Chapter Text
Grief and despair smells like a rainy summer evening to Jeongguk.
He’s 7 years old the first time he goes on vacation somewhere else than the house of his late grandma who lived just down the street.
His parents saved up so they could spend the last two weeks of Jeongguk’s summer holidays in a city the young boy can’t remember the name of.
What he’ll remember is the playground right in front of their hotel. It has a slide, a sandbox, two swings and a climbing frame.
Jeongguk swings from rung to rung like an ape would swing from branch to branch, but he manages to fall down from the swing itself and ends up crying over a scraped knee.
His mother rushes to his side to console him and wipe away his tears until Jeongguk’s wails die down to quiet snivels and by the time the family of three leaves the hotel to eat out at a nice restaurant, the pain scraped skin brings with itself is gone, forgotten between the promise of vanilla ice cream for dessert and the warmth he feels while walking down the streets hand in hand with his parents.
They stay out late and it starts to rain. And since Jeongguk’s getting tired- tiny steps scuffing on the asphalt as his feet grow too heavy to lift them completely off the ground- and the rain is picking up in intensity, Jeongguk’s father hurries them through narrow, dark alleyways that are supposed to serve as a shortcut back to the hotel.
And maybe the alleyways are a bit too dark, or the world over all is a bit too dark of a place.
And maybe they are out a bit too late, or the shady people lingering in a corner of the abandoned street deem Jeongguk’s parents a bit more wealthy than they actually are.
And maybe Jeongguk’s father should have just given said shady people what they asked for- his wallet and the shiny watch he’s wearing- instead of talking back and starting a fight that makes him lose something a lot more valuable than money in the end.
And maybe Jeongguk’s mother should have taken her son and run, instead of stepping in between her husband and the shady person that pulls out a knife.
But the thing is:
Maybes won’t bring people back to life.
Jeongguk is 7 years old when his parents are killed by thiefs.
He’s 7 years old when he ends up all alone in a city he’s never been to before.
Jeongguk is 7 years old and he finds out three things:
1. No matter the age, everyone tries to survive equally.
He starts stealing food, learns that it’s easier to snitch some apples from the veg stall on the market place when it’s packed with people who actually pay and the bulky market-woman is too busy tending to her customers to notice the little thief stalking his prey.
2. A punch in the gut hurts a lot more than a scraped knee.
And the bulky market-woman deals out rather hefty blows.
Because people may coo at children, but apparently only if they don’t steal.
Jeongguk stops crying over scraped knees but it takes him a while until he stops crying over his own misery.
3. If you have nothing you still have your life to lose.
So Jeongguk gets up no matter what brought him down, trying to survive somehow.
The city he won’t remember the name of is visited by a traveling circus one day, much to Jeongguk’s delight, not because of the great attractions but because of the half finished food in the trash cans distributed around the big top.
While he rummages through banana peels and a sticky substance that is hopefully just the sauce of some dish he can’t distinguish anymore, someone calls out to him.
“Hey, you!”
Jeongguk’s head shoots up at the soft voice.
He’s used to those two words being thrown his way, but normally the people call after him while he’s running away and they sound a lot more furious than whoever addressed him this time.
Jeongguk’s eyes fall onto a boy who’s standing behind the bars of one of the circus cages that are used to confine the circus animals.
For a second Jeongguk’s confused as to why the boy is held behind bars but then he catches sight of the ears sitting on top of the boys head- one black, one orange- and the upright tail that’s peeking up behind the boys back, tip crooked a bit, as if questioning Jeongguk’s presence as well.
The boy is a cat hybrid.
A creature that looks almost like a human but isn’t allowed to live like one.
Jeongguk learned in school that one can own a hybrid but never questioned why hybrids can’t own humans.
Neither did he question why hybrids aren’t allowed to go to school, he just assumed they are too stupid to learn in the same manner humans do.
Which is why when he identifies the boy as a hybrid, he automatically thinks ah, that’s why he’s in a cage .
He’s nothing more than a circus attraction after all. Alive to entertain the visitors.
“You want some?” the cat boy asks, his hand extended through the bars to hold out a slice of apple to Jeongguk.
And while Jeongguk isn’t one to trust easily –once bitten, twice shy– he also isn’t one to say no to free food so he approaches the other warily, one step at a time.
He snatches the apple slice out of the other’s hand as soon as he’s in reach and hastily retreats before scarfing down the fruit from a safe distance, never averting his gaze from the cat boy who in return won’t avert his gaze either, jade green eyes mustering Jeongguk intently.
Jeongguk almost doesn’t taste the sweetness of the juice that runs down his throat.
What a shame.
“Are you alone?” the cat boy asks.
Jeongguk nods.
“Me too," the cat boy says.
He offers Jeongguk another slice of apple through the bars and Jeongguk realizes it’s the only slice left.
“Do you get lots of tasty food here?” Jeongguk asks, since he wouldn’t be as kind as to share his last bite with anyone, probably wouldn’t share any bite if he’s being honest.
The cat boy shakes his head.
“Why are you sharing then?” Jeongguk wants to know.
“You looked like you needed it more than I do,” the cat boy says but the cat boy looks pretty gaunt himself from what Jeongguk can see, sunken cheeks and linen-overall hanging loosely from his thin frame.
The linen looks rough. It must be itchy like this, directly touching the cat boy's skin since it’s the only thing he’s wearing.
The skin in question is littered with bruises made up of the most exquisite colors, green, yellow, purple, blue.
Jeongguk’s seen the variation of colors on his own skin too.
He steps towards the cage again and accepts the apple slice.
He halves it and gives one half back to the cat boy before eating his own share.
Having learned from his earlier mistake, this time he savors the taste.
“What’s your name?” Jeongguk asks in between his tiny bites.
“Jimin,” the cat boy says with a smile. It reminds Jeongguk a bit of his mother’s smile, warm and caring.
Jeongguk decides to stay with Jimin for a while.
He follows the circus from town to town while hiding away from the rest of the performers and the circus director because Jimin says not to trust anyone and the circus director has the same cruel gaze the bulky market-woman had whenever she caught Jeongguk stealing something, so Jeongguk listens to Jimin.
While getting to know the hybrid, Jeongguk learns that the two of them aren’t all too different.
They are both alone, lonely , and struggling to survive and even though Jimin has people around him that tell him they are family, even though Jimin has what Jeongguk is missing so heartachingly, the cat boy isn’t any happier than Jeongguk is.
Jeongguk knows why.
It’s because family shouldn’t hold you in a cage, giving you the bare minimum to survive and it’s still not enough because family means unconditional love and that part is amiss around Jimin.
What Jimin is dealing with isn’t family. He’s dealing with abuse and Jeongguk’s hiding behind stage props, fearing for his friend who’s getting beaten up by the circus director simply because Jimin’s a hybrid and apparently that’s a good enough reason to vent his wrath on him.
As if Jimin’s nothing but a living punching bag.
Whenever Jeongguk asks Jimin why he won’t flee or fight back, the cat boy only shrugs with his shoulder and smiles, saying that it’s still better than having no place to go to and he needs to survive.
Jeongguk leaves him be, because maybe Jimin has a point and the cat boy is older by two years, hence a bit wiser…right?
Jeongguk leaves him be until the beating becomes more severe as the circus income becomes lesser and lesser.
He acts when he sees his friend lying on the floor of his cage, body bruised and bloody but the circus director still won’t let off of him.
Jeongguk doesn’t act because of the state Jimin’s body is in though, he acts because when their eyes meet, Jimin’s normally fierce gaze looks lifeless, as if the boy is about to give up.
And a broken mind doesn’t heal as fast as broken bones do.
Jeongguk’s never been one for violence, has always chosen flight over fight but he doesn’t think twice as he ambushes the circus director, hitting him on the head with the cudgel he’s seen the jugglers use and the circus director collapses in front of his feet.
He feels no remorse as he purloins the bunch of keys from the cruel man to open Jimin cage and set the cat hybrid free.
“Let’s go,” Jeongguk says with new found determination that stems from having found something to protect.
Having found family again.
“Where to?” Jimin asks, holding onto Jeongguk’s arm like a lifeline as the other helps him up.
“Somewhere we can survive.”
Having a cat hybrid as your best friend and companion proves to be rather beneficial when you earn a living by stealing the earnings of others.
Jimin never gets caught in the act and he teaches Jeongguk how to be agile and swift on his feet like a cat, how to blend into a crowd, how to not make a sound and how to break in and out of a house without needing a key.
And whereas Jeongguk got caught by the bulky market-woman for stealing an apple when he stole for the mere purpose to survive, soon not even the best guards are able to pick up his presence and Jeongguk begins to enjoy the thrill that comes with being a thief.
The two friends don’t stop at food for the day and some pocket money, raids growing larger in scale as they stray from town to town, never staying in one place for long because it's easier to stay hidden if people don't remember your face and robbing one person twice is neither exciting nor especially profitable.
They prey off the rich, at first because with the amount of goods and chattels they own, one or two fancy jewels less won’t make much of a difference.
Turns out though, that the richer one gets, the louder they wail over a lost penny and with the passing of time Jeongguk steals from the rich, simply because he likes to piss them off.
It’s a game, one Jimin and Jeongguk are especially good at and the two lonely, lost boys grow into notorious thieves everyone whispers about, but no one has ever seen.
And where they once hid in dark corners, hoping to not get caught up in precarious situations, they now saunter down the streets with an air around them that tells of confidence and grace, knowing full well that they are the precarious situation people should be hiding from.
When Jeongguk compares their younger selves, he’s got more tattoos and piercings, a sharper jaw and a body that’s packed with more muscles.
He looks at Jimin and finds a handsome young adult with a smile that makes his cheeks bunch up, cheeks that are full now instead of gaunt.
But Jimin still has the same pallor he had as a child, as if he’s missing an important essence that would make his skin glow with vitality.
And Jeongguk often worries for his partner when he sees the loathing in his eyes whenever he looks at his hybrid features in the mirror, when he sees how Jimin looks at his ears before he wills them away, shifting into something that looks like a human being, something Jimin wishes to be in order to stop hiding a part of himself.
Jeongguk sees the pained expression Jimin wears whenever they walk past another hybrid who is so obviously mistreated by its owner .
Jeongguk feels the twitch of Jimin's fingers that ball into a fist while he holds Jimin back from stepping in, time and time again because stepping in would only lead to their own downfall as well.
When someone looks at the cat hybrid for too long, Jeongguk can see anxiety in jade green eyes, it’s the fear of being found out, the fear of the abuse that would follow.
A fear every hybrid has to live with.
But if you corner an animal for too long, it’ll lash out one day.
When Jeongguk turns 20, he finds out two things:
1. Hybrid’s aren’t oppressed and seen as a lower being in society because they are different, but because humans naturally fear everything that’s unpredictable and a powerful creature acting on instinct is unpredictable.
Dangerous.
And dangerous creatures are better kept in check.
It comes in handy that no matter how powerful a being is, being oppressed and abused breaks everyone at one point.
And someone broken is easier kept in check.
2. Human’s only ever act to change something when they are threatened. So it’s only when the unpredictable, dangerous creatures called hybrids begin to riot, that the government acts.
A new law comes into force, one that goes by the name hybrid rights and is supposed to soothe the simmering riots of the nation.
Hybrids no longer need to be owned and are allowed to live by themselves, allowed to go to school and work just like humans.
And where they once weren’t allowed to hide their identifying features so humans could spot them as an abnormality right away, they now can choose freely if they want to show their ears and tails.
Politicians talk about equalization as if it’s an act of kindness while in truth it’s an act of fear.
Change happens either way and while decades of oppression and slavery don’t disappear over night, with time humans and hybrids seem to be able to coexist with each other.
But when Jeongguk looks at his friend who still hides away his identity, fear and dread drilled into his head, he can’t help but think that this idyllic world is nothing but lies and deception.
A system that only works because Hybrids are once again the ones to give in and submit.
What gives Jimin a sense of true freedom isn’t the government’s perception of peace.
What gives Jimin a sense of true freedom is a random stranger on the street and his perception of peace.
The cat hybrid comes back from one of his nightly strolls one day, cheeks suspiciously flushed.
“I bumped into a human today.”
“Uh-huh,” Jeongguk makes a sound so the other knows he’s heard him, though his mind is occupied by the hole in his favorite pants that he's trying to stitch up.
“He helped another hybrid in need.”
“Uh-huh.”
Turns out, Jeongguk should have listened a bit better back then because apparently Jimin bumped into that stranger a few times more after that encounter.
He comes back to their momentary hideout a few weeks later, a human in tow that he introduces as Yoongi.
Jeongguk is 24 by now and both of them have brought their fair share of men home for one night, but it’s the first time Jimin introduces one of those men to him.
It’s the first time Jimin brings home a human instead of another hybrid.
And it’s the first time that there seems to be more than momentary pleasure involved in the mix.
“Yoongi and some of his friends are working together to help hybrids in need,” Jimin explains to Jeongguk.
He seems excited, eyes sparkling and cheeks colored in a warm tint.
“I’ll help them during the time we are here,” Jimin explains further and while Jeongguk is skeptical, never one to trust easily, Jimin seems to be truly happy with the idea.
He’s always been caring by nature. A kind hearted soul.
And Jeongguk might not trust Yoongi, but he trusts Jimin and his judgment of the human that’s nothing more than a stranger to Jeongguk.
“You’ll help plan our next raid though, right?” Jeongguk makes sure and Jimin nods right away.
Jimin does not help with the planning, neither does he show up on the day their raid was planned.
Jeongguk isn’t angry, he’s disappointed and a small part in the back of his mind tells him that Jimin is going to abandon him, that he found a better family.
The small part in the back of Jeongguk’s mind is proved correct.
When the time comes for them to leave the city, Jimin discloses to Jeongguk that he isn’t going to leave.
He says so with guilt in his voice and a worried expression but once again Jeongguk isn’t angry.
Jeongguk looks at the cat ears that peak out of the shock of Jimin’s head, one black and one orange.
Jeongguk smiles.
He’s glad that the other found a place to belong, a place in which he can heal and feel confident once more.
“You can stay with us too, you know,” Jimin says with hopeful eyes.
And since Jimin is his family, Jeongguk thinks that maybe the others could become family as well.
So he stays.
He gets to know Namjoon and Seokjin, Yoongi’s friends that build the head of an organization that fights for hybrid equality and against the injustice hybrids still have to face every day.
He learns that Yoongi looks stoic and aloof on the outside but in reality he’s one of the most soft spoken people that Jeongguk ever met.
He understands why Jimin grew attached to him. The guy has an ease to him that makes everyone around him feel at ease as well.
Still, while Jimin opens up more and more, growing proud of his roots instead of hiding them behind a fake mask of indifference, Jeongguk starts to miss his old life and the thrill that comes with theft.
So he starts stealing again.
But since he’s staying in one place this time around, the options of how often and from whom he can steal without being found out are rather limited.
What makes matters worse is that Namjoon doesn’t approve of his individual undertakings, saying it puts the whole group at risk.
He isn’t wrong.
Their rescue missions are a legal gray zone because they do break into facilities but those facilities are illegal to begin with and the government can’t hold them accountable for rescuing hybrids out of establishments that shouldn’t exist anymore to begin with.
They’d just unearth their own wrongdoings by that.
But the existence of the organisation is like a thorn in their side, one they’d get rid off at the first opportunity that arises, which is why Jeongguk’s very illegal thief activities are so dangerous to all of them.
Jeongguk knows that but this is no logical matter to him.
He just can’t stop stealing.
“Either you stop, or you leave, it’s your decision” is the ultimatum Jeongguk is given in the end, while sitting in a room with the people who are supposed to be his family.
Not even Jimin takes his side.
Jeongguk feels lonely even though he isn’t alone.
It doesn’t take long for him to decide on what to do.
This isn’t where he belongs.
He packs his bags and leaves on the same day.
He doesn’t cry. He never cries.
He puts on his own mask of indifference and decides that he is better off alone anyways.
Maybe he’s just not meant to have a family in this life.