Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Stigma

Chapter Text

Taehyung hates to admit it but he doesn't mind being independent, for the most part.

To be free is to be free from responsibilities, he tells himself, swinging his legs off the ledge. Rummaging his hands through his pockets, looking for a stray cigarette, he finds a crumpled polaroid. Taehyung peers at it intently, remembering every detail of that night and all the subsequent events.

Fuckers.

"Stay still," Jungkook laughed as he dragged Taehyung by the arm to the kitchen sink. Jimin had gripped Taehyung's other arm and laughed along and above Taehyung's shrieks of protest.
"Are you fuckers totally crazy? I'm gonna be fucking dead - or worse, blind!"
"It'll be fine. Hoseok-hyung's aim is good." Jimin chuckled.
"Good, my ass! This isn't fucking show-and-tell!" No matter how much Taehyung tried to fidget out, the two men by his side held him down firmly. He could only stare ahead blankly, as Hoseok seemed to be gauging the force and angle required of his shot.
"Guys...please..." Taehyung's voice broke at the end. He was petrified, to say the least. Hoseok was meant to get bulls-eye with mere millimetres to spare from Taehyung's forehead; the dart would apparently hit the centre of the cross that Taehyung had jokingly drawn on the wall. I didn't intend it to be my fucking death knell.

"His aim is real good," Jungkook spoke up. Taehyung wanted to reply but his throat felt constricted, he felt faint.

Whoosh!

The dart went by unexpectedly. Taehyung flinched, squeezing his eyes shut ever so tightly. That moment seemed to never end, breath caught in his chest and consciousness ebbing, whether it be from fear or the heady mix of various alcohols. When Jimin and Jungkook let go of his arm, Taehyung collapsed to the floor, rings leaving a scratch on the kitchen cabinet behind him.

With a click of his tongue, Taehyung put the picture back in his pocket and fumbled for both the cigarette and lighter in his other pocket. Of course Taehyung liked being alone, away from the abusive piece-of-shit he had been forced to call 'father' for so long. The man who stole away his everything, his very existence and someone Taehyung could never forget.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Taehyung exhaled slowly, the nicotine clouding both his vision and his thoughts. Life's too fucking short to think about that asshole. For the most part, Taehyung likes the independence but sometimes, the nights become unbearably long. The darkness of the night sky descends upon him, like a blanket. She's cosy at first but then she's stifling, clingy and refuses to let go. And it's at those moments that he misses those fuckers that almost killed him one drunken night, his friends.

Hours later, when Taehyung had finished work, he stood at the back of the warehouse. To the casual bystander, he would have looked like the picture of perfection - serenely smoking away, jacket loosely placed along his shoulders, staring at the cloudless sky and picture-perfect - it could've almost been a photoshoot. Taehyung's handsome face often worked to his advantage, from when it came to asking the employers in his ever-changing part-time labour jobs to pay him in cash rather than through traceable means to making other people convinced that they were spending time with an eccentric, amicable boy, rather than a murderer.

That is often the strange thing about being a criminal - it never changes. Winners can become losers, losers can become winners. The rich can become poor and vice versa but having committed a crime? You're either a damn fugitive or you're locked up. Taehyung had chosen to be the former, trying his best to live without a real identity for the past two years. In all honesty, he never meant to kill that bastard, his father. It was a fit of rage, when Taehyung had seen him about to strike Sunmi, his younger sister, once again. His vision clouded, all he saw were wisps of crimson and scarlet. One slap, two slaps. Sunmi looked like a lifeless rag doll, lifeless like mother had been less than one year ago. Mother died of a heart attack, they said; bullshit, he thought. It was all that bastard's fault. Taehyung wasn't sure when he had picked up the bottle but he had no hesitation in battering that bastard's head with it.
"Taehyung!" Sunmi shrieked, "Taehyung, what-"
"What do you think you're doing, you son of a bitch?" Taehyung barely heard the words leave his father's mouth before his anger peaked and before he could actually comprehend his actions, the now-broken bottle in his hand was swung at his father once again.

It was a frenzied attack, no less. Sunmi had tried to pull Taehyung backwards but he had shrugged her off. It wasn't until the blood that spilled from the bastard's mouth trickled across Taehyung's hand that he stopped, taking a step back. Sunmi sat in a corner, crouching into herself and his father slumped down onto the floor against the window, leaving streaks of scarlet on the window. The silence rung in his ears, his throat started constricting and Taehyung did what he did best - he ran.

Why did he have to insult Mother like that? Why?

All Taehyung ever wanted was family, people to feel at home with. He had found that in Namjoon and his friends. Namjoon had always fascinated him and Taehyung, in turn, had an ocean of admiration for the elder male. His first brush with law enforcement had been with Namjoon, as they were spray-painting meaningless doodles on a store's shutter. As they were being searched by the police, Taehyung looked over to Namjoon with barely-concealed excitement. This was a lot more thrilling than anything he'd done, as of late - but it was only beat by the momentary thrill of Taehyung and Namjoon breaking free from the police and running away, once again.

And it was since then that Taehyung always hung around Namjoon. He slowly got to meet Namjoon's other friends - amicable but spirited Seokjin, stoic but caring Yoongi, delicate but energetic Hoseok, robust and adventurous Jungkook and cautious but impulsive Jimin. They became more like family, than anything else - at least, according to Taehyung. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with them, despite the madcap shenanigans they all got up to and he appreciated all the attention and support he got from them. I don't want to lose any of this, he thought as he dialled Namjoon's number with shaky hands.

"Hyung...I want to see you, hyung."