjoon knew what he was doing, sweating and cursing over Taehyung’s limp form, and
everything turned out alright in the end. That doesn’t mean that nightmares of the ride don’t still
weigh Jeongguk down and plague his dreams, turning them to nightmares faster than Jeongguk can
process.

“Hey,” Jimin whispers, leaning close to be heard under the noise the others are making. “I missed
you,” he says. Jimin strokes his thumb across the back of Jeongguk’s hand, and it sends a shiver up
Jeongguk’s spine.

Jeongguk goes with the impulse to lean down and peck Jimin on the lips. “Missed you too,” he
mutters against Jimin’s mouth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying,” Jimin whispers. He leans forward, chasing Jeongguk’s lips almost subconsciously.
Jimin steals another quick kiss, and the tiniest smile splits his face, even as he admits, “It’s a little
hard to sleep, but the security guards walking down the hall every two minutes helps.”

Taehyung, who’s been watching the both of them intently for the last five minutes and squealing
internally, chooses this as his moment to butt back into the conversation. “You’re welcome,”
Taehyung says regally, “I hired some more bodyguards. Figured that we probably would all rest
easier knowing that we’re surrounded by people with guns.”

Jeongguk refrains from pointing out that he also has a gun. The one that he used to shoot Eunji. Or
Jaeun—whoever the fuck that lady was. Jeongguk’s certain that no one remembers that he has it in
the first place, and that’s just as well. Jeongguk isn’t quite ready to let go of it so soon; part of him
is still unconvinced that they’re out of danger. So it sits underneath his King-sized mattress and
helps Jeongguk sleep soundly.

Yoongi lets out a long sigh, stretching out to his full length on the couch he’s commandeered.
“You figured right. I think this is the best I’ve slept in twenty years,” he grumbles like the old soul
that he is. Yoongi actually looks eerily like he belongs here—like he should be wearing a long
crimson robe and smoking a pipe with a cat on his lap. It’s a far cry from his usual battle-hardened
exterior.

From the ottoman on the left, Hoseok snorts. “I like how we’re pretending that you two are
actually sleeping,” Hoseok snarks. He’s got the room right next to the one Taehyung and Yoongi
are sharing, and Jeongguk doesn’t envy him at all.

“I’ve got a broken leg!” Taehyung protests.

“Do you expect me to believe that that’s actually going to stop you from trying?” Hoseok retorts
with a skeptically-raised eyebrow.

Taehyung glowers, but he doesn’t look all that apologetic about causing Hoseok to lose sleep.
“Touché,” he grumbles.

“Was there a reason we’re all assembled down here?” Jeongguk complains, tearing his stare off of
Jimin long enough to swing it around the room. “Not that I don’t want to hear every detail about
your sex lives, but, well, I really don’t want to hear every detail about your sex lives.”

Taehyung looks mildly offended. “Is camaraderie not enough for you?”

“Considering that I haven’t heard from you in three days while we’re occupying the same house,
no,” Jeongguk snipes right back.

“In all fairness, it is a big house,” Jimin contributes. He squeezes Jeongguk’s hand apologetically
as he takes Taehyung’s side. “I’ve gotten lost three times.”

Namjoon jumps into the conversation before Jeongguk can offer a choice remark about the fact
that Jimin would betray him and side with Taehyung. “Joking aside, there is a reason we’re all
here,” Namjoon intervenes. “I recently heard back from the Seoul police. They’re combing through
the forest as we speak.”

Abruptly, the tone of the meeting shifts. Jeongguk actually watches as all of the faces of his friends
fall from subtle happiness to outright, nervous anticipation. Jeongguk isn’t doing much better
himself—he feels his smile waver, hand tightening on Jimin as he tries to imagine what the police
are going to find about him in the towers.

Sanghoon’s body, definitely. Eunji’s body, maybe. Both of which are bodies that are, in some way,
tied to Jeongguk.

“We’re just lucky the whole fucking forest didn’t burn down,” Yoongi chimes in, wrinkling his
nose. “Those fireworks were a good move, but-”

Jeongguk interrupts, “You don’t have to lecture us, hyung. I knew that setting off fireworks in a
forest was a bad idea, but what were we supposed to do?” Yoongi looks a little taken aback by the
defensiveness in Jeongguk’s tone, and Jimin squeezes Jeongguk’s hand a little tighter, urging
restraint.

“ Anyway,” Namjoon jumps in again, nodding towards Jeongguk. “They found Sanghoon’s body
in your tower, Jeongguk, and they want to ask you a few questions about his murder.”

Time slows for Jeongguk for a second. If the Seoul police want to interview him, that means he’ll
have to leave this temporary sanctuary and venture back out into the city. Which means that there’s
a possibility that he’ll run into someone who knew him before. Which means that word could get
back to his dad or his mom, and Jeongguk could potentially go away for attempted murder, and-

“Did you tell them that it was Eun- Jaeun?” Jimin intercedes quickly, concern lacing through his
words, “Did you tell them that Jeongguk is innocent?”

‘Innocent’ is a strong word, Jeongguk thinks, because it’s not like his hands are clean. He’d tried to
kill his father—he actually succeeded in murdering Eunji. Jeongguk is nowhere near close to
innocent. But it means something that Jimin believes that he is.

Namjoon holds up his hands placatingly. “I did! But they’re police, and they need to take witness
statements before they can conclusively shut the case,” he says.

“Which means that I have to go down to the precinct in Seoul, doesn’t it?” Jeongguk asks quietly.
Namjoon looks at Jeongguk sympathetically, especially because he knows what going back to the
city means for Jeongguk. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says, “Your interview is scheduled for three
days from today. I tried to buy you as much time as I could.”

“Fuck,” Jeongguk whispers. And then he bites his lip, because he can’t not ask the question that’s
probably on everyone else’s mind too. “Did they… did they find Eunji’s body?” he asks carefully.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and exhales shakily. “They would’ve if it wasn’t completely
burned to a crisp. All of Taehyung’s tower is gone, as is much of the surrounding forest. There’s
nothing left to incriminate you,” Yoongi says.

The tiniest bit of relief drops into Jeongguk’s system. He never found out what Eunji did with the
items she stole from his box—the lock of hair he kept, or the knife, or his mixtape. Jeongguk just
hopes that she hid them away in a place that only she knew about.

“Fuck,” Taehyung exhales, which is pretty much the general sentiment going around at the
moment.

Seokjin reaches across from the right side of Jeongguk and squeezes Jeongguk’s leg. “Don’t worry,
Jeongguk,” he says in his serious voice, the one only reserved for special occasions and birthday
parties, “There are six of us here to back up your story. We know you’re innocent, and as soon as
we give our witness statements, they’ll know you too.”

“There is… uhm. One hitch,” Namjoon interjects reluctantly. His features are scrunched up, and
Jeongguk instinctively knows what’s coming next.

Still, he asks, “Which is?”

“The police have a file on you. Apparently, someone named Jeon Daehyun filed a missing person’s
report on your behalf ten years ago.”

Namjoon’s words ricochet around in Jeongguk’s head. His throat closes up a little bit. That’s his
father’s name. Ten years ago, after Jeongguk tried to murder him, apparently, his father filed a
missing person’s case for him. Which means that Jeongguk is in the police system. And Jeongguk
has a horrible, sinking realization that Daehyun might have already told the police about what
Jeongguk attempted to do.

Something inside of Jeongguk withers under the impossibility of his situation.

“Do you recognize the name?” Yoongi asks quietly, watching Jeongguk’s face closely.

“It’s my father,” Jeongguk croaks out, only faintly registering the surprise on the others’ faces.
He’s never told anyone but Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung about the fact that he’s a runaway.
Only Namjoon and Jimin know what actually happened. “He must be looking for me.”

Before an onslaught of questions gets volleyed Jeongguk’s way, Namjoon says, “The police are
probably going to ask you about him. I… suggest that you have an airtight story about why you ran
away.” There’s a knowing look in his eye, one that tells Jeongguk that Namjoon will help him
come up with said story, if he needs it.

Jeongguk appreciates it just as much as he appreciates the fact that none of the others are asking
the questions that they obviously want to ask.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says as soon as he can convince his lungs to take a breath. He eases his hold on
Jimin’s hand, now aware of just how hard he’s been holding onto him. “I can do that.”
Namjoon nods, turns to Jimin. “There’s something about you, too,” he starts. “Your parents are
traveling from Busan to Seoul in three days to meet with you at the police station.”

“What?” Jimin bleats, looking genuinely surprised. He bites down on his bottom lip. “My- My
parents?”

“They want to talk to you,” Yoongi says as gently as possible. “Apparently, you went missing
months ago. They think your ex kidnapped you.”

Jimin’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. “Kidnapped me?” he parrots.

Yoongi shares a look with Namjoon, who winces once and nods encouragingly. Yoongi licks his
lips, says, “You’ve been gone for almost ten months, Jimin. The police think that’s why you had
so little in your car when you crashed it. They think you stole it from Jaeun and tried… tried to
escape into the forest.”

“Oh,” is all Jimin can say. He looks down at his lap. Jeongguk wraps his arm around Jimin’s
shoulders and pulls him close to his side in silent encouragement.

“As you can imagine, they’re pretty anxious to meet you,” Namjoon says.

Jimin nods weakly. “You said I’m meeting them in three days?”

“Yes. We figured that you and Jeongguk could go into Seoul together. For moral support,”
Namjoon tells them. It’s a nice gesture, and it lessens some of the pressure threatening to swallow
Jeongguk alive.

“That sounds good,” Jeongguk says, but he feels a little bit numb inside. His father is alive, looking
for him, apparently, and Jimin’s been missing—presumed kidnapped and possibly dead—for
almost an entire year. It feels like the world Jeongguk has been standing on his entire life has
suddenly decided to spin on its opposite axis, like Jeongguk suddenly can’t keep his balance or
catch his breath or take a minute to pause and process.

Jimin feels the same way, if his silence and the way he clings to Jeongguk is any indication.

A few moments pass, and then Seokjin is sighing from his couch. “I need a drink. You have to
have alcohol in here, right, Tae?”

“I do,” Taehyung says, nodding to the liquor cabinet locked up in the corner. “Not like I can have
any, since I’m practically on horse tranqs.”

“Well, the rest of us can,” Seokjin says decisively. “The seven of us just survived a forest fire,
kidnapping, and attempted murder. I think that calls for a fucking toast.”

Hoseok rises to his feet. “I’ll get some glasses,” he says.

“I’ll raid the liquor cabinet,” Yoongi volunteers.

The others disperse to their various tasks, but Jeongguk stays motionless on the loveseat with Jimin
tucked under his arm. It’s going to be okay, he tries to comfort himself, but it’s not quite sounding
true to his own ears.

Because for all they’ve been through, there’s this dangling feeling of dread that tells Jeongguk that
the worst is yet to come.
And he’s absolutely terrified that he’s right.

There’s a gun on Jeongguk’s bedspread.

Jeongguk looks down at it. His mind is loud tonight, and pieces of conversation and little bits of
information whisper back and forth across the expanse of his thoughts.

He bites his lip.

There’s a gun on his bedspread. The clean, crisp bedspread that was freshly laundered two days
ago. The gun is metallic grey and so completely out of place that it’s almost jarring. Jeongguk
knows how many bullets are left—he counted them after he shot Eunji. There’s only one left now.

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to do. He can’t decide what to do . But there’s a gun on his
bedspread.

The sound of someone knocking at Jeongguk’s door has him tumbling out of his thoughts.
“Jeongguk? Are you in there?” Jimin’s voice filters through the wood of the door, and Jeongguk
springs into action.

“Y-Yeah! One second,” he calls. As silently as possible, Jeongguk clambers off the bed and tucks
the gun back underneath the mattress. He folds the top sheets down so that the mattress is properly
covered and takes a deep breath.

Jeongguk pads over to the door. “Hey,” he says, opening it to find Jimin standing out in the
hallway, clad in a set of Taehyung’s golden pajamas and looking perfect as always. “What’re you
doing here?”

For a brief moment, Jimin actually looks embarrassed. He ducks his head. “I just came to check on
you,” he murmurs, and Jeongguk is so easily charmed that it’s honestly a little pathetic.

Despite their situation, despite everything Namjoon told him this afternoon, a small smile tugs at
the corner of Jeongguk’s lips. “Do you want to come in?” he asks. It’s not what he meant to say,
because being along with Jimin in a private room isn’t really the best idea, but it’s what comes out
of his mouth, and Jeongguk is surprised to find that he doesn’t regret the words at all.

“Is that okay?” Jimin asks. He peers over Jeongguk’s shoulder, eyes falling onto the massive bed
in the center of the room, clearly thinking the same thing Jeongguk is.

Jeongguk feels like the awkward teenager with a crush that he never got to be. “Yeah, it’s okay.
Come on in.” He steps aside, makes room for Jimin to brush past him, and closes the door behind
them.

Jimin pauses in the center of the room like he’s been caught in the headlights. He hesitates, clearly
deciding if he should sit on the bed (a dangerous choice) or one of the armchairs (a less
comfortable choice). “Sorry it’s so awkward now,” Jimin mutters from his place in the center of
the room, “How did it get like this? We survived a forest fire and a crazy stalker together, so why
is it worse now?”
“It’s not worse,” Jeongguk reassures. He takes Jimin’s hand and leads him over to one of the
loveseats. It’s wide enough for them to sit side-by-side, thighs pressed together, and Jeongguk
settles back against the backrest without letting Jimin’s hand go. He smooths over the back of it
with his thumb, murmurs, “I think we just both know that things have changed.”

Jimin makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—things changed after… everything,” Jeongguk says. When Jimin doesn’t immediately
answer, Jeongguk side-eyes him. “Didn’t they?”

And Jimin looks so thoroughly confused that Jeongguk wonders for a moment if he’s been
speaking another language. Several emotions vie for dominance in Jimin’s expression, but he
settles on frustration. “You’re really going to have to give me more than that,” Jimin says with a
squeeze to Jeongguk’s hand, “Are you talking about how I feel about you? Or—Or how you feel
about me? Is that what’s changed?”

He sounds worried, and Jeongguk jumps in as fast as possible. “No! I mean—I feel the same way
about you. I’m- I’m pretty crazy about you, if that wasn’t apparent,” Jeongguk stammers through
the flush that tries to blaze over his cheekbones. He drops his voice and says quietly, “It’s just. I
killed someone, Jimin. I killed someone.”

Jimin inhales a breath through his teeth. For a moment, he’s absolutely silent, like he’d actually
forgotten that he watched Jeongguk commit murder. Like he didn’t flinch away from Jeongguk’s
touch immediately afterward.

But then Jimin is exhaling with a slow nod.

“It was self-defense, Jeongguk. She was going to kill us. And I know you could’ve waited for the
police to come, but—I get why you did it. I would’ve done it too, I think,” Jimin admits, voice
pitched low and serious.

And it’s nice to know that Jimin isn’t holding Eunji against him, but she’s not who Jeongguk had
in mind. She was self-defense, Jeongguk knows this, but-

“I wasn’t talking about Eunji, Jimin,” Jeongguk says. And then the words are out in the open,
hanging in their air between them, and Jeongguk can’t take them back. It’s the first time he’s talked
about this with anyone but Namjoon. It’s the first time he’s actually even thought to broach the
subject at all, and his heart is doing its very best to pound out an allegro against his rib cage.

“Oh,” is all Jimin says.

Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath, stare unfocused as he relives that same day on loop in his head
for the millionth time. “I murdered my dad,” Jeongguk tells the carpet, “Or I tried to, at least.”

“Yeah. I remember Eunji saying something about that,” Jimin murmurs. His free hand picks at a
loose thread on the loveseat, working it nervously as he decides what to say. “Wasn’t that also self-
defense?” he asks carefully.

And this is the question that’s been ringing in Jeongguk’s head for a decade. Was it self-defense if
he had a plan? Was it self-defense if he did it in the spur of the moment? Was it self-defense if it
means that he got to live past sixteen?

And if it wasn’t self-defense—what kind of person does that make him? Horrible, for planning it
out? Wretched, for even thinking about it in the first place?
Or a failure, because he didn’t succeed?

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk says under his breath. He scrubs his free hand over his face. “I don’t
know anymore.”

Jimin nods empathetically from his place at Jeongguk’s side, even though he can’t understand—
not truly, not in the way that matters, but it means a lot that he’s trying anyway. “Do you regret it?”
he asks.

This is another question that Jeongguk’s been avoiding looking at for half of his life. It’s easy to
say from the comfort of Taehyung’s mansion that yes, he regrets it. It was a different story for
sixteen-year-old Jeongguk who was scared half to death and bruised within an inch of his life.

“Only sometimes. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or not,” Jeongguk whispers. His
voice is so quiet that he isn’t sure if Jimin can even hear him, if he can even tell how Jeongguk’s
voice cracks. “I can’t decide if that makes me a bad person.”

Jimin’s hand leaves Jeongguk’s grasp to settle on the back of Jeongguk’s neck. Jimin runs his
fingers down Jeongguk’s spine soothingly. “Jeongguk…” he says softly, nudging closer. “Listen,
I’ll be the first to admit that murder isn’t the best possible recourse for every situation, but I refuse
to believe that you’re a bad person.”

“Look at me. Look at me,” Jimin says, taking Jeongguk’s chin in his hand and forcing their eyes to
meet. “You saved my life—you saved all our lives. That’s all you did back then. You saved your
own life. How can that possibly make you a bad person?”

Jeongguk shakes his head, drops his stare to Jimin’s chest because it’s easier than looking into his
eyes right now. “But do the ends justify the means?” he mumbles.

“I think that’s something that you have to come to terms with on your own, Jeongguk. Personally
—with Eunji—I’m just glad that your decisions helped all of us get out alive. I can’t think of
anything you could’ve done better,” Jimin says, pausing to take a deep breath, “And as for your
father…”

Jeongguk tilts back out of Jimin’s grasp. “He was going to kill me,” he says. It’s a sentence that
Jeongguk’s only said out loud a few times in his life, and it still sounds foreign in his ears. It’s
something that still makes his head spin and turns his thoughts cloudy.

“Then it was self-defense.”

Jimin’s voice is so sure that Jeongguk snaps his eyes up to meet Jimin’s again in pure shock. “But I
still planned it,” he protests, not sure why he’s doing so in the first place, “I still prepared for it.”

“Jeongguk. It was still self-defense.” Jimin stares him down. The small fire that’s burning in
Jeongguk’s private fireplace glimmers in Jimin’s eyes, angry red and vengeful.

And Jeongguk doesn’t know why Jimin’s absolution lifts a weight on his chest. It shouldn’t, he
knows that by now. It shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it is to hear Jimin say those words out
loud. Because truthfully, if Jeongguk knew then what he knows now, he wouldn’t change anything.
He still would’ve done what he did back then.

He still might.

“He’s still out there,” Jeongguk says the words that’ve been swimming around in his head since
this morning with the others. “I don’t know how to move or breathe or—or function with him still
out there. I know him, Jimin. When he finds out that I’m back in the city, he’s going to hunt me
down.”

And it’s strange to admit this now, after everything that Jeongguk has survived these last few
months, but here he is, murmuring, “I’m afraid. I’m so fucking scared that he’s going to—to step
back into my life and finish what he started.”

“You’re a different person now, Jeongguk. You’re stronger, and you’ve got one hell of a support
system. You’re different,” Jimin reassures quickly. His hands fall back to intertwine with
Jeongguk’s, warm and soft and fitting together perfectly. “He can’t hurt you in the same way
anymore. Besides, I’m here to protect you.”

Jeongguk can’t help the snort that leaves his throat involuntarily.

“Hey! I mean it!” Jimin squawks indignantly. “I have a mean left hook.”

“I remember,” Jeongguk grins, and it’s true. He can still see Jimin sitting on top of Eunji, fists
flying like a Valkyrie come down from the heavens, rage splitting his face in two. It’s odd to
reconcile these two versions of Jimin. And it sticks in the back of Jeongguk’s mind that he still
doesn’t know the other version of Jimin yet—the part that even Jimin himself can’t remember.

“What about you?” Jeongguk asks suddenly, reminded all at once of Jimin’s own present situation.

Jimin blinks, taken aback by the sudden shift. “What about me?”

“Are you doing okay? After hearing what Eunji did to you?”

“You mean the kidnapping?” Jimin says drily, but Jeongguk catches the way he shudders briefly
before sinking further back into the loveseat’s cushions. “I’m trying to be okay,” he says, “It’s
hard. I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to feel when I see my parents for the
first time again.”

Jimin sits forward suddenly and looks over at Jeongguk, concern plastered over his face. “I—what
if I don’t feel anything, Jeongguk?” he asks, “What if they’re strangers to me?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk says, which honestly isn’t a very helpful thing to say, but he’s truly at a
loss. Jeongguk isn’t as good as dredging up comforting words as Jimin is, but he offers a
supportive hand-squeeze in lieu of poetic words.

It makes Jimin’s expression ease, at least. “I’m just trying my best. Trying to take it one minute at
a time until it doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.”

“I get it,” Jeongguk says. He leans over to knock their shoulders together, heart in his throat for
entirely different reasons when he admits sheepishly, “Though I think that breathing is a little bit
easier with you around.”

Jimin makes an amused sound and knocks Jeongguk’s shoulder right back. “That’s so funny. I was
just thinking the exact same thing.”

Silence settles for a few moments, and the sudden warmth of Jimin’s words fills Jeongguk’s chest
in a way that he didn’t know he was always missing. It occurs to him then that he’s never really
met someone like Jimin before. Jimin is everything that Jeongguk’s not—someone so unafraid and
protective and so openly honest despite everything that he’s been through.

Jeongguk likes how Jimin makes him want to be better. Or to at least try , for the first time in a
long time.

“Jimin?” he says into the lull.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really glad that you crashed your car in my forest,”
Jeongguk says.

The laugh that Jimin lets out is bright and surprised, and it ricochets around the room and glitters in
the firelight. “Jeongguk, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really glad that I accidentally
introduced a murderer into your day job.”

Jeongguk smiles, a genuine smile, not one of the painted grimaces he usually wears, and looks at
Jimin. His eyes are a little tired, but his face is bright in the firelight. A little vee of his throat is
exposed, and he’s leaning closer to Jeongguk, and there’s that tension again strung taught like a
bowstring.

It makes Jeongguk’s heart stutter in his chest along with his breath to have Jimin looking at him
like that, like he can’t get enough of Jeongguk’s attention or words or presence. It makes it hard for
Jeongguk to think, but he forces himself to try anyway.

And as much as he doesn’t want Jimin to go—as much as he really just wants Jimin to stay here, in
his arms all night where he knows they’ll both be safe—Jeongguk forces himself to pull back.
Because they’re not caught in the middle of nowhere anymore with only each other for company.
They’re here, in Taehyung’s mansion, and they’re not the same people after everything that
happened out there—not really.

“It’s getting late,” Jeongguk says, dropping his eyes and willing the disappointment that sinks into
his stomach to dissipate. “You should—You should probably go back to your room.”

Jimin leans back, and it’s only then that Jeongguk realizes how close they were. He looks surprised
and a little hurt. “Oh, okay. Sure,” Jimin mumbles.

“Unless you—”

“No, it’s fine!” Jimin chirps quickly. He picks himself up off of the loveseat and crosses the room
quickly. “I’ll, uhm. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Jimin asks. He pauses in the doorway, looking
up at Jeongguk blankly.

And Jeongguk is really trying to fight the urge to ask Jimin to stay. He doesn’t want to be that guy
—the guy who’s desperate and terrified and would really like to not be alone. Jeongguk doesn’t
want to put all that on Jimin. Not now, and not tonight.

“Okay,” is all Jeongguk says, smiling tight-lipped.

Jimin hesitates for a half-second. His gaze sweeps over Jeongguk again, assessing briefly. And
then he takes a quick inhale and steps across the threshold and out into the hall. “Goodnight,
Jeongguk,” he mumbles.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

The door swings closed.

Jeongguk stands at the edge of the doorway, holding his breath for reasons that elude him. There’s
this… this thing sitting on his chest and squeezing tight. Jeongguk’s never been in love before, but
he thinks that this must be the kind of ache that only comes from love. It’s unpleasant, and
Jeongguk doesn’t like it, and there’s this voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop
being an idiot and go after Jimin.

Because this is Jimin. The guy who ran through literal hell with him, who didn’t run away after
Jeongguk killed someone—the kind of person who would sit with Jeongguk and listen to him and
tell him that he’s not a monster just because he’s done a few monstrous things.

Go, the voice in Jeongguk’s head urges, Go, now.

And Jeongguk takes a step forward, hand shaking just a little bit, willing himself to not be so afraid
for once in his life.

Jeongguk opens the door, and behind it is Jimin, hand raised and poised to knock.

His mouth is parted, and he’s a little bit sweaty, like he ran back down the hall as fast as he can.
Jimin’s chest rises and falls quickly as he tips his head back to meet Jeongguk’s wide-eyed stare.

“Oh,” Jimin breathes.

Jeongguk blinks, heart surging in his chest at the thought that Jimin came back for him. He can’t
find the words to say what he wants to, so instead, Jeongguk says, “Jimin.”

“Jeongguk, I—”

“Stay.” The words tumble out of Jeongguk’s mouth all of a sudden, and then he’s reaching his
hand forward to lightly grip Jimin’s raised wrist. He turns it to the side, presses a kiss into the soft
skin of it, mumbles, “Stay here tonight. With me. Please.”

The hitch in Jimin’s breath is audible. Goosebumps rise in the wake of Jeongguk’s lips, and then
Jimin is crossing the threshold in two quick strides. He tugs his hand out of Jeongguk’s grasp to
wrap his arms around Jeongguk’s neck and pull him down into a heart-stopping kiss.

“Okay,” Jimin whispers into the kiss, nothing more than a press of lips, “ Okay.” He leans his
weight forward, and Jeongguk staggers back into the room, desperately holding onto Jimin at the
same time as he kicks the door shut behind them.

Jimin kisses like he’s running out of time. He backs Jeongguk towards the bed, hands falling from
around Jeongguk’s neck to run down his sides, to glide his fingers over the expanse of Jeongguk’s
stomach. Jimin opens his mouth a little to suck at Jeongguk’s bottom lip, and it sends a ripple of
electricity through Jeongguk’s entire spine.

The back of Jeongguk’s legs collide with the bedframe so suddenly that he goes collapsing back
onto it, taking Jimin with it. The movement pulls their lips apart until Jimin’s hovering over
Jeongguk on his hands and knees, straddling Jeongguk’s lap.

And for a moment, Jeongguk has a hard time believing that this is real—that this is really
happening. Because Jimin is a fucking vision right now with his skin glittering gold in the firelight,
caging Jeongguk in, eyes a little hazy and mouth opened to let out his small pants. There’s a sheen
of Jeongguk’s saliva on his lips, and he’s looking down at Jeongguk like he’s a god.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, but it’s not a tease. He asks like he means it.
Jeongguk nods, turns his head to the side to plant a kiss into the palm that Jimin’s stroked down the
side of Jeongguk’s face. “Yeah,” he says softly, “Just making sure that this is actually happening.”

Jimin’s quiet laugh blooms around them. “It’s happening,” he reassures, settling his weight back
until he’s properly seated on Jimin’s lap, lying forward so that they’re only a few inches apart.
“You don’t have to worry right now, okay? Just be here with me. That’s all. You can let go,
Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers.

It takes a moment for the emotion choking Jeongguk’s throat up to filter out of his system.
Jeongguk reaches up, strokes along Jimin’s bottom lip with his thumb and marvels at the fullness
of it. And Jimin’s right. They’ve fought so hard to be here, to make it this far, and Jeongguk isn’t
about to waste any of the time they have together.

He wants to take his time with Jimin, just to memorize the feel of him and the way they always
seem to fit together so perfectly. So for the first time in a long time, Jeongguk pushes out the
thoughts weighing him down and focuses only on the feeling of Jimin above him, the softness of
his lips, and the want that clouds his vision.

“Okay,” Jeongguk murmurs right back. He pushes at Jimin’s lip a little more insistently until Jimin
parts them. Jeongguk leans up and slots their mouths together, running his tongue lightly against
Jimin’s own and savoring the way Jimin shivers in response.

Jimin’s hands fall down to grip at the fabric of Jeongguk’s plain white t-shirt tightly, bunching up
the fabric until it rides up a few inches on Jeongguk’s waist. Jimin pants into his mouth, a little bit
desperate already, inadvertently rolling his hips back as Jeongguk sucks on his tongue.

Jeongguk curses under his breath, head gone fuzzy at the feeling of Jimin grinding against him. He
scoots them further back on the bed without breaking the kiss, licking into Jimin’s mouth as he
brings one of his legs up to hitch under Jimin a little higher.

“Oh,” Jimin breathes out as his eyes shutter closed. His back arches involuntarily, the back of his
pajamas falling to pool around his waist at the pretty curve. Like this, his ass is settled firmly on
Jeongguk’s thigh, and Jimin presses back insistently. “Jeongguk,” he babbles, “F-Feels good.”

Jeongguk brings his thigh a touch higher, just to watch as the added pressure makes Jimin’s jaw
drop open in pleasure. It’s the first time he’s ever touched Jimin like this, and it feels a little bit like
someone’s dropped livewire into a proverbial bathtub. Every inch of Jeongguk’s skin sings where
he touches Jimin, from where Jimin’s hands run down his chest to where Jimin is riding his thigh.

There’s one terrifying second where Jeongguk panics and wonders if there’s a condom hidden
somewhere in the room, but then he remembers that this is Taehyung’s house. Of course there is.

“Please,” Jimin gasps into Jeongguk’s mouth when he tilts back down to draw another open-
mouthed kiss from his lips, “ Please. Need more. I wanna—wanna be closer.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice. He smooths his hands down Jimin’s pretty waist,
marveling at how big his own hands look wrapped around him and rolls Jimin to the side. The
sudden movement draws a surprised squeak from Jimin, and Jeongguk smirks lightly.

Jimin’s hair haloes around his head in a spattering of black on white silk, and he’s flushed from
heat and want and he looks so fucking perfect that Jeongguk mourns the fact that it’s taken them
this long to find time to be alone together.

“I’ve got you,” Jeongguk murmurs, fingers already working at the buttons on Jimin’s shirtfront.
Jeongguk licks and nips his way down Jimin’s neck, sucking marks onto the skin of Jimin’s chest
as he unveils more and more skin with each button. Underneath him, Jimin arches into the touch
and runs his hands through Jeongguk’s hair, gripping close to the scalp and tugging until
Jeongguk’s hissing.

“Don’t be a tease,” Jimin complains, suddenly sounding much more like the Jimin who haunted
Jeongguk’s doorsteps for all these weeks. He tugs on Jeongguk’s hair again, urging him to go
faster, and who is Jeongguk to refuse?

With a flick of his wrist, Jeongguk unhooks the final button, and Jimin’s shirt falls open around
him. His skin is tanned and gorgeous, and Jeongguk is pretty sure that he could spend hours
looking at the taught skin of his stomach and the pretty vee of his hips, but what’s really catching
his attention is the tent in Jimin’s pants and the wet spot already soaking through the fabric.

“Shut up,” Jimin huffs, like he can read Jeongguk’s thoughts. “It’s not like you aren’t just as
desperate.”

He’s right—Jeongguk can already feel his own cock hanging heavily in between his legs, pressing
against the fabric of his joggers every time he moves. Still, Jeongguk isn’t above teasing. He slides
his way down Jimin’s body until he’s lying in between Jimin’s legs, hitching Jimin’s thighs up and
over his shoulders until he’s face-to-face with Jimin’s clothed cock.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses. His hands grip Jeongguk’s hair a little tighter, and his head goes thumping
back onto the mattress as Jeongguk leans down to mouth at him through the layers of fabric.

Jeongguk makes his way down Jimin’s clothed length tantalizingly slow, looking up at Jimin
through his lashes and loving the way Jimin is already writhing above him. “What were you
saying?” Jeongguk teases. Jimin inhales, but Jeongguk doesn’t give him a chance to reply.

In one smooth motion, Jeongguk reaches up and tugs down the hem of Jimin’s pants and
underwear until his cock springs free. It’s pretty, curves towards Jimin’s stomach, and is beading
with precum at the tip. The sight of it makes Jeongguk’s mouth water, and he’s done with waiting
at this point.

“What’re you—oh, god, Jeongguk,” Jimin moans, tossing his head as his eyes roll back in his head
the second Jeongguk swallows Jimin down in one smooth motion. It’s been a while since
Jeongguk’s hooked up with any of the other guys in the forestry service, but it all comes back like
muscle memory. Jeongguk relaxes his jaw and breathes deep, pleased that he doesn’t even gag as
Jimin hits the back of his throat.

Above him, Jimin’s arching so hard that he’s almost off of the bedspread. “Fuck, oh, my god,
Jeongguk, please,” he groans, hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets to either of side of him.

Jeongguk hums around his length and swallows around Jimin, flattening his tongue along the
underside of Jimin’s cock before pulling off. He laves his tongue around the head and tastes the
salt of Jimin’s precum on his lips. Jeongguk tugs Jimin’s thighs a little further apart to give himself
better access, fingers digging into the meat of Jimin’s inner thighs in a way that leaves Jimin
gasping for air.

The gasps turn into mewls that echo sweetly off the walls when Jeongguk sinks all the way back
down in one go. He bobs his head a few times, closing his eyes to commit the way Jimin’s cock
sits heavily in his mouth to memory. Jeongguk’s faintly aware of the way his own desire is burning
in the base of his stomach, but he pushes it out of sight for the moment, too focused on making
Jimin feel good to care.
“Stop, stop,” Jimin pleads in a register that’s significantly higher than his speaking voice. “Please,
‘m gonna cum, and I wanna wait until you’re—oh fuck, do that again—until you’re inside me,” he
whines.

Jeongguk pulls off Jimin’s cock with an obscene ‘pop’, and licks over his spit-slick lips. “You can
do both, baby,” Jeongguk says. He barely recognizes his own voice, it’s so affected. “I’ll let you
ride me later as much as you want ‘til you cum again, hm? How’s that sound?”

“ God,” Jimin half-sobs when Jeongguk kisses the tip of his cock and goes down again. “Y-You’re
gonna kill me.” He groans throatily when Jeongguk tilts his thighs back a little more to fold Jimin
further in half, changing the angle so that Jimin’s ass hangs suspended over the bed by an inch or
so.

Jeongguk pulls off for a second, just enough to spit in his palm before sinking back down. He
spreads his saliva over his fingers until they’re wet and spreads one of Jimin’s cheeks to the side
with his free hand. The sound that Jeongguk manages to pull from Jimin’s throat when he pushes
one digit slowly inside of Jimin’s heat is delicious. Jimin’s moan bounces off the walls and sends a
lick of burning desire through Jeongguk so strong that he sees stars for a moment.

“’M close,” Jimin says airily, canting his hips up, fingers curling tight in the sheets as he fucks into
Jeongguk’s mouth desperately. “I’m so close, just need a little more, c’mon—”

The rest of his words break off into a high-pitched whine as Jeongguk slides in another of his
fingers and scissors them, massaging at Jimin’s walls to get him accustomed to the burning stretch.
It’s like this that Jimin comes for the first time, clenching around Jeongguk’s fingers as his hips
stutter, half-sobbing his way through the pleasure.

Jeongguk swallows around Jimin, fingering him through his orgasm until Jimin’s thighs are
shaking where they’re hitched over Jeongguk’s shoulders. Right when Jimin is starting to come
down from his high, Jeongguk pushes in a third finger and punches a strangled cry out of Jimin’s
lungs.

“ Ah, ah,” Jimin cries out, back arching and hair damp with sweat as he rides through his orgasm
and into oversensitivity. “J-Jeongguk, ‘s too much. Mmm! W-Wait, I—”

Jeongguk takes pity on Jimin for a heartbeat. He pulls off of Jimin’s still-hard cock and licks his
lips, swallowing down the rest of Jimin’s cum. Jeongguk turns his head to the side, presses a kiss
to Jimin’s inner thigh and fucks his fingers deeper into Jimin.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises to the sound of Jimin’s labored breathing, “So pretty like this,
hyung. Can’t wait to have you on my cock.”

“Then stop making m-me wait,” Jimin whines, hands tangling in Jeongguk’s hair and tugging.
“Hurry up.”

Jeongguk crooks his fingers inside of Jimin, thrusting particularly hard in retribution, and Jimin
shudders so violently that Jeongguk knows he’s found Jimin’s prostate. His thighs clench around
Jeongguk’s head tightly as Jeongguk massages that same spot, spreading his fingers wide a few
more times until he’s sure that Jimin is prepped.

Jimin’s hole clenches around nothing when Jeongguk pulls his fingers out. Jeongguk pushes
himself back up into sitting, Jimin’s legs still over his shoulders, and casts a look down at Jimin.
Jimin already looks wrecked— hair disheveled, brow a little sweaty—and Jeongguk dips down to
kiss him breathless.
“So good,” Jeongguk says in between kisses, tugging lightly at Jimin’s bottom lip. “Almost ready.
Where do you think Taehyung keeps the lube in here?”

Jimin blinks, eyes glassy, as he tries to refocus on Jeongguk through his desire. “Nightstand?” he
guesses.

Jeongguk leans over, rummages through the nightstand by the side of the bed, emerging
victoriously a few seconds later with a half-empty bottle of lube in-hand. “There’s no condom,”
Jeongguk says, biting his lip as he looks down at Jimin. “I haven’t—I mean, I’m clean, and it’s
been—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin says, drawing Jeongguk back to him with a hand in the fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt.
“Pretty sure it’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy anyway. Even your fingers felt like a lot. I
don’t really know what I’m gonna do when you’re inside of me.”

Despite the situation, Jeongguk laughs. He tugs Jimin’s bottoms the rest of the way off, discarding
them on the floor in a heap as he flicks open the lube bottle with one hand. “Fair enough,”
Jeongguk says. And then he’s standing for a moment to strip his own clothes off until he’s
completely naked.

The look Jimin is giving him quickly allays any and all of Jeongguk’s lingering insecurities.
Jimin’s eyes trail from Jeongguk’s tattoos to his muscled stomach and down between his legs.
Jeongguk thinks he sees Jimin’s eyes widen a little as they rest on his cock, and something primal
inside of Jeongguk preens under the attention.

“Oh, my god, get over here,” Jimin says. He spreads his legs wider, makes space for Jeongguk to
settle comfortably in between them. The moment Jeongguk is against him again, Jimin traces his
fingers down Jeongguk’s bare skin, lingering on the scars and tracing gently.

Jeongguk shivers under the attention, cock almost painfully hard as every little touch from Jimin
ricochets down his spine and into the pit of his stomach. Jeongguk coats his hand in lube, warming
it up for a few seconds before he slicks up his own cock.

“Ready?” he says, looking up to gauge Jimin’s reaction.

Jimin nods enthusiastically. His hands are tossed up by his head, and even though he’s completely
on display for Jeongguk, he doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed or hesitant. Jeongguk’s heart
clenches, and it’s enough to have Jeongguk pressing the tip of his cock into Jimin.

The second he pushes in, Jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth. Jeongguk slides deeper, lube
easing the way and squelching obscenely throughout the room, gritting his teeth as Jimin tightens
even further around him. Jeongguk tries to go slow, but it’s hard, and suddenly he’s buried to the
hilt in Jimin.

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps, eyes screwed shut. “Y-You’re big . Oh, my god, hurts,” he babbles.

Jeongguk shushes him, circling his hips smoothly to let Jimin get used to the stretch. He kisses
along Jimin’s damp temples until he can feel Jimin’s hips push down experimentally, searching for
something more.

And then Jeongguk lets go of the last of his control. He pulls out to the tip, fucks back in so hard
that the sound of it sings around the room. Jimin’s cries sweeten the air as Jeongguk nearly folds
him in half and leverages himself against the angle.

Jimin’s nails dig into Jeongguk’s sweat-slicked shoulders as Jeongguk finds a rhythm with his
thrusts that Jimin seems to like. Jimin lets out little ‘ah!’ sounds that spear through Jeongguk,
urging him to go harder, inching Jimin further up the bedspread with each thrust.

He knows he hits Jimin’s prostate again when Jimin’s entire body clenches tight around him, and
suddenly Jimin is sobbing underneath him. And Jeongguk knows instinctively that neither of them
are going to last that much longer—not with the way Jimin is rolling his hips to match Jeongguk’s,
and not with the way every single sound Jimin makes seems to make Jeongguk black out.

Jeongguk pulls out for a half-second to roll onto his side, sidling up behind Jimin. “What’re you—”
Jimin starts, voice trailing off into a drawn-out moan when Jeongguk grips one of his legs, hoists it
up, and thrusts back inside of him in one go.

Jimin takes him like he was made for it. One of his hands reaches to grip at Jeongguk’s bicep
frantically, the other tugging on the sheets so hard that one corner comes off the mattress. Like
this, Jeongguk knows he hits Jimin deeper, knows he can grind harder in those slow circles he’s
realizing Jimin really likes.

Sweat beads along Jeongguk’s hairline and drips down his temples. He can taste Jimin’s own
sweat when he sucks a mark to the space behind Jimin’s ear, tongue laving further down to the
junction of his shoulder as Jeongguk pistons his hips.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jimin warns suddenly, body twitching uncontrollably, “ Fuck, ah! Right there—
do it again, please—”

All it takes is a few more thrusts from Jeongguk before Jimin is coming with a sharp cry, ropes of
cum streaking across his hips and up to his navel. The feeling of Jimin shuddering around him and
the sound of Jimin’s broken cries are enough to push Jeongguk right over the edge shortly after.
Jeongguk comes with a shout inside of Jimin, riding out his own orgasm as he pours hot into Jimin.

A few minutes pass, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing. Jeongguk buries his face into
the side of Jimin’s neck, kissing sweetly down its length as Jimin reaches back to rake his nails
through Jeongguk’s hair.

They’re sweaty and a little bit gross, but Jeongguk finds that he doesn’t care at all. He’s holding
Jimin close, sheltered in his warmth, and it’s the closest thing to being perfectly happy that
Jeongguk has ever felt before in his life.

“I love you,” Jeongguk whispers into Jimin’s skin, cheeks flaming to life at the truth of it. Saying
it now is different from the first time, out there in the woods. It means more, Jeongguk thinks, and
for a half-second he has the irrational feeling that now that they’re out of imminent danger, Jimin
won’t say it—

“Love you too, Jeongguk,” Jimin murmurs over a yawn. He plants a sleepy kiss into Jeongguk’s
palm and sighs deeply.

And Jeongguk feels, just for a moment, that everything is absolutely perfect.
The feeling doesn’t last long.

Three days later finds Jeongguk standing on the driveway of Taehyung’s truly massive country
house. Even the driveway spans the length of one full city block, and it’s completely spot-free.
Jeongguk waits next to the shiny ‘70 Thunderbird painted an electric shade of blue. The back is
packed full of suitcases and bags, and Jeongguk feels a little like he’s being shipped off to war
instead of leaving for two days.

“You guys got everything you need?” Namjoon asks again. He peers into the backseat again to
double-check, concern drawing his eyebrows close together.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but it’s sweet how much Namjoon cares. This is, after all, the first time
Jeongguk has been more than ten miles away from any of them in a decade. “For the fiftieth time,
yes, we have everything. We’re only gonna be gone for a day or two, and we have enough luggage
for two weeks,” Jeongguk drawls.

“I just want you to be prepared, okay?” Namjoon huffs, completely-put out. His expression softens
as Seokjin leans over to press a kiss to his temple.

“It’s sweet,” Seokjin coos, “Your children are flying the nest, and you’re a nervous mama bird.”

Namjoon’s face flushes. “They aren’t—I’m not— shut up.”

Taehyung snorts out a laugh and wheels his chair a little bit closer to the Thunderbird. He comes to
a halt in front of Jimin, looking up at him with big eyes. “You’re sure that you’re going to be okay
in Seoul? You don’t need me to come along, just in case?” Taehyung asks, like he’s not currently
sitting in a wheelchair with a gunshot wound through his leg and a dark bruise blooming over his
temple.

“Taehyung, you know that you’re my soulmate, so I mean this is in the nicest way possible, but
what do you think you could possibly do?” Jimin says. “You can barely even move.”

Taehyung looks miffed that Jimin would dare suggest that he’s incapable of violence. “Namjoon
said that I could have crutches soon. Then I’ll come with built-in weaponry. That’d be useful,
right?”

“Friendly reminder that crutches are not used as weapons,” Namjoon interjects.

Under his breath, Taehyung murmurs, “Not yet they’re not.”

Hoseok pushes his way past Taehyung to offer well-wishes of his own. “You know which way
you’re going?” he asks for the millionth time, because everyone’s love language seems to be
excessive worry these days. Which, in light of everything that’s happened, is fair.

“We have the map you’ve highlighted several times,” Jeongguk grins, clapping Hoseok on the
shoulder reassuringly. “We’re good, really. Thank you, though.

Hoseok looks less than reassured. “Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, biting his lip. “But if you need
anything—”

“We’ll call,” Jimin replies. And then he takes a moment, looks around at all of the others who’ve
assembled to see them off (including one of Taehyung’s many butlers), takes a deep breath, and
says, “I just want to say thank you again. I—I know that I’ve said it before, but… you didn’t have
to do what you did for me. Really.”
“You don’t have to thank us, Jimin,” Taehyung answers chivalrously as the others nod. “I’d do it
all again for you. Well, except maybe for getting shot. That sucked. I’d do most of it all over
again.”

Jimin laughs, but it’s a little watery. He leans down to hug Taehyung, made slightly uncomfortable
by the new height difference. “That’s good enough,” he mumbles.

And Jeongguk doesn’t know exactly why this feels like a permanent goodbye, because it’s not, but
he finds himself a little choked up anyway. These are the guys he’s been around for a large swath
of his life, and leaving them behind—if only for a while—is so counterintuitive that it feels like
Jeongguk is never coming back again.

“I—I also think that I owe all of you a thank you. And… and an apology, probably,” Jeongguk
says quietly. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as his hyungs look at him, clearly confused.
Jeongguk clears his throat. “I mean—you’ve never given up on me, even when I tried to punish
you for it. You all gave me a place to stay and a place to fit in, and—I don’t know. Thank you for
wanting to be my family.”

Surprisingly, it’s Seokjin who surges forward first. There’s a split second before Jeongguk is
tugged into a spine-crushing hug that he thinks he sees tears glimmering in Seokjin’s eyes, but he
probably imagined it. “Aish, this kid,” Seokjin huffs, aggressively patting Jeongguk on the back,
“You’re still such an idiot. Please be careful out there and come back to your hyungs, okay?”

“Now who’s mother-birding?” Namjoon teases.

“I will fight you, Namjoon,” Seokjin hisses as he relinquishes his grip on Jeongguk’s shoulders and
passes him to Namjoon.

Namjoon’s hug is less bone-cracking but no less emotional. He tugs Jeongguk close, says quietly,
“You can do this, Jeongguk. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re not alone. We’re all
behind you.”

And that means a lot, especially coming from Namjoon, who knows so many of Jeongguk’s worst
secrets and darkest thoughts and still is willing to go to bat for Jeongguk. “I know. Thanks, Joon,”
Jeongguk mumbles, a little embarrassed from all the attention.

It’s worsened when Yoongi pries Namjoon off and replaces his arms with his own, encircling
Jeongguk and letting him go so quickly that Jeongguk isn’t sure the hug happened at all. But
there’s a tear track forming down one of Yoongi’s cheeks that he quickly tries to brush away, and
Jeongguk smiles. Yoongi doesn’t meet his eyes, just scuffs his foot on the ground and blushes
furiously.

Jeongguk takes mercy on him. “Okay,” he says, “If we want to make it to the station before night
falls, we should probably get going now.”

“Drive safely, please,” Yoongi mutters, eyes still glued to his shoes. “No more car crashes, okay?”

A soft laugh pulls from Jimin’s throat and glitters up into the late afternoon air. “I’m sure that I’m
a very good driver when I’m not fleeing for my life. We’ll be back before you know it,” Jimin
comforts. And then he’s waving one last goodbye to everyone assembled and clambering behind
the driver’s seat.

The car sputters to life behind Jeongguk. It takes a little longer before Jeongguk is ready to climb
in. He spends a few moments memorizing the faces of his family—Namjoon’s dimpled smile,
Yoongi’s always-unimpressed eyebrows, Hoseok’s kind grin, Taehyung’s impishly scrunched
nose, Seokjin’s judgmental stare.

Because honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s going to make it back alive. He doesn’t tell Jimin
this, and he doesn’t tell the others this. It’s Jeongguk’s secret for now.

“Goodbye, guys,” Jeongguk finally says, and he steps into the car and slides back against the white
leather, closing the door behind him.

Jimin pulls out of the driveway and navigates them out of the maze that is Taehyung’s rich-person
gated community. It’s silent for several minutes until Jimin pulls onto the highway, blinker
clicking rhythmically in the late sunlight.

After a while, Jimin looks over at Jeongguk, who sits in the passenger seat in complete silence.
“You okay?” he asks carefully.

Truthfully, Jeongguk’s thoughts are racing, but he doesn’t want to worry Jimin with all of them
right now—not when Jimin is also nail-bitingly scared. “Yeah,” Jeongguk says instead, “Just a
little bit nervous. What about you?”

Jimin shrugs casually, and Jeongguk sees right through him. Jimin doesn’t pull his eyes off of the
road, but he doesn’t have to. He can hear the trepidation in Jimin’s words when he starts, “I’m…
I’m trying to be okay. I can’t believe that I’m going to be seeing my parents again. Or for the first
time. I don’t even know.”

“I’ll go with you, if you want,” Jeongguk offers, reaching across the bench to squeeze Jimin’s thigh
reassuringly.

Jimin brings a palm down to rest on top of Jeongguk’s hand, grins, and admits, “I love that you
would, but I need to do this on my own. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Jeongguk says. He turns his palm up so that he can intertwine their fingers
and adds, “I’ll be waiting to pick you up after, though. You are coming back to Taehyung’s, right?”

They’ve never really explicitly discussed what’s going to happen after tonight’s meeting with the
Seoul police, and Jeongguk just always assumed that they’d drive back together afterwards. But
these are Jimin’s parents, who apparently haven’t seen Jimin for the better part of a year, and
Jeongguk isn’t quite so sure what the plan is anymore.

“Yeah, I’m coming back,” Jimin sighs, “I don’t think I’m really ready to live on my own or with
my parents again. And Taehyung offered to let me stay for as long as I want.” He takes his eyes off
of the road for a moment to glance at Jeongguk, brows raised. “He said that he’s taking some time
off. I—I don’t actually know if he’s planning on going back into the service any time soon.”

Jeongguk blinks in surprise. He didn’t know, but it makes sense. Taehyung’s the only one out of all
of them who’s going to carry scars from this summer. “I can’t say that I blame him,” Jeongguk
murmurs.

And in the next breath, Jimin is asking the question that’s just bloomed in Jeongguk’s mind. “Have
you thought about it? Taking time off?”

Realistically, Jeongguk knows that he needs time off, to see a therapist or get his life back together
or something else, he doesn’t know. But he definitely shouldn’t be running back into the forest
right away, not when Taehyung’s tower is still burnt down and his own tower is a crime scene.
“I guess I have,” Jeongguk admits, gazing out the window at the road signs that flicker by. “But
there aren’t a lot of prospects for high school dropouts and runaways, you know?”

Jimin hums, considering. “What about your music? You said you were pretty good. Maybe you
could do something with that.”

That isn’t actually a bad idea—Jeongguk has already got some songs of his own written down.
Being a musician has always been more of a pipe dream for Jeongguk than an actual career
consideration, but now that his life has literally gone down in flames, there’s not a lot left for
Jeongguk to lose by just trying .

“Yeah, maybe,” Jeongguk says. He’s hit with a sudden pang at the thought of leaving the forest
and his hyungs. But it might be necessary—Jeongguk thinks that it might actually be the best thing
for him. Even though it’s been his home for a decade, even though it carries memories for
Jeongguk that he’ll never forget, Jeongguk can always find a new home.

He’s done it before.

He can do it again.

“I’m sure Taehyung would be happy to have you stay with us too, if you want,” Jimin says in the
silence that follows.

“You think?”

Jimin laughs. “Oh, yeah. He’d love it.”

“Then I’ll think about it.”

The words sit in the air between them, thick with the promise that they might actually have a future
together—one beyond the confines of the forest and one single summer. The possibilities make
Jeongguk feel a little breathless, because he’s never even allowed himself to consider a proper
future with someone before.

And he’s surprised to find that he wants one with Jimin— badly . He wants a lifetime of waking up
next to him, laughing over breakfast, going on hikes and walks, and maybe even getting a dog or
two or twelve. Jeongguk wants it all. And for the first time, he’s actually in a position where he can
have it.

It makes Jeongguk’s head spin, and he tightens his grip on Jimin’s hand. He just has to get through
the next twenty-four hours unscathed, and then his entire future lies ahead.

Jimin squeezes his hand back. “We can do this can’t we?” Jimin asks suddenly, anxiety coloring
his voice. “We can survive just a little bit more, right?”

“We can do this. I promise,” Jeongguk reassures, bringing his palm up to plant a kiss on the back
of his hand.

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay,” is all he says. They change lanes, speeding down the
highway as they chase the burnt-orange of the sunset.

“Jimin?” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah?”
 “Can we make a pitstop first?” Jeongguk asks.

He’s met with a nod. “Sure,” says Jimin. “Where do you need to go?”

Jeongguk’s future lies ahead, but he’ll never truly be secure. Not yet. Not without doing one more
thing first. And Jeongguk will be damned if his life is ruined all over again because of the ghosts
of his past. This time, Jeongguk is willing to fight for what he wants, and he’s determined to win.

He’s done it once with Eunji, he can probably do it again.

“Home,” Jeongguk says.

Jimin nods, sunlight gleaming against his face as he drives down the highway. He drives them into
the sunset, off into Seoul and onward towards the rest of their lives.

Jeongguk sits further back in his seat and feels the cold metal of the gun he brought along pressing
into the skin of his lower back.

Are you ready to chase your future? the press of metal seems to ask.

Yes, Jeongguk thinks, because he is.

And this time, no one is getting in his way.

There is, after all, one more bullet left.

Chapter End Notes

LMAOO WHAT DO WE THINK OF MORALLY GREY JK

I'll see you in the next fic :))))

-Ash <3

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!