Chapter Text
“I only look forward and run
Without having time to look around”
“I call to order, the trial of case file #724148. The defendant, Min Yoongi, is charged with the following: production and distribution of anti-governmental materials, harassment against government officials, upstaging a rebellion, illegal distribution of classified government information, among other things. All seen as acts of terrorism against the united government of New Korea. How do you plead?”
Of course, this had always been the plan. Have Min Yoongi thrown behind bars, never to touch another microphone or read aloud another line of witty, if not controversial lyrics. Still, seeing the boy sat in that chair, oversized black sweater cloaking the tattoos and mess of blonde hair that he’s grown so familiar with, Seokjin can’t help but feel that this whole thing is- wrong.
3 months earlier...
“So you’re telling me that Agust D, the terrorist that serves as the biggest threat to the New Korean government since, fucking ever , is some snot-nosed kid?” Geumjae scoffs, tossing the beige case file onto the table in front of him, before roughly massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “Fucking ridiculous.”
Soohee quirks her lips upward as she twists her desk chair from left to right, heavy black boots sitting comfortably crossed on the very table the file had been tossed onto mere moments ago.
“I dunno, he’s kinda cute.” She muses, picking up one of the few photos they had managed to procure of the underground rapper. This particular one depicts a clot of red appearing to be rapping into a microphone, soft blonde tips poking out from beneath a heavy hood.
Geumjae’s face burns in scarlet hues.
“If we knew he was cute then we would’ve caught him by now! Nothing here shows his fucking face!” Geumjae growls, knocking the photos from the table in anger.
Soohee hums to herself in contemplation, feet kicking down from the table before she pulls her cell phone from her pocket. The small woman presses a button, the device’s screen illuminating before she dials a number and pulls it flush with her ear.
“The fuck are you-“ Geumjae starts, Soohee pressing a finger to her lips, causing him to bite back a curse. She lights up as she hears a soft click and then a familiar voice.
“Hello?”
“Seokjin, it’s Noona. How quickly can you be here?”
A pause, and then shuffling from the other end of the line.
“On my way.”
Subject: Agust D.
Notes: Height is estimated to average 170 - 185 m. Hair is blonde, but it is suspected that it is dyed black when in public. Exact age is unknown, but sources indicate that the subject attends Daegu National Preparatory Highschool.
Subject: Agust D, Substance.
Notes: There are two forms of distribution; live distribution, in which consumers gather in underground facilities in order to consume the substance, typically during the night; packaged distribution, in which consumers exchange and sell various forms of the substance to one another for later consumption in seclusion.
“We’re almost there.”
Seokjin looks up from the pictures he’d taken of the case file with his departmentally issued phone. He sends the driver a curt nod, pushing his pair of grey glasses back up the slender bridge of his nose as he adjusts his grip on the new schoolbag in his hand.
He'd been given the assignment as soon as he’d walked through the doors. Kim Soohee, his departmental senior and Noona since forever ago, pulling him in that aggressive fashion of hers that she claims is, “good-hearted ferocity”, before pushing him down into a chair by his shoulders. Geumjae, another of his seniors, is staring him down with more intensity than usual, and before he can question their sanity because what the hell is going on, there’s a legal document folder at his front.
“Agust D. Nasty fucker. Disrespects the government like it's his favourite pastime. Probably eats puppies for breakfast and shits in children’s mouths.” Geumjae grits in that rough voice of his that’s always overexerted from constant lectures and fits of anger.
Seokjin blinks at his senior’s remarks, the latter’s eyes closed as he nods to himself, as if imagining exactly what he’d described.
“Ignore him. In reality he’s a kid that this dumbass has been trying to pin down for like, a year.” Soohee says, shoving her thumb in Gemjae’s direction, the older sputtering.
“He’s a dangerous criminal that directly violates government issued decrees in a crass manner!”
“He’s a fucking highschooler that dyes his hair blonde.” Soohee scoffs, rolling her eyes in feigned annoyance. Her eyes darken as she makes eye contact with Seokjin, the youngest not having said a word the entirety of his being there. “But he is dangerous, and a criminal. He’s instilled more violence and rebellion than anyone since the South and North united.”
Her eyes narrow, Seokjin having to swallow back his anxiety as she brings herself intimidatingly closer to him.
“It’s your job to infiltrate his school and figure out who the fuck he is. Before any of this reaches the dictator.”
And so he exits the car, book bag in hand, as he walks up to the front door of the Kim residence and knocks.
For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of Seokjin’s soft breaths and growing anxiety, the mansion seemingly barren and uninhabited by anyone. Then, the door’s handle is turning, a tall boy with tanned skin and awkward, lanky limbs standing just behind its threshold. The boy blinks, dark brows furrowed in confusion. A moment passes and his brows raise, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his eyes as his features relax.
“You must be Seokjin.” The boy says, hand extended forward in greeting, Seokjin taking it seldom hesitance. “I’m Kim Namjoon, the family’s son. I’ll be going to the same school as you.”
When Namjoon smiles it’s endearing, the corners of his eyes crinkling as deep dimples pool in the soft skin of his cheeks. Seokjin tries to smile equally as warm in return, the corners of his lips pulling up briefly, not quite managing to reach his eyes. There’s a pregnant silence and Namjoon rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Why don’t I help you with…” He trails off, eyeing the single backpack that Seokjin has slung around his shoulder. “Is that all you brought?” The elder nods. “...Oh.”
The autumn air is frigid with the promise of winter, colourful leaves tumbling down to frame the path leading up past the school’s main gates. Seokjin hikes his bag further up his back, pushing the unfamiliar glasses back up from where they’d sunk to the tip of his nose. Soohee had said they made him less intimidating, easier to trust. Seokjin doubted it made a difference. Especially since he hadn’t worn glasses since he was a kid and was beginning to get more and more frustrated each time they’d slip down from where they sat.
“Seokjin-ssi.”
Seokjin looks up to see a well uniformed Namjoon smiling to him, dimples flashing the older boy warmly. This time, he doesn’t try and return it.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again.” Namjoon continues unabashedly.
A look of calm and unintentional disinterest grows upon Seokjin’s practically perfect visage. He doesn’t know much about Kim Namjoon, other than the fact that he’s rich as hell, maintains straight A’s, perfect attendance, and is the school’s student body representative. All evidence pointing towards the fact that he probably isn't one to listen to illegal rap music, making him perfectly useless to Seokjin’s case.
“Here, I’ll show you around before classes start.”
The school is expensive and clean, the classes are organized and the lockers reach from the student’s feet to the ceilings. It’s not a place Seokjin would peg someone like Agust D to go, countercultural and rebellious as he is.
The school bell rings with a credulous pang, signalling the start of classes. They’re in front of a room labelled with the numbers ‘247’, and Seokjin realizes with a bit of latency that Namjoon had brought him to his first class on schedule.
“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. Oh, and I’ll find you at lunch, so stay by your locker.” He then spins on his heel, turning to flash Seokjin one last smile before heading to his own classroom.
Seokjin enters the twelfth-grade English room, scanning the now hushed crowd of students with his gaze.
It’s odd, he thinks. Sitting in a class amongst a gaggle of registered New Korean high school seniors, who probably didn’t even remember the merge between the South and the North, seeing as they wouldn't have even been a thought at the time.
Seokjin, however, a twenty two year old North Korean-origin, remembered the merge as well as he remembered his true name. Which, admittedly, he’d just barely managed to hold onto.
But that’s a thought for another time.
Now was the time to focus on the clot of kids in front of him, who, by the way, have all managed to land their eyes on the new senior, whispering little nothings into each other’s ears as they wrack his body with their gazes. He hears one girl whisper particularly loudly, “he’s cute” , and he forcefully represses an eyeroll. Instead, he gives her a simple once over, causing the girl to blush a bright red, embarrassed that she’d been heard.
He reaches towards his face, sliding the glasses up his nose once again, arguably more unimpressed at the thought of going through with this entire thing. Remind him again why he agreed to this mission?
With a last huff of annoyance, he steps forward, the gaggle of students parting to let him through, all watching yet none approaching in spite of themselves. He lets his bag fall to the floor beside an empty chair. Next to said chair sits a boy, small for a senior, maybe 170 cm or so. His limbs are lithe and paler than most, hair a law-abiding black though soft and messily unstyled. His delicate fingers tap away at a MacBook air adorning a black matte case, typing up a summary last minute for the class they were just then beginning.
“Mind if I sit here?” Seokjin asks with as much pleasantry as he can muster. The boy startles, not seeming to have noticed the older until then. He gives Seokjin a quick glance, gaze lingering on the bag dropped on the floor, before giving the older a curt nod, turning his attention back towards his laptop.
At the boy’s signal, Seokjin sits down. He watches the class’s whiteboard, not having much else to do. Moments pass in silence, and Seokjin quickly finds his attention shifting back to the student at his side. He peers over at the boy’s laptop screen, his gaze flicking to the younger’s face.
His polished onyx eyes are focused, dark bags set underneath their feline gaze. He seems to be caught up in each word he types, not noticing the older’s lingering stare.
“My name’s Kim Seokjin.” The older says after a moment of dumb silence. The younger stops typing to turn towards Seokjin, gaze calculating and quiet, and he finds himself swallowing sudden and uncharacteristic anticipation burning in the back of his throat.
“Min Yoongi.”
And so it began.
