Shame (Special)

AN: This chapter is not very long, but that's for a reason. We did a huge time leap by the way. I'll explain it slowly during the chapter so I hope it's not confusing.

Jungkook's Perspective:

People are selfish for a multitude of logical reasons.

But there are some particular reasons that we don't even want to admit to ourselves.

We turn a deaf ear and gaslight ourselves. Cause if you can't see the wound, then you have no obligation to heal it. On the other hand, you also do not have a real shot at healing it if you don't accept that it's already there.

All my selfish actions seemed to grow from the same seed.

The same old seed I've been watering with everything I've got.

I've put all my eggs in one basket, as they say.

And that basket. I ripped it to shreds.

All the eggs fell to the floor.

So, I could either find one that's whole or I should start stomping on all of the mess.

'Dancing on a grave.' They'd call it.

And that's what I was doing.

But I didn't dare dance on someone else's grave. I could only ever dance on my own.

Because I am that selfish when it comes to taking myself out of the equation.

When it comes to extracting myself from the present moment.

And instead, live in the background.

Watch the scene that's unfolding.

People talking and moving.

Nature being nature. Kids being kids.

Smoke being smoke. Dark being darker.

But not take any of it in. Not let it affect me enough to ruin the peace.

Cause I was peaceful although it was in the middle of chaos.

I, one of the members of the Jeon family was not courageous enough to go back home.

So instead. I did the only thing I was ever taught how to do.

Deal at clubs.

And Namjoon told me that junkies can't be dealers.

And I've always wondered why.

Today, I've found out.

As I stumbled on my way to a teenager while palming the small bag in my jacket.

The lights were piercing through my head like shooting cylindrical blades.

The beat was a heart beating itself to a heart attack.

My legs were still carrying me, although I could barely feel them.

Seeing anything and retaining the information I was seeing was eating away all of my focus.

I only had to ask one sentence:

"Hearts?"

And smile.

One nod. Two nods.

A quick escape to the gentlemen's bathroom.

A small bill. A bill too small for the price.

They'd leave the bathroom. Then, I'd be alone.

Refusing to look in the mirror.

I headed home after I found myself longing to lay on the floor more and more.

My whole body was fighting gravity itself.

The brain felt like it was being squashed until it wanted to overflow.

My eyes, a camera that'd only take the picture a second too late and then showed me it. Blurry corners and all.

A hole in the stomach that no food could fill. A desert in my mouth.

The streets were cold but pleasant.

They would've been better if my left eardrum would've stopped hurting.

I had no idea why it was hurting but I had no plans of going to a doctor.

After all, I couldn't afford it.

All my money went to Mitch. Or his adopted freaky daughter.

The hallway that led me to my apartment had a flickering light that might drive me to insanity.

I encountered it often. Way too often.

My new apartment was just one big room that was always empty.

As it should've been.

A room that was overflowing with cans, plants, and trinkets.

Injections and black bags. Clothes and empty bottles of water.

And Astrid. Whom I didn't consider a person.

He was but a vase to me. No water was able to remain contained inside him, however.

He was the kind of person who'd watch me inject myself without having a single reaction.

He only came to check up on me today. It was unnerving nonetheless.

Watching him watch me.

Butting in with unusual questions like: "How many people? How long are you planning to sleep? And did you look at your phone?"

I'd toss a pillow at him and face the other way.

Pull up the blankets and wish I could go towards the darkness fully.

The blissful oblivion.

'The damn ear.'

Something had to ruin my moment of peace.

It was always one thing or another.

I had the injection and the substance but not the peace.

"I'm leaving then."

"Bye, Astrid."

"I know you believe what you've said were words, but you would be mistaken."

"Go away Astrid and take my ear with you."

A beep from the intercom, the sound of his shoes, and the door closing.

Another beep.

And I was alone.

Finally.

Allowed to do nothing.

But escape.

I'd get to pretend I am no longer alive for a moment because that's when no one needs you. No one is thinking of you. No one is looking for you when you're dead.

You know that's a lie. You're still breathing, but right now, for a few minutes, no request is being made.

And that is peace.

That was as much peace as I was able to achieve after taking control of my life and losing it every night as well.

I closed my eyes.

I blinked.

And the light hit me in the face after what seemed like a moment later. After all, I could never get the shades to close.

But what woke me up after a five-hour sleep that felt like a moment was the phone ringing.

The sound of Mitch's voice and an address that I only remembered the first letters of.

A few texts later, I was in the shower.

After I've made myself look presentable, I put on thick clothing and stabbed myself in the arm with a needle.

As if it was normal.

Telling myself that it will be fine since I've lowered the dosage.

That I was doing it right.

Easing it out slowly.

But it was bothering me.

Every milliliter mattered way too much for my body.

Evert step outside of this apartment was nerve-wracking.

'Thank God for the cold sun.'

I was freezing on my way to the parking lot.

It felt as if the coldness could get to me.

No hood could save me now.

My own skin felt thinner. Weaker.

Hugging myself in front of Astrid. Shaking from the cold earned me a raise of one eyebrow.

His square-like facial muscles moved. I looked up.

"You're late."

I shook my head and my body with it.

"No. No. I am not late. I wasn't told I would have to wake up at dawn."

With hands in his pockets and a cheeky grin, he said: "That's because we didn't know either."

"Then how am I late?" I argued almost too loudly.

"To the news. You're the last one to find out."

"Find out what?"

He leaned slightly back as if he was analyzing me.

I grew more and more irritated.

"It's cold. Can we do this inside?"

"It's not cold."

I rolled my eyes and waited. Standing perfectly still to get him to talk faster. That was the only thing I knew that helped him talk faster.

"Kim Taehyung is dead."

"Excuse me?"

"And Kim Namjoon was his grim reaper. Well, him and Fred's people took a swing too, or so I've heard. He's now replaced, Fred. And Mitch wants to know if you want less now or the same amount as last time."

Words came out as whispered, broken, individual sounds: „What...did you just say to me?"

"Kim Namjoon has..."

"No. No. No..no... Shut up."

"But you seemed as if you didn't hear me just now."

"Astrid, I swear to hell! If you say one more word, I will hurt you."

I turned around.

I turned my back on a psychopath and left.

I went to my one place.

My small bed.

My last hiding spot.

I didn't buy the bed.

The paintings or the teapots.

They were already here. Left behind.

If the previous owner of this dump was dead, then I didn't want to know.

So, I didn't ask. I made a point to avoid asking it. And then forgot all about it.

But now after Astrid told me the most ridiculous things, I wanted to ask again.

But that was not part of the plan. The plan was to pretend whatever Astrid said was a hallucination.

None of it was real.

None of it mattered.

Dealing at the club is what mattered.

And that's what I was trying to do nine hours later.

But the news swallowed them whole, it seemed. There were no buyers.

Only rowdy men and over-sexual women.

Too many drinks were being passed around.

Too few people.

I had to wait it out.

Hence why I sat down on a red couch and closed my eyes.

Mistake number one.

Upon awakening, I've made some money off a man whom I didn't ask the question to. It seems, he just knew I was a dealer by looking at me.

He left immediately, which enabled the hours to continue passing.

People cascaded in and out.

I was a constant.

Mistake number two.

At the back of the club, around the bar, and in the bathroom.

I always rotated around these areas.

I've never mentioned my name.

I've never asked for anything besides a yes or a no.

Because I ignored anything else.

But when someone grabbed my arm and forced it behind my back, I was puzzled.

This was not part of the act.

This was not what was supposed to happen next.

Behind the club.

Mistake number three.

Under one flickering streetlamp.

I got arrested for dealing.

11.48 PM on a Friday.

It almost didn't look real.

The police car.

The blue flashing lights.

Nor the siren that was making my ear hurt more.

Their waving silhouettes from the front seats.

The uncomfortable seat and view from behind the bars.

I was thrown in a cell faster than I thought it should be legally permitted.

My hands were free.

But all my options were suddenly not.

I and the five other guys were either standing or sitting down on a bench.

I had to sit down.

It was the least I had to do.

Cause they took my stuff.

And I had little hope of getting out.

Yet when they let me make one call after withstanding the intense stares of two grown tall men, I called the one person who had the power to get me out.

Kim Namjoon.

Mistake number four.

I didn't know his phone number.

But I knew someone who knew it and for some reason, I remembered his number.

Park Jimin's number was forever inked in my brain now.

"Hi, it's me. Can you tell me Namjoon's number slowly? Like really slowly?"

"Jungkook? How..."

"I am great. Thanks for asking," I shifted my weight from one leg to another, making the pen smudge over the post-its because of my feverish fingers.

"Namjoon's number?" I insisted with a forced smile in my voice.

"I'll text it to you."

"I don't have my cell phone. So, can you say it out loud right now, please? Sooner rather than later would be great."

"Alright. But did something happen? You're talking fast again."

"I don't have time, Jimin! I don't have time. I don't have time..."

"Do you have a pen?"

"Yes."

"Alright, write it down then. It's..."

The second phone call was a gamble.

And I didn't have the right to it yet.

But I was allowed to call a lawyer. The first one was supposed to be for family and the second for a lawyer.

I rolled my eyes at the idea. Cause who needed a lawyer?

Shifting my weight from one leg to another for the win. Head against the green dirty wall.

Someone picked up.

I spoke, but I wasn't feeling myself speaking.

I just spewed words out, hoping they'd stick.

"Namjoon? It's Jungkook. I am in jail or something. Can you come and get me out? Please. It's section 7. You know, the one that's closest to the club we've been to a... a long time ago."

"..."

"Namjoon? Can you hear me? Do you need the address?"

And the phone call was disconnected.

Namjoon hung up.

'If that was Namjoon's phone number.'

"Lawyer hanged up on you?"

The policeman that was standing two steps away asked with a smirk.

I nodded slowly, with wide eyes

Cause if this was rock bottom, then I wasn't allowed to dig a hole and hide in it either.

Eyes were watching me everywhere.

My whole body was itching.

The flickering lights were making my forehead pulsate.

This couldn't be real.

These men were constantly staring at me. Possibly murderers.

They were all so calm.

And I had to sit down.

But this cell only had three seats and they were all taken.

It took me four hours to give in.

I sat down after that.

On the floor.

Freezing again.

'This is what I get, huh? This is it? Huh... how nice. I hope they'll end me quickly.'

After hours of listening to the guys bragging about their criminal actions, and a few jokes made on my account.

Someone that wasn't behind the bars, said my name.

"Jeon Jungkook, you have a visitor."

I thought we'd go to a separate room, but there was no such thing.

Maybe because we were only in stage one of incarceration. Perhaps it wasn't required.

Either way, I never thought this was how I'd reunite with Namjoon.

One year and a half after we all left the basement apartment.

Though I wasn't sure if he knew that I also left without him knowing about it. Not knowing when he'll come back. If he ever did. I just jumped ship.

But he disappeared first.

Together, we left V behind.

And I never found out what happened to either of them.

Until yesterday.

Through words that were said so robot-like that it was ironic.

But this was Namjoon and Namjoon always had my back.

Yet his smug, upset expression was making me feel even more desperate.

"Get me out." That was all I told him.

Mistake number five.

A laugh from the criminal in the back.

A feigned cough from the policeman.

"Were you not caught with evidence?"

"I was, but..."

I was standing before him.

But my legs were giving in.

I could barely see him.

It was almost as if I was going blind.

"Then what do you expect me to do?" Namjoon casually spat those words in my face although he was standing behind the bars, a few steps away, with both hands in expensive pockets.

"Can't you do anything?" I half-yelled, half-begged.

"Of course, I can."

A catcall from one of the men.

The policeman walked towards the corner of the room that I couldn't enter. One whose door opened.

"But you won't?" Was my assumption and fear.

"I won't."

He confirmed my worst nightmare with a smile.

I plummeted to the floor.

Accepting defeat and yet boiling with rage.

"You won't ask why not?"

"What's the point?" I whispered.

"You have to see that your actions have consequences. Don't worry, I will get you out as soon as your withdrawal symptoms will stop. Maybe."

I didn't lift my head in the slightest, but I did look up at him.

"You're such a funny guy." I mocked.

"I am not joking at all. They'll let me know as soon as it happens. And then you can start over. Maybe."

"With you?"

"Without me."

He didn't say goodbye.

Nor did he look affected in the slightest.

I thought that would've been the most painful part.

But the days that came were worse than death.

Because they were all laughing.

Laughing at me in this confined space.

I couldn't understand the meaning of their words as they chuckled.

I could only lay on my back, rolling right and left, tossing and turning, sweating profusely, and holding onto my stomach.

The restlessness, the urge to vomit, the hunger, and the hard floor.

The horror of it.

Every time one of them moved, I had a heart attack.

But I was grateful, after 48 hours of insomnia, I finally passed out into a sleep like death.

And I dreamed about my brother.

We were just talking.

I kept apologizing.

He kept looking away.

All I could remember upon waking was how sad I was.

Torn to pieces.

Ripped right through the middle by excruciating pain.

I wanted to hide myself and everything else, so my brother would talk to me.

That was the wish I had in that dream.

And in real life, I wanted to hide behind a wall. Maybe lock myself inside it so these men would never be able to reach me.

The room was dark. Their snores were loud.

'Why did I have to wake up?'

An answer came in the form of an abdomen spasm.

It was so violent. Like a baby has just kicked its leg so high that it was visible on the outside.

It came so fast that it turned me on my side.

I barely got to open my mouth when nothing but stomach acid came rushing out.

And not too long after, the words: "Disgusting mutt." filled in the silence that my throat didn't fill up.

Although nothing came out after a while, the stomach kept trying to expel something.

But the air was all that was left.

Lungs trying to squeeze anything out left them hurting.

As if I was about to suffocate after each spasm.

'I'm going to die.' Was my first and only thought.

It kept repeating in the back of my head.

That was until someone's shoe was on the back of my head. And that thought got silent, so it could hear him.

My face made contact with the cold floor and the ear that's been hurting for a while was now hurting outside too.

"You woke me up. You privileged junkie. How are you going to pay for it?"

My stomach kept convulsing.

My mouth kept expelling air.

Cold sweat gathered at the top of my forehead. And it was dripping.

The temperature of my body must've dropped.

There wasn't enough oxygen.

And there was this man who was smashing my head under his foot and then kicking me in the stomach.

I fell on my back and kept looking up at the dark ceiling, while my stomach continued to kick itself. The lungs seemed to be aflame.

'Ah. There's no window in this room.'

I thought as the ceiling and its black blotches moved around, like humungous spiders.

Didn't even hold onto my stomach anymore.

I let the tremors happen.

I took every hit and held it in.

I made no sound.

"Filthy leech."

He walked away.

I continued to stare at the ceiling.

And that's what I did for the next uncountable hours in which the devil had me in the palms of its hand.

I kept telling myself I'll never do it again.

I never wanted to put myself in this kind of situation again.

But another part of me was afraid there won't be a second chance.

'After all, Namjoon did say maybe.'

The ceiling.

Cold sweats.

And the restlessness.

'Why did he have to say maybe?'

Namjoon's perspective:

One glass of wine in the morning.

One glass of wine in the afternoon.

One full glass in the evening.

Wake up.

Repeat.

"Do we send them on the scene?" I asked while pacing around the study.

"Indeed. They're on their way." Arthur reported, keeping his head down.

"How are we doing on numbers?"

"Increasing exponentially after the last shipment and fulfillment of the contract with days to spare before the deadline. A true success that should be celebrated."

"Do that on your own time."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, leave. The call with that moron gave me a headache."

I sat down in the chair with a thump.

But Arthur was still standing before the desk. Glancing up only to look down immediately after.

"Spit it out," I mumbled through a clenched jaw.

"I've been informed that Jeon Jungkook is currently inside an isolation chamber."

Without moving a finger, head in my left fist. I asked as calmly and as slowly as I could:

"What did he do to get there?"

"Nothing notable. It seems that the others did not react well to his withdrawal symptoms, and he's been roughed up a bit."

"They've put him in there for his own protection," I concluded.

"I believe you believed that his symptoms should've stopped by now. I never expected he'd make it inside an actual prison cell."

"They should've."

"Yet they didn't." He quickly argued.

I squinted my eyes at him. He looked down submissively at once.

"Sorry, sir. That was out of line."

I sighed.

"He must've found someone on the inside who gave him something. Which is impressive...and idiotic."

I pointed out with nostalgia. I continued with:

"Make sure no one gives him a piece of dust unless they want their family killed. Or if they've got none, I'll personally allow the person who delivered this message to murder the person who's responsible."

"Right away, sir."

I softly slapped the air, saying:

"Now go, celebrate."

"Yes, sir."

'Because there's nothing for me to celebrate.'

I told him in my mind as I turned the chair to the cabinet behind it. And reached down in search of a particular bottle.

'I've got to convince J-Hope that mutilated dealers would make anyone reticent about sending them abroad. It's more of a risk. And that rat of a boss, how did he get so many children working for him?'

Amber liquid fell from the glass bottle straight into a clear glass.

'How did Jungkook pay for the stuff if he's got no money?'

One small sip followed by a healthy gulp.

'Ah, I want to get rid of the rat, but that'd make me lose so much money. Not to mention, ex-dealing children, let loose in orphanages do not make good business. And I am not going to take them under my wing. Screw that.'

Leaning back in the chair, I could see Jungkook sitting on the floor, looking up with eyes that I did not recognize.

'You have to stop running at some point. Or else, I got you arrested for nothing.'

One knock on the door. Then another.

I put the glass down.

"What is it?!"

Arthur rushed in, cheeks red and the rest of his face pale.

"They brought prostitutes to the party or what?" I guessed, bored.

"Officer Kim arrested five of our people. Two of them were at the top of the..."

I scoffed and puffed.

"Let them be for now. Make them feel like they've done something for a week."

"But the two high-profile investors will be ravenous if they find out they'll have to spend a week in captivity."

"Tell them that in the long run, they'll thank me," I said with a smile.

"And what about Officer Kim?"

"Let him sniff around as much as he wants. But make sure he doesn't die."

"Understood. But..sir?"

"What?" I barked.

"Why aren't we cutting the weed at the root?"

"Because I've already cut its seeds."

"I apologize. I don't think I understand what you...."

"You don't have to. Just do as I said."

"Yes."

Another slam of the door.

Another glass of whiskey.

'I can't take his whole family out too. That'd make him mad at me...Ah, why do I even care anymore? He's just...He's nothing now.'

I walked out of my own office. Allowed the newest and youngest dealer to drive me home. Or at least, close to it.

"See you tomorrow," I told him.

"Have a good night, sir." He cheerfully said back, holding onto the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

'You're supposed to be a murderer. What are you smiling at?'

One street, two streets, and then a third.

That's how much I got to walk outside lately.

I'd push in the code and walk into a gated garden.

The two-story home was bathed in darkness. Except for one bulb of light on the top floor.

'She's going to be so annoying.' I thought to myself as I kicked off my shoes.

Brought the hood to my shoulders and then lifted it back up.

I made a right for the living room and plummeted down on the sofa without turning on the lights.

And hopefully, she didn't hear me come in.

As soon as my head hit the cushion, my mind went dark as well.

But only for a moment.

'I need someone to push him. But who?'

The sound of a light being turned on was so loud to my ears.

A few steps down the stairs and Roxy's sleepy voice were like a knife across a blackboard:

"What are you sleeping here for?"

"Too exhausted...to go up."

"You're such a bad liar, Namjoon."

"Yeah..." I breathed out, getting up from the couch. "That's what I am."

I mumbled walking past her and up the stairs.

The crossed arms didn't bother me.

The way she'd follow me with her eyes didn't either.

But the fact that she was following me with her body also, exhausted me greatly.

Without taking my clothes off; I laid down on the bed and shut my eyes.

"Really?" She sarcastically inquired from the edge of the bed.

"I told you I am tired."

"I haven't seen you in four days and all you're going to say is that you're tired?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, come on, Namjoon."

A shift in the mattress and a warm body embracing mine from behind.

My eyes flew open.

"Don't I deserve some attention? Hmm?"

Her breath hit the back of my neck.

And a chill went down my back.

"No."

She made a complaining, yet sweet-sounding sound which irritated me to no end.

"What did I do this time?"

"Nothing. Just let me go to sleep or I'll hurt you."

"At least, you'd be looking at me." She went on with exasperation in her voice.

"I don't need to look at you if I can hear you."

I stubbornly shut my eyes again, prying her hand away from my chest.

A kiss on the back of my head.

Another on my neck.

'Ah. This annoying woman.'

I got up at once.

Slid off the end of the bed and ran down the stairs.

"Namjoon? Namjoon?!"

And walked right out the front door.

When I made it outside the gate, I pulled out my phone.

"Hi. Come pick me up."

"But you said..."

"Now."

"I'll be there in a few minutes, sir."

"A few seconds."

"Yes."

'Who was I kidding? I should've gone to the hotel. But at least, I tried.'

That was my saving grace as every moment brought me further and further away from Roxy who I couldn't stand the sight of.

I would've never admitted the truth to her face. But I supposed she somehow knew.

After all, my moves that involved one particular junkie were moves that looked bad. Got whispered about.

Thankfully, only a few knew what questions to ask. After all, I made moves all over the place. And the moves regarding him were the moves of the shadows.

But if I was supposed to be the King, then the bishop was my favorite follower.

The main issue was that Roxy knew what questions to ask.

I sighed at the sight of the hotel emerging from the horizon.

I kept sighting lately.

No matter how good I was doing.

No matter how much money I've made.

Or how many people I could use for my pleasure.

I still spent my time hidden behind locked doors, getting drunk, or sleeping it off.

Cause going to Jungkook to beat him up for using needles was not something I was allowed to do.

Nor did I have the right to do it anymore.

But my palms were itching.

That's how mad I was.

When the fire would die down, I'd feel lonely.

And resentful.

I liked to blame Kim Taehyung.

But what was the point?

His eyes, floating in a jar were not enough to soothe me.

This beautifully decorated room felt empty.

And the prison was so far away.

'I hope you have a plan, Jungkook. Cause if you keep going down the path you're going. I'll just have to lock you up and throw away the key. There's no way in hell I'll just keep watching anymore.'

Another drink.

Another white night.

'What am I thinking about? That's worse than what my dad did. I just have to forget about it.'

'Forget.'

'Forget...'

'Everything.'

'And move forwards.'

'Somewhere.'

'Nice.'

"Hey, Jimin. I called to... hear your voice."

"Well, I am sick of hearing your drunk voice."

"Ha-ha. You know just what to say."

"I am hanging up."

"No... stay for a bit. Please, only a bit."

He sighed and mumbled my favorite:

"…fine."