Chapter Text
“Yes!” Rocky cries triumphantly as the upbeat techno song ends and his score is displayed with much fanfare on the DDR screen. “A for the third time in a row! Beat that, Binnie!”
Moonbin’s eyes narrow as a B appears on his own screen. “That was just a warm up. Best five out of seven.”
“Guys, as much as we’d all like to see the dance-off of the century this afternoon, we do have other things on our itinerary today,” MJ drawls from his perch on the edge of the air hockey table, legs kicking back and forth rapidly as they dangle off the ground.
“Yeah,” Sanha chimes in, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet next to one of the racing games, the large, purple backpack hanging off his shoulders bobbing with each motion. “If you guys keep spending all your change in the arcade, we won’t have any money for the bus fare and we won’t be able to beat the hyungs home after shopping and I’ll be stuck doing MJ-hyung’s laundry for the next three days and-!”
“Breathe, Sanha, breathe,” Jinjin interrupts laughingly, seeing the lanky teen’s face going slightly red from the unbroken stream of words pouring out of his mouth.
“Besides, speak for yourself, kid,” Eunwoo adds from where he’s leaning against the side of Moonbin’s DDR machine. “We’re totally gonna win this thing, no contest.”
“Wanna bet?” Bin says challengingly as he and Rocky step off their DDR pads.
“I think we already did that,” Jinjin intervenes, sliding off the air hockey table from his seat beside Myungjun. “Now it’s time to put your money where your mouths are. Everyone’s clear on the rules, right?”
“Get as many items on the list in the backpack as possible, get home before the other team, yes, we’ve been over this.” Moonbin rolls his eyes.
“And you’re sure you divided up the items randomly, right?” This directed at Dongmin.
“Ten items on each list, plus a bonus item that counts as three items if you’re able to find it, and I had Rocky shuffle the lists before I put them in the backpacks,” Eunwoo confirms.
“Wait, I have a question,” MJ speaks up as the six idols exit the arcade and emerge into the huge, multi-story mall it’s connected to. “What happens if we all happen to get back home at the same time and have equal numbers of items? Who wins then?”
“Well, in that case, the first person who stepped foot in the apartment would win it for their team, I suppose,” Sanha says after thinking it over for a second. “Like a relay race or something.”
“Got it,” MJ says, grinning just a bit too widely. “Everyone ready?”
“Ready!” Sanha replies blithely, linking arms with Minhyuk and Bin.
“Let’s use that pillar as the starting line, then,” Jinjin suggests, and the six boys arrange themselves in a row. “On your marks… get set… go!”
The three maknaes immediately sprint toward the nearest escalator to get to the convenience store outlet the next floor up. Eunwoo and Jinjin are right on their heels when MJ grabs their sleeves and drags them back behind the pillar.
“Hey, what’s the big idea, hyung?”
“Yeah, they’re getting a head start!”
“Okay guys, hear me out, I have a plan,” MJ explains hurriedly. “One of us should go home now while the other two do the shopping. That way we’ll be sure to win. It doesn’t matter if the other two are late home if we get all the items on the list and someone else from the team got there first. And I don’t know about you,” he adds as the two younger men take a moment to process the proposition, “but I’m not too keen on the prospect of doing laundry for three extra people for the next three days.”
“Technically, it’s not cheating,” Eunwoo says thoughtfully. He turns to Jinwoo. “What do you think, hyung?”
Jinjin mulls it over a moment longer before grinning mischievously. “Let’s do it. But how are we going to choose who leaves early?” he adds when MJ and Eunwoo fistbump each other.
“Actually, I was thinking you should go,” Myungjun says to a startled Jinjin. “I know you’re still getting over that cold Eunwoo brought home with him last week after that variety show gig.”
“Hey!” the vocalist protests. “It’s not like I tried to get anyone sick, geez. The coordi noona sneezed right in my face when she was doing my makeup, how was I supposed to dodge that?”
“No one’s blaming you, Dongmin, don’t worry,” Jinjin soothes, patting the tall young man on the arm as MJ rolls his eyes and continues.
“Look, point is, out of all of us, you’re the one who needs this day off the most, so go home, take a nap, watch a drama, catch up on some reading, just take it easy for a little bit. I know you have enough cash left over from lunch for cab or bus fare, and Eunwoo and I can handle the shopping.” He claps Eunwoo on the shoulder and gives their leader an encouraging grin, turning up the charm as high as it will go.
“I don’t know,” Jinjin says doubtfully. “You make it seem like I’m about to keel over. Like I keep saying, I’m fine. I’m just a bit sore and my throat’s still a little scratchy, that’s all. I can handle toting a few groceries around. We’re a team, after all.”
“Which is why you should be the one to go,” Eunwoo counters smoothly, evidently having decided to take MJ’s side on this. Jinjin can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed just on principle. “It’s not like we think you’re flaking out on us, hyung, this is a carefully calculated tactical maneuver. And come on, everyone knows how much you like to sleep. I’d probably just study if I went home by myself, and MJ-hyung… well, who knows what he’d get up to.”
“Brat,” MJ interjects mildly, giving the taller man a halfhearted swat upside the head, which he easily dodges.
“Go home and win this thing for us, and then take a nap, hyung. We’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Well… I guess when you put it like that,” Jinjin sighs, knowing when he’s beaten, a grin starting to pull at his lips regardless.
“That’s the spirit!” MJ encourages, pushing him back towards the exit. “Now get going, get going! Wait, no, gimme that first.” He divests Jinjin of the blue backpack with their list in it, slinging it over his own shoulder, and smirks. “Alright, now you can go.”
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jinjin chuckles, jogging for the exit as MJ and Eunwoo dash in the other direction. Once he’s outside, he sees a taxi parked near the curb and hails it, sliding into the backseat with a polite greeting to the driver. After giving directions to the dorm, Jinwoo sits back in the seat and relaxes marginally as the buildings begin to fly by outside the window. It’s good to be able to sit down for a bit.
Even though he hadn’t been lying to MJ and Eunwoo earlier about his condition, the dance routine their trainer had put the group through the day before would have qualified as brutal even if they’d all been in peak health, and Jinwoo is still feeling its effects even after downing a double dosage of painkillers and cold medicine and turning in early the previous night. The residual soreness is still worth it in his opinion, though. The trainer had promised that if they performed the routine perfectly before the end of the session, he’d let them have the next day off. Even though at the time his head had been pounding and his throat felt scraped raw with every breath, Jinjin had forced his aching body to keep up, determined to not be the reason the kids couldn’t have a bit of time off for once.
Their hard work paid off in the end, though. The trainer had graciously conceded defeat at the end of the session and told the group of exhausted boys they didn’t need to bother coming in the next day for practice. So, after their scheduled vocal lessons this morning, the group had been free to do whatever they wished with the rest of the day. Naturally, everyone had wanted to go out somewhere to eat and unwind before stopping to get some groceries. Sanha had been the one to come up with the idea to turn it into a game, similar to the one they’d played when they’d moved into their new apartment for the second episode of “Astro OK!” only this time, there wouldn’t be any film crews following them around. Everyone had been on board with the plan, and after checking in with their manager, they’d eagerly set off.
Oh, speaking of which, Jinwoo supposes he should probably check in with MJ and Eunwoo to let them know he’s on his way back. He instinctively reaches for his phone, and then freezes. His phone… he’d put it in the backpack since his sweatpants don’t have pockets, and his jacket pockets are too small for anything but his wallet. The backpack MJ took…
The taxi driver gives his passenger an odd look in the rear-view mirror as Jinjin’s palm collides with his forehead with a loud “smack!” A few moments later, there’s a muffled popping noise, and the whole car judders wildly. The driver pulls out of traffic and over to the sidewalk with a string of muttered oaths and leaves the car, hunkering down beside the left front wheel as Jinjin watches mutely from the back seat.
“Sorry, kid,” the driver finally says after about a minute, poking his head back in the car with a rueful expression. “The tire’s gone flat. I won’t be able to take you any further today.” He gets out his phone and glances back at Jinjin, as the latter’s stomach sinks. “I can call a replacement taxi for you, if you’d like. There’s also a bus stop a couple blocks from here that’s should have a bus heading toward your address in the next ten to fifteen minutes, but…” He trails off and glances at the overcast sky above. “I don’t know if you can make it before it starts raining.”
“I’m pretty fast on my feet,” Jinjin says wryly, opening the car door and stepping out onto the street, a stiff breeze rustling the strands of his hair and bringing with it the smell of petrichor. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m in a bit of a hurry at the moment. I’ll take my chances with the bus.” He hands the man the cab fare and bids him goodbye after being pointed in the direction of the bus stop, setting off at a brisk walk down the sidewalk.
Jinjin glances up worriedly at the foreboding rainclouds as he walks, still mentally kicking himself for forgetting to bring his phone with him. Well, no harm done, really, he tells himself, turning a corner and stuffing his hands in his pockets, hitching up his shoulders against the brisk wind blowing down the street. He should still have more than enough time to get home before the maknaes, this brief detour notwithstanding. It could have been a whole lot worse, after all. He shudders, wrenching his mind away from mental images of twisted metal and black, acrid smoke, and instead focuses on what he should do when he gets home.
Maybe MJ and Eunwoo were right. A nap is sounding pretty good right about now, he has to admit. As if in response to that thought, a huge yawn overtakes him, and he instinctively slows down a little, lifting a hand to his mouth out of reflex. In that brief moment of unguarded vulnerability, a large, thick arm wraps around his neck and hauls him into the dim alleyway to his left.
Jinjin automatically opens his mouth to cry out, and the arm around his neck tightens, cutting off his air supply and pulling his head up sharply as he’s dragged further back into the shadows behind some boxes and bags of garbage. His unseen assailant’s other hand grabs both of his wrists and wrestles them behind his back as a slim, hooded figure dressed in a black hoodie, ragged jeans, and wearing a cloth mask over the lower half of his face materializes out of the shadows.
“Make sure the little rat doesn’t squeak, Deoksu,” he orders in a jittery, high pitched voice as the arm around Jinwoo’s throat tightens further, causing him to give a stifled grunt as his airway is constricted even more.
“Now look.” The man brandishes a large, sharp pocketknife in front of him before bringing it up to hover right over the exposed skin at the base of the boy’s throat, “All we want is your money, kid. Hold still, and no one has to get hurt.”
I’m being mugged, Jinjin thinks blankly, a jolt of fear coursing through his veins as the hand not holding the knife begins to frisk him. Oh my God, I’m actually being mugged.
His assailant quickly finds his wallet and pulls it out of his pocket with a triumphant gleam in his eye, carelessly ripping the bills out while letting the wallet drop to the ground. As he realizes that he’s only holding what amounts to about nine thousand won, however, his gaze quickly turns from elated to furious.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” the man snarls, crumpling the bills in one hand, his whole body starting to visibly shake. The knife blade, already a hairsbreadth away from Jinjin’s skin, suddenly slices into his flesh, slashing a long, shallow line across the base of his throat to the rise of his collarbone. The pain snaps him out of his brief, shock induced stupor, and he kicks up with his right leg, driving his knee straight into the man’s stomach.
As the mugger doubles over with a surprised grunt, Jinwoo struggles for all he’s worth against the iron grip holding his arms behind his back. He manages to pry one of his wrists free and twists around to elbow his captor sharply in the gut, making the arm around his throat and the hand around his other wrist loosen enough that he can squirm away. He barely has the chance to take one step before a hand grabs a large fistful of his hair and yanks him backwards. The side of his head collides with crumbling brick, sending white stars exploding across his vision as long, thick fingers curl around his neck and squeeze. The man, who Jinwoo can now see is easily over six feet tall and also wearing a mask over the lower half of his face, then bodily lifts him up and slams up against the wall, eliciting a pained, choked wheeze as whatever remaining breath he’d been able to hold onto is forcefully knocked out of him.
“That hurt, kid.” The other man speaks for the first time, his voice a low, threatening rumble deep inside his chest. Held upright only by the punishing grip on his throat, the tips of his sneakers dangling inches off the ground, with black spots starting to swim in his vision and wet warmth trickling steadily down the side of his face, Jinwoo finally begins to panic.
“Dammit, Deoksu!” the other mugger wheezes, stumbling into Jinwoo’s narrowing field of vision as the boy starts to claw desperately at the large hands steadily choking the life out of him. “I told you to fucking hold him!”
“You’re not the only one who hasn’t had a hit in over two days, Inbok,” the other man says, not taking his eyes off Jinjin’s reddening face.
“You’re right, you’re right, clearly I was expecting too much from you,” the smaller man, Inbok, replies snidely, shoving the meager fistful of stolen bills inside the pocket of his hoodie. Jinjin barely has time to see Deoksu’s eyes flash dangerously before the crushing grip around the boy’s throat loosens and he falls heavily to the trash-strewn ground, coughing painfully.
Over the pounding of his own heartbeat and desperate attempts to refill his depleted lungs with oxygen, he dimly hears, “You wanna go, little man?”
“Save it for the next target, dumbass. The kid didn’t give us nearly enough, and we’re going to have to get creative if you want to get rid of these godawful muscle cramps by end of the day. Speaking of which…” The slightest crunching sound of gravel underfoot is all the warning Jinwoo gets before a breathless cry of pain and shock rips itself from his throat as a booted foot slams brutally into his ribcage.
“That’s payback for earlier, brat. Consider this,” Inbok delivers another savage kick to the boy’s chest, “interest.” Yet another kick causes Jinwoo to give a broken, gasping sob, involuntary tears beginning to leak from his eyes as he instinctually curls up into a ball, trying to protect himself against the merciless blows.
“Shit.” Deoksu suddenly swears violently as thunder rumbles ominously overhead. “Inbok, we’ve got company.”
“Inbok, he’s coming this way,” he says when he gets no response, save for the sound of boot striking flesh yet again. “We need to go.” Inbok gives an inarticulate snarl of frustration, but finally stops after giving a final, parting kick to the boy’s shin as the two men abscond.
All Jinwoo can do is lie there for a few moments as footsteps retreat into the distance, icy darkness creeping around the edges of his blurring vision. Everything hurts. Everything hurts so much. It would be so easy to just… fall asleep… not have to move for awhile…
A large drop of cold water suddenly hits his cheek. Then another. And another. The soothing coolness of the liquid against his hot, bruised skin returns a bit of clarity returns to his dazed mind. No… no, he has to move. He has to get up. It’s starting to rain; if he stays here in his condition, he might die, and he can’t die, he can’t, he has to go home.
The thought of home is what finally lends a small surge of strength to his aching, beaten body. With herculean effort, he manages to roll over onto his front, get his unsteady arms under him, and push himself up onto his elbows. He wavers there for a moment, trembling, his muscles feeling like frayed rubber bands that could snap at any second. The black spots nearly overtake his vision entirely, and he blinks a few times to try to clear them away before he abruptly registers a pair of white sneakers directly in front of him.
“Are you alright?” a worried, oddly familiar voice asks from somewhere above him, the sounds fading in and out as if he’s hearing them from underwater. Jinjin looks up to see none other than VIXX’s N looking down at him in extreme concern, a blue umbrella held in one hand and two plastic grocery bags in the other. Just as the young man hazily wonders whether he’s suffered one too many blows to the head and has finally started to hallucinate sunbae idols in the place of concerned bystanders, the man speaks again.
“Jinjin?” he says incredulously, looking as surprised as the young rapper feels. “Park Jinwoo?”
Cha Hakyeon knows my name, Jinwoo thinks to himself numbly, just as darkness consumes his vision entirely and everything just-