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SORRY ABOUT THE SECOND FAKE OUT IF THIS NOTIFIED U, IF IT DIDN'T I'M STILL SO SORRY !!!!
UPDATE: JULY 5TH 2021
THE REWRITE HAS BEGUN I AM SO SORRY IT IS COMING I PROMISE I'M TRYING TO FIX TAGS AND PREPARE TO OFFICIALLY DELETE THE CHAPTERS ONCE THE FIRST ONE HAS BEEN RE-WRITTEN!!!!!!! ANYWAYS I HOPE TO UPDATE AND SEE U ALL SOON WITH IT!!!pre-july, 2021it's been literal years since i wrote for this ?? mega months but i'm here with an update on writing at least !!! this story is coming back [hopefully] she yells !! i'm posting this to let everyone know that i'm going to rewrite some stuff and add some stuff here and there and remove some stuff from the first three chapters, flesh out my story and get some stuff done with it!! also we got a limit, there will officially be 7 chapters, probably six for the story and one for an epilogue,,, but i'm GOING to get this shit done for fucking SURE !!! so please be on the lookout, hopefully i'll get something up soon, but i'm excited and proud to try and finish this!! i hope that where i go with the story makes you all happy but i PROMISE i am GOING to finish it!
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[ or alternatively: sushi sunrise welcomes customers ] TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of blood, sexual abuse, depression, suicide, body dysmorphia, bulimia, homophobia and anxiety (panic attacks). 🍣 If you were to tell one Kim Namjoon that when he had initially gone to get sushi for dinner, a meal he normally only gets once a day due to his hectic schedule, that he'd end up pressed together with several other people fearing for their lives, he'd probably laugh unbelievably. But before we get too far ahead, we should explain how he got here, and just what happened that led up to 6:47 PM this Thursday night. Let's find a good place to start. 🍣 Kim Namjoon was born in Ilsan on a cool breezy day to a loving mother and father. He'd studied hard, interested in the growing culture around him from the world. He scored incredibly high on the TOEIC, taught himself English, dabbled in rapping, and graduated first in his class, after being number one since he was thirteen years old. For a moment, Namjoon did have a brief lull of, who am I, what am I doing with my life, and most notably, what is my dream? However, after all of that, he ultimately decided on going into neuroscience. (he tells people the truth when they ask why he chose it—he wanted to change the world—figured medicine was the right place to start—figured he didn't have a Dream, so going into something that could help others was the best way to start) So he's been studying neuroscience for a few years (four to be exact) and had spent the better part of his college life in the fast track program, only a little while away from completing his masters. And the later you get in your programs, the more stressed you become. The more hectic your life becomes. The more everything becomes. You see with Namjoon's hectic schedule, being his less-than-appealing homework, and his full-time internship in the Neuroscience department at Seoul's National Hospital, Namjoon has no time to be Kim Namjoon, young adult. He's just Kim Namjoon, Intern # 1 of 7, proficient in the art of getting coffee and running statistics when needed. So he's been stressed to the max, down to the 'D' and he can't really believe it if he's honest. It's like a blur, he comes to realize, late at night as he sits in front of a computer screen (for the eighth hour straight for the ninth day in a row). He is a twenty-four-year-old man. He's twenty-four and the last time he remembers having fun or having his blood pumping was two years ago when he was twenty-two and roaming the floors of a Frat party courtesy of his friend Jackson. Said boy had passed him a red solo cup filled with a mix of alcohol that had his mind reeling from the taste the moment it passed his lips. He remembers twitching, and then he was pressed against someone, mouths molded and he thinks it was someone he knew. He woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a number scrawled on his arm with a bright red kiss mark. He flushed walking down the stairs, ignoring Jackson's jeering and the following of his frat brothers. He didn't do that type of stuff often, one night stands that is. He knew whoever it was, had obviously left their number, but he also knew nothing would come from it. (still, he noted her number—he didn't think he'd ever call this mystery girl, never thought anything would come from it—didn't exactly know if it was a girl he'd been with but it didn't really matter—they still weren't getting a call) Time had gone by, and the new semester started and he'd made more friends, including that of one Jennie Kim, a girl who was born in Korea that moved to New Zealand where she lived for the better part of twenty-something years. She was young, the same species as him, his older friends would say. The same brainiac that thrives on perfection and being the best. A wonderful quality, his mother said when he mentioned the girl with an offhanded statement (but a small smile—soft, his sister would later say). In fact, he'd run into her time and time again, taking the same classes and setting up study times, being the younger ones in rooms full of people who had years on them. He remembers when he first asked for her number (it was for a class project they'd been assigned to together—but still his heart thudded in his chest as he walked up to her and her friends). She'd stared at him, flushing, something pretty, and giggled when he spoke before she slipped him a piece of paper, surprised to find the numbers matched that which had been on his arm the year before. (he never asked if she remembered him—figured if she had then she would have told him—figured if he couldn't even remember her—and whatever it was that they'd done, then maybe he didn't deserve to call her) ((and if he was honest—someone that pretty–it was too good to be true–it just wouldn't work out—his schedule was too hectic, his life too busy—his last relationship didn't work out for that reason exactly)) Now you see Namjoon is what some would call a diligent student (what others would call chaotic—neural—an overachiever if you will). He was already blowing thousands of dollars just to attend school. Why jeopardize that for any reason? Why ruin his chances at a better life? (alternatively at night they would be different questions: why blur the lines of comfort and stress? why sacrifice youth just for old age? why give in and feed s.k.y. and their never-changing problematic system? why give in to the oppressor rather than fighting for the oppressed?) But he knew why. Because in order to have a "good life", in order to give his parents and future family stability, he needed to sacrifice what little (however brief they may be—and they were brief) moments of comfort he had. So here he is, two years later, in love with one Jennie Kim ("ha!" his sister punctuated towards his brother-in-law when it was revealed) working at an internship that overworks him to the brink of his sanity. He's graduating in two months, with a masters in neuroscience, and his life is completely and totally empty. He yawns at the thought as he parks his car, clicking the button and hearing it lock behind him. (in the alley by his car, there's a man with a mask in his grasp—one he won't notice until it's too late) His phone is in his hand when he stares up at the bright vertical neon sign. Sushi Sunrise. He pauses outside the front door, glancing at his phone when it begins to ring. "Oh, eomma, hey." "My loving son." Is all that echoes in his ear. His mother and he have a conversation, it's drawn out, as they are most of the time. It begins with a coo of how sweet and precious his nephew is, how much his sister misses him, how well his father is doing and what the most recent hobby his mother and brother-in-law have decided to take up together. It goes on for minutes, so long that Namjoon orders, and eats nearly his entire meal. Finally, she asks him how life is, how he's feeling, and most importantly when he's going to "shoot your shot as the kids say Joon-ah." when speaking about Jennie. That has him groaning, cursing his younger sister in his head because his mother shouldn't be saying things like that. It sends warmth through his body though, when immediately after, she brings her voice down to a soft lull, soothing him and relaxing the tension in his body. She asks him if he's feeling okay if he's actually doing fine. So he tells her the truth. Let's her know that he's not doing okay, but he will be. That even though his life is hectic and at the moment he feels like ripping his hair out, he'll be okay. She lets him speak about it and he's twirling the straw in his tea back and forth and he looks up and eyes the clock on the wall, bright numbers sticking out at him. He says bye to everyone, laughing when Junho coos "Joon-Chun" with a bright giggle in his tiny voice. (he thinks its fate that junho cries out with a big laugh sweet and innocent—because the next sound he hears after the click of the phone is a dead phone line—and then everything goes to shit) There's a choking sound in front of him, someone trying to get words out, the voice echoing, "S'gun—" Namjoon hears the scream first. It's mangled, a screech of fear in an otherwise quiet place. To the left of him in the corner of the room, there are two boys, one with a scar on his cheek and the other with bright big eyes. The taller one shoots to his feet, covering the shorter pulling him to the ground, kicking their table to the ground as a makeshift shield as a round of bullets ricochets off in the area. Namjoon ducks, falling beneath his table and he knows his phone is somewhere, but he's not sure where it is. There's a boy beneath the table with him, eyes wide, and face blown. He's got blood on his collar, a nice silk shirt that is no longer nice. His glasses are resting upside down on the back of his head, and his eyes are wet, pulsing with fear as the color slips from his face. Namjoon looks forward, eyes focusing when he sees a body drop, blood pooling and spreading towards his feet. He lets out an inhumane noise, scrambling away from the body, unknowingly pulling the boy with the glasses back with him. He yanks, steering them towards an upturned table, arm going across his shoulders and pulling him in. To his side, there's a girl, one who looks thirteen, and he's pulling her towards him too, shielding their bodies as he presses them behind the table. A cackle echoes through the air, prominent in silencing the gunshots, and Namjoon hears sobs, thinks one is the girl between their arms. "You better be prepared," echoes as he ducks his head lower. "We're just getting started." 🍣 The first time that Kim Seokjin truly breathes is after they are rescued from this hostage situation. He's got a few bruises, a split lip, and a bullet in his leg but he's safe. However, that's truly far ahead of where we are. Growing up in a run-down house in Gwacheon has made Seokjin wary of the state around him. His time in the somewhat-run-down building, in the orphanage that wasn't the nicest but still one of the warmest places he'd ever been in his life made him realize that sometimes, sometimes there's something more to it all. When the nice orphanage auntie would smile and wave and eagerly welcome new parents and then grace them with her warm food, her bright smile, her big hugs, but she would cry her eyes out at the pain that crossed someone's face when they weren't adopted, when they were left in favor of another child. He's still not sure why he can't remember some of his time in the orphanage, surprised that he can't even recall little things except for the fact that his room was on the third floor, with a few of the other twelve plus aged boys. His corner was small, the only thing that'd been left with him being a pink elephant, attached with a letter, something scribbled fast and furious. (what he didn't remember was the room across the hall the one where the boy with the short black hair would grab him—snarling with a growl, eyebrows furrowed, face creased with harsh lines, grab him by the arm and force and force and force— —it's not something he remembers fully, not something he "unpacks" until he's sixteen and sitting on a couch in a room) Seokjin had been abandoned, the orphanage head told him one night when he was helping her cook dinner for the rest of the kids. It was December and it was cold and Seokjin was found in a tiny basket in a trash can in a park. The old man who found him took him in for a few days but he and his wife were well into their sixties and could only take care of him for so long. They came to see him every week though, didn't stop, never stopped, until after he was taken by his father. His father. That word still gave him this irrational fear. (a fear because he had a father—one who was his flesh, his family, his blood—but where was he when the orphanage boy was squeezing him, was pressing against him was pressuring him—) But he couldn't explain why. He honestly couldn't. Seokjin was thirteen years old when Kim Joongki walked through the doors of the orphanage with a clean pressed shirt and tight jeans. He was striking, in fact, his face was so similar to that of Seokjin's that people knew immediately who he was there for. "Oh, oh my." The pretty orphanage auntie had blinked. "A-are you...?" "My name," his father had begun with a crystal clear voice, full of weariness that still matched that of a confident man. "is Kim Joongki, I, uh..." he paused for a moment before bowing large and staying there. "It appears that I am forever in your debt." "Oh, uh, sir, please. Lift your head." "I believe," he'd begun softly. "That my son, he is here. I-I don't know his name, I apologize." "You look just like him. Well, I suppose he looks just like you." "H-his name?" "Seokjin." Joongki swallowed. "Seokjin." He paused again. "Is he," a shaky breath. "has he been happy?" "I'd like to think that he's enjoyed his time here. I hope you'll let him visit the young ones." "Oh, I don't know..." Joongki paused, shaking his head at the woman's fallen face. "I just mean, I don't know if he'll want to go with me and if he doesn't, then I... I don't want to force him." "I understand." She'd nodded along with him. "Would you, like to meet him?" "...do you think he would want to see me?" "I don't see why not." "He... I just don't want him to think I abandoned him. I, I didn't know... his mother, we didn't... It was a one-time thing, and it happened long before I got married. She, uh, she just passed and evidently, she had uh, she had a letter addressed to me telling me all about him and where to find him." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear about her passing. When did you receive this letter?" "...this morning. I tried to get here as soon as I could." "You found out about a son you had this morning? And you're here, from... where?" "Uh, I was in America this morning, but as I said, I just, I tried to get here as quickly as I could." "No, I understand." She smiled softly. "Wait here please." Joongki nodded, sweaty palms pressing against his jeans. He was nervous, more nervous than he'd ever been. The pretty orphanage auntie walked into his bedroom, grinning at the sweet boys, all surrounded by the television, watching a movie. (it was seokjin's favorite too—could never get the boy away from the screen when the lion king was playing—but now—) "Seokjin-ah," she called softly, watching as they all turned. "Sweetie, I have some news for you." "What is it Imo? Nala's about to meet Simba again!" "Sweetheart," she smiled. "Your, your father is here to pick you up." At this, the crowd of boys turned towards him and Seokjin's head whipped away from the television. "My what?" Seokjin frowned. "Your father sweetie, and it's, it's probably best that he explains it. Get your things, honey." Seokjin just stared for a moment, before standing, several little eyes on him, several mouths open in awe. He walked towards his bed, blinking wide-eyed, before he pulled out his stuffed animal (the one from when he was a baby), and his backpack. He turned towards the Orphanage woman. "I'm ready Imo." She placed a hand on his back, directing him towards the front. "You're not going to take any of your other animals Seokjinnie?" He shook his head. "No, I just need Joongki." "Joongki?" She paused as they walked down the hallway at a slow pace. "Is that what you named him?" "No Imo." Seokjin frowned. "His name has always been Joongki." He blinked, holding up the faded pink elephant's ear. "See, his name is Joongki. It says it right here, on the inside of his ear." She blinked, before giggling softly. "Of course honey, it's a wonderful name. You and Joongki will both be missed." "I'll miss you too Imo." Now his father, Joongki was a great man, always offered Seokjin the world. Bought him clothes and games and movies, and toys. He served his son the world on a silver platter accompanied by the finest things money could buy. But Kim Seokjin could only visit and revisit the past so often. He was no longer Seokjin, a boy without a last name and without a family. He was now, Kim Seokjin, son of Kim Joongki and Lee Hyesung. He was now Kim Seokjin, heir to Kim Motors, one of, if not the biggest, motor vehicle company in the entirety of South Korea. (he was worth millions and it was a lot—being worth nothing to no one to suddenly commanding many—he didn't take well to the strangers that cleaned his room, that stood outside his classroom, that picked him up from school—though his father often was there, alone, waiting for him—but the ceo of a multi-million dollar cooperation could only be so far away from his security detail—so the men with the big bodies and stern faces, blank and non-emotive followed) ((he cried often, in the big bed with big pillows and big blankets—cried in this unfamiliar place with these unfamiliar people—because everything was just too much)) (((he often woke up with nightmares of something, a type of claustrophobic fear that rose when things became too much—of someone he couldn't remember—of something that he couldn't remember))) That was fifteen years ago and Kim Seokjin still can't look his father in the eye for more than five minutes on end. He's twenty-six years old. It's literally the year 2020, and Kim Seokjin can barely breathe when he is in the same vicinity as his father, can't even look his step-mother in the eye. [but i will tell you this—kim joongki loves his son to the ends of the earth. he bought the orphanage he grew up in, renovated it to be the best it could be, did that with nearly three hundred other orphanages between seoul, busan, daegu and ilsan—he poured dollar after dollar, and everything he could afford to, into making other kids comfortable, into making sure that others—who weren't adopted by families, could afford nice things, could afford a family between themselves. and lee hyesung loves her son—even if he wasn't born from her—regardless of the fact that he couldn't look her in the eye, still called her "ms. lee" with a tremble to his lips and a frown marring his stunning face. but it was okay, because even if he never wanted to form a relationship with them—with her—with him—they'd be there for him until the end, until the time he tells them to be gone forever because— "because joongki-ah," his wife had smiled when he told her about a little boy the age of thirteen, who was his family, who was his everything, despite only being told of his existence nearly twenty minutes prior. "there's finally someone in this world you're going to love more than me. and there's finally someone in this world, that i love more than you."] And it's something he wants to get past. Something he doesn't really understand because he's been going to therapy since he was sixteen years old, has been dealing with the past and the present and the future for far longer than he would've liked to have been. He's sitting in Sushi Sunrise staring at the table as the people filter in and around him, his own mind racing a million miles a minute. (it's the first place he went to eat with his mother and father—the first place alone with no guards and no cameras and no awkward silence—and it means a lot to him) Because he would like, to look his father in the eye with unwavering confidence. And he would like more than anything, to hug the woman who has raised him since he was thirteen as if he were her own. He would like to have a normal conversation with his family and have it be something. He would just like to not be this way. He places his head in his hands, sucking on a piece of squid as he looks towards the people currently in the restaurant with him. (his eyes catch the clock on the wall in front of him—the same time the boy with the lab coat looks forward as well, voice coming out soft, dimples caving in on his face, smile bright and beautiful, "junho-yah, samchun loves you very much"—6:47 PM) To his side, there's a boy, directly beside him wearing a yellow and blue windbreaker, but his bright eyes are sunken in. He's on the phone with someone, as indicated by his cheekbones elevating to the sky and his bright cries of "Noona." Interestingly enough, the person that catches his eye the most is a boy, who he thinks is vaguely familiar, with his broad shoulders, wide chest, and Bambi-like eyes. In front of him, there's a man with white hair, and he stands, voice slurring, "S'g—" There's a light thunk! behind him and a gargle of something that sounds like words, but he doesn't make it out. In the next second, he catches the muscled boy's eyes, and his mouth opens as if to say something but he can't because it's too late— —because before he knows it, in the one area he felt safe, in the one area that he had a comfortable memory of his parents, everything goes wrong. It's a shot that rings out first, a shock to him, almost like a firework popping off in a small secluded area. It's loud and suddenly there's a lot of swearing, screaming, hysteria really. Seokjin can't breathe, and Cheekbones is next to him, and Seokjin can't stop himself from gripping his shoulder and pulling him back. He notices the boy from before, Dimples, pulling in a kid wearing Gucci, and watches as the bunny-like-boy pulls the other boy he was with underneath his body, shielding him and wrapping his entire being around the smaller's. Seokjin feels a hand grip his arm and the next thing he knows, he's behind a table with another guy. This man has a mess of white hair, and he's pushing a table down in front of him and pulling Seokjin, and by extension, Cheekbones into him. He wants to say thank you, can't even begin to speak before a cackle echoes in the air. "You better be prepared," a voice snaps out as he lifts his head above the table. "We're just getting started." 🍣 Ever since he can remember, Min Yoongi has had an interesting outlook on the world. It wasn't anything that he could actually pinpoint, a reason as to why, or when he started to feel different. He recognized that he wasn't the same as everyone else, and it wasn't a bad thing, he just knew that sometimes others were so happy and it made him realize that he wasn't. He didn't know that he was depressed, never really knew until he was clinically diagnosed when he was fifteen. What he really thought was that he just hadn't found what he wanted to do in life, hadn't experienced that heart-thumping joy of being happy. Believed that maybe, he just needed to find the one thing that made him feel something more. But Min Yoongi knew, that while he knew he was a little different, his mind still wandered into areas that he didn't realize weren't normal. Because there were days when he didn't think that committing suicide was worth it. (he would later realize though, that those were his good days) And then, there were days when all he could think about was how he was going to do it. (those, he came to realize, were the days that were terrible) Of course, growing up, if he's being honest, he thought everyone felt that way. He thought his mother and his father, his older brother and his younger sister, thought his teachers and his friends all contemplated the effects and the ways of committing suicide. He thought it was a daily ordeal, that everyone went through, deciding if it was worth it to die, based on small pros and cons. So as unorthodox or unbelievable as it may seem, one day, when he was fifteen, he opened his laptop and typed, out of pure curiosity. Are suicidal thoughts normal? The first thing that popped up, was the suicide hotline, to which he was surprised because he didn't even know there was a suicide hotline, so that's cool. (not cool—but cool in the sense that he can talk to someone that he can try that he can live—that if it gets too bad, there is a place he can go) There were a few more things before he got to a specific article that brought up something he'd never even thought of. Depression. So with a terrified mindset, but a blank expression, he walked up to his parents. He remembers patting his younger sister, and nudging his older brother, asking them both softly if they could leave so he could talk with their parents privately. His sister shot him a look of confusion before nodding and walking upstairs, his older brother following after patting him on the back. He sat in front of his parents and took a deep breath; the following conversation held tears (mostly by his mother—his father listened thoughtfully—but they both listened—both chose their words carefully—both didn't patronize him at all). After he finished, his mother just hugged him, bringing him close to her chest and his father just clapped him on the back. They sat there, for minutes, for what felt like days and hours, just content, just talking, just trying to understand. (to be honest, he was lucky—his parents listened to him and tried to help and tried to understand—they just tried and not a lot of people can say that they had that type of support system) Everything fell into place after that. He was clinically diagnosed with depression later that year. He began to get help, to talk to people who could help, began to take medication. (something that didn't sit well with him for a few days—because he wasn't sick—wasn't not healthy—he was normal he was fine he was just like everyone else—and he didn't take it—not at first—but it changed one day—because his siblings walked into the house—and he was on the floor of the kitchen, sobbing into his arms, with a knife right beside him and a face full of tears—his sister looked so scared, his brother equally terrified—and he told them, with a hiccuping sob that it wasn't supposed to be that way—he wasn't supposed to tell him like this—and his brother told him with a stern voice—strong and warm—and everything that min yunho was—"if you had something wrong with your heart, you'd be taking medicine for it. why is this any different?") He would like to say everything changed that day, but it didn't. It got better, yes, it got loads better, he didn't feel as empty, didn't feel as bad taking his medication, didn't feel as much as a disappointment. His family never criticized him, never berated his feelings, and honestly (honestly) considering where they lived, it was a lot, certainly more than other people would do with their own families. He's getting help though, speaking to others, involving his family in his life, enjoying the nights and the days and trying to live to his best ability. So he's amazed that this happens to him. You see he hadn't had a bad day in a while, has been able to breathe easy for a while, and honestly, he's never felt better. So he thinks it only natural this happens actually. (that's his depression talking—thinks the bad things happen because he deserves it—because he's that bad of a person and everything bad that happens is well deserved) He's out for once, trying to enjoy alone time, without having to call anyone, without having to be with his family and he's succeeding. It's nighttime, and Min Yoongi has never realized just how beautiful Korea is. But it is nighttime, and Min Yoongi is realizing that maybe, just maybe he doesn't really want to die. He's at Sushi Sunrise, a quaint little shop his brother took him after he'd been told about his depression. (they spent hours talking, and he spent hours explaining, stifling through the emotions, thoughts and other things his brother wanted to know) He's eating, debating what he wants to do next, maybe he'll go see a movie, maybe go pick up that movie Sohee had wanted to see, maybe he'll just go home and hang out with his family— He sees the gunshot before he hears it. He's looking forward, staring at a man and his daughter, just enjoying life together. (the man stands and yoongi—this is when he notices) Behind him a man walks in, hand on his belt and black mask on his face. Immediately Yoongi is suspicious (immediately yoongi is terrified). And then the man lifts his hand, Yoongi moves, jerking forward, barely speaking, "S'gun—" And the bullet leaves the gun, and Yoongi can't hear it until the man's on the ground with blood pooling around his body. He sees people moving almost immediately. A boy to the side is throwing a table down and covering the other boy he's with, broad body wrapped around the smaller ones. In front of him, a man with broad shoulder's sits ram-rod straight, standing almost immediately, turning around and yanking a boy in a windbreaker back with him. Yoongi sees them stumble and he throws his table down, turning and flipping a table for the family (for the children next to him) and pushing them behind it as quickly as he can. He grabs the man with the broad shoulder's arm and yanks him, inadvertently pulling the boy with cheekbones that ascend to heaven with him as well. He shoves them down, barricading themselves behind another table. Yoongi notices the man with the large shoulders look at him with gratitude but can't even begin to express anything before the man who pulled the trigger cackles. "You better be prepared," The man sneers at a woman who is cringing away from him. "We're just getting started." 🍣 If Kim Taehyung were being honest with you, he would tell you exactly what it was he was doing at Sushi Sunrise on a Thursday night. But since he's not going to be, here's the lie: he's at Sushi Sunrise because he had nothing better to do and just wanted to simply eat some sushi. Now for the truth: Kim Taehyung is at Sushi Sunrise because right now sushi is the one thing he would like to eat since he plans on killing himself tonight. A morbid thought, I know, believe me. He'd like to say he doesn't know how he got here, a boy who used to live on a farm in a remote corner of the world sitting in the hub of his country contemplating the idea of killing himself while wearing the finest clothes that money itself can buy. He can't fathom how the boy who had the same pair of shoes for eight years never getting a new pair, is now someone whose face graces the covers of thousands of magazines across the better half of the world. Taehyung had been in America, on a trip to see his grandmother on his mom's side, when it happened. He was surrounded by people he didn't know suddenly, a hoard of adults surveying a fifteen-year-old kid. They'd asked him, quite intricately, if he wanted to be a model, asked him if he wanted to be famous, asked him if he wanted to dominate the world. He was fifteen, didn't really know the implications or the words but he agreed. By age sixteen, he was walking at New York Fashion Week, by seventeen he'd been the youngest model to ever walk all the major fashion weeks, the youngest to ever grace each stage. By nineteen he was a top-billed model in America, and the first Asian to grace the cover of Vogue. By twenty-one, he'd been on several magazine covers and had perfected his Japanese, Chinese, and English to that of a native. By twenty-two, Kim Taehyung had more money in the clothing on his body than his parents had in their bank account. And by twenty-two, he'd realized just what exactly money does to people. It started when he was nineteen years old his mother was in a car accident. She didn't wake up, a terrible occurrence, the doctors said to him in a hushed voice and she slipped into a coma. Interestingly enough, his father didn't seem to upset about it, and Taehyung chalked that up to him not being allowed to properly show emotion when he was younger. But a few months later, with no possible idea what was wrong with his mother, Taehyung moved her to Seoul, he had the money to do it, had the money to help his mother out so why wouldn't he? He had long since moved from the countryside, missing Daegu with his entire soul, and figured that it would be best. (though he never realized that maybe he was the only one worrying about his mother—because his father, his father would ask for money, and ask and ask and ask and taehyung would give it to him, until one day) Taehyung was twenty-two and it was his birthday and his dad was nowhere to be found. So Taehyung went to look for him, and he found his father with someone, someone he knew, a noona he worked with, and he felt disgusted, amazed that his father would do this to his mother. He stared at them, ignored his father's words and attempts at excuses before he left. (he closed his father's account immediately when he got home, cutting off access to his money from anyone that wasn't his mother—and he flew his grandmother in, couldn't deal with not having anyone to turn to—his grandmother patted his hand, her own cold and wrinkly, and smiled at him, nodding and speaking softly. "you did so good taehyung-ah, i'm proud of you.") It'd been nearly two years since then and Taehyung still can't look his father in the eye, can't understand why the man thought half the things he did were okay. It's been two years and his life has gone downhill. His career was fine, he was doing what he did best, and he was still getting paid but it was all too much. Everything is just too much. Taehyung is sick to his stomach, can't understand why the idea of dying sounds better than being alive, can't understand why he thinks it would be best if he died. Taehyung doesn't understand a lot. But he doesn't really know if he wants to understand anything. It's a Thursday, most notably it is August 31, and the year is 2028. Taehyung is sitting down in Sushi Sunrise and he's wearing his favorite shirt, the first shirt his mother picked out, the first shirt he got to keep from his first major gig. He's staring mindlessly at his food, the glaring piece of octopus staring back at him. He sighs, removing his sunglasses from his face, placing them upside on the back of his head. He's trying to breathe, getting distracted momentarily by the boy in a lab coat next to him who's on the phone speaking softly and cheerfully to what he thinks is a baby what with the way his cheeks ascend to heaven. In front of him, there's a girl, a little girl, and her dad, who is speaking to her over the railing, smiling and ruffling his daughter's hair. On the wall in front of him, he watches the clock tick down one by one, screaming to the forefront of his mind, 6:47. He turns, a man with a mask on right in front of him suddenly, and he lifts his arm and behind him, a voice is speaking, "S'gu—" The blood splatters on his table first, soaking the wood in front of him. In what seems like slow motion, Taehyung notices the blood sliding down his cup of water, staining the outside of the glass. His food has little specks of red and he can feel the blood on his collar soaking in and dripping against his collarbone. He wants to scream but before he knows it he's under the table eyes focusing and unfocusing everywhere trying to figure out who it was that was just murdered. Before he knows it the body drops to the floor and the boy in the lab coat yanks him backward and he belatedly realizes who it is. (it's the man who was ruffling his daughter's hair mere seconds before—the man whose eyes are now dark and blank—because he's dead—because he is fucking dead and his daughter is shaking from where the blood splattered on her shirt) Seconds later he's tucked into the man with the lab coat and he's yanking the girl into them as well and she slides between the two of them and Taehyung can see this innate want to protect on this man's face and it spurns him, and the next thing he knows, he too, is pulling her between them. "You better be prepared," the man's voice booms as Taehyung shivers against the boy with the lab coat, fingers gripping him to protect the little girl between them. "We're just getting started." 🍣 Gag. Jung Hoseok believes that everything happens for a reason. Flush. Or at least, that's what he tells himself as he leans over the porcelain toilet in the family bathroom at the restaurant he's currently at. He's got his fingers shoved down his throat and it hurts from how much he's vomited. He can literally taste the blood. Perhaps we're getting a little ahead of ourselves again now, aren't we? Jung Hoseok was born in a small town in a small area to a small family composed of three people. His mother, his sister, and him. (when he would ask about his father, his noona would peer her wide eyes down at him, small nose scrunching up in only the way the jung children could and say with her high pitched innocent voice. "appa's dead to us hoseokie, or at least, that's what eomma says.") They were the perfect family, the perfect family with the perfect lives. Clothes always in check, hair never a strand out of place, the body always in top condition. ("there's nothing wrong with hoseok and yuhee, how is that even fair?") Grades always the highest, noses always held high, perfect smiles left on their perfect faces, not a blemish on their skin, nothing ever out of place. ("eomma wants us to look presentable hoseokie." "but we're just going to see halmeoni and harabeoji. why do we need to look like this?" "because we must always look like this. because..." "because even perfect isn't enough.") They were to be perfect, better than perfect, the absolute best at any and everything. (hoseok never really realized just how skewed his mother's idea of perfect was, never really saw a problem with who it is he was, never truly understood just how much pain his mother truly inflicted until he was older) He was thirteen when his mother suggested his sixteen-year-old sister get plastic surgery. It was an offhanded comment, something he thinks, was more like a backhanded compliment now that he truly thinks about it. ("yuhee-ah, your eyes are so pretty, even though you have mono lids. but they aren't nearly as pretty as your brother's or mine. perhaps we should get them done." "eomma i don't want to get them done though, i like my mono lids and—" "i wasn't asking yuhee." "...neh eomma.") ((jung yuhee was sixteen-years-old when she had surgery on her eyes—and she was sixteen when she cried and cried and cried because she didn't want to do it, but her mother made her and hoseok was none the wiser)) And he had always had an idea of just what he found beautiful and just what was beauty to himself. But it all changed when he turned fifteen. Because he was fifteen and his mother was standing over him, watching him work himself to the bone. At one point, he was laying on the ground, shirt off for his performance, and she grabbed his stomach, pinching the skin there ("you've gained weight seok-ah, i think you've been eating too much.") and Hoseok felt shame, at her words, at her stare, and her tone. He didn't feel bad then, but at dinner that night, she gave him a stare, one that seemed to pack more than she was physically saying at him. (and it was one he got everywhere when too much food was on his plate when he reached for food too often—one that spanned several years) ((and that night, that night hoseok threw up his entire meal until nothing but liquid sloshed from his mouth—and it was something that happened more often more times than he would like)) In his life, there were two people who caught him slouched over a toilet after a meal. The first time he was seventeen, freshly turned, and he'd had two slices of cake courtesy of his dance teacher and friends. Of course, he'd felt disgusting, larger than he was, mouth eagerly welcoming his fingers at the thought of what his mother would say, at the words, she would say to him if she found out. (he was scared of eating, scared of his mother looking at him with the eyes that she had and saying the things that she did) He remembers being slouched, throwing up everything in his body until nothing but liquid came out. The only sound in the bathroom was him, gagging and spitting and water sloshing about in his toilet. It makes sense he didn't hear anybody else. There was a knock at his stall door and he's frozen immediately. ("seok-ah, are you okay?") He relaxed almost immediately because it was just Jongin. His best friend who wouldn't do or say or start anything. He stood, fingers pushing against the cold tile to get up. (alternatively, he felt cold and tired and really, nothing could stop this innate fear and pounding in his chest—because, because what was about to happen?) When he'd walked out of the bathroom stall Jongin stared at him, he stared with his big eyes and Hoseok just broke. (he'd explained—quite erratically ((and with weight-lifting surprise)) about how he felt and jongin hugged him, told him sometimes it happened, wanted to make sure that he understood these things happened but that he was amazing no matter what) Hoseok welcomed the hug, happy with the support. (but, he realized with a frown a few days later when he couldn't stop himself from shoving his fingers down his throat—talking about it didn't make it better—didn't make it go away as he wanted it to) It was months later, the next time someone found out. (hoseok was eighteen—he was eighteen and his sister (fresh from college—home for the first time in nearly a year) bought him a cake and she showered him with affection—with love and care—and his mother eyed him with that look she had and he took a small piece of cake, something akin to a sliver and when yuhee went to put it away in the fridge, his mother pulled him aside and said quite disdainfully—"really, should you really be eating more?") Hoseok coiled in on himself after that. Not even his sister's pressing on his life could pull him out of it. The next day his mother went to work and Yuhee went to visit old friends and the first thing Hoseok did when they left was bend himself clean over the porcelain toilet in their bathroom, sticking his fingers down his throat. (his mother's image—the disdain on her face spurned him forward eagerly welcoming the burn and pain of his throat) ((he'd far passed the point of liquid rushing out now being met with blood—spitting whatever little things he can, blood splattering against the bowl, red stark against the white plane)) (((he didn't hear a thing—never does when he's closing in on himself like this))) The door flung open and he turned, tears streaming down his face, fingers lodged in his throat and met the wide eyes of his sister. She stared at him for a moment, beats passing by like nothing, and then she was falling to her knees and wrapping him in a hug tighter than he thought possible. Noona's sorry Hoseokie, oh god, I-I'm so sorry Hoseokie. This is my fault I shouldn't haven't left you here. Not alone with her. Hobi-ah, I'm sorry. He doesn't think he'll ever forget the look of sadness, the quivering bottom lip that crossed her face, and the pain of her words. (the pain he felt because this was not his sister's fault, the same way that it wasn't his—it was a waste of feelings—because yuhee shouldn't feel guilty) Hoseok gripped Yuhee back, hugging his sister as if she were going to disappear completely. (they talked, they explained, they cried—they were there for each other—"come live with me hobi-ah. please. please, because i, i'm seeing somebody, and it's helping seok-ah. it's helping a lot.") So he left. He left and it was hard, moving to live with his sister, her part-time job trying to keep both of them afloat. (alternatively, their grandparents sent them money—hoseok remembers opening the front door to the small one bedroom apartment, gasping at his sweet old grandparents who had food, groceries and other supplies—"we don't know why you left your mother, but you kids have always had good heads on your shoulders.") ((yuhee nearly cried when their grandfather slid an envelope to them—explaining that if they wanted—they'd always be there to help—with open arms and an open home)) Hoseok wants to say that it got better after that. (but his mother made unexpected visits—finding them—finding him as soon as he was making a breakthrough—as if she knew every single time without fail that he was starting to feel better about himself—she would swoop in, swoop in and destroy him) Hoseok-ah, you're incredible. All noona could ever ask for. His sister whispered into his hair one night after she'd caught him with his fingers down his throat over the toilet, the day their mother visited. ("you're destroying your son. you're destroying me! if this is how you treat us, it's no wonder appa left!" yuhee yelled at their mother one night over the phone. "don't come by again eunji-sshi, because next time i will call the police!") It's been four years since they'd seen their mother, denouncing her the night everything accumulated to be too much between them all. It's been four years and Hoseok has realized that getting over, this, is going to take time. (time he doesn't want to wait through—this is something he doesn't want to deal with) He moves to stand, the swirling of the toilet bright under the fluorescent lights in the bathroom before he washes his hands. (it doesn't seem like this will go away anytime soon—especially considering he can't even say what it is he's going through—doesn't know if he'll ever be able too) He makes his way back to his seat inside the restaurant. (sushi is one of the only things he can stomach—sometimes—it's the one thing he tends to overeat—and overeat and overeat and overeat—because he's afraid one day he fall into an abyss where he can no longer stomach anything) His eyes graze over to the clock in front of him, when his phone rings. Noona (neomu yeppo) ✨ He knows his cheeks are skyrocketing upwards, happy if anything at all to talk to his sister. "Noona!" He cheers, eyes running over the numbers, 6:47. Before he can even continue, something almost crashes in front of him, and his eyes catch the form of a man (a white-haired god standing, face pulsed with fear as he glances at him). His words are slurring, "S'g—" A crack! echoes around him, a fucking gun-shot and he can't hear anything anymore. In front of him, the man with the white-hair is throwing a table down in front of a family of kids. He jumps up, his chair falling to the ground, and he nearly falls into the table. Yuhee's voice is ringing in his ear but he can't speak, somehow managing to hang-up on her, phone still gripped in his hand. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder, pulling him back as his eyes find the dead body, and flicker to the shooter. Chaos is erupting around him, and he's burning everything into his mind, not fully comprehending anything at all. He's shoved behind a table with the God and the chaebol he was next to is helping him hide and they are both terrified. "You better be prepared," is the first thing that has registered in Hoseok's ears since the gunshot rang out. "We're just getting started." 🍣 Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook have been in love with each other since they were eight and seven respectively. Jimin had never seen a bunny come to life and Jungkook had never seen the natural personification of a star. They say they've been in love since then, and to be quite honest that's the truth. Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook were both born in Busan, in quaint towns, still miles from each other. They didn't really meet until they were kids, but at that moment they knew. (well one of them knew—jeon jungkook was captivated by the boy with the chubby cheeks and pretty eyes and breathtaking smile—and his parents laughed when he declared that the boy with the pink cheeks and equally pink lips would someday be his wife—"your husband jungkook-ah," his father said moments later accompanied by the pat of a head. "he would be your husband." jungkook turned to look up at his parents with his big wide eyes, bunny-like and innocent—"then he'll be my husband!") The two of them met one rainy day, one afternoon when both of their families went to an amusement park. It was cloudy, not too bright and not a lot of people were there. When they were standing in line, Jungkook was bouncing back and forth, rocking on his heels while his mother waited on her phone. Jimin, who was standing right behind him in line, his older brother swaying in the wind, was actively leaning watching the ride in front of them. Jungkook was getting restless, swinging his arms back and forth and back and forth. He wasn't paying attention, he barely ever did, before he was swinging too far and smacking the tiny boy behind him in the face. He turned, jumping when the other boy began to cry slightly. His mother scolded him with a frown, turning to apologize to the teenager behind them, attempting to soothe his younger brother. Jungkook stared, wide-eyed at the boy, the tiny boy with the pouty lips and round cheeks colored red, who was without a doubt, the prettiest person Jungkook had ever seen in his seven years of life. His mother tried to get him to apologize a few times before she realized her son was staring at the round-faced boy with unblinking eyes. She'd blinked, surprised when Jungkook finally moved forward to pat the boy's soft hair, apologizing in a tiny voice. Jimin had just nodded, holding his face, tiny hand cupping his fat cheek and Jungkook felt his tiny heart fluttering a million miles a minute. Jimin sniffled a couple of times before he was smiling wide and bright, eyes disappearing and cheeks flushing as red as roses. Jungkook blinked, taken back by the sudden change moving to stand by his mom and grip her leg. He peeked around to look at Jimin who's smile was slipping off his face. Jungkook flushed red, gazing at him. (unbeknownst to them both—this is when jungkook falls in love—and this is when jimin falls too) The two were close friends, always together always with each other never straying from each other's side. They only saw each other on the weekends though. Living in different parts of Busan made it so they could only hang out every so often. (not enough that they would like that is for sure) They spent six years doing this back and forth and back and forth, and it eventually came to the point where they would only be able to call each other and text each other. By the time Jimin was in his third year of middle school, Jungkook and he had resorted to only being able to call each other, very briefly. But it was okay because they were happy enough to get to interact with each other. Jimin's family decided to move, however, closer to Seoul and he was starting at a new high school, somewhere nice and open and fresh. He went there and of course, it was different. He was coming into an environment where kids had known each other forever and he was an outcast, and unfortunately like a lot of stories and dramas, and as cliche, as it was, he was the outsider. He was bullied for a while there, was upset about everything, couldn't turn to Jungkook because he was supposed to be the hyung, because he was supposed to set a good example for him. By his second month at the school, he'd already stopped calling Jungkook as much as he had, opting to just send brief texts. (something that upset jungkook to his core—frowning to his mother and father and upset beyond belief when jimin would shortly respond to him) By his second semester, Jimin was more in on himself, not really speaking to anyone except Jungkook. (but he never let on about anything at all—didn't want jungkook to think he couldn't fend for himself) ((didn't want jungkook to think he was weak, didn't want him to think jimin wasn't worth anything on his own)) By the start of his second year, Jimin was a punching bag, something no one knew or at least something people turned a blind eye too. But he had friends, made a handful through a dance club, through school and everything. Jimin was a sweetheart and people gravitated towards him. (towards his personality—towards his smile—towards his sunshine-like-disposition) During his second year, he'd heard of a transfer student in the grade below him, one causing up a stir with his one of a kind face, strong jaw, and smoldering stare. ("he's as stoic as they come, doesn't acknowledge anyone. probably wouldn't acknowledge nobodies like us." one of his friends said softly.) The first year quickly became a god, transcending the social ladder to part of the top tier hierarchy very early on. Jimin never caught sight of him though, always too busy trying to get through the crowds and maneuver his way to his classes. Until one day, Jimin was messaging Jungkook at school, the other boy responding quickly, things changed. He was minding his own business, not paying attention, when he ran into a bully, someone who'd been adamantly set on hurting him and him alone. The bully took his phone, taunting him by holding it above his head. Jimin was frowning trying to get it back when a hand took the phone away from the bully. ("it's not nice to take people's things." the voice said from behind the bully. "what is wrong with you?" and jimin recognized it as the first year everyone was talking about—had heard his voice only once or twice) The first year pushed at his bully and the boy left them alone, grumbling every which way. Jimin frowned, bowing to the first year before he accepted his phone back. He breathed out deeply before he was smiling big and wide at the younger boy, voice coming out soft and sweet, and everything Jimin was, as he said thank you. He wasn't expecting to be slammed into at all, can't say he ever saw it coming but for a brief minuscule moment, he thought he was going to die. He thought it was too good to be true and the first year who just saved his ass was going to beat it into the next lifetime. But then he was being lifted, surprisingly easily, into the air and a voice was responding with such cheer. ("j-jimin-hyung!") He was surprised that the monstrous god-like first year was Jungkook, his Jungkookie. His tiny, bunny-toothed best friend, who was no longer tiny. Jungkook was broad, shoulders wide and chest large for a fifteen-year-old, and he was still growing. As soon as he was set down Jimin was latching back on to Jungkook, having not seen him in years. The boy eagerly returned his hug, grasping at him with a fierceness Jimin didn't remember Jungkook ever having. (the next day at lunch, jimin's friends were sitting down waiting on him, and they turned as someone sat down—choking on their food when they noticed who it was. jimin was walking in, blinking when one of his friends ran up to him whispering frantically. "jimin, please explain what the hell is going on and why the monster first year is sitting at our table." before jimin could even respond, said 'monster' was raising his hand in the air, the widest, brightest smile spreading on his face, cheeks and ears flushing red as he breathlessly (whole-heartedly in love) spoke up. "jimin-hyung!" jimin flushed, tilting his head because jungkook will always be the cutest thing, even when he shoots towards the sky. jimin smiled, soft and sweet and it was then the onlooking people knew—they loved each other with their whole hearts) After this the two were inseparable, Jungkook always latched onto one Park Jimin, always trailing after him with a bright tone of 'hyung!'. If one Jeon Jungkook was seen with a smile, big or small on his face, one could expect Park Jimin to be right by his side. The boy was always seen with a stoic face until the shorter showed up, and suddenly he was the brightest happiest kid in the entire room. (alternatively, the teachers and students knew alike not to mess with jimin, always having his monster shadow (always having the bodyguard that seemed to grow every month, getting taller and broader and swelling—becoming a force of strength that would gladly hurt you if you did anything to the boy named park jimin) and it showed. jimin was happier, though it was mostly because every night jungkook walked him home, leaving him with the biggest smile ever seen on his face—and the biggest fluttering of his heart, something it seems has been happening since he was twelve years old—but things were changing and it was most notable from one of the teachers nodding to the two of them at once "jeon, jeon's boyfriend." as he made his way around them in the hallway—jimin flushed and he realized their relationship was changing in some way) ((and one night when jungkook was walking him home and he slipped his hand in jimin's—which sent forth the largest fluttering in his chest, butterflies and all—and they'd held hands before, of course, but this was different—this was them alone, this was them in the glow of the sunset as jungkook walked jimin home—this was them as two teenagers who were red-faced and glowing with a different type of feeling—that same night jungkook walked jimin to his front door, before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to his—and it was an explosion of what they'd both been wanting for years)) (((jungkook's mother slapped down several bills sliding them to jimin's mother when the two announced with red cheeks, and bright smiles that they were together, with a punctuated, "i said my jungkookie wouldn't make the first move because he'd be too afraid."))) They stayed together long after that, always with each other, always attached, always supporting one another. Jimin went to college and Jungkook followed. And several years later when they were still together and Jungkook was twenty and Jimin was twenty-two, Jungkook got down on one knee and he proposed. Of course, Jimin said yes, he'd have been crazy not to marry the man who'd been in his life since he could remember. He had a point to get to here. They've been married for a year and a half now, and their lives are amazing. ("because my life is with you hyung." jungkook would always say when jimin asked, and of course he flushed redder than he thought was possible) And now, right now, Jimin is nervous. He is terrified because the love of his life is going to celebrate his twenty-second birthday literally, tomorrow, and he is about to drop a bomb. (a figurative one, i should specify—something that would change their lives—and i'm sure you already know what it is) He suggested they go to Sushi Sunrise (it was where they had their first date—because jimin was absolutely in love with the environment and the food and years later it still holds such good feelings for them). ((of course, you know what's going to happen)) Evidentally Jimin is staring too long and too often into space because— —Jungkook reaches across the table, sliding his larger hand over Jimin's own, wedding ring glinting in the light. "Baby, you alright?" Jimin nods, a small sheepish smile crossing his face and Jungkook's heart nearly soars when the man in front of him flushes a pretty color. "Of course love. I'm sorry I was just thinking." Jungkook grinned. "Don't apologize, you were just going all wide-eyed, I wanted to make sure you were okay." (jimin was thankful for this man—the love of his life—for being just like this) "I'm always okay when I'm with you." Jungkook blinked, momentarily taken back by the words, cheeks burning red and ears flushing, a gaze of unabashed shyness falling over him. Something that happens sparingly between them, Jimin usually the one being flustered to no ends by the man in front of him. Jimin smiled, soft and warm and the exact reason Jungkook fell in love with him in the first place. Jungkook's nose scrunched up, in just the way it did, in just the way it did when he was so happy when he was so in love. "Hyung?" Jungkook tapped the top of his hand once more. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little out of it. If you're not feeling good, we can home. It's not going to be a problem, you know?" "I know." Jimin smiled softly before he was leaning in. "I'm fine, I'm just a little tired." "We can go home then. Turn in early. We don't have to do anything else tonight." "Hmm," He framed his face with both of his hands. "Oppa doesn't want to do anything." Jungkook blinked, ears burning red and he rolled his eyes, smiling wide. "Don't do that." "But oppa~" "Jimin, stop." Jungkook snorted, throwing a crinkled napkin at him. "I'm serious!" He laughed before he caught sight of someone. Jimin frowned, turning to stare with him briefly. "What's up?" "I think," Jungkook began, eyebrow-raising. "I think I know him." "Really? The one with the lips or the doctor with the dimples?" Jungkook turned back towards him almost immediately, eyes narrowing. "Why were you looking at his lips?" "I wasn't, I just happened to notice them. He's got nice ones." "Sorry I have a non-existent top lip hyung." "It's okay," He grinned, breathtakingly gorgeous. "I have enough lips for the both of us." Jimin puckered his lips up for a kiss. Jungkook laughed. "You do, and you shouldn't do that in public. At least while we're here." He snorted. "But I meant the one with the lips, though his shoulders were the thing I saw." "Yeah, I think he's actually broader than you." "I'm two seconds away from killing him because my husband likes to look at him." "I'm just joking, you doofus." Jungkook rolled his eyes. "But I am serious though, I feel like I know him." "Have you seen him through work?" "I think..." Jungkook looked forward, eyes grazing the clock on the wall 6:47 before he turned to look back at the broad-shouldered man, just as the man was looking at him also. "I think he's the son of Kim Jo—" Beside them, the man with the white hair stands, pointing forward, and his words are slurring before Jungkook can finish, "S'gu—" and he's following the man's arm, eyes passing over the broad shoulders to see a man in a mask and Jungkook is suddenly quiet and terrified. A crack! immediately sounds out and Jungkook is tensing, dropping whatever was in his hands. He's on his feet in seconds, watching as chaos is erupting completely around them. The man next them is throwing a table down and Jungkook follows, yanking Jimin into his chest and kicking their table down. Jimin's shaking, startled by the noise but most of all confused as to what is happening. "Jungkookie—" Jungkook's got Jimin's head in his chest, gripping Jimin between his arms, watching as the man in the doctor coat is gripping a girl lying behind a table quickly. "—hyung don't look." He's gripping Jimin for dear life now. "Please hyung, whatever you do, don't look." He slams their bodies to the ground, not meaning to be so rough but the shots are still being fired and he will be damned if Park Jimin loses his life tonight. Jimin is gripping the back of Jungkook's shirt and Jungkook is attempting to shield him, his mind focusing on no one but Jimin. (focusing purely on protecting jimin and jimin alone) "You better be prepared," A voice booms as Jungkook tucks Jimin into his body, curling inward and shoving the love of his life further away from the horror happening behind his back. "We're just getting started."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of blood, sexual abuse, depression, suicide, body dysmorphia, bulimia, homophobia, and anxiety (panic attacks).
In Namjoon's twenty-four years of life, nothing has felt quite terrifying like this before.(namjoon is twenty-four and for all he knows he will die before his twenty-fifth birthday—he will die before he has done anything with his life—it makes him sick)His eyes glance at the clock on the wall, the cracked, blood splattered clock, numbers burning into his retinas.6:49The gunshots finally cease, rounds blaring constantly since the clock ticked to 6:47.He looks around briefly, and though he is thankful, he's confused at the low body count, only one corpse evident.(the man is lying face up, mouth open, wound in his chest, blood on his shirt, a pink and green haiwaiian shirt that is no longer pink and green but red and maroon and dark overall)The past two minutes have stretched longer than anything he can remember.(briefly, as he grips the other boy and tries to shield the girl in his arms—he thinks of jennie, thinks of the life they could've had if he'd just owned up to his feelings—thinks of how she would have looked so pretty—the most absolute gorgeous girl in white—how pretty she would have looked holding a baby in her arms—a baby with his mouth and dimples, with her nose and eyes and his hair—the perfect combination of the two of them, the product of the love between two people—he only thinks this, only imagines her, because right now, right now he doesn't know if he'll be alive in five minutes—doesn't know if she'll be standing over his casket in a week and she'll never know that he was irrevocably, undeniably, and completely in love with her)It's silent now but Namjoon knows it's not safe, doesn't want to chance anything.For a full minute, there is utter silence from the men who stormed in. He hears labored breathing and quiet sobbing but it's so soft he's surprised he noticed until he realizes it's the girl between him and Sunglasses.His fingers tighten around the boy, they dig into his arm, and Sunglasses tightens his grip back as if he's trying to let Namjoon know he understands as if they're trying to quiet her pain and sobs with their bodies so they don't try to hurt her."Now now," a crass voice speaks, sickening and grotesque to the core. "Don't be like that, we just want to play."(immediately namjoon feels anger and bile rise in his throat but he doesn't want to incur more wrath—and he knows that if he does something, says the wrong thing—yes he would die, but how many others would pay for his ignorance? he could wage his own life, but he could not wage another's—could never)Someone moves behind him, a woman, trying to hush her child, and a shot rings out and then she's wailing and Namjoon's shaking.He can't bear to look, couldn't handle seeing a man murdered, can't think about what he would do if they did what he thinks they did.The woman is nearly screeching, something terrible and broken.(namjoon is about to throw up—)Another shot rings out and she quiets immediately.(he won't look—he can't look—he. will. not. look.)"Man, listen, lady, all I did was shoot you in the shoulder. Next time you can't spook me, if you do, I might actually hurt you... or your baby."Sunglasses releases a sigh releases his breath, nearly sobbing a "Thank god, I t-thought he'd..."Namjoon nods, gripping him.Gunman # 1 lets a round of bullets ricochet off the ceiling."I want everybody up, or we shoot the woman and her baby."Namjoon is moving to stand, and he watches as the white-haired man from earlier, the one with a double helix piercing stands quicker than he did. He's got his hands in the air, trying to prove to them he's got nothing on him.To his side, there are two boys slowly standing, the taller of the two shielding the other doing the exact same with his hands.As everyone stands Gunman # 1 grins with the surprising reception of his words.He gathers everyone into the middle of the restaurant.Before they know it, all the chairs and table are being upturned and everyone's standing tightly together.Namjoon looks around for the workers, begging, hoping, praying that they're safe, that they got out.Before he can formulate his next thought the gunman to his side speaks up, rough satori blaring, Busan accent prominent. "Ma, don't hope for the employees to save you. They've been thoroughly disposed of.""Now come on," Gunman # 1 speaks up. "Don't lie." He smirks, chuckling dark and loud. "The employees have all been kicked out of the restaurant. No need for more casualties, yeah?"(the girl namjoon and sunglasses had been holding onto nearly sobbed again—he felt sick)"I don't want to hear anything you guys, you see, I will still kill someone if I need to, ya know?"There's a shaky breath beside him and then a voice speaks softly (but most of all—terrified) and he realizes only him and the boy on the other side of him can truly hear him. "When I told my therapist I wanted to die I didn't mean this way."At his words, Namjoon turns toward him, eyes taking in the appearance of the man next to him. It's Double Helix, his near-white hair sticking out like a sore thumb among the black and brown hair of everyone else. He's got a black shirt on and there's a tattoo peaking near the base that stops right at his neck.Beside him the taller boy from before—Muscles, namjoon nicknames him suddenly, with his big arms, big thighs, and strong jaw—looks towards Double Helix, his wide Bambi-like-eyes glossy as they take in the words the blonde just spoke. He's impressionable, and Namjoon is hit with this urge to protect and teach and guide this boy with the wide eyes that gleam. He looks grown, but more than likely he's Namjoon's age.Before Namjoon can ask, can try to deflect the words off this somewhat impressionable looking man another voice speaks up."Alrighty then," Gunman # 1 moves towards everyone, gun on his hip. "I want all the women in this corner, snot-nosed brats too. The rest of you over here.""And why would you want that?" Someone else speaks up and Namjoon turns to see Muscles glaring at the Gunman in front of him.(briefly, namjoon is surprised—but so is double helix and the boy behind him stiffens in surprise—eyebrows pulling together in what looks like pure adulterated terror)"Hohoho. Looks like we got a boy who thinks he's a man."Muscles' jaw clenched and he's frowning, eyebrows furrowed. He glares, something fierce, eyes narrowed before he speaks back."I'm pretty sure the only reason you're talking like this is because you have a gun, and we don't." Muscles shoots back with a snarl and Namjoon watches as a shorter boy who'd been with him earlier—Angel Face—pales, fingers going to grip Muscles' shirt.The Gunman stalks towards them and Muscles maintains eye contact the entire time. "Ooh, I like you. You don't seem to be as much as a wuss as the rest of these pansies.""You mean the innocent people you're scarring for the sake of making yourself feel like you have a big dick?""Yeah, those people." He chuckles. "Why don't you want me separating you guys though? Come here with your girlfriend? Sister? Don't want me touching anybody, is that what it is? Afraid I'm gonna take one of these whores and show them what a real man can do?"Muscles' frown deepens and his glare intensifies."Hoho, I think I hit the mark." The Gunman snorts. "Don't worry, we're not here for that. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret. We're letting the women and the children go in about an hour once the police and negotiators get here. We really just need the boys.""For what?""Well, rumor has it, one of you is the heir to Kim Motors."From the corner of his eyes, Namjoon watches as a man with broad shoulder's tenses."We honestly just want him. Need to have a hostage to string that money out of Daddy Dearest.""That's it, you're, you're killing people because you want money?""Money makes the world go round, Bambi." He says this as he pats Muscles' cherry red hair. "You gotta do what you gotta do.""You know," Muscles frowns. "All I'm hearing is a murderer trying to come up with an excuse to prove he's not a bad person."The Gunman smiles wide and excited. "Well actually," he pulls the gun out, looking at the weapon almost... fondly. "I haven't murdered anybody. This old man," he walked to the body still lying in the middle of the floor, running his fingers through the blood that pooled beneath it. "My friend over there killed him." He walked back towards Muscles before he made eye contact with him. He took his fingers covered with blood, grabbed Muscles' face and wiped them on both of his cheeks.(the action made namjoon sick to his stomach—and behind him, he heard the boy with the smile like sunshine gagging quietly)"And I will say this, I did say I liked you Bambi, but," His face morphs into a sneer before he's whacking him across the jaw with the grip of the gun. "If I kill anyone, as sad as it is. It's gonna be you."Muscles jaw clenched, lip split, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth."Have fun with that blood, if you wipe it off," he looked towards Angel Face behind him and pointed. "That one right there, he gets a bullet through his head." He snorted before walking away. "Now all of you move your asses where I told you too. Or else Bambi here is the next casualty."Angel Face swallows, hands gripping his arms as he keeps his head down.The Gunman walks off and everyone starts moving to the areas he said. Namjoon notices from the corner of his eye that immediately Angel Face has Muscles' chin in his hand. His eyes are running over every little thing on the taller's face and he's frowning, tears pooling in his eyes."Hyung," Muscles whispers softly, wiping at the flushed cheek. "Don't cry, please. I'm sorry.""You," Angel Face gets out, taking the sleeve of his red sweater and dabbing at Muscles' mouth. "Are an absolute asshole.""I know.""The worst.""I know.""Literally," he sniffs, "I can't stand you.""I know," he utters even softer than before.He sees Muscles place a hand on Angel Face's waist. His fingers brushing beneath it at the shorter boy's skin. Namjoon notices tension leave both of their bodies as if this simple skin-on-skin contact was enough to alleviate the tightness of their postures.For a moment Namjoon is hopeful that they will make it out alive. He is praying to a God, one that he doesn't believe in, to just make sure, that everyone is safe.Unfortunately, that's not what happens.Seokjin can't think as they move to separate into their secluded groups.Immediately he wants to come forward and shout, wants to let the gunman know that he is the heir to Kim Motors. He wants everyone out and safe but he is terrified. He can't fathom what would happen.His eyes stray to the dead body, mind formulating over and over and over, the pros and cons of every single different scenario.Seokjin is by no means calculating, he often didn't know an easy choice from a difficult one.But he can't fathom what to do.He knows the smartest option would be to give himself up, to say who he was, to let them take him hostage, they wouldn't kill him, they needed him.But he doesn't know what they would do.So his safest option was to sit, hide and not say a peep on who he was, because if he did tell them who he was, if he did, they may kill everyone, may murder them all because they had what they came for and Seokjin would not be responsible for the murder of innocent people.(he would not—and he will not)In front of him, the boy who argued with the Gunman stares forward, talking to the boy with the pouty lips. They're close, enough that Seokjin's eyes linger on them briefly.His eyes catch the glint of something on their hands, silver bands and Seokjin blinks, eyes flickering to the gunmen standing behind them.Beside him, Dimples and Gucci are helping some of the women carry their children to the area the gunmen asked them to go.Seokjin is briefly standing there, ignoring the world around him.(he is watching the gunmen in a worriment—because these men are loaded—and they will kill for the slightest mess up)((in the back of his mind he knows he brought his cellphone, but it's laying in a pile of other ones—ones they'd taken from the floor, taken from the people))He can't bring himself to understand the turn of events.Can't even begin to fathom what all is happening.Behind him, there's a bang, and he notices it's the white-haired man who helped him and Cheekbones get to safety previously. Seokjin would like to think he could muster enough courage to walk up to him but he can't really think about anything other than his cellphone and how close he is to the pile of devices sitting in the middle of the floor.(no one's looking at him—he could probably grab it and hide behind a group of people)((the gunmen aren't paying attention to him—they're eyeing the boy who spoke out previously, eyes surveying him and the gorgeous boy he's with—no doubt trying to figure out the nature of their relationship—no doubt planning to kill them if what he thinks they are is what they really are))(((he looks around once more—no one is watching him)))He reaches his hand out, keeping his eyes firmly on the area of the armed men.His phone is underneath two others, he just needs to move them and he'll have it in his grasp.(it's all he needs to do)His fingers grasp the top one moving it to the side, sliding the other out of the way in the process. In front of him, Gunman swings a gun up, pointing at a woman and her child and Seokjin freezes.The gun is being pointed at her, and the gunman is walking forward to the point that she'll be staring down the barrel of the gun. Before he gets close, Bambi shoots over, Mochi behind him. Bambi lifts the woman, and her child in the process, moving them behind him into Mochi's open arms, the two ushering her into the other crowd of others. Bambi glares, and Gunman # 1 cackles almost fondly as he stares at him in return.Seokjin's alarmed, as the gunman takes the time to chuckle and lifts his eyes, and Seokjin is about to be caught with a phone in hand.Before he can hesitate anymore, he swipes his phone, slipping it into his pocket, moving away quickly.(that wasn't so bad—)"What, did you think it would be that easy?" A voice echoes out behind him.(—he stands corrected)Yoongi really can't believe the events that have happened in the past twenty minutes.He's amazed that the Muscle Pig is still alive, after having spoken out against Dumbass # 1 who is holding the gun in his hand as if it were an umbrella. He's amazed that he is still alive and he's amazed that no one's been shot.What he's most amazed by, though, is the fact he just watched Shoulders swipe his phone in the most obvious way possible, with no one managing so much as a look.Shoulders tenses after he speaks and he realizes in this situation he probably shouldn't scare the man who is attempting to do something."I just meant," Yoongi walks out in front of him, dragging him further away from the pile, and moving him towards the group, speaking softly to him. "What are you going to do now? How are you going to get the opportunity to use your phone?"Shoulders is tense for a second before speaking. "I just want to help, I just want to get everyone out of here," his eyes flickered to the body on the ground at the Gunman's feet. "Alive."Yoongi is silent for a moment.(because he gets that, and he understands)"I do too. But getting them out of here alive is going to take a plan," He side-eyes the gunmen. "And I just want to know if you have one."Shoulders balks before he makes eye contact, "I don't, I don't have one, but to be quite honest, thirty-five seconds ago, I didn't think that I would have even the slightest chance to contact anyone outside," he whispers fervently as his eyes glide over to the group of women and children. "And I don't know where to go from here."Shoulders sounds like he is close to having a breakdown and Yoongi has felt that way for the past six hours so he can relate.(for the briefest moment he wants to ignore everything—wants to not try to do what he is about to do, but he can't help it, not when there is a group of kids, a group of babies sitting behind him being corraled by guns—he knows he can't let this go)"I'll help you then," Yoongi grins out softly, an awkward smile on his face. "I don't know what I can offer right now, but I'll help."Shoulders stares at him for a moment and nods. He opens his mouth to speak again when a crash echoes behind him. Yoongi turns, squaring up in front of Shoulders (because he has a phone—because he is the man who can call someone at this moment) and he makes eye contact with another man. A man who is reaching for a phone, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on him. He makes eye contact with the gunmen, reaching for a phone Yoongi assumes is his, and he's dialing the police before anyone else can move.Yoongi makes eye contact with Lab Coat who moves Eyebrows and the girl with them behind him.(to the side, the muscle pig that snapped out at the dick head moves his friend behind him and the boy with the windbreaker (who is also one of the cutest people yoongi's ever seen in his life—though now is not the time to be thinking about that) is in the line of sight and yoongi yanks him into his chest, moving him away)"Now now," The lead Dickhead speaks out. "We can't let you do that."The man in front of them is screaming into the phone, "—please help us, they've got us, Sushi Sunrise, we're at Sushi Sunrise—""But thanks for that heads up."The next thing he knows, there's a Crack! and the man is spluttering blood.It flies everywhere, the red that splatters on the gray carpet, slapping against the floor in a manner that has Yoongi reeling his head back.(body count: 2)((the cutie in his arms shakes, gripping his arms, before he turns to the side, and promptly vomits at his feet))If there is one thing Taehyung has realized very easily, it is that films and television shows, no matter how graphic, do not have a clear picture of the suffocating fear and downright disturbing atmosphere that befalls an area when someone is murdered.It is a moment of intense realization that you have just watched someone who was breathing, someone who once had a spark of life within them, someone who was living, fall to the floor in a heap. It's quite upsetting to see someone become a lifeless doll, to watch the color drain from their cheeks or the light leave their eyes.(that's two people dead in five minutes—and he can feel the blood on his shirt seeping and weighing the cloth down—it's pulling at his body, making him sink to the floor—and he can feel his body going numb)The Intern from before is still holding onto the girl (whose father was killed minutes ago—her face is still stained with his blood and taehyung is about to vomit) who is gripping his hand with a shake to her body. In front of them, a man with shoulders broader than anyone else in the area is pale, and he's behind the white-haired man with piercings along his ear. Piercings is holding a boy in his arms, and he's got vomit on his face, legs shaking and Taehyung is not that far behind from looking like that himself.Behind him, Taehyung can hear sobbing, a shriek of horror leaving someone followed by a thump! Taehyung turns around and he can briefly see a boy with red hair with his arms wrapped around a shorter boy who is having trouble breathing into his chest.(alternatively, he nicknames them Thighs and Ddeok immediately—the two boys are stunning—and by the grip, they have on each other—they are probably something more than what he thinks they are)Taehyung turns back forward and the Douchebag who shot the man continues to speak. "I guess it's good to know that the police are on their way. A little earlier than planned but still on the way none-the-less." He huffs a laugh eyes gazing at Thighs in a way that screams 'Watch out!'Taehyung can't breathe, unable to fathom what exactly just happened in an understanding way."I'm only gonna say this once," Douchebag sneers suddenly, gun aiming towards the ceiling and he lets off a round. "Move your fucking asses where I said to. You," he turns to another one of his lackey's gesturing to the phones. "Get rid of all the phones, now." He growls out making his way towards the phone that has blood smeared on the screen. He glances at Piercings and Windbreaker grinning eerily at the two of them before he lifts the phone, face lighting up in surprise at the still-running phone call. Taehyung is looking at him when he feels a tug, and turns, gripping the little girl before her hand can slip out of his.One of the gunmen yanks her arm again, before barking out. "Let go of her, or I'll blast your fucking face in."Behind him, Douchebag speaks into the phone. "Hello? Seoul Police? Ah, hello, my name is—"The Intern places a hand on his arm and Taehyung turns to look at him with wide eyes and he just nods. He turns to look at the little girl (the shaking little girl whose tears have mixed with her father's blood that is still on her face) and she looks scared but she lets go, herded into the crowd of women.(one woman grabs her immediately, wiping at her face and whispering to her, speaking out softly, "it's going to be alright sweetheart, it will be alright.")As they move to the sides of the room, Taehyung glances towards the other dead body, and he almost vomits.(the intern places a hand against his back, and he nearly gags, nearly falls into this man)Before anything else can happen, a woman in front of them faints.(taehyung recognizes her immediately as the woman who was shot seconds before—minutes?—how fucking long has it been since they stopped shooting?—how long has it been since they shot the first man?)The Intern is by her side instantly, Thighs along with him as they try to check on her.Taehyung wants to move to help as well but guns are being pointed at both Thighs and the Intern and he has to stop from gasping in surprise when they don't move."Move, or all of you die."Ddeok lets out a noise of fear that has Taehyung mimicking it quickly as the men continue to speak.The Intern speaks up, voice deep and soothingly calm, remarkably so considering the situation they're in. "Please, she'll die, she's already losing a lot of blood." He continues. "You have to get her to a hospital."Behind him, surveying the entire scene, Douchebag continues to speak. "Ah, I'm sorry, I was distracted for a moment," he scoffs. "You see, three people were shot, two are dead, one is on her way there and I'd hate for her child to become an orphan, but mother dearest doesn't look like she's going to make it. If you can get here in time, and if you can get us at least ₩1195000, I'll let the women and children go. If you can't get us the money, well, she dies and that's on you, so I guess you should probably do it huh?"Taehyung stares forward and whatever the police say, it is most likely not what Douchebag would like to hear, because the next second he knows he's sneering, lifting the gun, and shooting another woman in the chest, turning and shooting a man in the arm.(taehyung watches as the woman falls to the ground—lifeless and dead—another dead body—in the span of ten minutes—and the man who was shot, grips his arm—his yells in pain echoing in taehyung's mind)"I just killed one, and I shot another. Please, try me, I have enough bodies to spare."Taehyung heaves, falling against a table before he's shaking uncontrollably.(the body count has risen—it is now at three)Hoseok is gripping the man in front of him tightly, fingers digging into his arms.He's shaking, incredibly much so, staring at the man who is gripping his arm, dark liquid running down his arm as he writhes in pain."Oh my god," the God with the white hair whispers out. Hoseok swallows, something akin to horror creeping up his back and settling in his chest.Behind the God, the man who helped him before is shaking behind them both.Hoseok isn't sure how it happens, but he's being held up by two arms, and a hand is patting his back."—etter shut them the fuck up!"Chaebol moves to help the God move Hoseok away from the dead body, and he thinks he's going green in the face again because the God speaks up quickly. "Don't look," he rushes out. "If you need to look anywhere look at me." His voice is rough. "Or close your eyes, I'll guide you but please don't look. Don't look or you might be next."And the implications of his words sends more fear shuttering down his spine, twisting in his core and lying in wait.He is thirty-two seconds away from vomiting once more but the fear has closed its hands around his neck, warning him of what may happen should he choose to let his stomach run loose again.Hoseok watches as the boy in the lab coat—or doctor's coat he assumes, a nice white doctor's coat that is now red and bloody and maroon in certain areas—has got a hand on her neck, feeling her pulse and the boy with the red hair and eyes that give away his every emotion is looking at him, conveying to him to ask for help in any way.The Man with the Gun frowns, before he speaks, eerily calm once again. "You have a minute to move before I put a bullet in your head."A phone begins to ring, and he turns, blinking in confusion at the device that cut him off. He moves his hand through all the phones before he lifts a white device. He stares at the screen, before he grins, something evil.(something that sends a cold chill of horror down his spine)"Hmm, Jennie, huh? Pretty girl."Almost immediately as the words are spoken, the boy with the dimples snaps his head up."Oho," the Man with the Gun raises an eyebrow. "I see she's yours huh?" It's quiet now, even more so then it had been. "It'd be a shame if she came here, wouldn't it be? If her lovely dear old boyfriend told her to stop by Sushi Sunrise and for the door to open, just for a bullet to be placed nice and neat in her chest?" He continues, "So let's make a proposition Loverboy," a sneer, full of hatred and anger crossed his face. "Pick right now? Do we message the lovely lady and kill her right in front of you, or do you help out that dear old woman right before your eyes?"Before Loverboy can speak, the Alpha male with the red hair snarls at him. "You're sick you know?"To his surprise, the Man with the Gun just throws his head back and laughs. "Bambi, you're killing me here! Everyone else is shaking in their boots and you have the balls to snap back, I love it!" He leans forward, resting on one foot. "You know I feel that if it was anyone else but you, I'd shoot them without so much as a blink. But you, you kid, I actually don't want to kill! Amazing considering it hasn't even been an hour. And my oh my, what an interesting fifteen minutes it's been!"(hoseok's blood simmers, and he feels so hot—so hot because it's only been fifteen minutes—it's felt like hours have ticked by, moments of terror spanning years have flashed, but it's only been. fifteen. minutes.)"Okay fine," he snorts again. "Because I respect the gumption you have Bambi," he turns to Loverboy, "I won't make you choose. But, I'm gonna give you some incentive to listen to me next time." He grins and swipes his finger across the screen lifting the phone to his ear. "Hi? Jennie dear?" A pause and a smile fleets across his face. "In about twenty minutes when you check the news, you'll see a report coming to you because of a shooting and hostage situation at Sushi Sunrise. Now I don't want to alarm you, but your boyfriend's here with us. Don't fret though," Hoseok goes rigid at the look on his face and the next words that come out of his mouth. "Loverboy still has all his limbs, and his dimples are accounted for. But sweet little Jennie, we can change that real quick," he throws back a laugh. "I'll let you talk to him for one second. Say any potential goodbyes."The Man with the Gun makes his way towards Loverboy and presses the phone to his ear. "Tell her how you feel," He laughs out but is only met with silence; almost immediately, he takes his gun, pressing it to the underside of Lover boy's chin. "Come now, speak.""Jennie," he chokes out, "Jennie, I, I can't..." He stops offhandedly.The Man with the Gun frowns. "Come on, you can do better."Loverboy opens his mouth like he's mulling over several different things to say but a wave crosses his face and he speaks out softly and tired, voice with finality to it. "I'm sorry."The Man with the Gun cackles, removing his gun and the phone. "You heard him sweet thing, he's sorry. Guess we'll see what happens, won't we? Hopefully, the last thing your boyfriend ever says to you isn't 'I'm sorry' huh?" A grin crosses his face and Hoseok shivers against the God. "Goodbye, Jennie." He ends the call and looks at Loverboy, "That wasn't so hard to listen was it?"Before any more words can be spoken, a banging erupts on the front door to the restaurant and suddenly Hoseok notices the sirens that are echoing all around them.(how long had the police been there? how long had the ambulance been there already?)The Man with the Gun looks towards the rest of his accomplices before his smile turns into something he's not entirely sure of, voice coming out pinched. "Showtime."Jimin is terrified once the pounding stops. He's standing behind the boy with the Gucci clothing, breathing so hard he thinks he might have a panic attack.Jungkook is glaring at the Ringleader who is smiling back at him and Jimin is terrified that he might do something stupid.(he's afraid because he knows jeon jungkook in and out and he knows that the boy is shy and sweet, but he will stand up to a bully even if it costs him his life and jimin is fucking terrified that it will come to that)((he is terrified because it will most likely happen))The Ringleader walks towards the door with a vacant look on his face, gun slung lazily in his hand.Jimin wants to yank Jungkook towards him, get him far away from the line of sight but he can't, to scared to even move. He makes a noise, something akin to a groan and a whimper and Jungkook is looking at him immediately, whispering to the Dr. Hyung, who is staring at the spot where the Ringleader had been with a look of fear mixed with blankness as if he doesn't know how to act.Jimin sees Jungkook's lips moving and Dr. Hyung is nodding, looking away finally, standing to move away from the woman.As he does this the Ringleader nods in satisfaction, walking back with a stack of bills in his hands."Bambi," he starts, "The paramedics are right there at the door, you can carry her, Loverboy you can take her kid." He turns to the man he shot. "Congratulations, you get to go also." He gestures with the gun. "Move it. But I want a clean pass-off. Bambi, you and Loverboy can't leave. Else we just shoot Pretty Boy," the Ringleader smiles, and suddenly all the gunmen are looking at Jimin and he tenses, feeling a gun press into his side.(jimin freezes, breath short suddenly, and jungkook's wide eyes are staring at him—wide scared eyes and he's snapping his head back towards the ringleader)"You shoot him," Jungkook snaps before Jimin can motion him to say nothing. "I shoot you.""Ooh," Ringleader grins, surprised at his ferocity. "That is not what I was expecting.""Pretty fucking easy conclusion to reach."Ringleader nods before he's leaning against the table. "And I wonder why Pretty Boy would mean this much to you."Jungkook just glared, before Dr. Hyung walked by, the child in his arms, towards the front door. Jungkook frowned, throwing Jimin a quick glance before he was nodding and leaning down to lift the woman. "Sorry," he said, as he moved her, hearing her groan in pain. "You're gonna be okay."They walked to the front and Jimin stood in fear as Ringleader followed them, hands casually thrown above his head. "He'll be okay," a voice next to him spoke softly. "They'll both be okay."Jimin turned, eyes catching those of the boy next to him.(it was the boy—a beautiful boy, with skin as beautiful as a sunset, and eyes as piercing could be—the Model—the one who'd been attached to dr. hyung)"Miraculously," the Model continued. "Your b–your friend is the only one Douchebag likes. I know that's not favorable, and it's not easy either, but-but it's something. And Intern-hyung is remarkably calm in the way, only he can be, even though I don't know him that well," he finishes trailing off. "Sorry.""Thank you," Jimin whispers quietly. "I appreciate you saying that."The Model looks at him with wide eyes, smiling a crooked, uncomfortable grin. His eyes widen in surprise and Jimin turns quickly, body immediately going numb as Ringleader wraps a hand around the back of Jungkook's neck. "Bambi," he grins. "Let's have a chat."Jimin moves, and Ringleader motions behind him and the next thing Jimin knows, his knees are being kicked in and there's a grip in his hair, and he is hit in the face with something. He shouts in pain, Jungkook turning to look at him immediately.As soon as it happens, Jungkook turns towards Ringleader with a snarl. "What the fuck are you getting at?""Heol," Ringleader grins again, leaning in to whisper to Jungkook. "I think I know just what he is to you, Bambi. Careful or I tell the rest of my men." He lets Jungkook go, nodding to the gunman behind Jimin. "Let him go."He turns to Jungkook speaking softly. "I like you Bambi, but watch that damn mouth," he slaps Jungkook across his face, a light slap that still leaves his mouth stinging. His eyes fall back to Jimin lazily before he's driving his fist into Jungkook's stomach. "Your boyfriend's life depends on it."(jungkook's blood ran cold—before he was looking up at the ringleader with an expression that had him grinning from ear to ear)"Move your ass." He cackled. "It's time to get this show running."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of blood, sexual abuse, depression, suicide, body dysmorphia, bulimia, homophobia, and anxiety (panic attacks).
Namjoon is staring at the ground when he hears a noise of fear that shakes him from his stupor.They've been corralled into a group, pushed together since everything happened; since they murdered several people in a cold blood all for the sake of some cash.(briefly, his mind fleets to jennie—her soft voice—her scared, upset, near tears voice—that will forever engraved into his soul)When Gunman #1 had spoken the words, had even suggested calling Jennie and bringing her into this entire situation, he couldn't breathe.(all he could imagine was her body, lifeless in a pool of blood, hair matted and eyes blank as her soul left her body)((it was a terrifying thought—being alive while she was dead—he couldn't fathom it—something that shook him to his core and ripped his heart out of his chest and pounded it to dust))Before Namjoon can think any further, he hears a voice, a low soothing tone in the midst of the quiet tense of the room."Hyung," he hears the boy with the scar on his cheek (Muscles—he remarks in his mind after a quick glance over) let out softly. He's running his fingers along the shorter boy's hand, Angel Face, letting him dig his nails into the skin of his arm as needed. "Hyung it's okay I'm here."They're kids, he realizes with a shake of his head, kids thrown into a situation but the taller one wraps his arms around the other's shoulder and Namjoon catches rings on their forefingers glinting under the fluorescent light of the restaurant.The rings are silver, more than likely platinum, with diamonds set in each and Namjoon startles with the fact that they're probably not the type of ring he thinks they are."Hey," he hears his voice come out gruff, and suddenly the six boys are looking at him. "Your rings." His voice is harsher than he intends it to be, and he can tell he's said the wrong thing when the shorter boy flinches as if he's been slapped, and he tenses. The taller grips his friend—more than a friend—and sends a nasty glare his way but Namjoon brushes it off for the sake of saving their lives. "You have to take your rings off, if they see them," he can hear the desperation leaking into his voice, watching now as the other boys look over to their hands. "If they see them they might hurt you for the hell of it. I know it's not ideal, you shouldn't have too but they might, they might do something if those rings mean what I think they mean."There's a pause and Broad Shoulder's is leaning into them, producing what seems to be a glasses case from his bag. He speaks out softly, voice soothing. "He's right. I'm sorry, I hate to make you guys." He pauses. "But you're more than welcome to have this and put them in here for now."Sunglasses nods, before he glances at the guys with the guns, moving his frame in front of them. "I'll try to shield you guys while you take them off." He frowns. "Sorry," he adds with a pause. "I'm sorry, that you guys have to take them off."Sunshine blinks, in agreement, before he swallows when the guys with the guns look over. "Stop," he whispers. "Stop you guys. They're coming."Namjoon twitches and Double Helix coughs, grasping his chest, falling to the floor, and they all suddenly look at him. He shoots Muscles a look, and he sends back a grateful one as he slips the ring off his finger.As Gunman # 1 and # 2 make their way towards Double Helix, he watches as Muscles eyes Angel Face's finger, before removing his ring. Muscles looks pained as if he doesn't want to take it off at all, and Namjoon feels his heart break because they shouldn't have too. Angel Face's lips lift and for a brief moment he stares up at Muscles with adoration leaking through everything.Suddenly Double Helix grunts, and their attention is broken, as they watch Gunman # 1 swing his leg back, boot connecting with his stomach.Muscles cries out, immediately reaching for Double Helix and Namjoon grips the boy's arm and attempts to pull him back when suddenly a gun is being pointed at his head."If you take one step, Bambi," Gunman # 1 bites out. "I'll blow your head and then his off. Don't test me. Because as much as I like you, I'll gladly embed a bullet in that brain of yours."Namjoon looks behind him and Angel Face has gone pale, wide eyes staring at Muscles. Broad Shoulders has his arms up as if waiting to catch the boy in case something happens. Sunglasses is stoic, jaw clenched as his hands ball into fists.Muscles stares down the barrel of the gun and he looks like he's going to crack something again but Namjoon sees him backing down. Evidently, the look on his face isn't what they want to see though, because the next thing he knows, the gun is pressed firmly against his forehead and Angel Face lets out a noise of fear and shock.(lucky for him so do a few of the women in the restaurant—sunglasses does the same—so they write it off as something else)Muscles relaxes his jaw, hearing Angel Face's fear more than likely triggering something in him.Gunman # 1 chuckles before smiling at Muscles. "I admire you, Bambi. You got the balls the stand-up and brains to back down. Maybe after this is all over we'll be good friends, if you aren't killed at least." He glares at Double Helix. "Get the fuck back up punk. And don't pull anything like that again."He turns around and Muscles' eye twitches before he helps Double Helix up. Double Helix narrows his eyes, voice gruff and unbelieving. "That was fucking stupid kid. He could've blown your head off.""And he could've done the same to you." The boy bites back, but Namjoon sees his eyes shake as if he's afraid to turn around to stare at Angel Face."Yeah," Double Helix grunts. "But I'm not here with my husband."Muscles gave a wince at that, frowning as he finally turns. Angel Face is biting his lip, tears welling in his eyes. "Hyung—""—if you do something like that, one more time." Angel Face speaks, voice soft but deadly, and he sounds moderately broken. Broad Shoulders frowns, visibly uncomfortable but most likely because Angel Face sounds so hurt and Sunshine nods briefly. "I don't, I can't even," he gasps out and there is a tiny sob and Muscles is closing in on him. "Please don't do that again.""I won't Hyung I promise. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."Angel Face hiccups and Gunman # 1 shouts suddenly startling him. "Hey shut up, or the next head being blown off is going to be your fucking head."Angel Face freezes, shrinking as Gunman # 1 walks over again. He shoots a look at Muscles, causing the boy to tense, before a nasty smirk lights up his face. He pushes him out of the way before grabbing Angel Face's face in his hands, smirking while twisting his face this way and that to look at it. "Hmm, you are a pretty thing. Maybe I'll take you to the back and have some fun with you." He cackles, voice gravely and Namjoon watches as Muscles clenches his jaw, eyes burning with more hate than he thought possible. His fist is tight and white and he looks more furious than possible when Gunman # 2 calls out for the other man.He winks at Angel Face, turning around and Muscles immediately reaches for Angel Face who is still pale."If he lays a finger on you," Muscles begins voice shaking. "I'll kill him. I will take his gun and shove it so far down his throat he's shitting bullets." There's an unmistakable fury on his face as his breath hitches. "If he even thinks about touching you, I'll kill him and every nasty one of them."Angel Face just grips his clothing, fingers threading into his shirt, so white Namjoon thinks they might fall off. "Better me than one of the women.""Hyung," Muscles makes the most pained noise. "Hyung I won't—""It's okay." He gives him a watery smile.Sunglasses makes a noise of complaint. "You shouldn't have to though. Thighs, your husband," he lowers his voice. "Is right."Broad Shoulders looks around before leaning in. "I—I grabbed my phone earlier, sent a message," His face nearly breaks. "I sent a message to my dad." He looks relieved to say it and Namjoon realizes it's because he is giving them information he believes in, and Namjoon is surprised at the relief and flush of a feeling that burns within his chest. He belatedly realizes it's hope.Hope that they'll make it out alive."I let him know about the situation, he'll pay whatever he needs too, but he's going to get us out of here. I won't let anyone lay a hand on you." He turns to look at everyone. "Any of you.""How very noble of you." Double Helix points out, hands going to his abdomen."...well anymore." Broad Shoulders huffs. "I'm sorry this happened, I, I should've just given myself up immediately.""No," Muscles snaps immediately back, before Namjoon can even voice it. Muscles speaks with a tone that implies he has already thought about this. "There are too many variations that could have happened. You give yourself up, everyone dies. You don't give yourself up, everyone dies. You give yourself up, they don't believe you, you die." He's frowning, hand running over his face briefly. "In a situation like this, it's hard to understand everything at once."Namjoon stares at him for a moment before speaking softly. "He's right. Too many variables, not enough information. Right now, you're who they're after, but once they get you, who knows what they'll do.""I say we wait for them to let the women and kids go." Double Helix speaks up. "Once it's just the men, then we go from there.""And if they kill us?" Sunglasses speaks up softly suddenly."Then we die, and they have no money." Sunshine quips, the first to respond. "But if I'm honest, thinking about how I might be dead in thirty minutes is really putting a damper on my mood.""You're telling me," Double Helix begins shortly after him. "When I came here tonight I was looking to drown my sorrows in soy sauce, not have a fucking gun pointed at my face.""Believe me," Muscles shifts, allowing Angel Face to rest comfortably against his side, fingers splayed against him to keep him steady. "I don't think any of us where expecting this when we came to get sushi tonight."As soon as he finishes speaking another shot rings through the air, followed by a shrill scream, and what can only be, another body dropping to the floor.Bambi stares forward for a moment and they all make eye contact with one another before each body in the entire area is turning towards the noise.The Gunman is making his way towards the noise, towards the body—seokjin's already lost count with how many bodies have fallen to the floor within the past hour—and Seokjin eerily realizes that it is completely silent, no one is making a noise, a stark realization hits him as he realizes that the police sirens have quieted, and the chatter outside ceased immediately.(for a moment seokjinis terrified that the police left them to die—that the police said the best way to deal with this was to let everyone in the restaurant die along with their captors—and his blood freezes in his veins)((as the gunman moved seokjin realizes with a stunning amount of relief that the dead body belongs to one of the lackeys—and seokjin shouldn't feel relief at a person lying dead on the ground—he shouldn't be near giddy at the idea of a life lost—but he makes eye contact with the first body—the man who had been there with his daughter and miraculously, the guilt is immediately gone))Before Seokjin can move The Gunman is swinging at one of his lackey's, shouting in thick english and Dimple's eyebrows knit together.Seokjin managers to piece together something vague, an elaborate word or two of "hits out" followed closely behind by a punctuated, "not this time" but it only manages to confuse him more.Dimples speaks quickly and quietly. "He said, they aren't getting paid to fuck around."Bambi continues for him. "They weren't supposed to act on hits out on each other, not this time."Seokjin looks between the two of them. "Contract killers? Hired to take this shop of all things? And there's obviously blood between them.""Seems likeit." Dimples replies."I think..." Cheekbones turns. "I think I'm going to be sick."Tattoos moves immediately, shifting to his side, one hand coming to rest on his back.(briefly seokjin stares at them for a moment and he makes eye contact with gucci, who rolls his eyes at them and he knows they are thinking the same thing—"how can you flirt at a time like this")"Do you have a problem with blood?" Dimples asks softly.For a moment, Cheekbones, with his back towards the body and all of them is completely silent, body tense and uncomfortable."Sorry," Dimples supplies, voice suddenly trembling. "Don't answer that, I meant, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's a habit, I'm studying to be a doctor, I always ask—but you probably don't, sorry, I'm sorry."He cuts off his ramble immediately and Seokjin opens his mouth when Cheekbones nods softly. "Among other... things.""I didn't mean to make you—" Dimples speaks, voice shaking breath coming out in puffs. "I try to analyze,its a problem, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, or, or tell me anything."Seokjin is listening in surprise, mouth pursing before he asks softly. "Are you okay?"Dimples turns to him, eyes wide, mouth opening and Seokjin suddenly thinks back to Yunho, the boy in the bunk above him, who couldn't sleep some nights because the world was too much, held too much and his mind was trying to keep up with it."You don't have to tell me," Seokjin tried in a soothing voice, "but if something is the matter and you need to breathe, I can help."Dimples was completely still for a moment before Seokjin saw him swallow, his hands (shaking yet still at his side) curled for a moment and Seokjin nodded before making eye contact with Mochi and Bambi. Seokjin took a step back, and the two followed him immediately.He lifted his hands slightly, watching as Dimples followed the movement and began to over-exaggerate the movements of his shoulders, lifting the air around him to mimic deep breaths.Gucci watched them in surprise, following their leads and Tattoos moved himself and Cheekbones further after muttering an apology to said boy moving away from him quickly.Seokjin shot a lopsided smile towards Dimples before he nodded. "What can I do to help?"Dimples twitched before he mouthed, "breathe" and Seokjin was next to him immediately, one hand on his arm, breathing with him, making sure he saw the movements in his body. And for a moment Seokjin nearly panicked because, because they were really in this situation.(there was at least seven dead bodies give or take, and he was alone, with strangers trying to survive a night that will more than likely cause much more therapy in his life—and he never even called her mom—and his brain is suddenly flooding with every moment that his parents have been there for him—and every single moment that he simply just, couldn't do it—and yet here he was—it didn't matter that he was a twenty-six-year-old grown man—because with a hallowed ache in his chest, the biggest thing he wanted to do in this exact moment—was justsee his parents)((and this sinking terrible horrible feeling settled in his gut that the next time they might see him, they would be standing over his casket—lowering him into the ground—his name leaving their lips in cries—wails filling the noise and echo of his dead heartbeat))Yoongi is currently trying very hard not to break at this very moment.He'd honestly thought he'd been fine; and truly he had been.Trying to help Cutie cope—trying being the keyword—was difficult, because well, 1) he himself was not coping, 2) Lab Coat was currently experiencing what looks like, a panic attack, if the shaking and tear filled eyes were any indication, and 3) because Dickhead Leader was currently settling his eyes on Muscle Pig and his Prince, in a way that had the hair on the back of Yoongi's arms raising."I don't want to alarm anyone," He spoke, voice snapping Shoulders and Eyebrows out of their far away gaze quickly. "But Dickhead over there is staring a little too much at us and I," his voice trailed, hands going to his chest as a familiar ringtone cut through the air, stopping him stone cold in his tracks.Eyebrows looked towards him, when the ringtone continued and the Dickhead made his way towards the pile of phones.Yoongi's eyes never strayed when he ran his hands over a few cell phones, eyebrow raising before threw his head back and laughed. "Ohoho, Daegu Daegu? Your little sister just sent a wonderful text message, saying to please bring her home some tteokboki from that place you always go too." Another chime, and another glance at the phone. "And also, 'don't forget daegu-oppa, please take your medicine, right now!' Seems like this little cutie's a little handler, no?"Yoongi stared forward, as Dickhead continued. "Now, I won't threaten whoever she is the way I did Jennie-sshi." Almost as if her name were a switch, Lab Coat tensed once again before turning his head, eyes finding Dickhead's in a moment of confusion. "But just because of this, whoever you are Daegu Daegu, you better not fuck up. Wouldn't want, your 'pretty dongsaeng min ara-sshi' to attend her brother's funeral yeah?"And Yoongi's blood ran cold as the Dickhead slipped his phone into his back pocket with a cold smirk.Dickhead suddenly turned, looking around at his lackeys before he was snapping his fingers and calling attention to himself. "Kids, did anyone happen to find anything, other than cellphones?"Immediately, Yoongi's hands slid to his pockets, trying,desperately to find what he was looking for."Hyung," Eyebrows said to the side, "Hyung is it you?"Yoongi just nodded, absentmindedly patting his pockets.Before he could speak, Dickhead spoke up again. "Ohoho, anti-depressants huh?"(yoongi's head snapped up—looking forward with a frown—and he could literally feel every single pair of eyes in the restaurant on him—judging him—and judging him alone)((in actuality, no one was looking at him—no one but eyebrows and cutie))"You're all types of fucked up huh? Who has to take anti-depressants of all things?"Yoongi felt his blood twisting inside his veins, stretching thin and tightening itself, body seizing in random spurts as the Dickhead continued spitting out his insults. "I mean really? Depression? You have to take medicine? And it's just for depression? That's weak. I thought it might've been something serious, with how pushy your cute little sister was being. Depression of all things, huh?" Dickhead snorted, cackling out a laugh before he rolled his eyes, turning to someone behind him. "Crush these up," Yoongi froze solid, mind freezing and body about to curl in on itself. "Throw them away, sprinkle them down the drain, I don't care. But just get rid of them." He turned back to everyone. "Man, if something as weak as depression is what's getting you down, shouldn't you just off yourself?"The moment those words left Douchebag's mouth Taehyung froze like a deer in headlights.His eyes flickered to the left, watching as Piercings' hand was still, still yet shaking slightly, eyes looking down, willing, desperately, for his body to stop.The Intern, who had just stopped panicking several seconds ago was now watching with rapt attention as Piercings tried his best to look casual, as if everything that this Douchebag was saying didn't effect him at all.Douchebag snorted one last time, before he gestured towards them with his gun, and his lackeys got the message.Before Taehyung could say anything, two lackeys were standing before them, guns pressed to their backs, pushing their group of seven away from the middle of the room.A few feet away, all the women and children were seated, deathly quiet.(fortunately, there was only four women, and subsequently only five children—and they were huddled together, hands grasped tightly together)On the other side of the women, sat four other men, all pale faced and clammy, something it seems, they all had in common.Piercings stood still, and Taehyung glanced at the man behind Thighs, mind immediately overpowering anything he might've thought, before he was grabbing the man and pulling him towards the area they'd pushed the others into.Piercings hand felt clammy in his own, but Taehyung knew, he was feeling just as bad.When they sat, none of them spoke, not even for a moment.And suddenly, before anyone could speak anything else, Piercings looked forward, and they watched as his cheeks flushed red, nose following suit as his eyes darted from side to side.Armani immediately moved to cover him, Windbreaker and Ddeok asking him if everything was okay.He looked forward, voice coming out scared in that moment. "I can't, I can't go without it, you don't, you guys don't understand I can't, I won't be able to, to do anything I haven't gone off my meds—years, it's been years, I don't want to—" He stopped. "—I don't want to feel it again.""The anti-depressants?" The Intern spoke up, eyes flickering behind them, as he brought his voice down to a stage whisper. "They were yours?"Piercings just stared. "I haven't been off them—years—it's been seven years—"His next words smacked Taehyung in the face. "You don't understand—I'm, I'm suicidal off of them—I haven't missed a dose since the year I was prescribed them—and I just, I don't want to go back to that place, not after I've gotten so much help to get myself away from that."Those words punched Taehyung in the gut and he blinked before he was blurting out. "I was going to kill myself after I left here."(almost immediately, they all turn to look at him)((he belatedly realizes that this—this is technically the first full sentence that taehyung has spoke as a whole to this entire group at once—and with windbreaker and armani staring at him like he might also break into a panic he realizes maybe it was a mistake))(((alternatively he doesn't realize that piercings has stopped to look at him in a quiet and calculating way—eyes burning into his soul)))"I'm sorry, you guys barely know me, I didn't mean to—it doesn't matter—" He tries to backtrack, suddenly wanting to curl in on himself and leave quickly,Before his mind can run further, Piercings reaches out to grip his hand, speaking quickly. "I was thirteen when I first started thinking about suicide."At this admission they all turn to Piercings, though the Intern keeps his eyes firmly on Taehyung."I didn't know people didn't think like that." He huffs, eyes widening as he looks at the ground. "I thought it was a common occurrence in everybody's mind. It took me two years, two years of days where I would try to figure out which way would be the quickest, most painless, easiest way to do it, to go online, because, because where we live this isn't important." He huffed, jaw clenching. "I, I scared myself that day, with numbers and statistics. I decided, I decided to talk to my parents, and they," he nodded along with his words. "They helped, got me medicine, got me therapy."(outwardly taehyung flinched—jerking nastily so quickly he almost yanked his arm away from piercings—and everyone saw)((windbreaker flinched as well—though not as bad))Piercings bit his bottom lip, "Believe me. I had the same reaction. I didn't, didn't take well to the medicine or the therapy. I just, I just wanted to be normal. But one day, one day I skipped a session, didn't take my meds, and I—I scared my brother and sister, they came home, and I... I was sobbing with a knife in my hand." His grip is tightening around Taehyung's hand, but he doesn't think he realizes he's doing it. "I don't remember much from that day, but, but they do, and it scared them, it scared them a lot. So I started going for them, and eventually, eventually I started going for me, and I've felt a lot better since then."Taehyung huffed. "But I'm not, I'm not depressed and I, I don't have anyone to go to therapy for, I don't have siblings or parents, I have, no one."It was quiet for a moment before Piercings spoke up again. "Mental health is different for everyone. You don't have to be depressed to be suicidal. You just have to want to not live." He turns, looking Taehyung in the eye. "And if you don't have anyone to try to go for, try yourself, and if that doesn't work, when we make it out of here, I'll be there for you, and you can try for me."Hoseok is blinking, eyes going between both the God and Rings with his mind running a million miles a minute.(to think that this handsome, handsome man just told them all—willingly—that he goes to therapy)((to think—this man said it with his whole chest—without an ounce of shame—the words crystal and clear as he spoke about everything))(((to think—as the god turns his head slightly, striking cat eyes meeting hoseok's, swirling with some emotion—one that hoseok couldn't pinpoint to save his life—that he said this in front of strangers)))Hoseok looks away for a moment and then Rings is speaking softly again. "And if it's still not enough?""Then you take one step, and then another. Because all you can really do, is the next right thing. And whatever that is, it's what's best for you.""It's not easy," Chaebol's voice cuts through the brief silence. "To go to therapy."(rings flinches again, but this time not as bad)"I was thirteen when I started going." He continues. "But mine is—it's different for everyone. I'm not depressed mine is more, my past, I can't deal with it." He frowns. "I was left by my mother in a park when I was a baby. When she died, I was eleven or younger, I can't remember, but my dad, who didn't even know I existed, he adopted me and it was a lot, to transition from an orphanage to a mansion." He wipes at his face. "But I couldn't, cope with it? Couldn't really handle the sudden change and I panicked, hard. Sensory overloads, anxiety, uncomfortable feelings, all the time. And I still can't handle them that often," He huffs out a small breath. "I can't even call my mom, mom to her face, can't call my dad, dad without wanting to spill my guts clean on the floor in front of them."He took a breath, before he was making eye contact with Rings. "It's not easy to start, and it may not even help, but it's an option and sometimes having someone to talk to just makes it better.""That's not always the case." Hoseok snapped out before he could stop himself. "Having someone to talk too, that doesn't mean your problem goes away. It could make it worse, with the pity-filled looks and encouraging words that aren't helping.""And that's dependent on who you are." The Fairy retorts, his first full sentence since the Man with the Gun gripped his face in a way that made Hoseok's insides churn. "The point of it is not to fix you, or your problem. It's to help you understand what's happening because your mind isn't slowing down long enough for you to sort anything out itself. It gives shape to the things that are taking tolls on you, lets you attack them how you want. And it's not for everyone.""Sometimes therapy can help you, and sometimes talking to someone who is a friend can help you." Chaebol continues. "I'm not a therapist and I can't tell you if it works 100% of the time, because it helps me, but does it help me the way it helps him?" He gestures to the God who is nodding. "It doesn't, because everyone is different. Mental health is different. The things you go for are so different. I can't handle my past.""I can't handle my mind." The God replied."I can't handle my family." Rings continued with a frown, and a weight to his voice that dug deep."See? So who you go see, and what you go see them for," Chaebol blinked. "It's gonna be different then anything anyone of us has been there for."Lover Boy nodded before he was looking towards Hoseok. "And assuming that you feel the same as one of them, it'll still be very different. Each person handles things differently than the previous and different than the next." He shot a lopsided smile his way. "And it takes a while for you to feel like you got it right."Hoseok looked at his feet, wanting the ground to swallow him whole, because this was not the conversation he wanted to be having right now.(and he thinks it shows on his face—just how uncomfortable he is)The Fairy suddenly looks up, hand going to his face, diverting attention away from the conversation quickly."Hyung?" Alpha asks immediately, eyes wide and clear. "What's wrong?""Calm down, I'm okay," He blinks up, and Rings suddenly has a panicked look on his face."Whoa, your eye is bleeding!""What?" Alpha moves, already reaching towards the napkins from the table next to him, yanking the dispenser clean off when he hears the words. "Hyung let me see.""Bun please calm down—""—bro that dispenser was nailed to that table—" Rings lets out a bit shakily."—I'm okay, my nose is bleeding, it's happening again bun, that's all.""Can I take a look at it?" Lover Boy speaks up, and Hoseok is looking towards him with curiosity."Would you mind?" Alpha asks softly, eyes never leaving The Fairy's face."Of course," Lover Boy continues, shuffling on his knees towards the two. Chaebol shifts out of the way, taking Lover Boy's spot quickly, so the gunmen don't think they're trying anything."I'm gonna need you to move your hand, okay?"The Fairy nods, removing his hand, revealing his nose and lips smeared with his blood."Jesus." The God lets out quickly."I'm okay." The Fairy quickly reassures. "I get nosebleeds every now and then.""That's not what I'm worried about hyung." Alpha's eyebrows furrow, jaw clenching. "Your eye is bleeding.""It's okay," Lover Boy cuts in. "Let's see, first, do you have any blood in your throat?" When the Fairy nods, Lover Boy frowns and gestures up. "Okay come on, sit forward, nose down. Don't lean back and try to breathe through your mouth, cover your nose here, and stay forward."The Fairy nods, gesturing to Alpha who quickly, folds a napkin and brings it up to his mouth, and they watch as he spits blood out."Oh god," Hoseok blanched moving to turn around. "I'm gonna get sick."Before he can say anything else, the God moves in front of him, leaning to cover the Fairy and Lover Boy from his line of sight. "Not a fan of blood?""What gave it away?" He replied sarcastically, a small smile on his face.The God winked. "A hunch."Hoseok gave a mirthless chuckle before Lover Boy's voice cut through once again. "How often do you get nose bleeds? And do you always have blood in your throat?""Every couple of weeks, sometimes once a week, but that just varies. And this is the first time I've had blood go down my throat.""Okay, that's good then," Lover Boy clicks his tongue. "Stay forward and you'll be fine, and regarding your eye." There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "I think you just popped a blood vessel there.""Will he be okay?""Yeah, it can happen from just sneezing too hard, rubbing your eye too much. You're honestly okay, but it's gonna be a little difficult for you to see now.""That's fine, I'm okay.""Hyung—""—I'm fine, hyung." The Fairy cut Alpha off, turning to look at him, blood still very much running from his face. "So lets calm down yeah?"Jungkook stared at Jimin, frown getting deeper as his eyebrows pulled together. Before he could speak, That Hyung spoke up, voice laced with confusion. "Uh, which one of you is actually older?""Is that relevant right now?" Champion frowned, eyebrow raising."Well," That Hyung began responding. "Not really, but to be honest, I don't want to seem like a downer, but what else are we gonna do? And—and this isn't to freak anyone out, but like, we could very much die tonight. If I go," He paused. "I want to be happy for moment. It sounds weird, I know, but I mean that I don't want to give them the satisfaction of me being terrified the entire time."The rest of them were quite when Jimin responded politely. "I am, to answer your question." He ran the napkins in his hand along his face, patting once more before he finally pulled it away. "He just tends to boss me around, you know, he's got a bit of hyung kink."Jungkook nearly flinched in surprise, blinking when Rich Boy snorted and Neck Tat nodded with the ghost of smile on his face."No, no no no." Jungkook cut in, ears burning red. "That's not what it is, I just like it when you call me—no that's not what I meant— I mean that I like to know—wait, stop." He tried, Jimin failing to keep the soft smile on his face from blooming.(jungkook recognizes that smile—the one reserved for jungkook and jungkook alone—the one that enacts a flurry of feelings in his chest, that bangs his heart against his rib cage and threatens to out how he feels to everyone with the strength and the pounding bass of his feelings)Jimin turns back (to that hyung and jungkook can't stop the way he rolls his eyes or the way that his tongue pokes his cheek) and replies, voice light and airy. "We don't often use formalities with each other.""Really? Why?"It's silent once again and Jungkook belatedly realizes they are waiting for him to answer this question, and he shoots a look at Jimin before he does. "I... don't like using them because I want to be seen as his equal. Not a dongsaeng, not a friend, but someone he can rely on. I call him by his name and he calls me by mine. No hyung, no suffix, just us."Once again, there is a brief silence and then Rich Boy is nearly cooing. "That's literally so cute.""Need me a relationship like that.""So then," Rich Boy speaks from Jimin's side again. "How long have you two been together?"Jungkook turns towards him before looking at Jimin."I..." he begins before trailing off, staring into Jimin's eyes, and turning to look towards the rest of them.And you know, normally Jungkook is a very open guy.He'd never been afraid of saying anything to anyone.He would shout from the rooftops that Jimin was his husband and that he was the light of his life, the other half to his soul, his soul mate, the literal sunshine in his life but—but, this situation.This terrifying situation.(because normally, normally jungkook wouldn't hide who he was, he wouldn't be afraid to show who he is, and how much he loves jimin—and he would never be afraid to show jimin how much he downright adores him)((but this fucking situation is tearing him up because—what if they use this—what if they try to use this information to get out of here—to save their own skin))(((because he would gladly lay his life down—gladly take a bullet in his chest and bleed out on the floor before he let a single hair on jimin's head be harmed—he would get shot one hundred times, before he puts jimin's life in danger, so fucking help him)))Before he can let his brain run wild, he feels a hand on his thigh and looks towards Jimin who nods softly."...we've been together since I was fifteen." He replied, before continuing. "But I think I fell in love when I was seven."Jimin flushed red (a pretty pretty color—from his neck to his cheeks—eyes glimmering under the fluorescent lights in restaurant), smacking him in the arm. "Don't lie.""I'm not," He responded, with a raised eyebrow. "You can ask mom and dad, they have a video of me declaring you would one day be my wife.""When you were seven?" He responded, though the lift of his voice gave away how much he truly loved what he was hearing."Of course, it's when we met." Jungkook grinned."That's so cute." Rich Boy echoes from their side, and Neck Tat nods sagely. "But fifteen?" That Hyung speaks up and Jungkook shoots another side-eye glare. "That's a long time isn't it?""Well, that depends on their ages, doesn't it?" Dr. Hyung replied. "How old are you guys?""I'm '04," Jimin responded, noticing Rich Boy perk, as he pointed at himself mouthing "me too!" before he pat Jungkook on the chest. "And bun is '06."Collectively, Rich Boy and That Hyung both gasped, while Neck Tat and Champion both turn to look at them in complete surprise. That Hyung is the one that speaks up, pointing to Jungkook. "You were born in 2006?""You're only twenty-two?" Neck Tat asks, eyebrows raised high on his head. "As in, two and two?"Jungkook looked at them before nodding. "Well, my birthday is tomorrow. I'm twenty-one at the moment.""You look like this and you're only twenty-one?" That Hyung huffed with wide confused eyes. "Are you pulling our legs? You gotta be twenty-six at least.""No, I was born in 2006.""2006? Holy shit," Dr. Hyung speaks. "I was born in 2003.""Me too." Champion echoes, with a grin."2002 for me," Neck Tat throws out with a peace sign."I guess that means I'm the oldest. I was born in 2001.""Wah," Jungkook can't stop the words coming out of his mouth once That Hyung makes eye contact with Jimin. "That's so old hyung.""Yah." Jimin slaps him on the arm quickly. "Don't you even start."Jungkook pouts, before he's rolling his eyes and sending a curt glare towards That Hyung.(he responds with an eyebrow lift and looks to the rest for explanation—rich boy just snorts before they quiet once more)Jungkook just looks around, "So you're all hyungs then." His lips pull down. "And once again... I am the youngest."Before anyone else can speak, the little bubble of peace they have is broken as the Ringleader shouts, a nasty growl of disgust. "What the fuck do you mean?"He rolls his eyes before he's frowning. "They want more tragedy? I'll give them more tragedy! Women and children up now! It's your lucky fucking day!"As the men he orders turn, guns pressed against the women and children's backs, the Ringleader looks towards them eyes narrowing, before he's making his way towards their group. Jungkook's body goes rigid, as he tries to broaden himself to cover a shaking Jimin.(but that was the wrong move)The Ringleader lands a clean hit against Jungkook's face, before he's yanking Jimin up by his hair and wrapping a hand around his arm. Jungkook tries to stand, head dizzy, as he growls out. "What the fuck are you doing?"The Ringleader snorts. "Play the fuck along Bambi. Wouldn't want to have a funeral for your friend would you?"Jungkook's entire body goes cold, watching as the Ringleader yanks Jimin forward, pressing the barrel of the gun deep into his back. Jimin makes a noise of fear and pain before he's pushed out the front door with the women and children. For a moment, Jungkook is hit with pure unadulterated fear, gripping his soul and threatening to crush his heart from the inside out. He knows his face is terrified, and he can feel Rich Boy's hand on his shoulder, gripping tight, grounding him in a sense. Jungkook makes a move when a gunshot goes off outside, followed by screams of horror and one thought that runs through his mind.Jimin might be dead.