No Shore in Sight (Special)

AN: The next chapter will be up in either a few days or a week. (Hopefully)

Jungkook's perspective:

'You like to talk about facts, don't you? As if people can be summed up with just one word. As if one action defines you and erases every good deed you've done before it.

It doesn't make any sense, but you must obey. Cause there's a list of things you cannot do or else you'll get punished. No one is truly free in a society that cares more about the papers than the people.

But you don't like to talk about why we end up before you. You never ask why. You don't talk about loneliness, struggle, dead ends, hopelessness, depression, panic attacks and failed dreams. No, it's all about that one bad thing you did to keep yourself afloat. You, the judge, can't help anyone with the rest, in fact, I'll lock you up for that one thing cause it's all your fault, isn't it? Or your parent's fault. This might make them even more unhappy. But if it was about your child, then damn, you'd try to help him or her until your last breath. And if you couldn't, then you'd hide them from the world in the name of protection.

If it's another's child. You don't care. Even though, we're all someone's child. That's how we all got here.

But parents also tell the child what they should and shouldn't do.

By that logic, shouldn't you also be doing the rest of the job of a parent? Why are you, the judge, nitpicking?

You don't care how many times I've tried to change. I've tried to be what's considered 'good' and I was just suffocating.

No one can help with a wound that can't be seen. No one.

The system for this was built so you'll be on your side or else, no one will be.

And if someone is, well, we can't disappoint them, or we'll crumble.

No one in your position wants to talk about how hard it is to disappoint everyone, including oneself.

As if doing what's illegal because all that's all we have to numb the pain, or is the one thing that makes one feel anything else besides numbness, which is a soul eating addiction, it's something we get a thrill out of.

As if risking your safety and sanity is something fun. We must lower our heads and feel ashamed for not being able to do it all on our own.

But after everything, I can't. I am not ashamed, for doing all I could to keep me sane.

So, fuck you.

And thank you for not thinking about what's actually happening instead of judging it.'

That's what I thought before they locked me up.

And then, while I was stuck in there, I thought that there were moments of happiness sprinkled throughout my life. They were brief, but they were there and I started to miss them every day.

I always thought that the high was my source of happiness, but I never looked back and thought of it that way. I guess I simply wanted it to be, cause people are far more complicated.

I, too, was a hypocrite. I refused to think about the rest because it hurt me just like it would've hurt the judge.

The happiness I remembered stemmed from the unplanned conversations. The jokes that were said by mistake.

The times I woke up and I wasn't alone.

That was it.

Happiness in itself, is unpredictible.

The predictible kind is mixed inside a cigarette or a pill.

Whatever your poison, it has a price.

Five minutes of bliss, and never-ending months of pain, fear and loneliness.

Hence, I started thinking about all that didn't happen. The parts that were missing, which would've changed everything. Maybe.

The lack of encouraging words. Honesty. True support. Someone actually listening. Someone actually helping. Caring. Perhaps, that was what Namjoon was. At least, for a bit.

Talking to Rhys in our room when everyone was asleep made me happy.

Too bad I was never able to share everything. And neither did he.

I always had to stop when what I'd say would get too real. Too personal. Too close to the rotting worms from my locked closet.

Only the good can be shared and there wasn't much good.

I even invented friends that would act as devices for me to talk about the same person, but who, in the mind of Rhys, would be many others who were never in contact with each other.

I didn't know if I was missing Namjoon but I was missing something. Some normalcy. Some agency.

Something I couldn't grasp.

Something I couldn't figure out no matter how much I thought about it.

I now understand why using was the path I choose. After all, it offered me immediate gratification that I couldn't achieve while sober. Not on purpose.

Drinking hot chocolate on a cold day. I tried to enjoy every sip but it was as if it the joy was just a drop that kept slipping through my lips. It was there for a second and then it'd be gone before I'd be able to feel it.

How do I hold onto it? How do I make it last?

I don't know.

I had no way to distract myself besides chitchat about the innocent past and gossip about the therapists and the patients that I didn't really care about.

But it was something to do and speak.

Something different.

Something that might bring unexpected joy that I couldn't get instantly anymore.

I never thought the wish to use would subside, but after being sober, not by choice, for months, I got used to it.

I almost forgot how it felt like to have my consciousness altered.

But when I'd be on my own. Even for a few minutes, I'd miss the haziness and the highs. The lows, too.

Like one misses a friend that used to come whenever you'd call it.

It was there when no one else was.

It was reliable.

Although I had to fight with everyone to get that friend to spend some time with me.

It was worth it.

It felt that way.

But when it was gone. I was able to look around and notice that there was no one left. Cause that one friend took them all out one by one in a way or another.

Looking out the rained-on window on a sunday.

I no longer felt hollow. But sad. Trying to hold in the tears.

Cause I couldn't see another path. I couldn't see a way to get some reliable happiness. Or peace. Whatever that meant.

I kept trying anything that came to mind. Whatever the therapists preached, I tried.

And I wished I wouldn't have tried my best because nothing worked.

Maybe it wasn't meant to work.

After all, how would you put furniture on a house that has no floors or walls.

I accepted I was back to square one out of desperation. But how does one build a house when you have no idea which materials to use, how to get them, or how to put them together so the whole thing doesn't collapse while you're asleep?

I wanted an answer to the question: How do I live like a normal person? No. How do I enjoy living at all?

At this point, it all hurt. And it wasn't even a chore, it was exhausting.

Waking up and eating. Taking a shower, talking about nonsense or about my feelings.

Painting, reading or listening to music. Playing games and watching sitcoms.

Repetitive. Reliable.

But unhappy.

Devoid of substance.

Lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

It was not enough.

If this was how it was like to be sober, I wondered how people lived without feeling good for months.

Or if I was the one who was unable of feeling it.

Screw that, I at least wanted to feel content with my every day.

But all I was doing was looking at my missing house and crying on the patch of barren land.

Wishing it was something else.

Wishing someone would just show up and build it for me.

But I've lost hope of that happening without noticing.

I've never realized, but I held onto hope that a professional would be able to tell me how to get better. If not that, then someone who's been in the same hell that I've been in.

But all they talked about was the end of a process I couldn't complete.

All could be basically resumed to: One day you will be sitting in the house that's perfect for you and you will enjoy it.

But not how to find the bricks, nor how to find the strength to put one on top of the other, one day at a time.

They said to breathe in fully. Eat healthy. Exercise. Meditate. Have a hobby. Have multiple hobbies. Talk to people and be kind.

Living...normally was supposed to make me feel something good.

But it didn't.

I was either indifferent or straight out disappointed.

Rhys was just as lost as I was.

But he wasn't sad, he was angry. Angry that they claimed to have the answer when they didn't. Angry he couldn't figure it out either so he must be broken by design.

He accepted it. Succumbed to it. He couldn't wait to leave this place and go back to doing what he was doing before.

But I didn't have that option. Namjoon took that away from me.

And not only that, I didn't see the point.

I contemplated dying more than once.

But I guess hope really dies last because a voice in the back of my head kept convincing me that it could all get solved and I would've killed myself before that could occur.

And I couldn't have that.

So, I kept waiting.

And waiting.

Eight months and seven days, that's about how long.

And when my family was waiting by the car with open arms, I felt like a walking shadow, smiling up to them.

I didn't know what to say or do. I just let whatever came out of my mouth be.

I wished I didn't care I wasn't fixed while the car moved further and further away from what I considered to be the second prison I've been to.

They were excited to see me out. Excited for the potential that my life could hold now.

I saw nothing but darkness.

I felt closer to death than living now.

Maybe I was dying. Maybe it was near and I could feel it. Or maybe the addict in me was dying. I hoped that'd be the case. But that could've been more wishful thinking.

After all, who was I without my addiction? What would I strive to be or do? What would be worth it? What could offer me certain happiness whenever I desired it?

I wanted to ask them. I wanted to ask someone if you can be aware that you're about to die without having a terminal illness.

But I had no one I could ask without freaking them out.

My brother took me back in to my surprise.

And his wife was now working from home so I was free to do whatever I wanted without someone watching over me.

They smiled when they asked me what I wanted to eat. They smiled when they saw me doing nothing but watch tv on their couch.

But I knew what they didn't.

I will never move from this place. I had nowhere to go.

No friends. No lover. No diploma. No higher connections. No special talent. No extraordinary skills.

Being the top of anything seemed like such a high mountain to climb that it appeared impossible. Laughable.

Thinking of pursuing anything half-heartedly seemed useless. Like a punishment, even.

All I've learnt how to do was find weed, smoke it and hide from the world while years would pass me by.

And now, all I could do was breathe and pretend everything was fine.

Although Jung told me that I looked a bit lifeless. A bit tired. I lied and told him it was from the pills I was prescribed.

But after I took them for a few months with no change, I stopped taking them in fear they'll only make it worse without me realizing.

Therefore, I was stuck on this couch. Sending expensive pills down the drain every morning.

Dead or alive, I'd be doing the same thing. The only difference would be that my brother would have more money and more empty space to fill with children or friends.

I didn't leave the house for a month.

I cried before I'd fall asleep.

And I'd fantasize about dying in my sleep and getting born as someone else who would be able to do something right. Something that would get them a family that they could talk with, friends that would stick around no matter what, a lover that I couldn't live without and a job that I'd love doing because it gave me purpose and financial freedom.

I'd fantasize about having a life. But I wouldn't feel it.

Like a child looking at a toy through a glass window. A toy he cannot have, no matter what he did.

I expected that my stale bubble would be popped when expectations would start to rise. And it did.

One month and two weeks, that's when my brother came into the guest room and asked if I've been looking for a job.

And I couldn't say no, nor lie about wanting to look.

"Being a full-time cashier is not something to be ashamed of." He assured me.

"I know."

"You can save some money and take a course for something you're interested in."

"Yeah."

'It would take years of hard work to get my foot through the door of something I'd be 'interested' in.'

"I could ask around if anyone's looking for someone with little experience."

"Thanks."

"Did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Jungkook?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you being so monosyllabic?"

"What do you mean?"

"All you've been saying is yes or no."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do want me to say?"

"Don't get defensive."

"I am not being defensive!"

"What's wrong? Are you feeling...down again?"

"No, Jung. I am fine. Just tired."

"Did you do anything besides stare at the tv today?"

"No..."

"Then why are you tired?"

"I don't know, I am just tired."

"Then go to sleep."

"Yeah, I will."

"You can use my computer if you want to search for a job..."

"Thanks."

He tapped the door frame twice and then walked away.

The blue blanket. The white sheets.

I've been staring at them with a blank mind for at least one hour.

Imagining what ifs. Imagining how'd feel like. Imagining Namjoon's tired face.

'I wonder what he's doing. I wonder if...No. That's done. If I am near him, I'll just use and I'll never be able to quit again. And then I'll never be able to do...do...what?'

Day after day. Night after night. I resisted the urge to search for the old man that I've slit my wrists in front of. Or for Astrid, who might've been lurking around without me realizing it. In spite of myself, I kept trying to remember the last two digits of Jimin's phone number.

And when I was about to call him, I stopped.

Dropped the phone and walked out the front door without a coat.

Walked around for a little while before finding a store with the sign: we're hiring, on its door.

The interview lasted for ten minutes and I've nailed it. I smiled widely and said nothing wrong. Or so, I'd hoped.

I was thankful that the person wasn't interested in my past, as much as they were interested about my willingness to work.

And I had a lot of it. Or at least, I could fake it perfectly.

I went back home and stared at the new phone Jung's bought me until I fell asleep.

Thought I'd be more anxious about going to work. I thought I'd be sadder. But I wasn't. I was so busy pretending to be a normal person that while I was watching the fellow employee who has spent the whole day showing me the ropes, lock up the store, I couldn't believe it was over.

One day, done.

There were millions more to go.

I decided to take it one day at the time.

But every smile I threw at a rude customer. Every time I had to lift a heavy box or had to cheerfully talk about something I couldn't care less about, I wondered if this is how my life was going to be from now on until forever.

I'd work, get some money that I had no desire to spend on anything and then go home, eat and sleep.

And after three months, I heard the thought that could've been spoken by someone else. That's how little input I had in creating it. It was: 'I'd rather die.'

But I was too much of a coward to do it, so I did the next best thing.

And called the only person whose number I knew because it was too easy to forget.

"Hi...Jimin. It's me, Jungkook."

"Hi? How...are you?"

"I am doing great; I've started a new job and I am... I am fine. How are you?"

"Also, fine."

"..."

"Are you and... I mean, I know I shouldn't ask, but I simply wanted to know if you know if...Nam...Namjoon's fine as well?"

"Namjoon? He...He's ok."

"He's still working there?"

"Yup."

"And he's happy?"

"I wouldn't call it...happiness. But he's fine. Why?"

"No reason. I was just curious."

That one question had his tone change entirely.

"Jungkook..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't."

"Don't, what?"

"You've done more than enough."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb."

"I am not playing anything. I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Leave him alone. Move on and..."

"I only wanted to know if he's fine!"

"And if he wasn't, what could you do? Swear you love him so you can use him?"

"I am sober. And I've never..."

"Why did you call me, Jungkook? What do you want?"

I sighed. Rubbed my eyes and let the back of my head hit the wall as I stretched out my legs on the blue covers.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You have a job and friends, right?"

"Yeah? Everybody does."

I smiled out of pain I couldn't localize.

"I don't. I don't know how to...how did you learn to enjoy doing the normal stuff without the crutch?"

"Crutch?"

"That's what they call it at...I mean, without, you know."

"Well, you just do it."

"Do what?"

"Whatever you want and can."

"And then?"

"You keep doing it."

"And what if I don't enjoy anything? What if everything feels like something I'll have to do until the day I die? Like, what's the point?"

"The enjoyment."

"But I don't enjoy it!"

"Do you enjoy screaming in my ear?"

"Sorry..."

"..."

"If you can't enjoy what you're doing right now then try something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. There must be something you like..."

"There isn't."

"You like sweets. Go work at a bakery."

"it's not the same as eating them."

"Write a script for a sitcom? God knows you've watched enough of those."

"I don't think anyone will read it when I didn't finish uni. Not to mention it would take years."

"Then finish uni."

"But I've never written a thing."

"Then try it!"

"Now, you're the one who's screaming in my ear."

"Look, Jungkook, I am sure you'll figure it out."

'That's the thing, I can't.'

"But..." I breathed out like a child whose voice was yet to mature. He cut me off.

"Right now, it's not a good time to..."

"Jimin! Come here!"

"Is that...Namjoon? He's with you?"

"I have to go."

"Wait. Can you...Can I talk to him for a bit?"

"No. You can't."

"I won't come near him. I just want to..."

"Jimin! What the fuck...?" Namjoon yelled from somewhere near Jimin.

"Trust me, you don't want to talk to him."

"Who are you talking to? Hello."

"Hello."

"Who is this?"

"Jungkook."

And we went silent.

The room.

The phone.

My mind.

It all went silent.

And it was getting hard to breathe.

"You're off work?"

"Yeah, a while ago. How did you...Never mind. How are you..."

"Whereee are youuu exactly?"

"Namjoon, give me the phone!" Jimin requested desperately.

"You're drunk." I stated.

"Still at your brother's place?" He asked.

"Namjoon! Phone! Now. Stop...Aw!"

"Did you hit Jimin just now?"

"Don't move. I will be there in ten."

He hung up and I was left staring at the dark screen of the phone without a clue if I should be panicking or be glad.

'He hit him. Didn't he? He...'

The right leg started shaking on its own. Then the left joined. My hands felt weak, my heart started beating faster and faster.

'I can't breathe.'

I looked around the room like I haven't seen it before. Now, it looked different.

'He can't come here...Jung...is...No.'

I changed clothes and ran downstairs with a lump in my throat.

Glanced at the couple playing with the baby on the living room's carpet. They looked as if they were from another world to me.

And I was alone, on the dark hallway. Suffocating.

The cartoon was loud enough to mask my steps. The child, distracting enough to mask my presence.

I made it to the door and as I was palming the keys so they wouldn't make a sound, I thought I might pass out.

Opened the door with the patience of a madman and closed it afterwards just as slowly.

The only thing I could do now was to stand with my back against it so Namjoon wouldn't go in.

But at the same time, there was no way Namjoon would keep his voice down once he got here.

I thought of calling back only to realize that the phone was still in the guest room.

Twenty minutes later, I was still catching my breath.

Staring at the green leaves of the garden, bathing in the moonlight.

It didn't calm me down. It was as if they weren't there.

It was a picture.

I was told people felt better when they were looking at something pretty.

And objectively, the red flower and the dark sky could've made a beautiful painting.

But it only made me feel more detached from the world. More alone. As if the only way the external would be able to make me feel something would be because that flower had thorns and I'd be afraid of prickling myself on them. Or if my finger would end up in those thorns and I'd have to feel the pain. And that was all that flower could offer me.

That was it. Joy. Wonder. Excitement. Gratefulness. Content. Whatever else...was off limits for me.

The beauty of the full moon on a dark sky meant nothing.

There was no danger to it so it made me feel nothing.

But Namjoon, Namjoon scared me.

'Maybe Jimin was able to hold him back... But he hit him! I've heard it. But how bad...maybe it was just a shove. Maybe...No. Namjoon would never hurt him. They were friends. Good friends. He's just drunk. Drunk and...'

Hands on my chest, tears in my eyes and wind blowing against the shoeless feet.

I was freezing. But I knew I wasn't shaking because of it.

"Jungkook?"

The door hit me in the back as Jung was trying to open in.

I told myself to come up with an innocent lie quickly. But my mind was a mess and I was tired of pretending. Hence, I honestly yelled:

"Stay inside!"

"What? What's wrong? Are you feeling sick or..."

"Don't come out!"

"Why? Jungkook...let me open the door."

"No."

I pushed back on it and let myself breathe as best I could. Which was shallow. As if I was drowning.

"What's happening? Why can't I get out?"

"He's coming..."

"Who?"

"Namjoon. And I... he's upset. He's not in a good mood, so can you go back inside?"

"He's upset so you don't want me to talk to him?"

"What is he upset about? Did you do something to yourself, again?"

"No. It has nothing to do with it. Jung...please... can you please do something else? Anything else? Right now."

Because it was getting hard to talk. Harder to stop myself from crying and hyperventilating louder. The more I had to explain in a concealed way, the more my brain was hurting inside my skull.

The more ashamed I felt, I had to remind myself again and again that Jung wouldn't be able to help me either. Even if he wanted to. That it wasn't our fault.

'The game was rigged from the start, Jung. And I didn't stand a chance.'

"Jungkook, you do know there's a back door?"

"Don't come out. Please...I..."

"Is he dangerous? Did you hurt yourself because..."

Covered my ears. And closed my eyes.

'I have to send Namjoon away. I can't...no. This is bad. I have to...'

Rocked back and forth while Jung kept talking out of worry. Assuming the worst he could imagine.

But nothing felt as cold as Namjoon's hand pulling me up and away from the door.

I stopped breathing as I watched him open the door and slam it.

He and Jung talked for a bit. A bit in which Jimin held onto my shirt as if he was afraid I'd try to stop Namjoon.

As if he was just as scared as I was.

We didn't say hi. We didn't say a word. We watched the closed door and heard some of the words that were spoken louder than the others.

And then watched when Namjoon walked out with a crooked smile and grabbed me by the arm.

I didn't get into his black, long car. I was thrown into the back seat as if I was being kidnapped.

But I tried not to think much of it.

Jimin got into the driver's seat without any fuss and Namjoon sat down next to him.

Blond hair was coming out from underneath his gray hoodie.

In this confined space, he reeked of alcohol.

"What did you say to my brother?"

"Don't worry about it." He drunkenly replied, waving his hand.

"Hotel or house?" Jimin asked.

"What?" I mumbled.

"House."

"Are you sure, Namjoon? Roxy won't be happy."

"If you won't let me drive, then you can at least drive me where I want to go."

"Ok." Jimin sighed the word out.

I tried again: "Namjoon, what did you say to my brother?"

The car roared as it started moving forward with ease.

Namjoon turned around to look at me. Holding onto the seat for support. Grinning.

"I've missed you."

"Answer my question." I demanded.

He reached forward, I scooted back.

Namjoon was unbothered by my reaction.

"Don't worry, he won't be calling the police or nothing."

"Why? What did you..."

"Nothing that would put you in any trouble. So, do you want a beer or..."

"No. I don't want a beer!" I let him know with newfound anger.

"You're so cute when you're mad."

I was at a loss for words, but Jimin wasn't.

"Namjoon, are you sure you don't want to talk to Jungkook tomorrow? I mean, you'll sober up and think about the decision to..."

"Shh."

"But..."

"Shh!"

I was dumbfounded when Jimin bit his lower lip and kept driving without another word.

"Did you hit him?"

"Who?" Namjoon asked with amusement.

I pointed at Jimin.

"Aa, him? No. Why?"

"Jimin. Did he..."

"He only grabbed my wrist a bit too hard, Jungkook." Jimin assured me in a bored tone.

I nodded to myself and leaned back into the leather couch.

Only to be met with Namjoon's sad expression.

"You don't trust me anymore, huh?"

"I didn't say that. It just sounded like..."

"It's fine."

That's all he said before turning around, cracking the window to smoke a cigarette.

The car was drowned in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the way.

That was until Jimin asked: "Do I have to go in too?"

"No. You can take this car and go home."

"Thanks..."

But there was a hint of uneasiness in Jimin's voice.

He parked the car while I glared at the two-story house, surrounded by a tall black fence.

For some reason, Jimin got out as well. And while Namjoon was searching for his keys in the four pockets he had, Jimin pulled me aside.

"He's drunk."

"I know."

"No. You don't. Listen, whatever he wants you to do. Don't argue. Just do whatever until he sobers up. Scratch that. Once he's sober. Leave."

"Why are you..."

"Jungkook?!" Namjoon yelled after kicking his own gate twice.

"Go."

"What happened to him?" I whispered.

"What didn't?" He whispered back.

I watched Jimin slam the door of the car while Namjoon had his head against the gate with his hand reaching out to me.

'What the hell...'

Roxy let us in with a child holding onto her long blue skirt.

I was anxious about meeting her again, but she did not acknowledge that I existed. The only person she was looking at, was Namjoon.

"Where were you?!" She demanded to know while Namjoon simply walked over to the couch and plummeted on it. Gesturing at me to join him.

"When did you leave?! I didn't hear..."

"I was out Roxy. Out. Now go."

"I had to take Robby to the hospital and Latrina is..."

"You're doing great. Now, me and Jungkook have something to talk about. Go."

She sent me a mean look and then walked away with the tiny, malnourished boy.

Namjoon kept gesturing for me to sit next to him, but I remained standing.

"Did you adopt children?" I asked the most logical thing that came to mind.

He burst out laughing, holding onto his forehead.

"What's so funny? Tell me. Why is Roxy admitting children into a hospital? And why are you so drunk? What..."

"Just sit down already."

"Talk to me already!" I yelled without thinking. And the smile that used to reside under the covered eyes, turned into a straight line.

And whatever courage I had before was gone when he demanded, quickly and firmly: "Sit down."

'Do whatever he asks until he's sober...' Was all that went through my mind as I stepped closer to the couch and away from the empty armchair.

He rested his head upon my thighs as soon as my ass touched the cushions.

Eyes closed and breathing, irregular, he started caressing my face and I felt like I was at the edge of a cliff.

"I've missed you so much." He repeated. Smiling up at me. "Did you miss me?"

"...sometimes..."

"I missed you all the time."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and then heard something break in the room across the hall. Namjoon ignored it. So, I did, too.

"You said we'll never see each other again... Remember?"

"I've ...pulled some strings."

"To do what?"

"Keep you."

"Keep me?" I scoffed with a nervous smile.

"Yeah." He simply replied, without shame.

"I am not an object, Namjoon. I never said we'll be back together if..."

"It'll be just like before. You can smoke or not. I don't care. Just don't leave my side."

"Do you realize how long it's been since we've been in the same room? What are you..."

He interrupted me, again.

"I'll kick her out so you and I..."

"No. You're not kicking anyone out."

For the first time since I sat down, I looked down at his happy, drunk expression with confidence and spelled it out for him: "You made sure I can't smoke at all. And now you're saying the only way to do it is if I am with you?"

He nodded.

"Well, I don't want it."

"You don't want me?"

"No. The weed. And you, kicking her out. I don't want any of it."

"I don't care."

My eyes widened and my legs felt weaker under his heavy head

The lips stretched and the glazed eyes smiled as they barely blinked.

"You don't care?"

"No. Jungkook. You...you'll never stop."

"I did stop! I got a job, I..."

"You only got a job to get money for..."

"No! I got a job because that's what normal people do."

"Lower your voice." He demanded slowly.

A baby's cry erupted from one of the other rooms. I couldn't tell which but I knew I must've caused it.

I shut my eyes and tried to calm down by breathing deeply into the belly like they've taught me. It barely did anything.

"Drink some water and go to sleep." I told him.

He didn't react nor cease smiling as if everything in the world was alright.

"And whose children are you taking care of? Are they Roxy's? Yours? And what about Michael's brother?"

"Dead."

"What..."

"They're...a... I'll tell you tomorrow. I don't want to think about it right now."

He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around my waist. Burying his head in my blouse.

"Are you in trouble? Or..."

"I've killed allllll the troublee." He sang.

I froze up. Feeling every fiber of my being trembling at the sound of that.

"You've killed...who?"

"No one will touch you Jungkook. Don't worry."

"Why was I in danger to begin with?"

"I had to do it so...they won't take it out on you."

"Take out on me, what? What the hell are you talking about?"

He mumbled something in my belly while I was battling both frustration and anxiety with a toy knife.

"Namjoon, talk to me. Who wanted to do what?"

"You're mine now. Only mine."

And just like that, he fell asleep.

The baby kept crying somewhere.

Roxy kept shushing it just like Namjoon had shushed Jimin.

I kept staring at the cracked tv screen while Namjoon held me while he slept.

'People have died because... because of me?'

Namjoon's perspective:

The room, a cloud of smoke.

My vision, a lying mirror.

The pounding heartbeat, the easy fever and oncoming headache.

Dry mouth and unexpected hunger.

And misguided happiness.

All of them at once.

It's like reality is slipping through unreachable cracks.

But as I walked downstairs without any recollection of going upstairs, I was swaying every few steps, but I've found him.

My one reason to either smile or scream.

Surrounded by children.

Asleep on the couch from the center of the room.

I wouldn't let Jungkook out of my sight. Leaning against the doorframe, crossing my arms and frowning. Asking:

"Roxy?"

She looked up, surprised only in the eyes. Two half-lidded eyes and mouth, aghast. She waited for me to speak.

"Use another room."

Complaining under her breath, she picked up the youngest, and told the rest to follow her.

Some didn't.

She either didn't realize it or didn't care.

Either way, alone with him or not, I couldn't figure out what to do next.

The walls and the floor. The furniture and the electronics. Books and toys. They were all drenched in the blood I've spilled.

Not one drop on Jungkook's body.

I walked over to the bookshelf, passing by a blond toddler that was chewing on a cube.

Opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of wine.

The crimson liquid swished around in the transparent glass container.

A cursed liquid. A necessary liquid.

'They're not all dead yet.'

I reminded myself after unscrewing the cork, tilting the bottle and downing as much as I could in one go.

Little wavy strands of wine flew by the edges of my lips, down my chin and onto the floor.

Wiped my mouth and sat down in front of the couch.

Placing the bottle to my left.

'Should I wake him up? Should I just watch him sleep like a creep?'

Before I got an answer to these questions, I sensed something nearby.

The blond child crawled over. Reaching for the bottle.

I looked down. Body, facing Jungkook's. Fists in my lap. Eyes wide.

It reminded me of my first kiss.

This child had no one to kiss.

But a dealer was in this house too.

But I was not fighting with the junkie. Like he had with my mom.

I looked back at Jungkook's sleeping face and took in the marks that time has painted over his skin.

'It's not the same. It's not the same...no... it's not.'

I grabbed the bottle before the tip of his fingers grazed it.

He seemed disappointed as I gulped down every single drop of it.

Feeling much dizzier while I was drinking it. And too dizzy to keep my head up once the bottle was empty.

I fell on my back, still holding onto the bottle, only to let it go so I could roll onto my right side.

Holding onto my head and stomach.

I was in a boat and the boat was floating in a stormy sea.

It was pouring and I couldn't move.

So cold. So continuous. The waves. The bottomless sea.

The darkness of the clouds and the water.

The wind.

The damn wind that was rocking the boat.

Making me ill. Making me unable to move.

Unable to do anything but breathe while the child tugged on my sleeve.

Jungkook sleeping.

And the silence being constantly interrupted by the loud sounds that held no significance. Shouting with no words.

Siren like.

Deafening.

Relentless loud noises that only I could hear.

I knew that. But it wasn't like that made them less real.

I fell asleep in an infant's position. Drowning in cold sweat and spinning in an invisible tornado.

'Tell me it's not the same. Say it, V. Say it.'

He wouldn't listen to me.

Not even know.

Not ever.

'You're only protecting your mom and no one else.' Was his reply to my pleas.

'Shut up.'

'You couldn't then. But you never really wanted to. Did you?'

'Shut...the hell...'

'You hated her. Deep down. You thought she had a choice. And your dad, your dad should've tried harder. Should've been tougher.'

'You don't know me. You don't know...'

'Like Fred. Right?'

'Fred...Fred killed them.'

'And at the time, you saw nothing wrong with it. Well, not much. That's why you've erased the connection between the two. You only started seeing it as bad years later, but then, in that moment...'

'Shut up! It hurts!'

'Where does it hurt?'

'Everywhere...everywhere...'

'Where's Jimin?'

'Stop asking! I don't know!'

'Where's Jimin, Namjoon?'

"I don't know!"

"Namjoon?"

"I don't know. I don't know..."

"What don't you know?"

"..."

"You're going to catch a cold. Can you get up?"

My eyes flew open on their own.

The wooden floor, a moving wave.

The wall behind it, the sky.

"Hold onto me."

An arm wrapped itself around mine. The one that I was using to hold all the contents of my belly inside.

He pulled my arm up.

I stayed down.

"You can't get up?"

"Jungkook?"

"...yes?."

"Why are you here?"

"What do you mean? You brought me here with..."

"Why did you let me? Why didn't you stay inside?"

The pressure on my arm was gone.

"What are you talking about?"

"Chain yourself to the bed or something."

"It was retarded of you. Coming here."

A grunt and another tug. Stronger than the child's grip. But not strong enough to pull and hold me up.

"Thanks for sharing how you're feeling, but can you go to bed now? Or on the couch? The couch's..."

"I can't let you leave this house now."

"Stop the crazy talk already!" He demanded aloud. Slapping my arm.

"You don't understand." I quietly told him, turning on my back. So, I could look at him with wide eyes. And speak through cracked lips: "If you leave, you might get killed. And I can't allow that."

He sat down on his calves. His arms relaxing along with his expression. Two parted lips. Two teeth peeking through.

Surprise? Fear? Disbelief?

Whichever it is. It changes nothing.

"Who? Why would someone want to kill me?"

"Because...I've brought you here?"

"And?"

"And if you're near me, you're a target."

"That's the worst lie you've ever told me..."

"I wish I was lying."

I reached out and touched his cheek."

"No. It can't be...what about Roxy?"

"She can't leave either."

"And the children?"

"Slaves. Well, they would've been if they got sold. But I stopped that from happening and then, it turned out the guy who was meant to take care of them, after...well, I've killed their...It doesn't matter. They have nowhere to go. And they might get kidnapped again if I were to put them into an orphanage."

The more I talked. The more I tried not to blink.

Tried to explain it to him in a way that'd make him stay here without me having to lock him up.

'He'll run and he'll die because of you.'

'Be quiet!'

"Jungkook. Listen to me."

"No... no. No."

He shook his head and then covered his face with shaky hands.

"You'll stay here. I will buy you clothes. Food. Medicine. Whatever you need. But can't, under no circumstances..."

"No. I can't believe this. Yesterday, you kept going on about how I am yours and now you tell me that...that..."

"I am sorry."

The hands fell from his face and turned into fists the moment they landed in his lap. He leaned forwards; eyes closed.

"What did you do?" He asked through a moment of what I recognized as clarity. Or desperation.

"I took most of them out. But there's one more..."

"One more what?"

"I can't...tell you. But you'll be free soon. Me too. I think..."

"You think?"

"I am ninety five percent sure."

"When will it get to one hundred?"

I didn't have an answer so I just tilted my head. Trying to come up with one.

"That's what you didn't know?" He mumbled.

"I do know. I know I should've waited until it was safe, but then I had too much to drink. I heard your voice and I've lost...control."

"That's really funny coming from you."

He spat out with an ironic smile.

"I thought I was fine. I thought I could be patient, but I... I fucked up..."

"No. Namjoon." He opened his eyes and looked straight into mine. Clenching his jaw in anger as he spit the words out: "You were not in control to begin with."

"I was..."

"You're living with a woman that's pretty much a prisoner. With children that aren't yours and that are...I don't know what they are but this is not how their childhood should be like."

"I am deeply s..."

"Don't say you're sorry again or I swear, I will walk out and not be sorry."

I closed my mouth and retracted my hand.

Mostly because I had to hold onto my stomach as I let my head fall back onto the floor.

"Can you bring me some water?"

He got up at immediately and once he was gone, I was unsure if he was fetching the water or just gone.

'It's all your fault,' I accused V, forcing my eyes to stay open so the boat wouldn't shake as much.

'I didn't tell you to bring him here sooner. I only said that there was only one way to get him back.'

'Well, your way is going to get him killed.'

'No. You're going to get him killed.'

'Because of you.'

'Because of you.'

I didn't even notice Jungkook returning with a cold bottle of water.

My eyes focused on him only after the water started being poured down my mouth.

I was looking at his eyes, but he wasn't looking at mine.

If he was still in shock. He didn't show it.

But just like Roxy, he nursed me. Not like he had a chance anymore.

I hated it.

All the times I wished he would be here to take care of me instead, now, it felt like a selfish wish.

A bitter desire.

He laid down next to me. Staring at the ceiling as well.

Hands joined at his middle.

He asked: "What now?"

"I don't know."

"Where's Astrid?"

"Dead...probably."

"And Jimin?"

"Did you just ask me where Jimin is?"

"Yes? Why?"

"Right...home? But he's safe. I think."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Only one left." I reminded him and myself.

"Is he in another country or something?"

"No..."

"Does he know where you live?"

"Kind of?"

"Do you know where he lives?"

"...not yet."

"When will you find out?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know much. Do you?"

"No. I don't."

"And you made peace with that?"

"Not really."

It started small. Like a giggle. And then became a colorful, wavy laugh.

"What?" I asked with a smile.

"How did we get here?"

I shrugged. Guessing: "Bad luck?"

He laughed harder.

It hurt to smile, but it also felt better.

I rolled to the right so I could see him.

He kept holding onto his belly while a few smaller laughs came out.

"Did you break a mirror or something?" He asked.

"Did you?"

"I don't remember."

"Me neither."

I watched him for a while. In silence.

He kept staring up.

I couldn't bear it.

I touched his right cheek and turned his head towards me.

I wanted to say something. But I didn't know what.

I just knew I had so much to tell him before, but now I was speechless.

I leaned down.

"Roxy hates me." He changed the unspoken subject after he straightened his head.

Letting me hang in the empty between us.

"And some of those kids are mean. They hit me with..."

I forced his head to the left again and closed the distance between us.

Wetting his and my lips with the tip of the tongue.

Touching our lips.

And kept them connected.

Nothing else.

Which gave him the opportunity to push my hands away and lean back.

I grabbed the back of his head without thinking.

Pushing his head towards mine.

Forcing my tongue between his lips.

"...Nam..."

The boat, nowhere to be found. The ocean, above us. The wind, I couldn't feel it. V, silent.

At last.

"...no..."

He was pushing my chest away. Unable to close his mouth while I devoured it.

Breathing steadier than him as I wrapped my other arm around his waist and pulled him closer. Hurting my left shoulder against the floorboards.

But it was a minuscule pain.

Something unimportant.

He did give in after I grabbed his ass.

Standing still enough for me to wrap my tongue around his.

I pulled back out of dizziness. And opened my eyes to see him. To check.

'What does this expression mean, V?'

He didn't seem to be turned on. Nor repulsed.

"If Roxy sees me kissing you..."

I realized that fact while I was speaking it out loud.

"..."

"We were together for a short while. If you can call it that. I was...she was...I don't know, but I...it didn't mean anything."

He didn't say a word. He didn't show me anything.

Jungkook tried to get rid of my hand from the back of his head one more time before sighing.

"I'll live here until you get rid of ...whoever. But we won't do any of this."

"This?"

"No kissing. No... anything."

"Why?"

" What do you mean, why? You've said it. You and Roxy."

"She won't leave. I told her to leave..."

"But you're not broken up, are you?"

And it was my turn to be quiet.

"Be with her, Namjoon."

"I mean it. If she makes you happy."

"She doesn't."

"Do I?"

"I think...so..."

A huff and a small smile.

"You killed Tae."

"And now...you're...I don't know. But this is not the same. I don't know you anymore...And you...don't know me..."

"I know you! I know every step you've done ever since I've left!"

"Do you know how that makes me feel?!"

"I can't help it!"

"Well, you should help it! I am a person. I am not an object for you to..."

I slammed him into my chest and forced him to stay there.

Embracing him. Squeezing the air out of him while I was finally able to breathe with my head over his shoulder.

"You have to help me, Jungkook."

"Help you with...what?"

"Jimin."

"What about him?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what he wants me to do. I've tried everything."

"...is he in trouble?" He wondered. Bewildered. Resting his hands on my back in confusion. Hugging me, almost.

"It's driving me insane. You have to help me. Please...Help me. Please..."

"Alright...alright. Just tell me what to do."