Chapter Text
Love
/lʌv/ (n.)
a current medium of exchange in the form of coins and banknotes.
Jungkook doesn’t know how he got here, running through the streets of Pileo, blood on his cheek, chasing after a guy he just met.
Actually, he does know how he got here. It’s his own fault for blindly trusting some random guy on the internet named Fox of all things. But Jungkook is desperate .
The city where he’s from, Omelas, is facing a love crisis, inflation at its worst in years. Jungkook could not stand to work another twelve hour shift at the theme park, all the wasted time and hard work for a pay that barely covers rent, let alone food.
He needed an escape, a fresh start. Then Fox appeared like a lifeline, a stranger in his Facebook comment section offering a deal: a thousand loves for Jungkook’s cherished camera and gaming console. A thousand loves — more than enough for Jungkook to find a temporary place to stay in Pileo. So he packed all his belongings into his car and drove up north, wishing, hoping for a better life there.
But reality came crashing down when Fox only transferred him a quarter of the amount, and then got physical when Jungkook demanded the rest. Now, Jungkook’s cheek throbs from where he had been punched, the fucker’s big ass ring scraping his skin off in the process.
“You're gullible, kid,” Fox shouts from in front of him. “You wouldn't last a day in this town.”
“You don't know shit about me,” Jungkook spits back, quickening his pace to catch up to Fox even though his lungs are burning from pushing his body to the limit while running on three hours of sleep.
“My advice, go back where you came from,” is the last thing Jungkook hears before it all happens in a blink of an eye.
He gets run over by a truck, except the truck is actually a man, build so solid Jungkook feels the impact deep in his bones, and crashes to the ground.
“Sorry man. Didn’t see you there. You okay?” truck asks.
Jungkook quickly gets back up on his feet, scans the night crowd and slumps when he realises Fox is nowhere to be seen. He swears he can still hear his cackling from a distance.
“M’Fine.” He dusts off his palms, realises how they're scraped too. His phone lies on the ground, must have dropped out of his pocket during the collision. He picks it up and inspects the shattered glass on the back of it. Great.
“Are you new here?”
“What?” Jungkook mutters, mentally calculating how long a measly 250 loves can last him. He’ll get through this. Jungkook’s used to living off of a pack of ramen a day. He’ll just make do with sleeping in his car until he finds a new job.
“Don't think I’ve ever seen you around here before. I know faces.” Truck, for some reason, is still talking to him.
Now that Jungkook’s looking at him, he sees that truck is wearing a sleeveless top and shorts. Going from the sweat dripping down his temple, he must have been jogging before he literally rammed into Jungkook.
“Doubt you’ve seen every single face there is in Pileo,” Jungkook retorts, wary.
Truck makes a show of assessing Jungkook’s dirty clothes, the open wound high on his cheek. “I’m Namjoon,” he offers. “You look like you could use a bit of help.”
“I don't need your help,” Jungkook grits out and walks away. He almost expects Namjoon to follow him, but he doesn't.
Jungkook retraces his steps, going back in the direction he came from, until he finds his lone car parked in the narrow alley where he met up with Fox earlier. Accepting help from another stranger is the last thing he wants to do.
At least he still has his car. He gets inside, twists the ignition and brings the old machine to life. He drives off with no particular destination in mind.