Chapter Text
It’s not like Taehyung lives in the most prestigious of areas in Seoul, not with a produce market being right underneath his apartment. It’s probably the only reason why he got his sleep schedule reoriented back to normality. Ahjummas hollering over each other in a battle against prices is not by any means ambient background noise, and even Taehyung can’t claim to sleep through it.
But even so, he can count on the noisy chatter of the day to dissipate once night falls, leaving him to drift off to sleep in peace and quiet. It’s a constant that he relies on.
Tonight is different though. Tonight, Taehyung is woken up at three in the morning by banging on his door. Unwilling to reconcile the fact that his sleep has been disrupted two hours shy of his alarm, he lies on his futon and stares up at the ceiling. He almost considers burrowing deeper into his comforters in hopes of drowning out the bangs when suddenly the banging stops, a voice taking its place.
“Please…” he hears. The voice is a strained plea, as if the speaker had tried to call out in the quietest manner possible. They probably were, given it was dead in the night.
Sighing, Taehyung rolls out of his covers, feet searching for his slippers in the dark. There was no way he could actually leave whoever was out there now, not after hearing the urgency in the voice. He dosn't bother switching on the light for his one room apartment—he familiarized himself with the layout within a few days of moving in, and by the second week, he could navigate through his tiny hole in the wall with his eyes closed.
Which is practically what he’s doing now.
Before he goes for the lock, he peers into the peephole.
There’s nobody out there.
Taehyung pauses for a second, weighing the options. He could go back to the comfort of his bed and forget about this strange incident. But the voice keeps nagging at his conscience. The boy—he’s certain it was a boy, man?—had sounded really distressed.
Just to make sure, Taehyung thinks as he shifts the lock and swings the door open. The hallway is frigid compared to his well-heated space and he brings an arm around his body. When he looks down toward the elevators, he finds himself surprised to see the mystery boy walking towards them, dark black jacket pulled over him, hood drawn up. The boy seems to have heard Taehyung’s door because he stops and whips his head back. In the white fluorescent glow of the hallway, Taehyung can just make out the ugly splotches of bruising running down the length of the other’s face, even in spite of the obvious attempt to hide them with his hood.
And Taehyung’s resolve steels. He’s jogging down the hall, his flip flops clopping along the concrete floor. Screw being mindful of his neighbours.
He slows as he reaches the boy, who stares at him with puffy red eyes and his mouth slightly ajar.
“You rang my bell,” Taehyung huffs in greeting when he stops in front of the boy.
“You didn’t answer,” the boy mumbles.
Taehyung manages an incredulous laugh. “Well, this is me answering now.”
. . .
Only when he directs the boy (“My name is Jeon Jungkook,” the boy had said in a hushed tone) back into his apartment and settles him down with a steaming cup of tea does Taehyung question him about his situation.
“What are you doing here at three in the morning, Jungkook?” he asks from across his coffee table, sipping from his own mug of tea.
Jungkook absently rubs at his bruised eye, then winces. He looks up and, with a nervous swipe of his tongue across his chapped lips, he confesses, “A hyung told me your address and that I’d be safe here. Uh, Jimin-hyung?”
At the name, Taehyung perks. “Jimin? How do you know him?”
“He’s a senior at my dance group.”
Taehyung nods. His best friend spent most of his time rigorously practising with his dance group. Taehyung had joked time and time again that he’d be scouted and put into an idol group, and then Taehyung will be left with no choice but to sacrifice a little of his image and stan his group. What he didn’t know was whatever was going on with Jungkook and why Jimin was involved. Obviously, Jimin never mentioned a peep about the boy, but it had to have been going on for a while. Things don’t just escalate to bruising and seeking out a stranger’s house on the word of a fellow dance group member out of nowhere. There was a story.
For now though, he would let Jungkook off the hook. Fifteen minutes had passed since they first sat down with their tea, and Jungkook had been a bundle of nerves through all fifteen minutes. The ginger tea didn’t seem to be helping, though that may be more due to Jungkook swishing it more than he actually drank it.
So instead of an interrogation, Taehyung gets up and goes to rummage through his closet for extra comforters and the rolled up foam mattress his mother had insisted he bring over to his new place (“For when you have guests over, Taehyungie!”). He lays it out beside the coffee table, drapes the comforter over it, and props up some cushions at one end.
When he finds Jungkook staring at the comforter, he flushes with embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “This is all I have.”
Jungkook’s eyes dart up to Taehyung’s face and they widen. “No, no,” he rushes out, “I’m just… Thank you. For doing this for me.” In that second, Taehyung sees into Jungkook’s eyes and is hit with the sobering impression that the boy sitting in front of him has seen more than he should have at his age.
Clearing his throat, Taehyung does his best to smile. “Get comfortable,” he suggests. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Taehyung awkwardly waves a little, feeling better when Jungkook does manage to give him a worn-out smile, and ducks into his room.
He texts Jimin immediately.
Taehyung 4:02AM:
Jimin, what is going on? Why’d you send Jungkook to me?”
Not expecting an immediate reply, Taehyung throws his phone onto his sheets and moves to turn off his bedside lamp. He had just about burrowed into his covers when he hears the vibration of his phone. He blindly pats the general vicinity of his nightstand and finds his phone’s sleek form.
Jimin 4:03AM:
Sorry Tae! I’ll explain tomorrow in a call. Please keep him safe. He’s a good kid, don’t forget that.
The message is a little cryptic and Taehyung isn’t in the right mind to decipher the hidden meanings, so he thumbs a quick response over and turns off his lamp for the precious last hour of sleep he can get before he has to work.
. . .
The blaring of his alarm coupled with the muffled prices being shouted below rouses Taehyung from his sleep. He squints through his thick, unstyled fringe at his flimsy curtains, vision blinded momentarily by the light of the rising sun. In hindsight, the investment that blackout curtains demanded is well worth it. He’s an idiot who just doesn’t know how to budget.
As he shuffles around his room eyeing up every scrap of fabric on the floor in hopes of finding a clean, presentable shirt, he wonders if the strange boy is awake. Well, his alarm certainly wasn’t subtle. Taehyung shrugs to himself and cracks his door open, eyes focusing immediately on the mop of black hair peeking out from under the comforters. Huh. The boy had slept through the alarm.
Honing in on his stealth, Taehyung quietly makes his way over to the bathroom to wash up. Inside the bathroom, placed on the edge of the counter in folded stacks, was a hoodie and a white tee. On the floor, the black jacket sits in a crumpled heap beside a pair of Timberlands. Huh, brand names wasn't something he'd penned Jungkook to have. Taehyung starts to worry when he noticed both the items of clothing on the bathroom counter had pockets of red splattered across, blood drying copper-brown overnight. Taehyung abandons the sink in favour of waking up Jungkook—he had to make sure he hadn’t bled out overnight under the covers.
“Jungkook!” he urges, kneeling by the figure and shaking him.
What Taehyung didn’t expect was Jungkook jerking awake, hand flying out to bat away Taehyung’s. Jungkook emerges from the covers with fear written on his face, eyes darting around in his sleepy haze before he seemed to come to his senses, face clearing in recognition and then mortification.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” he apologizes, already scrambling to get up before he seemed to remember that he’d slept in his tank top and boxers. Jungkook dropps back down into the makeshift bed, hands pulling the covers over his lower half. He hangs his head low.
Taehyung had remained still, unsure of how to react. When Jungkook quiets, Taehyung finally gathers himself. He tilts his head down and tries to make eye contact with the other. It works, and he gets a timid gaze back. Taehyung smiles. “It’s okay, I was just worried about you. I saw the blood on your clothing.”
That seems to spark another round of terror in Jungkook, who curses under his breath. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he admits softly.
“You should’ve told me. Are you still bleeding anywhere?”
Jungkook shakes his head, eyes sad. “I… it’s not really…” he pauses, drawing in a breath. “Can I take a shower?”
Taehyung blinks. “Sure, of course.”
Jungkook steps away gingerly. The bathroom door clicks gently and then, a few seconds later, the shower spray turns on. Taehyung decides to put away the questions—as long as Jungkook wasn’t actively bleeding, he’ll ask his questions later. Instead, he goes to busy himself with a small breakfast before he needs to get going for his cashier job.
It’s when Taehyung is done both their eggs and bacon, and has already moved on to buttering their toast, that he feels worry coiling in the pit of his stomach again. Jungkook’s been in the shower for fifteen minutes. He reasons that he may just need to take a long shower, with the way things have happened, so Taehyung sets their meals on a plate and begins eating.
By the time he’s done, Taehyung is sure something is wrong. He puts his plates in the sink and makes his way over to the bathroom door. He really hopes Jungkook didn’t faint in the shower. Tentatively, he knocks. When there’s no response, he raps harder on the door. Frustrated, he grabs the knob and twists. To his surprise, it opens.
To his surprise again, it is empty.
The window is open, curtains billowing in the wind. The water is still running. Taehyung wonders if the boy even took a shower before he left.
. . .
Jimin doesn’t call until well into the evening, when Taehyung reheats the extra breakfast he’d made for Jungkook and sandwiches the contents between two stale pieces of bread. He’s had worse meals in his life that the pathetic excuse for a dinner doesn’t really faze him. He was too busy pouting over Jungkook’s disappearance to really acknowledge the lack of quality in his meals as of late anyway. What was the boy’s story?
When Jimin’s name flashes on his screen, he wastes no time answering.
“Jungkook left through my window this morning,” he says by way of greeting.
Jimin sucks in a breath on the other end of the line. “Did he now?” Jimin says after a moment. “The stupid kid is going to get himself killed.”
A chill runs through Taehyung. It has to be just an expression, right? “What do you mean?” he asks anyway.
Jimin’s quiet. “I mean he’s not in the best place right now,” his friend finally offers. It’s not enough to answer any of the dozen questions circling his mind right now.
“Explain what’s going on, Jimin.”
“Jungkook’s mom remarried a few months ago. His stepfather is mean, like really mean. To the point of abusive.” Taehyung’s head, which had been pillowed on a cushion, lifts. He pulls himself into a sitting position to digest the divulged information about Jungkook.
“Is that where all the bruising’s from?” he finds himself growling.
“Yeah,” Jimin answers softly. “Yeah, I think—and I’m not sure about this, because Jungkook’s kind of private, but I notice things! But he has a younger sister and I think he’s been fighting for the both of them when it comes to the stepfather. The man is a raging alcoholic, Taehyung. I’ve heard calls between Jungkook and him, and even without being on speakers, his slurring is obvious.
“He always comes around with bruises to dance class. The other day, he called me and he told me he got him and his sister out. He didn’t tell me why—I could guess—but he just said he needed a favour, for a place to stay for the night, that his sister had found a place but he needed just one night.
“I couldn’t because you know how it is with my parents and brother, we’re already packed full as it is and we don’t have extra linens. So I directed him to you. I said he could trust you and that I would call to let you know. I forgot though, because Joon had another coughing fit and I had to put him back to sleep, so… sorry, Tae.”
Taehyung had stared at the ceiling throughout Jimin’s story. And now, as Jimin waits for Taehyung’s response, he could only think of one thing: Jungkook is out there somewhere alone right now. And what of his sister?
“Taehyung?”
“Why is someone so young going through something so tough?” he finally asks. There’s no proper answer that Jimin could provide to settle the question. The world is unforgiving, impartial to the grievances of individuals when it has a bigger picture to paint. But Taehyung is not the world, he has the compassion to spare for young homeless boys roaming the streets with their little sister in tow.
“I want to find Jungkook,” he states aloud.
“But how?” Jimin answers, a sad note to his voice. “He could be anywhere, Taehyung.”
Taehyung knows it’s true. What are the chances that his sorry ass could hope to find a pair of siblings out in Seoul with nothing but sheer determination to guide him?
“But if I don’t, who will?” he whispers into the phone.
. . .
Taehyung never finds Jungkook.
He started from Jungkook’s address and spread out into the surrounding areas with only a flashlight and bike at his aid. He promised Jimin he’d find Jungkook, but with only a bike as his mode of transportation and his rather lacking physique, he tires within the first hour of searching. By the second, he’s exhausted his physical capabilities and still has seen no sign of the younger. He’s tired, frustrated, and he knows he has work the next morning. The time on his phone reads 12:47AM. His shift begins at seven.
He sighs and returns home.
The next morning, his limbs protest with every movement and he considers calling in sick for work, but he knows his manager wouldn’t tolerate a second sick day just two weeks from his last one. He curses himself for being particular about attending that one music festival in Daegu. It hadn’t even been worthwhile.
His breakfast is a quick one: a bowl of yogurt and cereal. He’s out the door in five, and on his bike in the next minute. Biking to work in the chill of the morning air wakes him up faster than anything else and by the time he’s locking his bike in front of the Luckymart, he’s fully alert and ready to get his work day over with.
The first hour passes relatively smoothly. Not a lot of shoppers enter the supermarket so early in the morning, so he busies himself with stocking some of the items closer to the checkout lane. Taehyung’s ripping open a new packet of gum when he catches a figure slink into the supermarket in his peripherals, making a beeline for one of the aisles.
It’s Jungkook.
He’s wearing the same black jacket he wore when they met that night, hood still drawn up. He recognizes the shoes he’s wearing, of all things. They’re Timberlands, all scuffed up and caked in dirt.
Taehyung abandons the gum package and almost jogs over to the aisle, Jungkook’s name on his lips. When he turns into the aisle, Jungkook looks up so fast that Taehyung’s worried he gave himself whiplash. And then Taehyung’s gaze falls on Jungkook’s hands, unconsciously still stuffing items into his giant jacket, and oh.
He can’t say he’s surprised, not with Jungkook’s current situation being the way it is. But Jungkook is frozen, face transparent with guilt. Taehyung notices Jungkook’s gaze flicker down to his nametag, his uniform, and before Taehyung has had a chance to say anything, the other starts backing away and begins sprinting. Without pause, Taehyung takes after him.
It comes as a surprise when Jungkook’s path takes them through the back exit obscured by shelves of dry goods. With a jolt of understanding, Taehyung realizes that Luckymart must be somewhat of a regular hit for Jungkook. How many times has this been a necessity in Jungkook’s life?
“Wait, Jungkook!”
They’re in the back alley now. Jungkook stops in his tracks, his shoulders rising and falling as rapidly as Taehyung’s.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Taehyung blurts out before all else. He straightens and reiterates, “I’m not looking to hurt you, Jungkook. I want to help.”
At that, Jungkook turns. There’s a bleak set to his features, and when he speaks, it’s with heartbreaking absolution. “That’s not true. You say that now, but nobody actually ever wants to help.”
“You don’t know that,” Taehyung says. “Come back to my place. Bring your sister, too. I know it wasn’t much, but it’s a place to stay.”
When Jungkook hesitates, Taehyung tacks on a please? and finally, finally, Jungkook gives an uncertain, imperceptible nod.
It’s then that Taehyung remembers he’s at his job.
“Shit, shit!” he curses, hands flying to his hair in sudden terror. It startles Jungkook, who visibly flinches at Taehyung’s outburst.
Swiftly, Taehyung apologizes. “I’m… well, I’m at my job, and I’ve kind of been, you know, not at my job this whole time,” he explains.
Jungkook’s body relaxes and, if Taehyung were honest, he almost looked like he wanted to laugh. Almost.
“Come here in four hours, okay? Please? I’ll be off then.”
Jungkook nods, turns, and then turns back to stare at Taehyung a little. Then, to Taehyung’s surprise, the boy raises a hand and waves goodbye shyly. Taehyung forgets to wave back.
His coworker notices Taehyung’s disappearance.
“Where’d you go?” Namjoon asks curiously from Taehyung’s station at the checkout line.
“Uh, there was a shoplifter,” Taehyung replies, wincing at giving away this information. Would they check the security cameras? What if they catch sight of Jungkook’s face? Was it even hidden behind his hood properly?
“Oh, did you catch them?” Namjoon asks. If he notices Taehyung’s internal struggle, he doesn’t comment on it.
“They got away.”
“Well… The manager doesn’t have to know about this.”
Taehyung blinks, not expecting that response. “Yeah, guess not,” he says and hurriedly changes the topic before Namjoon—who is usually more uptight about these things—changes his mind. “You better go back to stocking the produce, it’s not going to stock itself,” he jokes. “Thanks for manning my counter, hyung.”
“It’s all cool,” he calls over his shoulder.
Customers file in as the morning progresses, and soon enough, there’s a moderately sized line building up at his lane. When he finishes up a sweet old lady’s purchases, he unmounts the announcement system microphone and calls for an employee to take another lane.
Seokjin appears from the international goods aisle, already unbuckling his apron. He opens up the lane next to Taehyung and the two of them dwindle down the numbers to more manageable lines.
Taehyung feels as if he were on autopilot, fingers tapping away without thought on the POS screen, hands bagging items one after another. Seokjin comments on it when there’s a short reprieve at the cash line.
“You okay today?” he asks.
Taehyung looks up, brows furrowing. “Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You’re just usually more…” Seokjin brings his hands up, hands gesturing wildly before he settles on, “upbeat? Cheery? You seem kind of distracted today I guess.”
“Just some things going on,” he sighs.
“What kind of things?”
“Well… my friend is in a tough situation right now,” he says haltingly. “Like, family issues. I’m trying to help him but he’s a new friend, so I think he’s having trouble trusting me.”
Seokjin hums in contemplation. “Sounds like he needs some time.”
. . .
True to his word, Jungkook is waiting by the back door when Taehyung gets off his shift. He’s also not alone. Standing next to him is a young girl, arms crossed and looking thoroughly unimpressed as she glances over his frame with a bored expression on her face. She’s dressed in her school uniform, backpack slung over one shoulder.
“This guy looks barely older than you. He won’t be able to do shit for us,” she mutters, turning to face Jungkook.
Well. Taehyung certainly wasn’t expecting that.
“Jihyo! You don’t talk to people like that,” Jungkook reprimands, fingers pinching his nose bridge in exasperation.
Taehyung makes his way over to them, hyperaware of the pair tracking his movement, Jungkook nervous and Jihyo distrustful. He almost wants to bare his palms in a show of peace, but he thinks that won’t really do much in this situation.
When he reaches them, he fumbles a little and then stretches a hand out to Jihyo. “I’m Taehyung, but you might already know that. I hope we get along!”
She snorts. Jungkook huffs in annoyance and prods her. In response, Jihyo rolls her eyes but manages to mutter, “Yeah, yeah, me too.”
It’s not much, but it’s a start that Taehyung will take.
The walk back is filled with Taehyung’s mindless chatter about his day. He finds that Jungkook is quiet, offering little to no responses, but Taehyung doesn’t really mind. He’s always been known for his tendency to fill the silence. Taehyung suspects his sister is more than likely selectively quiet at the moment, choosing to ignore Taehyung’s rambling in favour of resolutely staring straight ahead.
When they’re a block away from his apartment, Taehyung halts. The Jeon siblings stutter to a stop beside him.
“Let’s buy some pastries!” Taehyung enthuses, already propping his bike against the storefront. He’s already swinging the door open before Jungkook can make any noise to acknowledge his suggestion. The three enter the small bakery one after another. Taehyung greets the cashier with a wide grin, face lighting up even more when he catches the whiff of freshly baked goods.
He’s inspecting some of the decadent cupcakes by the glass display when he notices a limited edition selection of chocolate bar cupcakes. Taehyung turns excitedly, eyes searching for Jungkook. He sees the boy standing in front of the end-of-the-day sale rack, pawing at his hands. There are coins in his open palm. Taehyung feels his heart sink when he notes that there are only four 25 cent coins, which Jungkook quickly pockets before walking away from the rack. Jungkook returns to his sister’s side by the wall, murmurs something in her ear, and then he leans back and only then does he meet Taehyung’s eyes. They narrow, as if daring him to ridicule him.
Taehyung motions for Jungkook to come to him. It takes a moment, but eventually Jungkook just sighs and walks over.
“I’m treating,” he whispers conspiratorially.
Jungkook frowns. “Look, I know what it looks like, but I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity!” Taehyung quickly corrects. “Actually, I was thinking you can treat next time.”
“Next time?” Jungkook echoes.
“Yeah. It’ll be a date,” he declares proudly, the words slipping out of his mouth before he even has time to process them. When he does, he freezes. Jungkook’s face is coloured in surprise, his mouth slightly ajar like the night Taehyung had run out to meet him in the hallway.
Taehyung is still berating himself for his lack of brain to mouth filter that he almost misses Jungkook’s soft reply.
“Sure.”
For the second time, Taehyung freezes. “What?” he blurts.
Jungkook cracks a smile then. “I want the peanut butter cups cupcake.”
Taehyung is still blinking rapidly when Jungkook turns his attention to his sister, shouting to her about which cupcake she wants. By the time Jungkook returns to his side, Taehyung’s collected himself enough to speak levelly.
He has the cashier bag an extra set of whatever Jungkook and his sister ordered when the both of them are examining a tray of decadent cheesecakes a little ways away. It’s the least he could do—he was probably going to spend the extra little pocket money on video games anyway. He figures his money is going towards a better cause than his admittedly out of hand MMORPG addiction.
“Time to go, kids,” he says. His grin widens at Jungkook’s huff of laughter, and not even Jihyo’s eye roll bothers him.
Taehyung passes the goods to Jungkook before he unlocks his bike. There’s a reverent expression on Jungkook’s face when he accepts the bag and Taehyung stills with the reminder that Jungkook and his sister endured hardships that Taehyung is privileged enough to not have experienced. Hurriedly, he looks away, feeling as if he’s intruding on a moment between the siblings.
A hand taps on his shoulder. Taehyung looks up and Jungkook is smiling down on him, front teeth a little too big poking out of his smile.
“Thank you,” Jungkook mumbles, head ducking down shyly.
There’s nothing Taehyung could do but to smile back.