[got7] omerta 1/2
Title: omerta
Fandom: GOT7
Pairing: JJProject - JB/Jr.
Rating: M
Genre: dark
Word Count: 10k+
Summary: Everyone is drawn to what is sure to destroy them in the end. Jaebum is a man on a mission.
WARNINGS: mention of human trafficking, murder, assassination, drug dealing
Originally written for 7fics
Everyone is drawn to what is sure to destroy them in the end. At eight years old, Jaebum is no different.
Jaebum tries very, very hard not to twitch as Jinyoung throws an arm around his shoulders.
Jinyoung’s grin is bright, cheerful and disarmingly honest for a fellow street kid. Squirming to escape from the uncomfortable weight of his thin arm, Jaebum wonders how such a thing is possible.
“Hey, I finally caught you! Where’d you go? I could’ve sworn you were trying to get rid of me or something…” Jinyoung chatters, tone even as his pace easily matches Jaebum’s, following as he ducks out of the alcove and scurries down the alleyway.
Inhale, exhale, rinse and repeat. The chittering at his ear is background noise for Jaebum as he measures his breath whilst he runs. He’s flying, flying over the asphalt as he darts down the nondescript lane with the quick instincts of the wild. There’s a clear distance he has to create from the mansion before night falls. No way will he be able to pawn the wares so close to where he stole them from, and what meagre cash he has is swiftly running dry.
“That’s cause I was trying to get rid of you.” Jaebum mutters, irritated scowl planted firmly on his face as he grits his teeth. He grabs Jinyoung’s arm and yanks him down into a crouch beside him, ears straining for the footsteps he’s sure were following them. Unnerving silence greets his ears, but paranoia pays well in another day spent free.
Making new acquaintances whilst in the middle of attempting a heist on one of the numerous upper class households was not an activity on Jaebum’s mental checklist. Scratch that, the mere act of meeting new people was never on Jaebum’s agenda, but Jinyoung had popped up out of nowhere just as Jaebum had hoisted himself out of the window and, after having introduced himself in a voice way too sunny and loud for Jaebum’s liking had stuck like stubborn glue ever since.
Curse him.
“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Jinyoung chatters on, not waiting to hear - or, choosing to ignore - Jaebum’s rude response as he pulls up a sleeve. Jaebum has all the intention of ignoring him, but just as he turns his head away he catches a flash of something curious.
There’s a strange mark on Jinyoung’s wrist - it vaguely resembles a star, a weird mark that isn’t particularly relevant to any of Jaebum’s interests.
However, something peculiar is triggered in Jaebum when his eyes land on the mark. It’s instinctual, an involuntary something in him that causes him to freeze with stone-cold terror at the sight.
It feels like someone has dumped a handful of ice down his back, and all of a sudden he’s shuddering, and his stomach is doing that weird plummeting thing it does sometimes when Jaebum sees something he thinks he should remember but can’t quite place.
Living on the street is all about the present, but sometimes the weird instances of déjà vu render him susceptible to bouts of wonder - what does the past hold?
Whatever the mark is, it draws Jaebum’s interest as he halts abruptly. “What is it?” Nonchalance is feigned in his tone as best he can.
“I dunno,” Jinyoung shrugs, grin as effervescently bright as ever as he glances up at the rapidly darkening sky, “probably a battle scar or something.”
Emitting an involuntary snort, Jaebum scoffs. A battle scar, right. This kid doesn’t look like they’ve seen a single battle in his lifetime.
The scared-cold feeling has faded, and Jaebum feels like he can breathe again. Looking up, a frown settles across his features.
Whilst they had spent time idly chatting, the sun had gone down. It’ll be dangerous for two kids to be running out in the open any longer. Sighing, Jaebum decides to call it a day. If memory serves him right, there’s an alcove nearby that he hasn’t visited in a good few weeks. The repeat of hideouts is a practise frowned upon, but he’s got no choice.
“Right, we’ll rest here before moving on.” Jaebum decides, unceremoniously plonking himself down so he’s leaning against the hard, dirty wall.
Answering Jinyoung’s befuddled stare with a derisive look of disdain, Jaebum rolls his eyes and tugs him down too, ignoring the way Jinyoung tumbles down in an inelegant heap beside him.
“Hey, what are you doi-“
Jaebum rummages in his bag, procuring a small roll of bread. Breaking it in half, he hesitates minutely before offering the larger piece to Jinyoung.
“Here. Take it.”
Jinyoung eyes Jaebum with a strange expression. A look of understanding crosses his features as he smiles widely at Jaebum.
“What?” Jaebum’s not sure he likes the cheeky expression.
“I’ve worked it out,” Jinyoung begins slowly, evidently triumphant. “You’re not cold and heartless, you’re just shy!” He crows in delight.
Jaebum splutters as he feels his face grow hot. “I’m not shy!” His voice rings a little shrilly, and the flush of his cheeks grows darker as Jinyoung’s grin grows wider.
“Its ok, no need to be ashamed!” Jinyoung chirps merrily, expertly catching the piece of bread Jaebum throws at his head for his cheek.
“Shut up.” Jaebum says. He frowns distractedly as he notices that the pads of Jinyoung’s fingers are smooth, entirely unlike his own.
So he’s a newbie. Why is Jaebum doing this again?
“Eat up. You’ve a lot to learn.” Jaebum says, scarfing down his own piece of bread in record time, careful not to drop any crumbs.
It’s suicide to let someone tag along with you when you’re trying to survive on the streets, especially when it’s someone new and unable to fend for themselves.
As he watches Jinyoung grin toothily before turning his attention to the food, Jaebum resists the urge to sigh.
(For some reason, he lets him tag along with him for another day. Then another month. Then a few more years, until Jaebum can’t remember ever wanting to get rid of the boy-turned-man he now calls his best friend.)
-
Jaebum has his gun against the head of his target when he hears the tell-tale jaunty tone of the pop song which Jinyoung had set as his personal ringtone.
Quick as a flash, before the target has the chance to stir from his sleep Jaebum pulls the trigger. It’s a point blank shot against his temple, simple execution. No playing around with this one.
In a practiced movement of grace, Jaebum’s phone is slipped from his pocket into his palm. The pad of his finger is swiping at the screen even as he strides over to the window sill, hoisting himself out with expert fluidity.
A stream of curses flood out of his lips when he hears the sirens begin to wail. Okay, so maybe the execution of the execution (pardon the pun) is not to be quite that simple. Dropping down into the yard below, Jaebum begins to leg it as yells from the enemy family sound with sharp gunshots that miss him by metres under cover of the dark.
You’d think they’d have some skilled gunmen… good thing Jaebum had drugged all the ones on duty. Their backup is sorely lacking in expert aim.
“You’d better have a good reason for calling me, Junior. Tell me, why was my phone on and off silent?” Jaebum hisses menacingly into the receiver as he twists and fires a few shots back. He doesn’t bother to watch a figure scream and tumble out the window, instead turning back around to jump at the fence.
The phone perches precociously between his ear and his shoulder as he expertly climbs over. A small part of him wants to throw a one-fingered salute behind him, but knowing that dillydallying is for fools, he opts instead to jump down, sprinting to where his vehicle is located.
Jinyoung’s voice sounds annoyingly amused. “Because last time I tried calling you, I couldn’t get through to you and it was for very important reasons?”
Jaebum resists the urge to howl in frustration, instead choosing to scowl as he places his gun back in its holster. “Wanting to know my favourite flavour of cake because you felt the urge to visit a patisserie late at night is not my idea of important.”
There’s a pause. “So that means I shouldn’t ask you whether you prefer cookies and cream or coffee-flavoured ice cream?”
Safely in the confines of his bulletproof car, Jaebum twists the key in the ignition with a little too much force. “C’mon. Take this seriously.” His tone is a tad bit more biting than is necessary, and he flinches as the other end goes silent.
He knows that Jinyoung is just trying to lighten the mood. Every single mission always leaves Jaebum feeling so drained, and even though on the outside he’s become a master at concealing how much he dislikes what he’s doing behind copious layers of scathing sarcasm and quick wit, Jinyoung will always know better.
Jinyoung will always have the guilt of being the one to bring Jaebum into the mafia in the first place. No matter how often Jaebum tries to reassure him that it was his decision (well not really, one of the top commanders of the Boss had ordered Jinyoung to go with him and then levelled a gun at Jaebum and ordered the same or be shot, but the principle of the matter was the same) to join, Jinyoung always has that same guilty, sad look in his eyes whenever Jaebum sees him.
Well, Jinyoung should know by now that he’s stuck with Jaebum. After the lengths he went to all those years ago just to make sure Jinyoung would survive on the streets, he’s not about to let something like the mafia undo all his hard work now.
Jinyoung never says it, but Jaebum knows that there’s a part of him that’s grateful he’s not doing it all on his own.
The thing is, Jinyoung has all sorts of other things to worry about.
“Believe me Jaebum, as the Heir apparent to the Family I’m being as serious as I possibly can.”
The silence which immediately settles is thick.
Jaebum exhales loudly. “Chocolate. Get chocolate ice cream.”
“Chocolate? That’s my favourite, not yours.”
“How do you know?” Jaebum retorts.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Haha, you caught me!” Jinyoung merrily laughs, and Jaebum is unable to prevent the fond smile from spreading on his face. At least Jinyoung can’t see it, or he’ll never live it down.
(Jaebum is somewhat partial to plainer flavours like vanilla.)
-
Like a majority of earth-shattering, life-changing moments it happens entirely by accident. Jaebum has a small stack of paperwork in his hands, and he’s ready to hand in a report following one of his latest missions when the sound of voices through the door his him refraining from knocking.
The content of raised voices is usually spread like wildfire. Murmurs, when heard are usually of semi-importance. The mere act of whispering is one which is not often carried out with the intention to be secretive unless one has mastered the art of nonchalant information passing. It’s the casual conversations imbedded with double meanings and tricky wordplays that need to be paid close attention to.
“Regarding the Heir.”
Jaebum has a hand raised and ready to knock when he hears the voice of one of the Boss’ personal assistants. They’re the only ones who can get away with addressing the Boss so casually. Pausing, Jaebum deliberates briefly before pacing backwards a few steps with a cat-like stealth and grace.
Quietening his breathing, Jaebum’s heart thumps rapidly as he stills. Although aware that any poorly-timed action will be certain to give him away, Jaebum eavesdrops with only a miniscule amount of hesitation.
Anything involving Jinyoung is important enough for him to risk getting caught.
“What about him?” The Boss answers, tone distracted. There’s a ruffling of papers; he’s probably filling paperwork, then.
“He’ll need to learn some time.”
Jaebum frowns. Learn? Learn what? What does Jinyoung need to know?
“All in due time.” The Boss sounds patient, like he’s rehashed this multiple times over. Jaebum isn’t sure he likes the implication. “He hasn’t been leashed tightly enough yet.”
“So it shall continue?”
“Of course. Make sure Jinyoung continues his training.”
What?
“It’s a little cruel, isn’t it?”
“There’s no such thing as cruelty in life. There’s only survival.” The two share a jaunty chuckle.
The humour of the situation is entirely lost on Jaebum as he feels ice begin to clench his insides. His palms go cold, and his surroundings start to swirl as the crushingly familiar sensation of red-hot anger begins to rise like a tidal wave. He welcomes it like an old relative returning home.
Like hell they’re gonna do that!
For a moment, Jaebum’s mind transports himself inside the room. He’s sinking a solid right-hook into the Boss’ face and grabbing him by the throat, demanding to know answers, straight-up and to-the-point without any of the ambiguity the mafia is so fond of.
It doesn’t matter that the soles of his polished shoes are planted firmly into the soft carpet beneath his feet, or that the crisp suit clinging to him is so expensive it could be sewn from hundred-dollar bills.
At the end of the day, Jaebum will always be loyal to only one person above himself - and that’s Jinyoung, the sole person whom had been able to worm his way in when no one else had bothered to try.
Street rats are cunning, tricky and all about instinct.
Right now, Jaebum’s instinct is telling him to grab Jinyoung and run, Heir-apparent status be damned. Welcoming the familiar rush of adrenaline pumping his veins, Jaebum begins to reach for the door, free hand inching towards his gun holster even as his report begins to fall to the floor in preference of a more deadly weapon of choice.
“How about the other one?”
Jaebum freezes.
“Ah. The Heir?” The Boss’ tone sounds nonchalant.
The wave of anger plummets, cold and merciless as it leaves him blank and dazed in its wake. Bone-white knuckles clench tightly to the reports, the gun remains in his holster as he halts. Confusion freezes his anger in its path, wary and paranoid as it cautions him against reckless action.
Jinyoung is the Heir. They said so. They said he was the Heir. That’s why we’re in this forsaken place to begin with. That’s why. How come it sounds like they’re talking about someone else? The hell is going on-
“Well, it’s progressing as expected.” The Boss resumes speaking, tone mild as Jaebum quietly deals with his shock. “The trainers are impressed by the Heir’s growth rate. Of course, Jinyoung can’t know. Not yet, he’s not in deep enough. Perhaps after a few months?” It’s phrased as a suggestion, but Jaebum hears the threat loud and clear.
Tell no one or you will be punished.
Even though it’s not directed towards Jaebum, he feels like he’s been pierced with the command too.
“Of course, Boss.”
“Good.” The Boss’ tone suggests that the conversation has been dismissed, and Jaebum inches backwards as the sound of footsteps approach. Mind whirring a million miles an hour, Jaebum schools his expression and adjusts his position to make it seem like he had just rounded the corner.
The Boss’ assistant sends him a smile as he exits the room.
Jaebum doesn’t smile back as he bows stiffly at the waist, not straightening until the footsteps have long faded away.
Taking a deep breath, Jaebum thinks.
Heavily reliant on street smarts, Jaebum had always been considered by others to be all action and no thought. His heists had never gone off perfectly, not until Jinyoung had joined him and survival had meant joining forces to steal together, escape together and survive together.
But what others don’t realise about Jaebum is that he’s a master planner of every single sliver of detail. If the target’s son is about to witness him steal his mother’s wedding ring as she lies drugged and unconscious, then it’s because he wants the thrill of the chase, the scare of nearly getting caught. Its Jaebum’s own privately guarded secret, well-kept even from Jinyoung and the ranks of the Family who shake their head when he arrives at headquarters with a heavier scent of gunpowder than should be ideal for an assassin of his calibre.
Jaebum hasn’t dragged himself from the pits of the earth with nothing but stupidity.
So, he plans.
He thinks.
Finally, he arrives to a decision.
If Jinyoung’s not the true heir, then Jaebum must simply do his best to prevent him from being integrated too deeply into the family, until whenever the Boss deems it time to reveal the truth.
Then, they’re out of there.
Sure, there’s the issue of the true Heir and whoever they may be. Maybe they’re some poor sap who has no idea of their true fate and by deciding to pull Jinyoung out, Jaebum’s just signing some poor hapless soul to a life of regret and torture.
Perhaps Jaebum should feel a little more sympathetic to this unknown anonymous Heir who may or may not know what they’re getting into, but he’s never propagated himself as a saint. He’ll do his best, but only for those he cares about.
Pushing open the door, Jaebum bows, waiting for the Boss to acknowledge his presence.
“Boss, these two hits aren’t far from each other. May I complete them both?” In his hands, he clutches Jinyoung’s assignment as tightly as his own.
The Boss’ answering smile is pleasant. “Of course.”
-
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Jaebum jumps a mile into the air, gun sliding smoothly into his grip even as he darts across the room to slam the intruder into the wall and press his arm against the assailant’s throat.
The flash of fear he sees in Jinyoung’s eyes will haunt him for months.
Jaebum immediately lets go, sliding his gun back into the concealed holster once more (he never takes it off, not nowadays) as he apologises worriedly. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone over tonight and-jeez, haven’t you heard of knocking? Or ringing the doorbell? Or even ringing me?”
Jinyoung smiles weakly from the floor, rubbing at the base of his throat. “Something must be up if you’re actually suggesting I call you. You hate the ringtone I set.”
Jaebum snorts. “It’s better than you barging in here at ass-o’clock in the morning.” He offers his hand to the other.
“It’s not like I can help it. Your phone is always off, and I’ve grown tired of waiting around outside when you’re not even home.” Jinyoung grabs Jaebum’s hand and allows himself to be pulled up from the floor.
Jaebum snorts. “It’s not like I can help it,” he mimics Jinyoung’s tone as he leads the way back out of his bedroom, heading towards the kitchen. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
Reaching into his fridge, Jaebum sticks his head inside before emerging with a pot of yesterday’s leftovers. He motions with an extra bowl and Jinyoung nods in acquiescence at the peace offering. Food truly is the way into a man’s heart.
“We haven’t seen each other in weeks.” Jinyoung says once halfway through his bowl of rice. “What’s got you so strung up all of a sudden?”
Jaebum swallows. “What do you mean?”
Waving his chopsticks, Jinyoung explains. “You don’t respond to my messages. You’ve been taking double the amount of missions you used to take, and don’t think I haven’t seen the bloodstains on your laundry either. I’m the one who does it half the time.” Jinyoung’s mock scolding tone transitions to worry. “What’s happening, Jaebum? You can tell me.”
“Nothing’s happening.” Jaebum is quick to dismiss. His stomach turns unpleasantly.
“Bull shit.”
Placing a mouthful of pork and rice into his mouth, Jaebum chews as his mind attempts to scrounge up an adequate reply to offer Jinyoung. Unfortunately, it’s simply too difficult for him to lie to someone who knows him almost as well as he knows himself.
“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” He tries for a placating tone, because their relationship works as a double-edged sword. If Jinyoung knows Jaebum like the back of his hand, then the same can be said for Jaebum. For now, Jaebum’s main focus is on abating Jinyoung’s over-protective mother hen instincts. “I guess I need to adjust to the frequency of my missions, but otherwise I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’ll survive.” He tries to say it teasingly, but he can’t help the slight grimace at his ill-chosen words.
Jinyoung catches it, as always. “At what cost, though?” He sighs, frowning deeply. “Maybe I should have a talk to the Boss about this. I mean, as the Heir I should be able to pull some strings, maybe take on more work as compensation-“
“No, you can’t!” Jaebum’s tone is unexpectedly sharp.
Silence cloaks the room as Jinyoung stares at him in shock.
“Let me deal with it myself.” Jaebum evenly offers up an explanation, mentally cursing his own thoughtlessness. “You have enough on your plate.”
Jinyoung frowns, still dubious. “If you’re sure.”
It’s clear that Jinyoung doesn’t believe Jaebum is telling him everything, but he lets the matter drop.
Jaebum resolutely refuses to meet Jinyoung’s gaze. His words alone contain more than an offer to help. They communicate a willingness to hear Jaebum out. Because they’re a team - always have been, always will be.
This time, Jaebum knows he’s on his own.
“I’m sure.” Jaebum dismisses. He knows that Jinyoung’s gaze is still trained on him, but he studiously avoids his gaze as he continues eating his meal.
Jinyoung’s quiet sigh is accompanied by the scraping of his chair. “Well, I’m off then. You know where to find me.”
Jaebum can’t help but to sneak a glance at Jinyoung as he exits the room. At the base of his neck, purplish bruises are beginning to form.
-
“C’mon, what could possibly go wrong?” Jinyoung grins brightly at Jaebum. It’s been a year since they met, and Jaebum finds himself constantly exhausted by trying to keep up with his hyperactive friend.
“A lot.” Jaebum says, but he’s nodding his head in agreement anyway and readying himself for the heist they’re about to try to pull off.
It’s completely illogical. Stupid, even. But Jaebum goes along with it anyway because Jinyoung promises it’ll be fun, and fun is something which every child is attracted to.
Thankfully, they don’t get caught. But for a while there, it’s hit-and-miss as they race through the streets. They compete with the shouting authorities as they dart away, quick as bullets and sly as foxes in their endeavour to escape.
Finally, the two of them collapse back in their chosen hideout for the night, laughing and giggling like children - and here’s the true stumper, for the first time in a long time Jaebum finally feels his age. That night, they curl up around each other when they sleep, shivering slightly but content with their bodies side by side. Jaebum wakes up in the morning laughing at Jinyoung’s childish position, lightly teasing him when he awakens for sleeping whilst sucking his thumb in his sleep.
Their meals are scarce, their shelter is questionable and it’s a miracle they have even been able to survive, but childhood is still - dare he think it- bliss.
-
Not for the first time that afternoon, Jaebum wishes he had had the foresight to bring a pair of gloves. Or a warmer coat. The frigid wind nips sadistically at his exposed skin and the tips of his fingers are numb, frozen to the handle of the bag he has hanging limply from his side.
As he breathes out, his breath escapes his lips in wispy tendrils like smoke from an exhaust pipe, twisting and curling before fading into the atmosphere. Jaebum gives a cursory glance to his watch before pushing off from the nondescript wall he had been leaning against. It’s two minutes to the meet up time, and he has some distance to cover.
Tugging the base of his scarf up so it covers the bottom of his face, Jaebum turns his head slightly to the side as he passes a stray officer on the street. It pays to be cautious.
There. The fountain in the centre of the square. Some kid is leaning against it, some sort of gaming console in his grasp with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Jaebum’s lips lift slightly at the corners as he approaches, settling at a spot a little ways off. Ah, childhood. There’s a certain element of simplicity associated with childhood that evokes a feeling of wistfulness in Jaebum.
“Brother has gotten a new job.”
Jaebum blinks, head instinctively beginning to turn towards the speaker before he remembers himself and transitions the movement to make it seem like he is simply tilting his head to stare at something in the distance.
The keywords are spoken in a light, lilting voice. Unmistakably, the voice belongs to a child.
It belongs to the kid stationed surreptitiously beside him by the fountain.
Jaebum wonders what this kid’s story is. Maybe he’s been born into the business. Maybe he had been recruited like Jaebum and Jinyoung, dragged into the underworld with chains snaking themselves around his neck before he had even opened his mouth to agree.
Or maybe, the kid actually wants to be here.
Eyes flicking up once, Jaebum’s trained eyes notice the barely perceptible lump near the kid’s waist. The child’s thin frame renders the concealment of a firearm somewhat difficult.
“That’s good, maybe he can treat mother to dinner.” Jaebum speaks, filling the silence.
There is an indiscernible shift in the atmosphere from tense-casual to detachedly professional.
“Here’s our half.” The kid’s tone remains light, but the volume drops slightly as he holds his console in one hand, eyes glued to the blinking screen as he hands Jaebum a dark bundle.
Jaebum accepts the concealed cash casually, stuffing it into the depths of his large winter coat as he hands over his own package.
The kid accepts the drugs wordlessly, slinging the bag up onto his shoulder.
Jaebum doesn’t need to count the amount of cash he’s been given. He knows that no family would be idiotic enough to mess with his. Even though he knows that the rules of the job dictate he should make the transaction and walk away, something compels him to turn back one last time.
For a short moment, the crowd between them surges, momentarily blocking his sight before clearing once more. Jaebum freezes in place.
The kid has the bag slung onto his shoulders. One hand grips the console and the other is raised to his lips as he focuses on the screen. In that moment, adolescence seems ephemeral.
He sucks his thumb.
Jaebum’s chest feels hollow at the thought.
-
“The guy from the other family didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Jinyoung chatters into the receiver.
Jaebum tells himself not to feel guilty as he responds easily, having anticipated the question. “Of course not, no trouble at all.” He says. It’s the truth, he reminds himself.
Jinyoung’s sigh is relieved. It makes something coil in Jaebum’s stomach, something unpleasant that threatens to flip him inside out. “That’s good. If not, I would’ve been perfectly happy to go beat ‘em up for you!”
I doubt that.
“I bet you would,” Jaebum forces himself to laugh along, “but I bet you wouldn’t have been able to take them.”
You wouldn’t have even tried.
-
Dressed immaculately, shoes polished and suit crisp, Jaebum wonders what the Boss has in store for him. However, he knows better than to voice his unease as he quietly steps outside the vehicle, nodding a silent thanks to the subordinate who closes the door behind him.
“Follow.” The Boss’ assistant spares him a single glance. If Jaebum’s not mistaken, he’s appraising him. “You have been privileged enough to receive a personal gift from the Boss.”
He does not seem to expect a response, so Jaebum wisely keeps his mouth shut as he steps inside the building. Jaebum is led through a sterile, crisp area which unmistakably serves as a lobby, following the lead of the Boss’ assistant and keeping his eyes fixed to the front as he ignores the receptionist’s perfect teeth as she flashes a smile.
Someone raises from their seat by the wall, approaching them at a rapid, brisk pace. The cloying scent of something sickeningly floral assaults Jaebum’s senses and it takes every inch of his training for him to not flinch backwards at the overpowering aroma.
“Welcome, esteemed customers!” The man’s smile is impossibly wider and whiter than that of the receptionist’s as he bustles them through the lobby and into an adjacent room off the side. Carpeted in plush carpet and furnished with exquisite pieces of furniture, Jaebum finally realises it was a pragmatic decision to wear a suit today.
“I am your Seller for today. May I interest you in some refreshments?” The Seller gestures towards the table situated against the wall.
The colourful array of macarons and tiny sandwiches on display are enough for Jaebum to begin salivating. They’re nestled comfortably amongst assorted cakes and other fine bite-sized pieces, with wine, champagne and coffee arranged neatly at the end of the table. Jaebum doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a large quantity of quality food before in his life, much less had it offered to him.
The gaze of the assistant slides over to Jaebum. “Perhaps later.” He declines politely. For a moment, Jaebum is almost disappointed, but he quells the feeling immediately. It’s not good to be greedy, and besides - there’s a certain look in the assistant’s eyes that has Jaebum’s subconscious deciding that shortly, he’ll be very glad for the lack of food in his stomach.
“Well then, if you’re sure.” The Seller’s pout juxtaposes unsettlingly against his spirited tone as he continues, “I suppose we should get on to the goods.” Rising from his seat, he gestures for them to follow to the opposite side of the room towards a large set of double doors.
“The usual procedure applies.” The Seller’s effervescent smile remains glued in place even as his tone shifts to something more businesslike. “If you’re unsatisfied with any of the goods in this collection, simply say so and we shall proceed to another. On such short notice, we had a bit of difficulty preparing everyone on time…” he says apologetically.
“Choose your gift well.” The assistant says, placing a hand on Jaebum’s arm as the Seller reaches for a green button on a panel to the side of the door.
The doors begin to swing open, and the change is immediate.
Jaebum resists the urge to gag as the pungent smell of urine and sweat assaults his nose, wafting from the room and carrying with it a familiar atmosphere of fear and anxiety reminiscent to his times on the street. It feels like something cold like ice has dropped down Jaebum’s spine. Like he’s been burnt at subzero temperatures. Terror coyly messes with his senses, and he feels the sudden urge to flee.
The Seller mistakes Jaebum’s shudder as repulsion. “Sorry the goods haven’t been cleaned,” he says apologetically with an absent-minded kick to something long and pale off to the side. “No, stay away,” he says, “these shoes are newly polished.”
There’s a small keening noise from the shadows in response. Belatedly, Jaebum realises it’s the whimper of a small child.
“Today isn’t an official auction day, and usually private sales are made with a booking at least a week in advance.”
The assistant’s grip on Jaebum’s arm grows tighter. “But there’s no issue, yes?”
The Seller pales significant at the implied threat. “Oh no, of course not! How can we refuse our best financial backer and supporter…” his chatter dies away as Jaebum is nudged forward by the Boss’ assistant.
A dozen terrified, emaciated faces stare desperately towards him. No matter where he looks, Jaebum feels like he’s going to throw up. The clean clothes they’re dressed in have obviously been procured without a thought as to the sizing of their wearers. What would ordinarily be fine suits and dresses hang like ugly drapery off thin frames and grimy skin. Like children playing dress up, except no parent would ever be allowed to raise a child in conditions such as this.
Quickly, Jaebum looks down. His cheeks are burning. All of a sudden, he understands the significance of his visit.
“Go ahead, pick one.”
There’s an undeniable order in his voice. Jaebum knows that for all this truly is a gift, the truth of the matter is that he’s being tested. This is one step closer to cementing his place in the mafia and inching Jinyoung out. He has to do this.
Jaebum casts his gaze once more over the grouping of emaciated humans. Some meet his gaze head on, and others keep their heads down as if by not being able to see him, he won’t be able to see them. There’s desperation in their young faces, and some seem like they’re hurling perpetual screams into the silent, still air. Silent in fear of approaching demons. Of Jaebum, of the Seller, of everyone.
The ones who meet his gaze are either terrified or furious. There’re glares, there’re glistening eyes and there are cautious glances to his hip - where his holster is, and Jaebum realises that it doesn’t matter that he has concealed his weapon.
They’ve seen them taken out so often that they can identify where his is with ease.
Then there’re the broken ones. It doesn’t matter whether he can see their eyes or not, because their entire body screams fragility. Bruises like wilted flowers, glassy eyes and smiling vacantly like antiquated china dolls on display.
Amidst it all, something catches his eye.
“Number 7715, please step forward.” He says.
There’s a small frown on the expressions of both the Seller and the Boss’ assistant at his polite tone, but his mind dismisses it in favour of watching as the one he calls out steps forward.
Jaebum feels the bile rising in his throat, the horror clenching his heart and sending his insides into turmoil.
There, branded on the wrist of #7715 is a hauntingly familiar star-shaped mark.
-
Jaebum is applauded for his choice. The ones marked with the star are the prize goods, the cream of the crop. Those deemed ripe picking. They’re the ones you’re likely to get the most gain from, Jaebum is told suggestively by the Seller as he’s made to stand and watch them Prepare number 7715 for him.
The ones who were in the system for so long they don’t know any other life, the ones who entered at such an early age, they have no memory of anything else, the Seller smiles proudly as a Cleaner slaps 7715 with a strap for being too slow.
They are those who know their duty and nothing else. Ultimate belongings.
Jaebum’s sandwiches and coffee remain untouched as he sits silently in his seat. They say it’s standard procedure for buyers to watch them Prepare the goods, so that they have a better idea of how to go about doing it themselves.
Jaebum wouldn’t be surprised if he never regains his appetite.
Jaebum seats 7715 in the passenger seat of his car. He tries not to let his heart break at the way he flinches when he reaches over to make sure his seatbelt is done up properly.
Jaebum takes 7715 to the home he had purchased on a whim all those months ago. Sitting 7715 on the couch opposite him, he weighs his options in mental turmoil, trying to ignore the way the other sits with feet poised perfectly aligned with his body and gaze expressionless even after Jaebum had told him to make himself at home.
Tentatively, Jaebum gives 7715 a name and decides that if he’s been denied access of the world around them, he’ll just have to make it a mission to re-teach 7715 himself. He won’t be his slave, but maybe they can be friends by the end of all this.
At least there’s one thing in his life Jaebum might be doing right.
-
Over a dinner of spicy instant noodles and assorted side-dishes, Jaebum quizzes Jinyoung on his past. With self-disgust coiling in the pit of his stomach, Jaebum utilises the skills of manipulation he has been taught to coax the conversation in the direction he wants it to go. It’s when he’s extracting his information that he runs into trouble.
“Seriously, some of these kids in training are scary!” Jinyoung laughs, but there’s a tight line in his eyes that betrays his worries. He’s afraid of whether he’ll ever catch up to them.
Jaebum nods, offers Jinyoung a dumpling and rolls his eyes as Jinyoung opens his mouth to be fed. He feeds him anyway. “Well, they’re still in training. We learnt through street smarts.”
The flash of unease across Jinyoung’s features has Jaebum narrowing his eyes in concentration before it clears. “Exactly,” Jinyoung laughs, raising his bowl and slurping some broth. Jaebum wants to joke that the Heir to the family shouldn’t be acting so slovenly, but Jinyoung isn’t the Heir now is he? “The streets gave us more experience than these riffraff will ever get.”
Jaebum snorts. “I can’t believe you just called them riffraff, you sound so old.” He laughs, naturally slipping in “hey, remember when we were around that age?”
“How could I not!” Jinyoung’s fond smile has Jaebum’s cheeks heating up slightly, but he pushes the embarrassed fondness aside. He’s on the right track now. “Without me, you’d still be a weird grumpy kid on the streets.”
“You were the weird kid who came running up to me out-of-the-blue and decided to show off your cool battle-scar.” Jaebum resists the urge to hold his breath as he plunges onwards.
“But it worked!” Jinyoung crows in delight, spooning some kimchi and offering it to Jaebum. Once Jaebum has started chewing he continues. “’Sides, having you around sure beat having to get food for myself.” His smile dims slightly as he busies himself with his noodles, and Jaebum feels like scum as he presses on.
“How long were you on the streets for anyway?” He asks idly, drinking some of the broth himself. Ah, spicy. “I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this.”
“Not too long, actually. It started when-“ Here, Jinyoung freezes. Chopsticks clattering noisily into his bowl, Jaebum doesn’t have to feign the worried frown at his expression.
“What is it?”
He’s concerned, he really is, but Jaebum thinks that maybe there’s a note of eagerness in his tone that sounds rather disproportionate compared to the rest of their conversation.
Jinyoung of course, picks up on it.
“Nothing, nothing. Forget it, it doesn’t matter anyway.” He laughs, but unlike his usual smiles it doesn’t crinkle his eyes like usual. “Why do you want to know so randomly?”
Jaebum shrugs, and watches Jinyoung pick up a dumpling. He watches his friend fiddle with it.
“Nothing. Just curious, is all.” He says.
Jinyoung nods, but the slightly guarded look doesn’t fade. Finally, he bites down on his dumpling.
Jaebum’s eyes flicker from Jinyoung’s lips to his arm when his sleeve slips to reveal the familiar, star-shaped scar.
Something like guilt churns in his gut.
-
The sight of Jinyoung sprawled out on his bed has Jaebum’s eyebrow arching upwards in confusion.
“Jinyoung?” It’s undeniable that there has been frost settling into their relationship. The distance has crept in slowly, a gradual chill that starts at the edges and slowly works itself further in, unnoticeable at first and only obvious when paid attention to.
Jaebum himself has no idea when it started. Yesterday? Last month? Last season? All he knows is that one night he realised things were too quiet, that it had been weeks instead of hours since Jinyoung’s last visit.
“I hate this, Jaebum.” Jinyoung’s voice is muffled by the pillow over his head, and Jaebum doesn’t even bother kicking off his shoes when he crawls onto the mattress beside him, sliding into the dip created by Jinyoung’s weight until they’re lying back to back in the dark.
“Hate what?” Jaebum carefully asks.
“I hate what the family is doing to us.” Jaebum feels the mattress shift as Jinyoung moves, shivering at the touch of Jinyoung’s cold skin when his thin arms wrap around his waist.
No further clarification is necessary. Distant they may be, Jaebum and Jinyoung will always be in tune with each other where it matters.
They lie on the bed in silence, Jaebum listening to Jinyoung’s heartbeat. The soft constant rhythm almost lulls Jaebum to sleep.
Jaebum’s eyes slip shut.
“I’m sorry, Jaebum.”
“For what?” Jaebum’s eyes are still closed.
“This may be the last time we meet.”
“What?” Awareness seeps into Jaebum’s mind, alongside the familiar sensation of dread.
“I messed up a deal pretty badly. They haven’t called yet.” Jinyoung’s tone is carefully even, but Jaebum can detect the minute shivers of his body. Brave front or not, Jinyoung is terrified. It’s well known that the Boss doesn’t take mistakes well. There’s always a punishment, some form of re-education.
“What happened?” What did you do? Why are you making it so difficult for me to keep you alive? Jaebum wants to scream, wants to roll over and crush Jinyoung beneath his body, bury him in his blankets so that no one can get to him, no one but himself.
“I couldn’t help myself. I just got so angry, y’know? I mean, I don’t get angry easily but… man,” Jinyoung exhales loudly, body shuddering against Jaebum.
“Explain. Please.” He doesn’t think he trusts himself to say any more.
“I thought it was simple... I mean, I haven’t had too many missions lately, you know? It’s a bit strange, but that’s not the point. Anyway, I thought that it’d be simple. Just give the guy the bag of goods, receive something back and then dump it off. Easy.”
“You’re rambling, Jinyoung.” Jaebum twists so that they’re facing, heads close together and eyes trained on Jinyoung.
“I… I completed the deal. Kind of.” Jinyoung’s voice breaks.
“Kind of?”
“I refused the money the kid offered. I mean, it was a kid. It didn’t feel right. It just… didn’t. I knew I had to get rid of what I had, but receiving something like that… I mean…” Jinyoung begins to laugh. It echoes through the room, sending shudders through his body. “of all things to stuff up on, a simple deal? What a joke, what a way to mess up.” His laughter quietens until transitioning to soft sobs. Rolling onto his back, his arm unwraps from around Jaebum as he rubs his sleeve at his eyes, dampening the material with tears. “I’m sorry, Jaebum. I messed up.”
Jaebum’s expression is hard. “I’ll fix things”
“You don’t have to do anything!” Jinyoung is quick to respond, knowing Jaebum’s impulsive nature may exacerbate the situation.
“What do you want me to do, then?” Jaebum asks, mind whirring.
Maybe he can offer to take the punishment in Jinyoung’s place. Take responsibility. He’s sure that there must be some sort of deal he can strike with the Boss, if only so Jinyoung doesn’t have to face hell. Jinyoung still deserves a shot at redemption, Jaebum’s the one who’s beyond saving.
“Just… stay with me. Stay for now.”
Something in Jinyoung’s tone has Jaebum’s perceptive eyes instinctively searching his features for the glimmer of emotion he had caught in his words. It stirs up something familiar in Jaebum’s chest, a warm, tingly sensation that runs through his veins and leaves him feeling light and fidgety.
Jaebum exhales. “All right.”
It’s unclear who reaches out first. In the desperation of the night, hidden in the cloak of despair for one night the iron barricade between them drops. Lips touch, hearts connect and the end is in motion.
-
Jaebum perfunctorily arrives at five minutes to the destined time. The touch of the sun on his back is warm and constant, soothing at first but increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stands in his suit. At nine o’clock exactly, the door opens up. One of the boss’ assistants waves him in, and Jaebum is silent as he’s led up the staircase, up multiple flights of stairs which seem to creak and sway with every step.
Finally, they step outside onto the roof. Jaebum has to blink in surprise - it’s an open courtyard, beautiful and tranquil. The sound of running water from the stone fountain to the side is refreshing amidst the canopy of green. It’s a rooftop oasis amongst the jungle of concrete comprised of the surrounding buildings.
Most magnificent in its simplicity is the crimson pagoda located in the centre of the garden. At the centre, the Boss sits with his eyes closed atop a mat. Jaebum is surprised by the sight of the man in his hanbok, and cannot help but to feel frumpy and out-of-place in his suit as he approaches.
Here, the Boss seems like any other ordinary old man, quaint and wise in the most humble of ways. Too bad Jaebum has grown accustomed to trickery.
The Boss does not speak until Jaebum is motioned over by the surrounding assistants on either side of the pagoda’s entrance.
Carefully, Jaebum removes his shoes and kneels opposite the boss.
“You know what to do.” The Boss says, gesturing in front of him carefully.
Jaebum does.
Reaching out, Jaebum checks that the water is boiled. His hands threaten to shake, but he knows that any error and he will not have a chance to complete his task. A shame, considering it has just begun.
Carefully, Jaebum picks up the clay teapot and teacups, rinsing them carefully with the boiled water. He swirls the water carefully, cleansing the already spotless tea-ware before the now useless water is deposited into the waste-water bowl to the side.
Jaebum’s breathing threatens to hitch, but he controls his breath as he proceeds. Onwards with the affair. It is a solemn, serious ceremony after all.
Quick rinse of the leaves. The water in the decanter is ready to be added. The hot steam arising from the teapot carries with it the waft of dark, bitter pu-erh. It rests at the back of Jaebum’s throat, dark and cloy before drifting away with the breeze as he continues.
Lifting the decanter, Jaebum carefully pours. No bubbles form. They never do for him.
It is time for the final step.
Finally, Jaebum picks up the silver knife that has remained untouched before him for the whole ceremony. He aligns it perpendicularly with his smallest finger, poised and ready
Jaebum’s teeth clench, but he knows not to question whether this is truly his task. He has always known how today was to end.
The knife slices through flesh, severs the limb, cuts through cleanly. It has been prepared well, intended solely for purposes like these. The first drop of blood falls into the teacup of the boss, and Jaebum cannot help the involuntary scream which he emits before he clamps his mouth shut once more. The assistants mode forward with methodical practise, numbing his hand with an injection and swiftly bandaging the wound.
It is not over yet.
Jaebum shakily lifts his cup. The base supported with his left hand, the side with his right. Perfect angles, the picture of elegance. He hopes his blood does not seep into the clay.
It is now that the boss picks up his own teacup, taking a single sip.
“The apology by Im Jaebum on behalf of Park Jinyoung has been accepted.”
Finally.
Just as Jaebum begins to relax, the assistants surge forward once more. Something is pressed against his face, a small object directly under his left eye-
Pain.
Fire
Burning.
Screaming, Jaebum struggles but is not swift enough to escape from the assistant locking his arms behind his back, nor strong enough to break free.
He’s being branded. It’s hot and it burns and it’s agony of the most excruciating kind. He thought cutting through his nerves was bad but this isn’t a swift cut, it’s a long burn that kills the nerves and attacks them constantly until eventually they shut down from the pain.
Then, it’s over.
Jaebum can think again, even if the only thing he’s doing is cursing up a storm inside his mind.
Eyes watering and mind delirious with agony, despite his inability to focus clearly the Boss’ voice is crystal clear in his ears.
“Welcome to the family, Jaebum.”
The Boss’ cold smile sends that familiar, ice-cold feeling trailing down Jaebum’s spine.
“Everyone, the Heir has stepped up to take his place.”
Suddenly, it makes sense.
Part (2/2)
Fandom: GOT7
Pairing: JJProject - JB/Jr.
Rating: M
Genre: dark
Word Count: 10k+
Summary: Everyone is drawn to what is sure to destroy them in the end. Jaebum is a man on a mission.
WARNINGS: mention of human trafficking, murder, assassination, drug dealing
Originally written for 7fics
Everyone is drawn to what is sure to destroy them in the end. At eight years old, Jaebum is no different.
Jaebum tries very, very hard not to twitch as Jinyoung throws an arm around his shoulders.
Jinyoung’s grin is bright, cheerful and disarmingly honest for a fellow street kid. Squirming to escape from the uncomfortable weight of his thin arm, Jaebum wonders how such a thing is possible.
“Hey, I finally caught you! Where’d you go? I could’ve sworn you were trying to get rid of me or something…” Jinyoung chatters, tone even as his pace easily matches Jaebum’s, following as he ducks out of the alcove and scurries down the alleyway.
Inhale, exhale, rinse and repeat. The chittering at his ear is background noise for Jaebum as he measures his breath whilst he runs. He’s flying, flying over the asphalt as he darts down the nondescript lane with the quick instincts of the wild. There’s a clear distance he has to create from the mansion before night falls. No way will he be able to pawn the wares so close to where he stole them from, and what meagre cash he has is swiftly running dry.
“That’s cause I was trying to get rid of you.” Jaebum mutters, irritated scowl planted firmly on his face as he grits his teeth. He grabs Jinyoung’s arm and yanks him down into a crouch beside him, ears straining for the footsteps he’s sure were following them. Unnerving silence greets his ears, but paranoia pays well in another day spent free.
Making new acquaintances whilst in the middle of attempting a heist on one of the numerous upper class households was not an activity on Jaebum’s mental checklist. Scratch that, the mere act of meeting new people was never on Jaebum’s agenda, but Jinyoung had popped up out of nowhere just as Jaebum had hoisted himself out of the window and, after having introduced himself in a voice way too sunny and loud for Jaebum’s liking had stuck like stubborn glue ever since.
Curse him.
“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Jinyoung chatters on, not waiting to hear - or, choosing to ignore - Jaebum’s rude response as he pulls up a sleeve. Jaebum has all the intention of ignoring him, but just as he turns his head away he catches a flash of something curious.
There’s a strange mark on Jinyoung’s wrist - it vaguely resembles a star, a weird mark that isn’t particularly relevant to any of Jaebum’s interests.
However, something peculiar is triggered in Jaebum when his eyes land on the mark. It’s instinctual, an involuntary something in him that causes him to freeze with stone-cold terror at the sight.
It feels like someone has dumped a handful of ice down his back, and all of a sudden he’s shuddering, and his stomach is doing that weird plummeting thing it does sometimes when Jaebum sees something he thinks he should remember but can’t quite place.
Living on the street is all about the present, but sometimes the weird instances of déjà vu render him susceptible to bouts of wonder - what does the past hold?
Whatever the mark is, it draws Jaebum’s interest as he halts abruptly. “What is it?” Nonchalance is feigned in his tone as best he can.
“I dunno,” Jinyoung shrugs, grin as effervescently bright as ever as he glances up at the rapidly darkening sky, “probably a battle scar or something.”
Emitting an involuntary snort, Jaebum scoffs. A battle scar, right. This kid doesn’t look like they’ve seen a single battle in his lifetime.
The scared-cold feeling has faded, and Jaebum feels like he can breathe again. Looking up, a frown settles across his features.
Whilst they had spent time idly chatting, the sun had gone down. It’ll be dangerous for two kids to be running out in the open any longer. Sighing, Jaebum decides to call it a day. If memory serves him right, there’s an alcove nearby that he hasn’t visited in a good few weeks. The repeat of hideouts is a practise frowned upon, but he’s got no choice.
“Right, we’ll rest here before moving on.” Jaebum decides, unceremoniously plonking himself down so he’s leaning against the hard, dirty wall.
Answering Jinyoung’s befuddled stare with a derisive look of disdain, Jaebum rolls his eyes and tugs him down too, ignoring the way Jinyoung tumbles down in an inelegant heap beside him.
“Hey, what are you doi-“
Jaebum rummages in his bag, procuring a small roll of bread. Breaking it in half, he hesitates minutely before offering the larger piece to Jinyoung.
“Here. Take it.”
Jinyoung eyes Jaebum with a strange expression. A look of understanding crosses his features as he smiles widely at Jaebum.
“What?” Jaebum’s not sure he likes the cheeky expression.
“I’ve worked it out,” Jinyoung begins slowly, evidently triumphant. “You’re not cold and heartless, you’re just shy!” He crows in delight.
Jaebum splutters as he feels his face grow hot. “I’m not shy!” His voice rings a little shrilly, and the flush of his cheeks grows darker as Jinyoung’s grin grows wider.
“Its ok, no need to be ashamed!” Jinyoung chirps merrily, expertly catching the piece of bread Jaebum throws at his head for his cheek.
“Shut up.” Jaebum says. He frowns distractedly as he notices that the pads of Jinyoung’s fingers are smooth, entirely unlike his own.
So he’s a newbie. Why is Jaebum doing this again?
“Eat up. You’ve a lot to learn.” Jaebum says, scarfing down his own piece of bread in record time, careful not to drop any crumbs.
It’s suicide to let someone tag along with you when you’re trying to survive on the streets, especially when it’s someone new and unable to fend for themselves.
As he watches Jinyoung grin toothily before turning his attention to the food, Jaebum resists the urge to sigh.
(For some reason, he lets him tag along with him for another day. Then another month. Then a few more years, until Jaebum can’t remember ever wanting to get rid of the boy-turned-man he now calls his best friend.)
-
Jaebum has his gun against the head of his target when he hears the tell-tale jaunty tone of the pop song which Jinyoung had set as his personal ringtone.
Quick as a flash, before the target has the chance to stir from his sleep Jaebum pulls the trigger. It’s a point blank shot against his temple, simple execution. No playing around with this one.
In a practiced movement of grace, Jaebum’s phone is slipped from his pocket into his palm. The pad of his finger is swiping at the screen even as he strides over to the window sill, hoisting himself out with expert fluidity.
A stream of curses flood out of his lips when he hears the sirens begin to wail. Okay, so maybe the execution of the execution (pardon the pun) is not to be quite that simple. Dropping down into the yard below, Jaebum begins to leg it as yells from the enemy family sound with sharp gunshots that miss him by metres under cover of the dark.
You’d think they’d have some skilled gunmen… good thing Jaebum had drugged all the ones on duty. Their backup is sorely lacking in expert aim.
“You’d better have a good reason for calling me, Junior. Tell me, why was my phone on and off silent?” Jaebum hisses menacingly into the receiver as he twists and fires a few shots back. He doesn’t bother to watch a figure scream and tumble out the window, instead turning back around to jump at the fence.
The phone perches precociously between his ear and his shoulder as he expertly climbs over. A small part of him wants to throw a one-fingered salute behind him, but knowing that dillydallying is for fools, he opts instead to jump down, sprinting to where his vehicle is located.
Jinyoung’s voice sounds annoyingly amused. “Because last time I tried calling you, I couldn’t get through to you and it was for very important reasons?”
Jaebum resists the urge to howl in frustration, instead choosing to scowl as he places his gun back in its holster. “Wanting to know my favourite flavour of cake because you felt the urge to visit a patisserie late at night is not my idea of important.”
There’s a pause. “So that means I shouldn’t ask you whether you prefer cookies and cream or coffee-flavoured ice cream?”
Safely in the confines of his bulletproof car, Jaebum twists the key in the ignition with a little too much force. “C’mon. Take this seriously.” His tone is a tad bit more biting than is necessary, and he flinches as the other end goes silent.
He knows that Jinyoung is just trying to lighten the mood. Every single mission always leaves Jaebum feeling so drained, and even though on the outside he’s become a master at concealing how much he dislikes what he’s doing behind copious layers of scathing sarcasm and quick wit, Jinyoung will always know better.
Jinyoung will always have the guilt of being the one to bring Jaebum into the mafia in the first place. No matter how often Jaebum tries to reassure him that it was his decision (well not really, one of the top commanders of the Boss had ordered Jinyoung to go with him and then levelled a gun at Jaebum and ordered the same or be shot, but the principle of the matter was the same) to join, Jinyoung always has that same guilty, sad look in his eyes whenever Jaebum sees him.
Well, Jinyoung should know by now that he’s stuck with Jaebum. After the lengths he went to all those years ago just to make sure Jinyoung would survive on the streets, he’s not about to let something like the mafia undo all his hard work now.
Jinyoung never says it, but Jaebum knows that there’s a part of him that’s grateful he’s not doing it all on his own.
The thing is, Jinyoung has all sorts of other things to worry about.
“Believe me Jaebum, as the Heir apparent to the Family I’m being as serious as I possibly can.”
The silence which immediately settles is thick.
Jaebum exhales loudly. “Chocolate. Get chocolate ice cream.”
“Chocolate? That’s my favourite, not yours.”
“How do you know?” Jaebum retorts.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Haha, you caught me!” Jinyoung merrily laughs, and Jaebum is unable to prevent the fond smile from spreading on his face. At least Jinyoung can’t see it, or he’ll never live it down.
(Jaebum is somewhat partial to plainer flavours like vanilla.)
-
Like a majority of earth-shattering, life-changing moments it happens entirely by accident. Jaebum has a small stack of paperwork in his hands, and he’s ready to hand in a report following one of his latest missions when the sound of voices through the door his him refraining from knocking.
The content of raised voices is usually spread like wildfire. Murmurs, when heard are usually of semi-importance. The mere act of whispering is one which is not often carried out with the intention to be secretive unless one has mastered the art of nonchalant information passing. It’s the casual conversations imbedded with double meanings and tricky wordplays that need to be paid close attention to.
“Regarding the Heir.”
Jaebum has a hand raised and ready to knock when he hears the voice of one of the Boss’ personal assistants. They’re the only ones who can get away with addressing the Boss so casually. Pausing, Jaebum deliberates briefly before pacing backwards a few steps with a cat-like stealth and grace.
Quietening his breathing, Jaebum’s heart thumps rapidly as he stills. Although aware that any poorly-timed action will be certain to give him away, Jaebum eavesdrops with only a miniscule amount of hesitation.
Anything involving Jinyoung is important enough for him to risk getting caught.
“What about him?” The Boss answers, tone distracted. There’s a ruffling of papers; he’s probably filling paperwork, then.
“He’ll need to learn some time.”
Jaebum frowns. Learn? Learn what? What does Jinyoung need to know?
“All in due time.” The Boss sounds patient, like he’s rehashed this multiple times over. Jaebum isn’t sure he likes the implication. “He hasn’t been leashed tightly enough yet.”
“So it shall continue?”
“Of course. Make sure Jinyoung continues his training.”
What?
“It’s a little cruel, isn’t it?”
“There’s no such thing as cruelty in life. There’s only survival.” The two share a jaunty chuckle.
The humour of the situation is entirely lost on Jaebum as he feels ice begin to clench his insides. His palms go cold, and his surroundings start to swirl as the crushingly familiar sensation of red-hot anger begins to rise like a tidal wave. He welcomes it like an old relative returning home.
Like hell they’re gonna do that!
For a moment, Jaebum’s mind transports himself inside the room. He’s sinking a solid right-hook into the Boss’ face and grabbing him by the throat, demanding to know answers, straight-up and to-the-point without any of the ambiguity the mafia is so fond of.
It doesn’t matter that the soles of his polished shoes are planted firmly into the soft carpet beneath his feet, or that the crisp suit clinging to him is so expensive it could be sewn from hundred-dollar bills.
At the end of the day, Jaebum will always be loyal to only one person above himself - and that’s Jinyoung, the sole person whom had been able to worm his way in when no one else had bothered to try.
Street rats are cunning, tricky and all about instinct.
Right now, Jaebum’s instinct is telling him to grab Jinyoung and run, Heir-apparent status be damned. Welcoming the familiar rush of adrenaline pumping his veins, Jaebum begins to reach for the door, free hand inching towards his gun holster even as his report begins to fall to the floor in preference of a more deadly weapon of choice.
“How about the other one?”
Jaebum freezes.
“Ah. The Heir?” The Boss’ tone sounds nonchalant.
The wave of anger plummets, cold and merciless as it leaves him blank and dazed in its wake. Bone-white knuckles clench tightly to the reports, the gun remains in his holster as he halts. Confusion freezes his anger in its path, wary and paranoid as it cautions him against reckless action.
Jinyoung is the Heir. They said so. They said he was the Heir. That’s why we’re in this forsaken place to begin with. That’s why. How come it sounds like they’re talking about someone else? The hell is going on-
“Well, it’s progressing as expected.” The Boss resumes speaking, tone mild as Jaebum quietly deals with his shock. “The trainers are impressed by the Heir’s growth rate. Of course, Jinyoung can’t know. Not yet, he’s not in deep enough. Perhaps after a few months?” It’s phrased as a suggestion, but Jaebum hears the threat loud and clear.
Tell no one or you will be punished.
Even though it’s not directed towards Jaebum, he feels like he’s been pierced with the command too.
“Of course, Boss.”
“Good.” The Boss’ tone suggests that the conversation has been dismissed, and Jaebum inches backwards as the sound of footsteps approach. Mind whirring a million miles an hour, Jaebum schools his expression and adjusts his position to make it seem like he had just rounded the corner.
The Boss’ assistant sends him a smile as he exits the room.
Jaebum doesn’t smile back as he bows stiffly at the waist, not straightening until the footsteps have long faded away.
Taking a deep breath, Jaebum thinks.
Heavily reliant on street smarts, Jaebum had always been considered by others to be all action and no thought. His heists had never gone off perfectly, not until Jinyoung had joined him and survival had meant joining forces to steal together, escape together and survive together.
But what others don’t realise about Jaebum is that he’s a master planner of every single sliver of detail. If the target’s son is about to witness him steal his mother’s wedding ring as she lies drugged and unconscious, then it’s because he wants the thrill of the chase, the scare of nearly getting caught. Its Jaebum’s own privately guarded secret, well-kept even from Jinyoung and the ranks of the Family who shake their head when he arrives at headquarters with a heavier scent of gunpowder than should be ideal for an assassin of his calibre.
Jaebum hasn’t dragged himself from the pits of the earth with nothing but stupidity.
So, he plans.
He thinks.
Finally, he arrives to a decision.
If Jinyoung’s not the true heir, then Jaebum must simply do his best to prevent him from being integrated too deeply into the family, until whenever the Boss deems it time to reveal the truth.
Then, they’re out of there.
Sure, there’s the issue of the true Heir and whoever they may be. Maybe they’re some poor sap who has no idea of their true fate and by deciding to pull Jinyoung out, Jaebum’s just signing some poor hapless soul to a life of regret and torture.
Perhaps Jaebum should feel a little more sympathetic to this unknown anonymous Heir who may or may not know what they’re getting into, but he’s never propagated himself as a saint. He’ll do his best, but only for those he cares about.
Pushing open the door, Jaebum bows, waiting for the Boss to acknowledge his presence.
“Boss, these two hits aren’t far from each other. May I complete them both?” In his hands, he clutches Jinyoung’s assignment as tightly as his own.
The Boss’ answering smile is pleasant. “Of course.”
-
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Jaebum jumps a mile into the air, gun sliding smoothly into his grip even as he darts across the room to slam the intruder into the wall and press his arm against the assailant’s throat.
The flash of fear he sees in Jinyoung’s eyes will haunt him for months.
Jaebum immediately lets go, sliding his gun back into the concealed holster once more (he never takes it off, not nowadays) as he apologises worriedly. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone over tonight and-jeez, haven’t you heard of knocking? Or ringing the doorbell? Or even ringing me?”
Jinyoung smiles weakly from the floor, rubbing at the base of his throat. “Something must be up if you’re actually suggesting I call you. You hate the ringtone I set.”
Jaebum snorts. “It’s better than you barging in here at ass-o’clock in the morning.” He offers his hand to the other.
“It’s not like I can help it. Your phone is always off, and I’ve grown tired of waiting around outside when you’re not even home.” Jinyoung grabs Jaebum’s hand and allows himself to be pulled up from the floor.
Jaebum snorts. “It’s not like I can help it,” he mimics Jinyoung’s tone as he leads the way back out of his bedroom, heading towards the kitchen. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
Reaching into his fridge, Jaebum sticks his head inside before emerging with a pot of yesterday’s leftovers. He motions with an extra bowl and Jinyoung nods in acquiescence at the peace offering. Food truly is the way into a man’s heart.
“We haven’t seen each other in weeks.” Jinyoung says once halfway through his bowl of rice. “What’s got you so strung up all of a sudden?”
Jaebum swallows. “What do you mean?”
Waving his chopsticks, Jinyoung explains. “You don’t respond to my messages. You’ve been taking double the amount of missions you used to take, and don’t think I haven’t seen the bloodstains on your laundry either. I’m the one who does it half the time.” Jinyoung’s mock scolding tone transitions to worry. “What’s happening, Jaebum? You can tell me.”
“Nothing’s happening.” Jaebum is quick to dismiss. His stomach turns unpleasantly.
“Bull shit.”
Placing a mouthful of pork and rice into his mouth, Jaebum chews as his mind attempts to scrounge up an adequate reply to offer Jinyoung. Unfortunately, it’s simply too difficult for him to lie to someone who knows him almost as well as he knows himself.
“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” He tries for a placating tone, because their relationship works as a double-edged sword. If Jinyoung knows Jaebum like the back of his hand, then the same can be said for Jaebum. For now, Jaebum’s main focus is on abating Jinyoung’s over-protective mother hen instincts. “I guess I need to adjust to the frequency of my missions, but otherwise I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’ll survive.” He tries to say it teasingly, but he can’t help the slight grimace at his ill-chosen words.
Jinyoung catches it, as always. “At what cost, though?” He sighs, frowning deeply. “Maybe I should have a talk to the Boss about this. I mean, as the Heir I should be able to pull some strings, maybe take on more work as compensation-“
“No, you can’t!” Jaebum’s tone is unexpectedly sharp.
Silence cloaks the room as Jinyoung stares at him in shock.
“Let me deal with it myself.” Jaebum evenly offers up an explanation, mentally cursing his own thoughtlessness. “You have enough on your plate.”
Jinyoung frowns, still dubious. “If you’re sure.”
It’s clear that Jinyoung doesn’t believe Jaebum is telling him everything, but he lets the matter drop.
Jaebum resolutely refuses to meet Jinyoung’s gaze. His words alone contain more than an offer to help. They communicate a willingness to hear Jaebum out. Because they’re a team - always have been, always will be.
This time, Jaebum knows he’s on his own.
“I’m sure.” Jaebum dismisses. He knows that Jinyoung’s gaze is still trained on him, but he studiously avoids his gaze as he continues eating his meal.
Jinyoung’s quiet sigh is accompanied by the scraping of his chair. “Well, I’m off then. You know where to find me.”
Jaebum can’t help but to sneak a glance at Jinyoung as he exits the room. At the base of his neck, purplish bruises are beginning to form.
-
“C’mon, what could possibly go wrong?” Jinyoung grins brightly at Jaebum. It’s been a year since they met, and Jaebum finds himself constantly exhausted by trying to keep up with his hyperactive friend.
“A lot.” Jaebum says, but he’s nodding his head in agreement anyway and readying himself for the heist they’re about to try to pull off.
It’s completely illogical. Stupid, even. But Jaebum goes along with it anyway because Jinyoung promises it’ll be fun, and fun is something which every child is attracted to.
Thankfully, they don’t get caught. But for a while there, it’s hit-and-miss as they race through the streets. They compete with the shouting authorities as they dart away, quick as bullets and sly as foxes in their endeavour to escape.
Finally, the two of them collapse back in their chosen hideout for the night, laughing and giggling like children - and here’s the true stumper, for the first time in a long time Jaebum finally feels his age. That night, they curl up around each other when they sleep, shivering slightly but content with their bodies side by side. Jaebum wakes up in the morning laughing at Jinyoung’s childish position, lightly teasing him when he awakens for sleeping whilst sucking his thumb in his sleep.
Their meals are scarce, their shelter is questionable and it’s a miracle they have even been able to survive, but childhood is still - dare he think it- bliss.
-
Not for the first time that afternoon, Jaebum wishes he had had the foresight to bring a pair of gloves. Or a warmer coat. The frigid wind nips sadistically at his exposed skin and the tips of his fingers are numb, frozen to the handle of the bag he has hanging limply from his side.
As he breathes out, his breath escapes his lips in wispy tendrils like smoke from an exhaust pipe, twisting and curling before fading into the atmosphere. Jaebum gives a cursory glance to his watch before pushing off from the nondescript wall he had been leaning against. It’s two minutes to the meet up time, and he has some distance to cover.
Tugging the base of his scarf up so it covers the bottom of his face, Jaebum turns his head slightly to the side as he passes a stray officer on the street. It pays to be cautious.
There. The fountain in the centre of the square. Some kid is leaning against it, some sort of gaming console in his grasp with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Jaebum’s lips lift slightly at the corners as he approaches, settling at a spot a little ways off. Ah, childhood. There’s a certain element of simplicity associated with childhood that evokes a feeling of wistfulness in Jaebum.
“Brother has gotten a new job.”
Jaebum blinks, head instinctively beginning to turn towards the speaker before he remembers himself and transitions the movement to make it seem like he is simply tilting his head to stare at something in the distance.
The keywords are spoken in a light, lilting voice. Unmistakably, the voice belongs to a child.
It belongs to the kid stationed surreptitiously beside him by the fountain.
Jaebum wonders what this kid’s story is. Maybe he’s been born into the business. Maybe he had been recruited like Jaebum and Jinyoung, dragged into the underworld with chains snaking themselves around his neck before he had even opened his mouth to agree.
Or maybe, the kid actually wants to be here.
Eyes flicking up once, Jaebum’s trained eyes notice the barely perceptible lump near the kid’s waist. The child’s thin frame renders the concealment of a firearm somewhat difficult.
“That’s good, maybe he can treat mother to dinner.” Jaebum speaks, filling the silence.
There is an indiscernible shift in the atmosphere from tense-casual to detachedly professional.
“Here’s our half.” The kid’s tone remains light, but the volume drops slightly as he holds his console in one hand, eyes glued to the blinking screen as he hands Jaebum a dark bundle.
Jaebum accepts the concealed cash casually, stuffing it into the depths of his large winter coat as he hands over his own package.
The kid accepts the drugs wordlessly, slinging the bag up onto his shoulder.
Jaebum doesn’t need to count the amount of cash he’s been given. He knows that no family would be idiotic enough to mess with his. Even though he knows that the rules of the job dictate he should make the transaction and walk away, something compels him to turn back one last time.
For a short moment, the crowd between them surges, momentarily blocking his sight before clearing once more. Jaebum freezes in place.
The kid has the bag slung onto his shoulders. One hand grips the console and the other is raised to his lips as he focuses on the screen. In that moment, adolescence seems ephemeral.
He sucks his thumb.
Jaebum’s chest feels hollow at the thought.
-
“The guy from the other family didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Jinyoung chatters into the receiver.
Jaebum tells himself not to feel guilty as he responds easily, having anticipated the question. “Of course not, no trouble at all.” He says. It’s the truth, he reminds himself.
Jinyoung’s sigh is relieved. It makes something coil in Jaebum’s stomach, something unpleasant that threatens to flip him inside out. “That’s good. If not, I would’ve been perfectly happy to go beat ‘em up for you!”
I doubt that.
“I bet you would,” Jaebum forces himself to laugh along, “but I bet you wouldn’t have been able to take them.”
You wouldn’t have even tried.
-
Dressed immaculately, shoes polished and suit crisp, Jaebum wonders what the Boss has in store for him. However, he knows better than to voice his unease as he quietly steps outside the vehicle, nodding a silent thanks to the subordinate who closes the door behind him.
“Follow.” The Boss’ assistant spares him a single glance. If Jaebum’s not mistaken, he’s appraising him. “You have been privileged enough to receive a personal gift from the Boss.”
He does not seem to expect a response, so Jaebum wisely keeps his mouth shut as he steps inside the building. Jaebum is led through a sterile, crisp area which unmistakably serves as a lobby, following the lead of the Boss’ assistant and keeping his eyes fixed to the front as he ignores the receptionist’s perfect teeth as she flashes a smile.
Someone raises from their seat by the wall, approaching them at a rapid, brisk pace. The cloying scent of something sickeningly floral assaults Jaebum’s senses and it takes every inch of his training for him to not flinch backwards at the overpowering aroma.
“Welcome, esteemed customers!” The man’s smile is impossibly wider and whiter than that of the receptionist’s as he bustles them through the lobby and into an adjacent room off the side. Carpeted in plush carpet and furnished with exquisite pieces of furniture, Jaebum finally realises it was a pragmatic decision to wear a suit today.
“I am your Seller for today. May I interest you in some refreshments?” The Seller gestures towards the table situated against the wall.
The colourful array of macarons and tiny sandwiches on display are enough for Jaebum to begin salivating. They’re nestled comfortably amongst assorted cakes and other fine bite-sized pieces, with wine, champagne and coffee arranged neatly at the end of the table. Jaebum doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a large quantity of quality food before in his life, much less had it offered to him.
The gaze of the assistant slides over to Jaebum. “Perhaps later.” He declines politely. For a moment, Jaebum is almost disappointed, but he quells the feeling immediately. It’s not good to be greedy, and besides - there’s a certain look in the assistant’s eyes that has Jaebum’s subconscious deciding that shortly, he’ll be very glad for the lack of food in his stomach.
“Well then, if you’re sure.” The Seller’s pout juxtaposes unsettlingly against his spirited tone as he continues, “I suppose we should get on to the goods.” Rising from his seat, he gestures for them to follow to the opposite side of the room towards a large set of double doors.
“The usual procedure applies.” The Seller’s effervescent smile remains glued in place even as his tone shifts to something more businesslike. “If you’re unsatisfied with any of the goods in this collection, simply say so and we shall proceed to another. On such short notice, we had a bit of difficulty preparing everyone on time…” he says apologetically.
“Choose your gift well.” The assistant says, placing a hand on Jaebum’s arm as the Seller reaches for a green button on a panel to the side of the door.
The doors begin to swing open, and the change is immediate.
Jaebum resists the urge to gag as the pungent smell of urine and sweat assaults his nose, wafting from the room and carrying with it a familiar atmosphere of fear and anxiety reminiscent to his times on the street. It feels like something cold like ice has dropped down Jaebum’s spine. Like he’s been burnt at subzero temperatures. Terror coyly messes with his senses, and he feels the sudden urge to flee.
The Seller mistakes Jaebum’s shudder as repulsion. “Sorry the goods haven’t been cleaned,” he says apologetically with an absent-minded kick to something long and pale off to the side. “No, stay away,” he says, “these shoes are newly polished.”
There’s a small keening noise from the shadows in response. Belatedly, Jaebum realises it’s the whimper of a small child.
“Today isn’t an official auction day, and usually private sales are made with a booking at least a week in advance.”
The assistant’s grip on Jaebum’s arm grows tighter. “But there’s no issue, yes?”
The Seller pales significant at the implied threat. “Oh no, of course not! How can we refuse our best financial backer and supporter…” his chatter dies away as Jaebum is nudged forward by the Boss’ assistant.
A dozen terrified, emaciated faces stare desperately towards him. No matter where he looks, Jaebum feels like he’s going to throw up. The clean clothes they’re dressed in have obviously been procured without a thought as to the sizing of their wearers. What would ordinarily be fine suits and dresses hang like ugly drapery off thin frames and grimy skin. Like children playing dress up, except no parent would ever be allowed to raise a child in conditions such as this.
Quickly, Jaebum looks down. His cheeks are burning. All of a sudden, he understands the significance of his visit.
“Go ahead, pick one.”
There’s an undeniable order in his voice. Jaebum knows that for all this truly is a gift, the truth of the matter is that he’s being tested. This is one step closer to cementing his place in the mafia and inching Jinyoung out. He has to do this.
Jaebum casts his gaze once more over the grouping of emaciated humans. Some meet his gaze head on, and others keep their heads down as if by not being able to see him, he won’t be able to see them. There’s desperation in their young faces, and some seem like they’re hurling perpetual screams into the silent, still air. Silent in fear of approaching demons. Of Jaebum, of the Seller, of everyone.
The ones who meet his gaze are either terrified or furious. There’re glares, there’re glistening eyes and there are cautious glances to his hip - where his holster is, and Jaebum realises that it doesn’t matter that he has concealed his weapon.
They’ve seen them taken out so often that they can identify where his is with ease.
Then there’re the broken ones. It doesn’t matter whether he can see their eyes or not, because their entire body screams fragility. Bruises like wilted flowers, glassy eyes and smiling vacantly like antiquated china dolls on display.
Amidst it all, something catches his eye.
“Number 7715, please step forward.” He says.
There’s a small frown on the expressions of both the Seller and the Boss’ assistant at his polite tone, but his mind dismisses it in favour of watching as the one he calls out steps forward.
Jaebum feels the bile rising in his throat, the horror clenching his heart and sending his insides into turmoil.
There, branded on the wrist of #7715 is a hauntingly familiar star-shaped mark.
-
Jaebum is applauded for his choice. The ones marked with the star are the prize goods, the cream of the crop. Those deemed ripe picking. They’re the ones you’re likely to get the most gain from, Jaebum is told suggestively by the Seller as he’s made to stand and watch them Prepare number 7715 for him.
The ones who were in the system for so long they don’t know any other life, the ones who entered at such an early age, they have no memory of anything else, the Seller smiles proudly as a Cleaner slaps 7715 with a strap for being too slow.
They are those who know their duty and nothing else. Ultimate belongings.
Jaebum’s sandwiches and coffee remain untouched as he sits silently in his seat. They say it’s standard procedure for buyers to watch them Prepare the goods, so that they have a better idea of how to go about doing it themselves.
Jaebum wouldn’t be surprised if he never regains his appetite.
Jaebum seats 7715 in the passenger seat of his car. He tries not to let his heart break at the way he flinches when he reaches over to make sure his seatbelt is done up properly.
Jaebum takes 7715 to the home he had purchased on a whim all those months ago. Sitting 7715 on the couch opposite him, he weighs his options in mental turmoil, trying to ignore the way the other sits with feet poised perfectly aligned with his body and gaze expressionless even after Jaebum had told him to make himself at home.
Tentatively, Jaebum gives 7715 a name and decides that if he’s been denied access of the world around them, he’ll just have to make it a mission to re-teach 7715 himself. He won’t be his slave, but maybe they can be friends by the end of all this.
At least there’s one thing in his life Jaebum might be doing right.
-
Over a dinner of spicy instant noodles and assorted side-dishes, Jaebum quizzes Jinyoung on his past. With self-disgust coiling in the pit of his stomach, Jaebum utilises the skills of manipulation he has been taught to coax the conversation in the direction he wants it to go. It’s when he’s extracting his information that he runs into trouble.
“Seriously, some of these kids in training are scary!” Jinyoung laughs, but there’s a tight line in his eyes that betrays his worries. He’s afraid of whether he’ll ever catch up to them.
Jaebum nods, offers Jinyoung a dumpling and rolls his eyes as Jinyoung opens his mouth to be fed. He feeds him anyway. “Well, they’re still in training. We learnt through street smarts.”
The flash of unease across Jinyoung’s features has Jaebum narrowing his eyes in concentration before it clears. “Exactly,” Jinyoung laughs, raising his bowl and slurping some broth. Jaebum wants to joke that the Heir to the family shouldn’t be acting so slovenly, but Jinyoung isn’t the Heir now is he? “The streets gave us more experience than these riffraff will ever get.”
Jaebum snorts. “I can’t believe you just called them riffraff, you sound so old.” He laughs, naturally slipping in “hey, remember when we were around that age?”
“How could I not!” Jinyoung’s fond smile has Jaebum’s cheeks heating up slightly, but he pushes the embarrassed fondness aside. He’s on the right track now. “Without me, you’d still be a weird grumpy kid on the streets.”
“You were the weird kid who came running up to me out-of-the-blue and decided to show off your cool battle-scar.” Jaebum resists the urge to hold his breath as he plunges onwards.
“But it worked!” Jinyoung crows in delight, spooning some kimchi and offering it to Jaebum. Once Jaebum has started chewing he continues. “’Sides, having you around sure beat having to get food for myself.” His smile dims slightly as he busies himself with his noodles, and Jaebum feels like scum as he presses on.
“How long were you on the streets for anyway?” He asks idly, drinking some of the broth himself. Ah, spicy. “I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this.”
“Not too long, actually. It started when-“ Here, Jinyoung freezes. Chopsticks clattering noisily into his bowl, Jaebum doesn’t have to feign the worried frown at his expression.
“What is it?”
He’s concerned, he really is, but Jaebum thinks that maybe there’s a note of eagerness in his tone that sounds rather disproportionate compared to the rest of their conversation.
Jinyoung of course, picks up on it.
“Nothing, nothing. Forget it, it doesn’t matter anyway.” He laughs, but unlike his usual smiles it doesn’t crinkle his eyes like usual. “Why do you want to know so randomly?”
Jaebum shrugs, and watches Jinyoung pick up a dumpling. He watches his friend fiddle with it.
“Nothing. Just curious, is all.” He says.
Jinyoung nods, but the slightly guarded look doesn’t fade. Finally, he bites down on his dumpling.
Jaebum’s eyes flicker from Jinyoung’s lips to his arm when his sleeve slips to reveal the familiar, star-shaped scar.
Something like guilt churns in his gut.
-
The sight of Jinyoung sprawled out on his bed has Jaebum’s eyebrow arching upwards in confusion.
“Jinyoung?” It’s undeniable that there has been frost settling into their relationship. The distance has crept in slowly, a gradual chill that starts at the edges and slowly works itself further in, unnoticeable at first and only obvious when paid attention to.
Jaebum himself has no idea when it started. Yesterday? Last month? Last season? All he knows is that one night he realised things were too quiet, that it had been weeks instead of hours since Jinyoung’s last visit.
“I hate this, Jaebum.” Jinyoung’s voice is muffled by the pillow over his head, and Jaebum doesn’t even bother kicking off his shoes when he crawls onto the mattress beside him, sliding into the dip created by Jinyoung’s weight until they’re lying back to back in the dark.
“Hate what?” Jaebum carefully asks.
“I hate what the family is doing to us.” Jaebum feels the mattress shift as Jinyoung moves, shivering at the touch of Jinyoung’s cold skin when his thin arms wrap around his waist.
No further clarification is necessary. Distant they may be, Jaebum and Jinyoung will always be in tune with each other where it matters.
They lie on the bed in silence, Jaebum listening to Jinyoung’s heartbeat. The soft constant rhythm almost lulls Jaebum to sleep.
Jaebum’s eyes slip shut.
“I’m sorry, Jaebum.”
“For what?” Jaebum’s eyes are still closed.
“This may be the last time we meet.”
“What?” Awareness seeps into Jaebum’s mind, alongside the familiar sensation of dread.
“I messed up a deal pretty badly. They haven’t called yet.” Jinyoung’s tone is carefully even, but Jaebum can detect the minute shivers of his body. Brave front or not, Jinyoung is terrified. It’s well known that the Boss doesn’t take mistakes well. There’s always a punishment, some form of re-education.
“What happened?” What did you do? Why are you making it so difficult for me to keep you alive? Jaebum wants to scream, wants to roll over and crush Jinyoung beneath his body, bury him in his blankets so that no one can get to him, no one but himself.
“I couldn’t help myself. I just got so angry, y’know? I mean, I don’t get angry easily but… man,” Jinyoung exhales loudly, body shuddering against Jaebum.
“Explain. Please.” He doesn’t think he trusts himself to say any more.
“I thought it was simple... I mean, I haven’t had too many missions lately, you know? It’s a bit strange, but that’s not the point. Anyway, I thought that it’d be simple. Just give the guy the bag of goods, receive something back and then dump it off. Easy.”
“You’re rambling, Jinyoung.” Jaebum twists so that they’re facing, heads close together and eyes trained on Jinyoung.
“I… I completed the deal. Kind of.” Jinyoung’s voice breaks.
“Kind of?”
“I refused the money the kid offered. I mean, it was a kid. It didn’t feel right. It just… didn’t. I knew I had to get rid of what I had, but receiving something like that… I mean…” Jinyoung begins to laugh. It echoes through the room, sending shudders through his body. “of all things to stuff up on, a simple deal? What a joke, what a way to mess up.” His laughter quietens until transitioning to soft sobs. Rolling onto his back, his arm unwraps from around Jaebum as he rubs his sleeve at his eyes, dampening the material with tears. “I’m sorry, Jaebum. I messed up.”
Jaebum’s expression is hard. “I’ll fix things”
“You don’t have to do anything!” Jinyoung is quick to respond, knowing Jaebum’s impulsive nature may exacerbate the situation.
“What do you want me to do, then?” Jaebum asks, mind whirring.
Maybe he can offer to take the punishment in Jinyoung’s place. Take responsibility. He’s sure that there must be some sort of deal he can strike with the Boss, if only so Jinyoung doesn’t have to face hell. Jinyoung still deserves a shot at redemption, Jaebum’s the one who’s beyond saving.
“Just… stay with me. Stay for now.”
Something in Jinyoung’s tone has Jaebum’s perceptive eyes instinctively searching his features for the glimmer of emotion he had caught in his words. It stirs up something familiar in Jaebum’s chest, a warm, tingly sensation that runs through his veins and leaves him feeling light and fidgety.
Jaebum exhales. “All right.”
It’s unclear who reaches out first. In the desperation of the night, hidden in the cloak of despair for one night the iron barricade between them drops. Lips touch, hearts connect and the end is in motion.
-
Jaebum perfunctorily arrives at five minutes to the destined time. The touch of the sun on his back is warm and constant, soothing at first but increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stands in his suit. At nine o’clock exactly, the door opens up. One of the boss’ assistants waves him in, and Jaebum is silent as he’s led up the staircase, up multiple flights of stairs which seem to creak and sway with every step.
Finally, they step outside onto the roof. Jaebum has to blink in surprise - it’s an open courtyard, beautiful and tranquil. The sound of running water from the stone fountain to the side is refreshing amidst the canopy of green. It’s a rooftop oasis amongst the jungle of concrete comprised of the surrounding buildings.
Most magnificent in its simplicity is the crimson pagoda located in the centre of the garden. At the centre, the Boss sits with his eyes closed atop a mat. Jaebum is surprised by the sight of the man in his hanbok, and cannot help but to feel frumpy and out-of-place in his suit as he approaches.
Here, the Boss seems like any other ordinary old man, quaint and wise in the most humble of ways. Too bad Jaebum has grown accustomed to trickery.
The Boss does not speak until Jaebum is motioned over by the surrounding assistants on either side of the pagoda’s entrance.
Carefully, Jaebum removes his shoes and kneels opposite the boss.
“You know what to do.” The Boss says, gesturing in front of him carefully.
Jaebum does.
Reaching out, Jaebum checks that the water is boiled. His hands threaten to shake, but he knows that any error and he will not have a chance to complete his task. A shame, considering it has just begun.
Carefully, Jaebum picks up the clay teapot and teacups, rinsing them carefully with the boiled water. He swirls the water carefully, cleansing the already spotless tea-ware before the now useless water is deposited into the waste-water bowl to the side.
Jaebum’s breathing threatens to hitch, but he controls his breath as he proceeds. Onwards with the affair. It is a solemn, serious ceremony after all.
Quick rinse of the leaves. The water in the decanter is ready to be added. The hot steam arising from the teapot carries with it the waft of dark, bitter pu-erh. It rests at the back of Jaebum’s throat, dark and cloy before drifting away with the breeze as he continues.
Lifting the decanter, Jaebum carefully pours. No bubbles form. They never do for him.
It is time for the final step.
Finally, Jaebum picks up the silver knife that has remained untouched before him for the whole ceremony. He aligns it perpendicularly with his smallest finger, poised and ready
Jaebum’s teeth clench, but he knows not to question whether this is truly his task. He has always known how today was to end.
The knife slices through flesh, severs the limb, cuts through cleanly. It has been prepared well, intended solely for purposes like these. The first drop of blood falls into the teacup of the boss, and Jaebum cannot help the involuntary scream which he emits before he clamps his mouth shut once more. The assistants mode forward with methodical practise, numbing his hand with an injection and swiftly bandaging the wound.
It is not over yet.
Jaebum shakily lifts his cup. The base supported with his left hand, the side with his right. Perfect angles, the picture of elegance. He hopes his blood does not seep into the clay.
It is now that the boss picks up his own teacup, taking a single sip.
“The apology by Im Jaebum on behalf of Park Jinyoung has been accepted.”
Finally.
Just as Jaebum begins to relax, the assistants surge forward once more. Something is pressed against his face, a small object directly under his left eye-
Pain.
Fire
Burning.
Screaming, Jaebum struggles but is not swift enough to escape from the assistant locking his arms behind his back, nor strong enough to break free.
He’s being branded. It’s hot and it burns and it’s agony of the most excruciating kind. He thought cutting through his nerves was bad but this isn’t a swift cut, it’s a long burn that kills the nerves and attacks them constantly until eventually they shut down from the pain.
Then, it’s over.
Jaebum can think again, even if the only thing he’s doing is cursing up a storm inside his mind.
Eyes watering and mind delirious with agony, despite his inability to focus clearly the Boss’ voice is crystal clear in his ears.
“Welcome to the family, Jaebum.”
The Boss’ cold smile sends that familiar, ice-cold feeling trailing down Jaebum’s spine.
“Everyone, the Heir has stepped up to take his place.”
Suddenly, it makes sense.
Part (2/2)