Chapter Text
Moodboard made by @minkookiecore
There is chaos.
No order. No reason. Only chaos, distant echoes of a broken building, a broken world, and a broken heart.
And the worst, it seems to be everywhere and final.
The sun, a mere glimmer of its former glory, hovers ominously on the horizon, casting long, ghastly shadows that stretch across a desolate scene. Jimin, a man in his thirties, stands frozen in horror on the pavement. He shivers violently, partly due to the cold and partly due to his fear. His way-too-thin jacket hangs tiredly from his shoulders and the shoelace of his left boot is untied. The knot had been too loose to survive the constant running from Jimin's home to this place, to the Golden City Tower in which his best friend lives.
His best friend Jeongguk.
But where usually there's a tower, there's nothing left, nothing of the former glory, only debris and dust. Lonely snowflakes are falling to the ground, covering the horrible sight like a clean blanket. The once-majestic building lies in ruins, a twisted tangle of steel and concrete.
There was an underground gas explosion in the street not even an hour ago, which brought it down like a Lego house. The building's shattered windows dangle precariously on its remaining walls, mirroring the left pieces of Jimin's sanity. Smoke and dust hang like a shroud, suffocating the air and choking the very life from what remains of the place. The acrid stench of burning cables assaults Jimin's senses. The groaning of steel and the occasional sharp crack are obnoxiously loud, amplified in his head.
Hot tears are streaming down his cold face as reality sinks in.
Jimin is here, in this nightmarish wasteland, driven by an insatiable need to find his best friend Jeongguk, the only man he ever loved but never confessed his feelings to.
Jeongguk lives inside the building. He had been there when it collapsed. Jimin knows because the other sent him a message when it started. It read 'Jimin! I think there's an earthquake!' Only that it wasn't an earthquake. It was the beginning of the end. Jeongguk must have felt it, because soon after the first, he sent a second text, the words still haunting Jimin's already shattered psyche.
The message with its four words of doom that brought Jimin to this exact place were:
'Jimin, I am scared.'
The words felt like a knife, stabbing his heart.
Scared. His Jeongguk would never say that he's scared, never did, not even once. It's as simple as the ABC and as clear as crystal: Jeongguk is the strong one, the brave one, the golden maknae of their group of friends. He is Jimin's protector, a rock, a beacon, a lighthouse in the rough sea. Jeongguk is not scared.
He can't be scared.
But the truth slapped Jimin in his face when he read the words he couldn't believe over and over again, still in the comfort of his own home.
'Jimin, I am scared.'
It wasn't a joke, nor a bet. It was reality, a product of the darkest side of life, and it sent Jimin into a senseless state in which his body moved on autopilot, getting dressed, taking his dog Bam, leaving the house, running across the city to Jeongguk's place to get to the love of his life.
Because that's what Jeongguk is, the love of his life. The only man who has ever owned his heart for Jeongguk alone holds the exclusive key to it.
It has always been Jeongguk. Always. Since the moment they met years ago in college…
It was a day like any other, sunlight painting the campus in a golden hue, when Jimin found himself captivated by a young man that would forever imprint himself in his heart. It was in the hallowed halls of the science building, where a bright-eyed Jimin stumbled upon a scene that would forever change the trajectory of his own story. There, amidst the academic chatter, stood Jeongguk. With a dishevelled mane of dark curls, rebellious fashion choices, Jeongguk seemed like a typical charming bad boy. Yet, appearances can be deceiving. Soon, Jimin got to know that behind Jeongguk's rugged exterior lay a heart as tender as morning dew.
Their first real conversation was a week later under the shade of a grand oak tree, where Jeongguk was seemingly unbothered by the world around him.
"Your sketches are amazing," Jimin said after approaching him, unable to hide his awe.
Jeongguk looked up, his eyes revealing a kindness that melted Jimin's heart. "Thank you. I'm not really good at it, I think, but I'm glad you like it anyway."
"Ah. You're not only talented but also humble. I like that," Jimin said with a wink.
"I heard you are smart but modest. I like that too," Jeongguk threw back with a dashing smile, clearly letting go of the shyness that was apparent in his eyes.
Their conversation afterwards flowed effortlessly. Jimin was spellbound by Jeongguk's honesty and kindness, and Jeongguk was eagerly listening to everything Jimin had to say. It was perfect. They just clicked like they were made for each other. The world may have perceived Jeongguk as a bad boy, but in Jimin's eyes, he was a masterpiece.
As the days turned into weeks, their encounters became more frequent and Jimin discovered the many facets of Jeongguk. The boy was not only a talented artist, but also a dedicated student and a soft-hearted man who nurtured an unconditional love for the things and people he held dear—like Jimin. So, it was only a matter of time until Jimin would fall in love with him.
And he did fall in love with Jeongguk, quickly and intensely, casting the world into shadows as the love for this man took centre stage.
But since Jimin's parents were getting divorced at the time, his dark thoughts stopped him every time he wanted to confess his love, even though deep down he suspected that Jeongguk felt the same way about him. It was stupid and Jimin knew that it was, but heart and head don't always listen to each other when it comes to love.
Years have passed since then, but somehow life and work got in the way and as a result they have been hanging in a limbo for years that goes beyond friendship but has not yet reached the final stage.
And yet Jimin promised himself all those years ago that he would do and give everything for this man.
Like now.
Reminded of his purpose, Jimin scans the chaos, his eyes darting wildly over everything. The surrounding streets are choked with traffic, an endless sea of honking cars and terrified pedestrians that are struggling in the cold. Screeching tires as well as the frantic shouts of trapped motorists are everywhere. Wailing sirens drown out the desperate cries for help of the people who are still trapped in the building.
Guilt gnaws at Jimin when he looks around. He couldn't protect the only person that matters in his life. Deep down, he knows that this is nonsense. He could never have protected Jeongguk from a situation like that. But he could have been with him, if only he had found the courage before to confess his feelings. Things could have been different—would have certainly been different.
His mind is a haunted gallery, where the portraits of missed chances and unsaid words hang like spectres, tormenting his every thought. He replays the unspoken confessions, the tender moments they shared, each memory more vivid and painful than the last. If he had finally had the courage to do it years ago, they would surely be living together by now.
Jimin wishes he could have been there, could have held Jeongguk close, to whisper reassurances and promises that love would conquer all. Then Jeongguk wouldn't be alone now. Without Jimin. Full of fear for his life.
If Jeongguk is still alive at all.
"But what if he's already dead?" Jimin thinks out loud, his breath visible in the air.
He doesn't even want to think about it, shouldn't be. The thought would paralyse him even further. It would choke him until he would collapse to the frozen floor, waiting for silent death to come and take him.
He shakes his head. This is not the time to have such thoughts. There should never be the time to have them. Hence, he puts all his remaining strength into the task of finding Jeongguk among the survivors. It's what keeps him alive. Looking at every single face.
The whole street is a disaster zone, and rescue teams are already hard at work, pulling survivors from the wreckage, their faces etched with fear and pain. Jimin would die to replace them or be added to their team, but he isn't allowed, so all he can do is wait.
He waits with clenched fists, his mouth wanting to scream that this is unfair, but would anybody listen? Probably not. No one cares that he wants to do something—anything—to change this cruel fate, but it's impossible. He can only look.
Each face Jimin sees sends a pang of hope and dread through his heart, a rollercoaster of emotions that threatens to consume him, because these faces don't belong to the one he wants to see.
The only one he wants to see as selfish as that sounds.
Bam, his loyal rescue dog, whines softly at his side, pressed against his leg. The doberman's fur is coated with a fine layer of dust and melting snowflakes, and his eyes mirror his owner's fear and helplessness. Bam knows. He knows that Jeongguk lives in this very building. His dark eyes dart toward the wreckage, filled with an almost human understanding. His well-muscled frame is tense, ready to leap into action if needed. Jimin understands it, accustomed to the subtle actions of his dog. Bam would do anything to see the other man again.
At one point when life was good and the three of them happy, Jimin had even joked that Bam would trade him for Jeongguk in a heartbeat. He is not jealous about it, because he knows that while he is the most important person for Bam, he is the dog's colleague in a larger context, but Jeongguk is his friend, his partner in crime. Jimin trains Bam and Jeongguk spoils him.
They are like a family, like parents.
Jimin remembers exactly how he met Bam and later introduced him to Jeongguk, a cherished memory that seems just like yesterday:
6 years ago…
Jimin stood at the entrance of the bustling firefighting academy, the scent of fresh paint making him slightly queasy that morning. As he weaved through the throng of eager colleagues and headed into the changing rooms, he felt an unexpected nudge against his leg. Looking down, he discovered a young Doberman puppy, eyes gleaming with curiosity and playfulness. The puppy's fur was a deep shade of dark brown, with a distinctive black muzzle and expressive eyes.
"What are you doing here, little guy?" Jimin whispered, crouching down to pet the puppy. The dog wagged his tail, seemingly drawn to Jimin's presence.
One of the instructors, noticing the interaction, approached with a smile. "Hey Jimin, that's our newest addition to the search and rescue training program."
Jimin's eyes lit up. He was familiar with the search and rescue dog training, an integral part of the firefighting curriculum. He had always admired the dedication and heroism of these remarkable animals. It was hard to believe that there could be so much courage in this little puppy, but it was evident in the pup's eagerness and happiness.
"Wow. I envy those who get to work with the dogs," Jimin said while petting the hyperactive pup.
"Well, that little fellow is still looking for a trainer." The instructor observed the puppy's reaction to Jimin, his wagging tail and joyful behaviour. "I believe you two would make an excellent team. It's clear he's taken a liking to you."
"But I'm not a trainer."
"Not yet. But I remember that you took the various courses that are part of the training curriculum. It could be your first. Everyone has to begin somewhere."
Jimin gazed into Bam's eyes while so many different thoughts and questions were swirling through his mind. There was a promise of adventures in them. It seemed that fate had decided to bring him face to face with a new course in his life, presenting an unexpected and entrancing partner.
"Do you think we could be a good match?" Jimin asked the instructor.
"Who knows? Only time and training will tell."
The uncertainty only fueled Jimin's determination. As he stroked Bam's fur, he envisioned the possibilities that lay ahead. The prospect of being a team, of saving lives together, it all beckoned him like a siren's call—or fire alarm. It was a starting point, a chance to create something extraordinary out of the ordinary.
Only a short while later when the bureaucratic tangle was navigated, and the ink on the paperwork had barely dried, Jimin was granted the privilege of taking the doberman with him. He named the puppy Bam, short for Bamseok, a name that held sentimental value for him. It was his late grandfather's name who was a firefighter as well and introduced Jimin into the field.
When Jeongguk heard about Bam, he immediately came over to Jimin's to meet the new friend, and Bam and Jeongguk immediately fell in love. After half an hour of romping, the little puppy fell asleep in Jeongguk's arms, which both continued until the present day—even if Bam is way too big for it now.
So in the end, Jimin became Bam's trainer and caregiver, tackling the challenges of their job together, but Jeongguk became Bam's best friend. Together, they were inseparable.
Were…
Hopefully, they still are, and always will be.
Jimin takes a faltering step forward in the direction of the collapsed building, Bam on a leash, preventing the dog from running to Jeongguk, but a firefighter's strong hand on his shoulder holds him back.
"It's too dangerous," the firefighter shouts. Their priority is safety, not only for the victims but also for those who might rush in without proper training. They don't know that Jimin is one of them as well, a firefighter, and Bam is his search and rescue dog, trained to find and recover missing people.
Jimin turns to face the firefighter, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. He wipes away the tears, his voice choked with emotion. "Please, my best friend is in there. I'm a firefighter too, and Bam here is trained for search and rescue. Let us help. We have experience."
The firefighter, a tall man with a strong and determined demeanour, studies Jimin for a moment. He seems to sense the urgency and determination in Jimin's eyes, but shakes his head in the end. "I'm sorry, but since you're not on duty, you count as a civilian and I have to deal with you the same way I deal with everyone else. As a firefighter, you should know."
Jimin does know, his head knows very well, but that doesn't mean his heart accepts it that way. Just as he is about to say something foolish again, which he knows is nonsense, he hears his name.
"Jimin?"
Jimin tries to find the person to the voice. It's his friend Namjoon, he would recognise his voice among a thousand others. They've known each other for years, and Namjoon knows about Jimin's deep connection with Jeongguk.
"Jimin," Namjoon repeats gently, placing a comforting hand on Jimin's shoulder. "You are here!"
"Yes," Jimin stammers, a torrent of emotions threatening to drown him. Tears well up and he hiccups, hastily wiping them away with his palms. "Jeongguk is..."
His voice shatters like glass, and Namjoon pulls him into a tight embrace.
"Oh, Jimin."
"Jeongguk, he…he…" Jimin chokes on his words. "He sent me a message when it happened. He said that he's scared."
"Jimin…"
"My baby was scared, Joonie!"
"Shhhh. Calm down. We will find and rescue him." Namjoon's attempt at reassurance is hollow.
Jimin shakes his head and that is the point when he almost collapses in Namjoon's arms and his voice becomes almost impossible to hear. "But if not? What if you don't find him? What if he's…if he's…already dead?"
"Never say this again, Jimin," Namjoon's voice turns stern, as if trying to silence the ever-mounting dread. He grasps Jimin's shoulders, shaking them a bit, attempting to steady a world that was spinning out of control. "Don't even think like that! There's still hope!"
"Hope?! I have eyes, Namjoon. I am not blind nor stupid. Look! Look at that wretched building!" Jimin's cries. "How can you say there's hope?"
"Jimin…"
"No, I should have been there, be with him. Then, he wouldn't be alone. We would live together, decorate the christmas tree, and try to stop our children or puppies from opening the presents too soon! Hell, even cooking something would be enough. I don't care because it would mean we would have something, do something! Anything! But now, we have nothing. Zero. And who did that to us? Who's fault is that? Huh? Do you know? Yes! It was me!"
"Jimin, please. Stop blaming yourself," Namjoon pleads.
"How can I? It was my fault. I should have confessed!" Jimin's voice wavers. "I should have told him how much I love him!"
"You will, Jimin, there is still time," Namjoon whispers, the words fragile like glass. "We will find him, and you will have the chance to finally pour your heart out to him. I know that he would never die before saying goodbye to you. You know him, he would fight death itself—or annoy him so much that death would run away just to escape this overgrown baby."
Jimin knows that Namjoon means well and that he is giving his all to calm Jimin down. It could have worked, were they not right in front of the disastrous sight.
With his sweater sleeve, Jimin rubs his nose clean, a sad sniff following right after. He looks down at Bam, who's nestled close, seeking solace, and tenderly wipes away his tears, both for Bam's comfort and his own.
"I'm scared, Namjoon," Jimin admits, baring the fear that grips his heart. "I'm so, so scared. Like my baby is."
"I know, Jimin. I'm scared too," Namjoon confesses. "But we can't allow fear to paralyse us. We have a duty to assist the survivors and locate him. My colleagues are doing their best to rescue him and the others."
Taking a shuddering breath, Jimin nods. He knows Namjoon is right. There's a task at hand, and he can't let fear overpower his determination. He gazes down at Bam. "Let us help, please. You know that Bam and I are trained to do that."
"Jimin, please understand. You're not on duty, and this isn't your jurisdiction. You know the rules. Please go home and wait. I'll inform you immediately when we find him."
"Go home?! Are you fucking kidding me?" Jimin's voice is strained when he basically shouts at Namjoon, "How do you expect me to just go home? Should I just walk away? Without him? Without helping at all? No, no, no. I can't do that. I won't do that! I refuse!"
"I know. I know you wouldn't just walk away." Namjoon looks at the building, his gaze scanning the area. "You know you can't help us search for Jeongguk, but you could offer basic first aid and CPR to those in need while waiting."
"But I have Bam! We could be lifesavers—not just Jeongguk's."
"Jimin, please."
"No, Namjoon. Do you remember that there's an exception for me to help you during large-scale emergencies, natural disasters, or significant incidents that overwhelm the capabilities of a single jurisdiction," Jimin recites, clinging to the guidelines he learned at the Fire Training Academy.
Namjoon frowns. "It's not that simple. The exception is applicable when the Incident Commander formally requests aid from other fire departments, such as yours. We are bound by operational protocols. This decision is beyond my authority."
"Then, let me talk to him. I beg you!"
"Even if he authorises your request, what about your personal protective equipment? Look at you, Jimin. You're in regular clothes!"
"There's definitely a spare uniform in one of your trucks. You know that, and I know it too."
"And what about legal protection? And insurance?"
"Namjoon!" Jimin's voice rises now. "I don't care about the fucking insurance! The man who means the world to me is in that building, and I want to search for him! If I don't, there's nothing in this world that matters to me anymore anyway! So fuck that useless insurance!" A loud sob shakes him and Bam whines loudly, scratching at Jimin's trousers. "Namjoon, please," he almost whispers pleadingly.
Namjoon grinds his teeth, shifting his gaze from Jimin to the building. After a deep sigh and a moment with closed eyes, he reaches for the radio and unclips it from its holder. Opening his eyes again and locking onto Jimin's, he presses the radio to his lips as he contacts the control centre, "Assistant Chief Kim Namjoon here. I need to speak to IC Jung."
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