Sick (Special)

AN: As promised, here it is:

(Next one will be up in two weeks maybe. Three tops. Don't hesitate to let me know what you think will happen. I'd love to read it.)

Jungkook's perspective:

It was 1:27 AM and I was officially out of medicine.

That was seven days ago.

Now it was just me and these walls.

The starvation. And the silence that was occasionally disturbed. Little disturbances that affected me mentally.

Disturbances that once they were gone, left a hole in their absence. They felt like an eternity that I've spent trying to console myself, on the floor.

At some point, I felt like crying because of the numbness that started to set in after I hadn't moved for such a long period.

Then, I found out that the ceiling is just as dark as the walls.

The images that popped up in my mind's eye, I was pushing them to the side like trash from the surface of the sea.

It was exhausting. But if I were to just let them be, I was afraid I'd drown.

There was a clock on the wall. A white, tiny, chronometer-sized, flickering clock stuck inside the wall itself.

I wanted to break it into pieces every single second.

Cause the time to grieve was running out with every change of its numbers.

I kept wondering about what or who I was grieving.

But then I realized that it was, perhaps, everything.

And the nothingness of it all.

It was embarrassing. Looking back at all I've done.

"Dinner." They loudly announced through the hole in the door.

A tray was pushed in.

An overused, scratched, small dark green tray.

My response was to wrap my arms around the stomach.

After a while, I wondered if it was the lack of energy and appetite or the fact that I was slowly killing myself by refusing to eat. They both seemed valid. They helped each other like two hands that keep high-fiving.

But then this pain was oozing out of my body like sweat. Through invisible glands that shoot it all straight through my heart. The organ felt separate from the rest of me.

And then, without a reason or warning, the words: "You're being released tomorrow.", were said.

The corners of my lips stretched towards the cheeks.

And then slowly, a painful chuckle spilled out of my body in waves.

"Mistake number six," I told myself out loud.

The man was pacing in place. Free to do so in the hallway or wherever he pleased.

"You will be allowed one shower."

"Mistake number seven."

I announced, laughing, turning over on my belly while still lying perfectly parallel to the floor.

I looked up at him and he looked down at me.

"Another meal won't be necessary." He spat, clenching his teeth.

Shoving the tray until it fell to the ground with a thump.

It all spilled out, but not one of the plastic trays broke.

'Of course, they didn't.'

I shut my eyes when the trap was also slammed shut.

The smell of food was a perfume that filled both nostrils and wouldn't dissipate.

And the thought of having to move, a joke.

The floor was gray and old. Overused just like the tray. With some red lines and a blue one near the wall behind me.

Faded colors. A faded private little place. Despite the fact that the rest of the prison has been repainted.

'Where do I go?' I quietly asked myself as if someone could hear it if I were to think it any louder, 'Will they just dump me outside? Where is this place anyway...Hah...who cares?'

I burst out laughing a joyless laugh. Guttural. Piercing through my abdomen as it swayed back and forth against the floor.

Brushing the dust off the pavement with my eyelashes, I thought: 'I should eat. Just once. Just this time.'

I've used up the entire strength I had left to lift my head and stand on the floor with my chin only.

The food appeared so vivid and alive before me.

Right hand forwards, fingers clutching the flat surface. I made a fist and pushed forwards using it.

My legs were not responding. I crawled towards the spilled food and immediately ripped the bread like it was a piece of precious duck.

One bite. Two bites.

Not the first nor the second bite went down.

They both stopped like there was a dam in front of them.

I looked at the spilled liquid and leaned down.

Before my tongue could reach the soup, I reached for the bowl that was not topped and looked inside it.

Just a bit of gross, viscous liquid left.

I had to take breaks in between slurps.

But I ate enough to feel as if I was able to turn on my back.

And look up for the next ten to twelve hours.

Or until the lights went out.

The truth was that as much as I hated this room and the clock of doom, I couldn't stop thinking that being outside will be worse.

I blinked and the time to go arrived with the two men dressed in uniforms.

Going down the halls while being held up by two officers was the way I was getting out. Held up like a child. Unable to stand on my own. Or carried away like a corpse.

But it wasn't like I could refuse, no matter how outlandish.

I wouldn't let it show on my face, but I was almost thankful to be dropped in a sitting area and left to change.

Almost grateful to be escorted out with handcuffs on.

And as two of them whistled and screamed my name from behind the bars that wouldn't hold any sound and all I could argue with was: 'I guess escaping reality is something someone should be punished for. But I still believe there's something wrong with it. After all, I've never intended to hurt anyone else, not even myself.'

Maybe there was something wrong with it if I didn't have the strength left to shout it.

They've murdered and raped people. Stole and tricked. And they've put me with them as if we're the same.

The funny thing was that they didn't accept me either. Both sides of the coin despised my coping mechanism. For the 'normal ones,' it was something far too dark and insidious. For the 'non-normal ones' it was something too mild. Ordinary even.

Both of them were ridiculous to me. Unfair. Cruel.

"Is there someone outside? Waiting for..." I pushed the words out through a dry cave and all I got was:

"No."

Before I've been left to fall on the ground after passing by yet another barbed fence.

But this time, I wasn't within its confines. And my hands were free to hold onto a plastic bag that had only my cell phone in it.

And that's all I got back.

The battery, dead.

The road, empty.

'Where the hell am I?'

I tried looking for street signs. For something.

But there was no use. I could barely recall a thing after the cuffs first made it around my wrists.

Even before that, it was all so hazy.

But something was not.

Astrid was looking as clear as day.

Wearing a fancy yet plain black suit as he walked over to me in long strides.

"How was it?"

That was what he wanted to know.

"Awful."

"I bet. Now hop into that car," He used his keys to make a car beep not too far away from where I was, "And I'll drive you."

"Where?"

"Home."

"Where's home?"

"Your home."

"Didn't they give that dump to someone else already?" I joked, choking on my own spit.

"Home is where family is."

"No...na-ah." I shook my head and leaned back, falling onto my palms. Crawling back to the gate with my back turned.

"They've been purposely kept unaware of your situation, but you will have to make something up or..."

"I don't have to do anything because I am not going."

"They told me you got weaker. Let's see if they were lying." He said to himself.

"Astrid...no!"

He walked over to me and grabbed me by the arm.

Just one arm.

No gentleness. No warmth. His actions were always made out of illogical strength and conviction.

"Let me go, you crazy...."

"I'd be obedient if I were you. Or do you want Mitch to charge you for the goods you've lost because of your incompetence?"

My feet dragged across the pavement. My arm hurt under his tight grip.

"I've got no money! Charge what?"

"Take courtesy when it's offered to you and go quietly."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? No. Astrid..."

I was a rag doll being dragged and pushed into the car seat. Seatbelt on.

Head pounding.

The car roared.

Astrid started humming.

I was staring at the car door.

Wondering what would happen if I were to open it and jump out.

'Will that make it stop?'

"Astrid?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know when I was getting out if Namjoon is the one who bailed me out? He's the one who..." A cough has blocked my words. A cough made out of the disgusting soup.

"What? Did you always believe that Namjoon and Mitch have stopped communicating? Or just now?"

My silence and shifting eyes had Astrid chuckling, mechanically.

"How naive. As always."

"Mistake number eight," I mumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Let me out."

"We are not there yet."

"Don't you understand?! Can't your malformed brain comprehend that I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME?!"

"But I do understand."

"Do you? Cause it seems that you don't understand a thing to me!"

He kept staring forwards at the roads while I was burning bullets on the side of his face with my eyes.

"I've put on a suit for you."

"What?"

"I've put on a suit for you, Jungkook. So, when I will bring you to your family, I will look presentable."

"Astrid, please, let me go."

"You have nowhere to go. Don't you think I know that?"

It was not an emotionally charged sentence. It was a statement. A simple: Water is a liquid, statement.

I didn't let it take me aback. I couldn't afford that.

"Mitch will...."

"Mitch has fired you the second you got caught. Want to hear it? Here: You're fired. Now, go back home."

"Then someone else will..."

"No one will ever hire you again."

I fell silent. He started humming again.

And my head started hurting. Although I couldn't hear one particular thought, the conclusion was still clear:

"Namjoon took over everything and everyone, didn't he?"

A nod of the head.

I sank into the chair.

"I can't buy either, can't I?"

"That I was not informed of, but I will make a wild assumption after I'll identify and analyze the patterns of Kim's decisions."

Silence followed.

More silence was filled only by the car engine.

"Done?"

"Not yet."

"Now?"

"There is a slight probability that the reason he took over in the first place had something to do with yours truly. After all, he is an emotional being. But that sounds insane, doesn't it?"

"Yeah...it almost...does."

The car joined other cars that were waiting in line and then halted. At the perfect time. I almost didn't feel it.

Like a self-driving car.

"What are you going to do after you get home?"

Astrid asked with a weird smile on his face as he turned his head to look at me. Cause this was a weird question for him. One that shouldn't concern him.

I pursed my lips and said: "I am moving to another country."

Astrid's lips went up slowly, then his teeth were revealed. Small, straight pearly whites.

And finally, there was a sound coming out from between the pair of teeth.

His eyes were two half-moons now. The irises were unsettlingly immobile.

"You're so funny." He told me.

I felt like I was getting ripped in half.

Like a part of me was left behind the moving car. Back in the isolation chamber. Back to the club. Back to our apartment. Back to uni. Back to his house. Back to my house.

Back.

I was going backward.

I've run so far and all I've managed to do was go back to square one.

I could feel tears coming up and although I knew Astrid would not care in the slightest, I stubbornly refused to cry.

And watched with horror as the familiar streets started to surround me like prison bars.

'No. I don't want to be sober forever. I can't do it yet...I can't...take it. No. I've lost everything. Not now. Not...'

"We've arrived."

'Not my...brother.'

"Hi." He said, holding a bag with diapers in one hand and a wheelchair under the other.

"I've heard you're sick. And that you'll need this," He went on.

And my chest snapped.

'This's not it. This can't be how I end...'

"Nice to meet you, I am Astrid."

"I am..."

"I know who you are. Jungkook's brother. A pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands while I was checking the streets. Every single person was making me uneasy.

"You got a house?" I joked, looking at the American Dream that was standing behind the brown picket fence.

"We needed space for the baby. And now I am glad we agreed on a guest room because you can use it."

He looked down at the chair and I allowed Astrid to help me get to it.

"Why are you holding on to your stomach though?"

A casual question that anyone would ask. Not only my brother.

But saying 'I haven't been eating,' or 'I've been kicked in the stomach repeatedly in jail,' was not an option.

So, "Food poisoning." will do.

"Oh. Was it bad?"

"Really bad," Astrid answered, looking more and more amused by the minute.

"Mhm," I mumbled while my brother pushed me inside his world.

The beautiful yet rained-on, garden.

The cozy entrance. The warm, clean air.

The sound of the news anchor explaining some sort of a horrible situation.

And a crib in the middle of the living room.

Astrid stood out like a sore thumb.

But he knew when his job was done. That was one of his few qualities.

"Well, now that you've arrived safely. I will see myself out."

"Thank you so much for bringing my brother from the hospital."

'Now he thinks all I have is food poisoning?' I rubbed my temples at my stupidity and heard, against all the casual nonsense Astrid had memorized from a book, the sound of someone saying the name Kim, over and over again.

'It's a common name,' I reassured myself.

And yet, I did reach out for the remote and turned the volume up.

"Looks like he feels like he's home already," Jung pointed out.

Astrid smiled or tried to. And walked away. My brother on his tail.

I kept staring at Taehyung's dad reporting to the camera.

And held my breath.

On purpose.

Then let it out.

Slowly.

["When we arrived at the scene, everyone has been either already deceased or bleeding out. There were ambulances on the way, but..."]

'Do I know that house? Doesn't that street look familiar? Isn't that...'

['"What about you, Officer Kim? Do you think this is a direct counterattack from the people you've been chasing down for months now?"

"After my son's murder, I swore that I will make this world safer for all the children. So, if it is, we will not back down."']

'Mistake number eleven.'

"Jungkook, do you want some tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Do you want to take a shower?"

"No."

"Food?"

I shook my head.

"Right. You had food poisoning. Of course, you wouldn't want to eat. But then... What is it that you need?"

I looked at his shaved face for a second and then darted my eyes back at the screen.

'Get me something that would make me blind and deaf cause this, this can't be real. I refuse.' I thought.

"Nothing. I need absolutely nothing." I said.

He sighed and walked away without another word.

The sound of a baby crying was making it hard to hear Taehyung's father. I reached out for the remote but stopped when the sounds of families crying over the dead joined in.

The policemen. Who really knows what they thought? Who they were on the inside?

All I knew was that they were on the other side.

The enemy.

The ones who Namjoon would've loved to take out.

Right next to his house.

'I have to go there.' I told myself and almost got up.

But then lowered myself back down.

'There's no way he's still there. And besides...he's the one who's disappeared first. I just didn't wait for him to come back. He's the one who...'

I leaned back and shut my eyes.

'Who am I kidding? I wouldn't give a damn if he'd only let me get high.'

"Jungkook, it's so nice to see you."

"Hi."

What's her name came in with a nervous smile.

"Hi."

"Are you so sick you can't walk? Or are your legs broken?"

"No," I said with a smile. "Doctors, they like to exaggerate."

She nodded slowly and took a step forward.

I turned my head back to the screen.

"But can you walk?"

"I'd rather not right now."

"Oh, ok."

"Would you like me to show you to your room?"

"Not now."

["He was only twenty-two."' The woman cried out, '" And he put his life in danger to catch those criminals! Experts should've done it. Not my son! My sweet, young, innocent...son."]

'Hey Namjoon, do you think there's a hell for people like us? And if there is, isn't it already here?'

Jung came in carrying a bag. Standing at the threshold, right next to his woman, arms crossed. Frowning like a father. Like a grown-up. Asking:

"Who was that man?"

"Hm?"

"Astrid. The guy who claimed to have no family name."

"He...he's just a..."

'Acquaintance?'

"Friend."

"Why was he wearing a suit?"

"He's weird. He wanted to look nice to..."

["Young people use drugs more than we'd like to admit. They are everywhere. High functioning addicts who are keeping the drug market..."]

"Jungkook? You were saying?"

"Can't we talk later, Jung? I am... processing,"

"You're doing what?"

"Astrid always says that when he doesn't have all the information."

"What more information do You need? You were gone for months on end...what am I saying, years! You've quit uni without telling anyone and..."

The child must've sensed the aggression in his father's voice since he started wailing immediately.

"I've got him, honey. Don't worry." She told him quietly, cuddling him and walking away.

Leaving my brother with his hands on his waist. Glaring at me as mom would've. Wanting to scold me but holding back so he wouldn't hurt me.

But we must've been past that. I was, maybe, in the worst shape I've ever been but my brother was not able to keep quiet anymore. And I was not able to take anymore either.

Not one drop.

"You need to talk to me, Jungkook. Tell me things like where were you. How did you meet that guy and why do you need a wheelchair if you've had food poisoning? Is that why you lost weight and..."

"Jung? Can I go to sleep now? I am tired."

I whispered, closing my eyes.

But not my ears.

["These are dangerous individuals who will take advantage of an individual's weaknesses and prey on..."]

"No. Jungkook. You can't go to sleep now. Don't you understand?! Mom and dad have been worried sick. I've been worried sick. And now you appear all of a sudden and tell us nothing? I think we...I deserve better than that!"

"..."

I clenched my teeth.

"You look terminally ill. Are you seriously going to just stand there and let me guess? I have a child now, I can't..."

I opened my eyes, smiled a small smile, and looked at him, saying:

"I am here. Aren't I?"

He was about to say something when the words got stuck behind his tongue. He swallowed them, turned around, and walked away just like his wife.

I turned off the Tv.

And shut my eyes again.

I fell asleep in the wheelchair five hours later.

Five hours that I've spent fighting with the voice that was telling me to find a way to get some medicine.

'Get something. Anything.'

'Hurry!'

'Now!'

'Escape.'

'He'll never understand.'

'Can't deal with this.'

'It's too much.'

'Too fast. I think I am going to be sick.'

'Too overwhelming.'

'What now? What will we do tomorrow?'

'What's the point?'

'What if one of those assholes gets out too, and tries to find me?'

'I need to smoke. Just one. Only one and then...'

'Tick-tock. Tick-tock.'

'Can't move.'

'But maybe if I tried more.'

'Quickly! Hurry!

'I'd all feel better if I could just use something.'

'If I could just escape this moment. Everything would go back to normal.'

'Everything doesn't matter, but...'

'What normal? What was normal again?'

I sighed.

But I didn't move an inch.

Not because every cell in my body wasn't screaming for me to move.

But because I answered every single thought with: 'Shut up.'

Namjoon's perspective:

"Where is he?"

"At home. Praying."

"Then tell Larry to step in."

"Are you certain, sir?"

"Didn't you tell him that if Officer Kim doesn't kill him, I will?"

"I did, sir."

"Good."

"But sir, are you sure that you want Larry to take the bullet for you?"

"Someone has to."

"But what if he doesn't believe it was him?"

"He will. He's desperate to avenge his son. So, this is a present from me to him. What do you think, Arthur? Am I not being generous?"

"You always are, sir. You always are."

'Bullshit.'

"I am going home and I don't want to be bothered, Arthur."

"Would you like me to send the files to..."

"The hotel."

"Yes, sir."

I left Arthur in the office by himself because I didn't have the patience for him to walk out.

Nor did I have the patience for the driver to find my car.

So, I stomped my feet and stared at the clock.

Over and over again.

'He's been out for one week and ten hours now. And he's yet to make a move.'

I got in the car and stared at the clock all the way back.

As soon as I got out of the elevator, I searched for Astrid's phone number.

I was about to call when I stopped myself.

And called Jimin instead.

"Do you..." sigh, „Know what time it is?"

"I know the seconds too."

"Are you drunk again?"

"No. I am sober."

"That's a surprise."

"Well, I thought it was time."

I dropped the bag on the kitchen counter and headed for the shower.

"What were you doing?" I asked.

"Aa...sleeping? You?"

"Just got home."

"Doesn't Roxy think it's weird you keep calling me at night? Or morning? Wait, what time is it?"

"Roxy doesn't think anything cause she's not here."

"... you broke up?"

"No. We...we're taking a break."

"By that you mean, you're taking a break from her?"

I unbuttoned my shirt and looked away from the mirror.

"The woman is suffocating me, Jimin. She keeps following me around like a lost puppy."

"Well, she did lose her child."

"He was not her child."

"She took him in. And she loved him as her own. You know that. And now you're all she has left. Just like she is all you've got left."

"I've still got you."

An audible smile.

And the water running.

"Namjoon. We're just friends."

"I never wanted anything more."

"But as your friend, I have to say you're a horrible boyfriend."

"Thanks?"

"Go home, Namjoon."

"How about you come over?"

Nothing and then:

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

I took off my pants and threw them across the room.

"You're being weird."

"I am not. I am simply..."

"What did you do this time?"

"I..."

"You?"

"It's nothing."

"Namjoon! It's bad enough that you keep calling me whenever you feel like with no care for my..."

"I got Jungkook out."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"And?"

"And now he's out and sober."

"And?"

"And... he's not moving."

"What do you mean?"

"He chained himself by his brother's bed."

"Did he use actual chains or is that a figure of speech?"

"It's a figure of speech, Jimin!" I yelled, watching the water filling the tub incrementally.

"And?" He bit back, implying what I knew he would.

"And nothing."

"You want to go and pull him out of bed or chain him to it with actual..."

"Jimin."

"What?! I am tired. You know what? It's been a year, Namjoon."

"A year and a half." I corrected him. "Or more?"

"It doesn't matter. You did your part. You tried your best. Now move on."

"I want to!"

"Then do it! And let me sleep."

"But I can't."

"Aw, why not? Why are you doing this to me? What did I do?"

"Nothing...you've done nothing wrong."

I reached for the tub, but I didn't turn off the water. Instead, I watched it get near to the edge and slowly but surely, spill out.

"Namjoon. I think you should tell Roxy."

"What? That I only slept with her because I felt guilty for bringing her a child that I may or may have not unintentionally put in harm's way by simply existing near it?"

"No. Tell her that you're going through a rough time. Open up to her."

"That's what I am doing right now," I argued.

"Yes, but I AM NOT your girlfriend!"

The water was dripping at first and then flowing out. Hitting the floor. Wetting my feet. Letting off steam.

It almost looked like smoke. Nostalgic smoke.

"I am sorry," I whispered.

"You don't need to be sorry...just, go to your girlfriend and turn over a new leaf. You've done everything you could for him. Now it's time to let him go."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you doing it?"

"Because even though I've been doing everything right, I've never been more miserable. I want to just go back when it was just the two of us in my parent's house and..."

"But you can't go back. You can only go forwards!"

"There's nothing forwards! There's nothing! I don't want any children! And I don't care about what happens to these people! They're all...I don't ... I am feeding and protecting my parent's murderers!"

"They're not..."

"By extension they are. And now I am too."

"Big cry baby." He said in a belittling tone.

"Stop calling me that..." I mumbled under my breath.

"Fine. Then go back to him."

"What?"

"Go get him."

"You know that I can't do that..."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'll kill him."

He laughed. I smiled. Watching the water cascade around the tub, gathering at my feet.

"I mean, you two were never great together. But you're not going to do that. Be serious."

"No. He probably won't take me back and if he does, it will only be so he can snoop around and find something to inject."

"You don't mean that..."

"And I won't be able to take the rejection or the pretending. I'll just snap. I can't do that again. I can't be with someone who doesn't want me. Not really. He only wants what I can get him if he..."

"Then go to Roxy!"

"I don't love Roxy!"

"...that doesn't matter."

"Well, it matters to me."

"Break up with her then. And take a vacation. You've got the money. Don't you?"

"Can't you just...come over?"

"Why? So, you can attempt to replace him with me, again? No, thank you."

"I just want some company...some good, sane company."

"What you want is a drink. And if someone's watching you then you can't drink. But this time, maybe you'll achieve a miracle on your own cause I am going back to sleep."

"Jimin, listen to me..."

"Good night, Namjoon. Let me know what you've decided in the morning."

And Park Jimin hung up on the man who flooded the bathroom on the eighth floor of a hotel. And whom, despite all the knocks on the door did take a bath in the bathtub that overflowed as soon as one pinky pushed down on the surface of the water.

'Fuck.'

Somehow, I ended up with wet shoes besides a sleeping Roxy only a few hours later.

The only difference between being alone in the bed and her being in it was the sound of her breathing.

I kept staring at the wall.

I tried to concentrate on it.

Then I could ignore thinking about him.

Thinking about V.

Thinking about myself.

About tomorrow.

About nothing and everything.

Before I even consciously decided, I was up in the kitchen, going through the wine bottles one by one.

As if it mattered what flowery note the taste ended with when it would come back out.

'Just two. Then maybe I can sleep for three hours. All I need is three hours.'

But it never ended with two.

It never ended with a bottle either.

Sleep never took over. The pain did. No matter how much I cried, it was a bottomless well.

But it did end with the sun coming up, the phone buzzing. And Roxy coming in with sleepy eyes and a disheveled robe. Wondering:

"Why are you drinking again?"

"..."

"Was it because of V's father? Or the ones you had to..."

"Shut up."

"Namjoon. Let me help you."

She sat down next to me on the couch. Reaching out for the crystal glass. I pulled it away from her.

"Namjoon..." She whispered. Leaning in. Breathing on my cheek. "Please, love...just..."

"Leave me alone," I demanded.

But this woman never listened. No matter what I said or did. She never left. She never pulled back. She never took me seriously.

She hanged on to me for dear life. Not caring whether I was hanging on to her at all.

"It will be alright. You are doing great. Everyone respects you now and you can do..."

She reached out towards the glass again.

I secured my fingers around it even tighter when she tried to unglue them from the glass.

"...anything you want and no one will bat an eye. Why are you being so dark and twisted? There's no reason to be sad or mad or dru..."

I threw the glass at the wall and leaned back. Felling my head spinning and the sound of the glass breaking piercing through it like a thousand mosquitos.

"Go do anything you want, Roxy. And leave me be."

"Namjoon...I don't want anything but you. You know that. I love..."

Anger rose from my stomach like bile and spilled out like the water from the bathtub.

"Didn't you hear me?!"

"Namjoon.."

She reached out for my arm. Caressed it.

I was seeing red.

"You and I are..."

I shook my arm away. And tried to wait it out. Tried to hold back. Stand still and wait.

Hoping against all odds that she'd just think of something else. Someone else. Wish to be and do anything that wasn't related to me.

But it wasn't happening. Not now or ever.

After a few more words filled with an obsession that she called love, I felt myself losing patience.

The back of my eyelids turned redder by the second.

And then the word Jungkook left her lips.

I didn't hear how she got to him, but I heard what came after: "...wouldn't want you to be like this. He'd want you to be happy and loved. And..."

It wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't even emotional.

It was just my hand touching her cheek. Then her forehead. Side of her head. Slap after slap.

That didn't end simply because she wouldn't shut up. Wouldn't lash out. Wouldn't walk out.

She'd just keep spitting nonsense that I didn't believe: "Please, you know I only want to help you!"

A tug of her hair. Body falling to the floor.

A kick to her stomach. To her mouth. A snap of her ribs.

An antagonized cry in the early, cold morning.

I wasn't even seeing her anymore.

All I could see was Kim Taehyung in the back of my mind.

"Namjoon!"

And yet, what came out of my drunk mouth was: "I TOLD YOU NOT SAY HIS NAME! NEVER SAY HIS NAME AGAIN! DIDN'T I SAY THESE EXACT WORDS?"

"You did! You did! I am..."

My foot was on her head. The pressure, too much. My weight, too heavy.

"I will never!"

"SHUT UP! GO OUTSIDE! GO AWAY! GO SPEND MY MONEY AND SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Namjoon...it hurts...it..."

"Shut up..."

'Please Taehyung...just shut up.'

"Sir?"

Arthur was behind the open door of the living room.

Looking straight at me. Hands clasped before his blue sweater. Calm. Collected. Unsurprised. Unafraid.

"Is it time to go already?" I asked, putting my foot on the ground, right next to her face.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have to change first."

"No need. I bought a suit that will fit the event, ironed by yours truly in the backseat."

"Fine."

I walked toward him. My body tilted to the right and left as I did so.

"Namjoon..." Roxy cried from the floor.

I walked past him and out the front door.

Arthur followed.

'I'll just buy another house. Yes, that's what I need to do. But if I leave her alone for too long, maybe she'll...'

"Sir? Would you like to take a shower before..."

"No."

"Understood, sir."

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Am I a bad man?"

I asked as he held the door to the black car open.

"What is a good man, sir?"

"Someone who's...nice. I suppose."

"Then you are good man, sir."

"I don't think so."

"I do, sir."

"Call a doctor or something...for him. Her."

"Right away, sir."

He shut the door in my face. I used the suit as a pillow and spread my legs on the leather backseat.

"Maybe you're insane too."

I said to myself.

"Who's insane?"

Astrid asked from the driver's seat.

I sighed.

"Everyone."

"Me too?"

"Especially you."

"I will take it as a compliment."

Arthur slid into the seat next to Astrid and arranged his clothes.

"Where's Jungkook?" I asked a second after I told myself I wouldn't.

"Still there."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"You better be."

"Don't worry. He's doing better now."

"Why? What's changed?"

I asked, furrowing my brows as the car started moving and the alcohol from inside my belly did too.

"He ate yesterday. A lot of food. Isn't that..."

"That doesn't mean he's doing better Astrid. That simply means he was too hungry to fall asleep or that he needed to have enough energy to try his luck with the local dealers. So put more eyes on him. And if anyone makes a mistake then..."

"I'll kill them myself." He finished.

"Good boy. Now both of you, be quiet, I need to get some sleep before I'll make history."