Chapter Text
Prompt 21: “Player one and player two, please choose your weapons.
You have one hour to finish the job.”
Every week on Saturday there is a special live-stream at exactly 23:00 o’clock. It lasts exactly one hour and ten minutes. The day before and the day after – Saturday and Sunday – there is radio silence for at least forty-eight hours, twenty-four hours before and twenty-four hours after the special life-stream. The other days during the week, from Monday to Friday, there are the regular streams that start every day at nine pm and last for three hours until midnight, their purpose being to sum up what happens through-out the day.
There were not many viewers at first. But the show streamed on a separated homepage soon gained unexpected popularity, most likely because of its original theme and bold concept. Two people – men and/or women between the age of twenty and fifty – get locked up together in a house for a total of five days to train for the special event on Saturday where the two of them would ‘play’ against each other. The winner gets to stay in the house for another week, the defeated gets replaced by somebody else. After surviving five rounds, the winner gets rewarded with a trophy money in height of five million US-dollars.
There are only two people who managed to achieve this in the five years that the show is a thing. Both of them rose to fame really quickly and gained the status of celebrities, gathering fans and dominating the news all over the world, spending their money to their heart’s content.
The first one to make it through five rounds after two years is Kim Seokjin, a twenty-four year old waiter, who uses his five million to buy himself a nice villa and a yacht before launching his own acting- and model-career. Now, three years later, Seokjin has manged to make a name for himself, girls swooning over him left and right, his movies bringing in millions and famous labels practically fighting each other to be able to book him for one of their campaigns. The circumstances of his sudden fame are still well discussed and like the icing to the cake.
The other one, making it only six months after Seokjin, is twenty-three years old Kim Namjoon, who gave up his studies in psychology at the age of twenty-one and worked at a gas station after that. Instead of Seokjin, who used some of his money to help fund his career and cinch his future, Namjoon uses the new-found, rather strong interest in himself and his personality to push his music- and rap-career, making it big after just a few months because the numerous fans he gained during his time on that show liked to buy his albums as well.
Instead of Seokjin, who is considered to be disciplined and a good example for others – the picture-perfect boy-next-door-who-made-it-big material – Namjoon definitely falls under the bad-boy category. Parts of his money get solely invested in expensive cars and pretty girls.
As much as the two champions differ and try to stay out of each other’s lane – both of them too much of a lonely beast to get close with anyone -, there is still one thing they have in common. Both of them refuse to talk about their time at the show. There are no names of the funders, no names of the crew, there are no locations and no details - about what they had felt, how they dealt with the horrible things they had to do in order to make it out alive.
The game they play every Saturday… It’s actually a death-match. People train an entirety of five days for it, before they have to face each other… Either losing their life or being the one to take it, making it to the next round, only to repeat the action.
It’s a truly vicious, inhuman concept, having two people fight against and kill each other. It’s no wonder it’s gotten so popular though, to the point where its reprehensibility and cruelty gets bewailed on the news of the big, reputable channels while they show the actual broadcast on other, trashier channels at the same time.
After finding out which get far more views, there won’t be much faith in humanity left.
Blood-thirstiness and the high that comes with it had always been a major social thing throughout history, starting from the gladiator fights in ancient Italy to executions becoming major public events during medieval times. Humans are predators and hunters, there’s no denying it. Even if it became socially damnable over the years, to openly slaughter your prey.
So humans invent drain valves for their deepest desires – just like this ‘game’-show for example. Most people are too afraid to give in to their dark thoughts, but sometimes, there is one or two that have enough courage to pull through with it. They realize there’s a gap in the market. They see the unexplored potential. They try it out, the human death-matches, they film it, film also some time before the actual fight, because mankind is a sappy bastard and wants its drama and tissue-moments. And they make millions with it.
So many people watch it. On the Internet at first. Later on TV as the show gains more and more popularity and positive response. The police tries its hardest to intervene and find the criminals and murderers responsible for the show, but they have literally no clues – both Seokjin and Namjoon lose not one single word about their time at the show – and people are not very keen on helping them. In public, people say the show is outrageous and disgusting and ‘How could anybody even a little bit sane watch and even enjoy this horrible, horrible massacre?’, but behind closed doors and on the quiet, they whisper and talk about it. They share thoughts and opinions, admit how much they like that show, who their favourite players are – or more likely were.
They have excuses, of course. To justify themselves in front of others, to knock down their own guilt and make it easy for them to forgive themselves.
Nobody is forcing the contestants to participate, they’d say. They are doing this out of their free will, they know about the consequences. If they want to risk their life to get that money in the end, that’s not our fault. They would do it anyways. It doesn’t matter if we watch it or not. It’s the same with sports. They are often dangerous too, to a point where they are life-risking. The only difference is that sports are not as obvious in telling the public this.
Nobody is forcing them.
They chose to do this.
They would do it anyway.
Don’t be so close-minded, don’t be a spoilsport.
It’s fun.
Blood is fun. Watching people in pain and seeing how they give their last breath is fun.
Death is fun.
Of course, I can explain myself! I’m not crazy. I’m not cruel.
Look, nobody is forcing them to do this. They know about the consequences. If they want the money, that’s their problem.
It’s the same with sports-
They have no evidence. They can’t know for sure, nobody knows where the contestants come from, of course they could be volunteers; people who decided to risk their life for the money… But it could also be something entirely else. The broadcasts shown every night show a three-hour montage of an entire day, nights included. The producers of the ‘show’ could easily manipulate the footage to their advantage. The contestants could be captured, kidnapped, forced to fight someone else to death in order to safe their own life.
Nobody guarantees that the people on screen aren’t participants, but victims instead. The crucial point is that nobody mentions that. Nobody asks about the ‘what if’s and ‘could be’s. As long as their poor, little conscience is satisfied, they don’t ask questions. Better stay blissfully unaware and be shocked and outraged when the bitter truth comes to the surface later on than become a confidant and get hit by all the blame and accusations alongside the people who are truly responsible.
They continue to stay ignorant, they continue to watch the show. They help to support violence and crime, torture and gore, making it more popular with every passing day.
Murder, blood and death were never more lucrative before.
~~~
Yoongi for his part has definitely not chosen to participate in these sick, twisted games. And yet here he is, at his fourth week, still alive and rising to become the public’s new favourite as he is closer to winning the five million than all the others coming before him in two and a half years were. People call him the ‘new Namjoon’ as they had called Namjoon the ‘new Seokjin’ and Yoongi… doesn’t really know how to feel about that. He himself had honestly thought that he wouldn’t even make it through the first round… And yet…
He is still here. While others had to go.
And the nightmares that are caused by this keep him awake at night. He has done this. He might not have volunteered for these sick, twisted games, but he has done this, he has killed four people with his own hands, he has taken innocent lives, he is disgusting and horrible and nothing but a shameful murderer.
He was a homeless teen in his past life and he suspects that that’s why they chose him… Because nobody is going to miss him, nobody is there to speak up and tell the public that he didn’t want this, that he would have never agreed on risking his and others’ lives for something trivial and ridiculous as money. He is better than that. Or- he was. Now he has blood on his hands and four names imprinted on his soul, their hollow, accusing faces haunting him in his sleep.
He had been homeless, had nowhere to go and nobody to care for him, but he had still heard of the show. People were whispering about it on the streets, posters got hung up all over the city, he sometimes would catch a glimpse of the show while walking past a shop window and looking at the promoted TVs and the programs they were playing. He was no fan of it. He didn’t get the hype, he found it disgusting – to state the truth – how people got excited about death and he decided to just mind his own business and stay as far away from that show and everything it represents as possible.
As it turned out, fate is cruel and enjoys its irony.
Yoongi doesn’t remember how he got here. He was just walking aimlessly through the park, the sun setting behind some rooftops, people long since gone home and leaving him alone on his search for a place to sleep this night. The sky had been quite beautiful, cloudless and coloured in pretty orange and pink hues, and he had decided to just use an empty park bench as his bed for the night. It was summer and it didn’t look like rain.
Now, Yoongi would like to say that it had been a heroic fight, that he had stood his ground and defended himself greatly before losing in the end and getting taken away, but sadly, that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t even seen it coming.
One moment, he was still walking down the little path that would lead him down to the little pond, blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and the next moment he got jumped by three tall figures clothed all in black, using the momentum to over-whelm him easily and press a dirty, stinking rag to his mouth and nose, sharp smell burning in his nostrils as he gasped in shock. He lost consciousness after that.
He had woken up here, in this house in this exact room, pretty much confused and definitely scared. Nobody explained a thing to him. He had to figure out everything alone. He had met a nice lady around her fifties – she said her name was Glenda - who had happened to walk by his room the exact same moment he started to scream for help (he was well aware that it was probably a fruitless attempt, but he was panicking and at a loss of what else to do).
She had explained things to him, and he had liked her immediately, because she was calm and nice and her hands were soft as she patted his shoulder comfortingly. He had liked her and then she had told him that they would have to fight against each other, that they would have to try and kill each other, to make it out alive.
He had been horrified, to say the least. He still is.
He had always been irritated by Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s behaviour, the one polite but cold and distanced, planning and calculating his every step and action, the other rather uncontrolled and sometimes down-right rude, going to parties, getting drunk, fucking random girls left and right as if every day was actually his last day alive, both of them keeping to themselves and staying alone.
He gets it now. Yoongi gets it. Both of them never came to terms what they saw and did during their time at the show. They try to cope in their own ways, but both of them fail miserably, and the public can watch them slowly fall apart a second time, once again acting oblivious. He wonders what he is going to do when he manages to survive the fifth, final round. He has the slight suspicion that he might turn out similar to Namjoon… He’d try to drown his sorrows in alcohol, he’d try to forget and he would fail miserably, every time.
Right now he is lying in his bed on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling and waiting for them to bring him his new opponent. It’s the day after a match (Yoongi had killed just yesterday) and it’s getting late, so it could happen every second now.
Sure enough, there is the opening and closing of doors, silent mumbling and whispering and heavy footsteps coming by his closed door. Footsteps of somebody who is carrying quite a big weight. Yoongi doesn’t bother to stand up and leave his room, he has tried that before. The men are always hiding their faces and they always chase him away. He’s going to see the newcomer soon enough, it’s not worth the pain and bruises.
After some time, the footsteps come back, definitely lighter this time. Somebody knocks on his door rather unexpectedly and harshly, making him flinch.
“Come on, Yoongi! I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun with this one!” somebody shouts tauntingly, voice bellowing and rough and his companions break out in harsh laughter as they depart from his door.
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow and he sits up in his bed, suddenly curious. What the fuck does this mean? ‘He will have fun with this one’? Is it going to be a rather strong one? It would make sense… To give him a challenge for his last round, to give him an opponent he would most likely not be able to defeat. Fucking assholes.
With a mumbled curse, Yoongi is on his feet and out the door, rushing down the corridor to get a good look at his future opponent. Without faltering and allowing himself to overthink his actions, he rushes – no, practically bursts into their room, throwing the door open rather strongly and only now stopping to take a look of his surroundings. He must look rather intimidating right now, falling upon this room without a warning, breathing harshly, a crazed glint in his dark eyes as they scan the room quickly, methodically.
A small part of him had hoped that his opponent was still unconscious, but luck is not on his side. In every way.
Because as Yoongi’s eyes finally find who he’s supposed to fight in five days, he understands what they meant when they said he should have fun with this one. He understands why he most likely won’t be able to defeat him. Yoongi has never been more scared or horrified in his entire life as he is right now while he takes in the sight of his opponent, a boy probably a little younger than him with jet-black locks and endearingly chubby cheeks, so small and cute and vulnerable-looking, features twisted in inexpressible fear, but big, expressional eyes still filled with gentleness and warmth as they lock gazes with Yoongi. Because the boy looks so innocent, so pure, like he wouldn’t even harm a fly, like he would not even put up a fight – like he would let Yoongi kill him in an instant, with a smile on his face, to safe Yoongi, a mere stranger to him - and Yoongi can’t… How is he supposed to- How should he- He can’t, he would never be able to forgive himself!
He… he is so overwhelmed. He never had to face something - someone - like this. His former opponents… they were good people, nice people, Yoongi had liked them, but they were never like this, they were never so innocent, so meek. They were willing to take Yoongi’s life in order to save themselves or make some drastic decisions. They were the ones to attack Yoongi first and he killed them while defending himself, and that’s actually the only reason why he is able to still look at himself in the mirror. He excuses his actions – excuses his murders – by telling himself that he just protected himself.
But this boy, this soft, gentle creature, would never be able to attack him first, Yoongi is sure of that. He sees it in his eyes, which are filled with nothing but love and trust. But if he doesn’t do it… Yoongi is going to have to be the one to strike first… and the boy won’t be able to harm him, he just knows it, not even to defend himself, and Yoongi would slaughter him, murder him, and it would be unforgiveable, inexcusable and he would never be able to forget that or get over it.
One way or another, this angelic boy is going to end his life… Literally or figuratively spoken. To Yoongi, it doesn’t really matter.
He is still pretty much just staring at the boy, lost in his own dark thoughts, when something breaks the silence, something sweet and melodic and smooth… a voice, gentle, calm, sending a pleased shudder down Yoongi’s spine. The boy, having found enough courage to speak up:
“I-I’m sorry if I’m annoying b-but… M-my name is P-Park Jimin… D-do you know what’s going on? C-can you help me?”
He seems so insecure and hesitant, words stuttered with how scared he seems to be, and Yoongi’s heart hurts. He moves over to sit down besides the boy, a heavy sigh leaving him.
“Hello, Park Jimin. I’m Min Yoongi, but given the extraordinary circumstances, you can call me your ‘hyung’ right away. I am going to explain things to you… But you should stay away from me. I’m not going to help you. I- I’m going to make everything worse.”
Jimin just looks at him with big eyes, clearly confused by Yoongi’s bitter words. The grey-haired male has to force himself to look away, the guilt eating him alive. Keeping his expression carefully blank and his eyes stoically trained to the wall in front of him, he begins to speak. And he tells Jimin everything.
~~~
Sometimes at night, Yoongi lies awake and he asks himself which parts exactly they are going to show to the public. Every day, they shorten an entire day down to three short hours, of course they would leave so much stuff out. Are they going to make the contestants likeable? Are they showing how they are actually becoming friends? Or are they only showing the parts where things get rough, when they train and fight… Are they showing only the arguments without the make-ups… Are they showing hate where only love is…
They might actually switch it up a bit, Yoongi realizes. It’s far more interesting if you have some great friendships, interrupted by tales of wrath, hatred and envy.
This night in particular is no expectation either. It’s probably sometime after midnight and Yoongi lies wide-awake in bed on his back, surrounded by darkness, staring up at the ceiling.
He wonders what his and Jimin’s relationship is going to look like to the public. Are they going to be love or venom? Affection or despise? The kind of pairing people are going to root for and shed bitter tears over at the inevitable, bitter end? Or are they going to be the opposite. Is the audience going to anticipate their bloody life-and-death struggle?
It… makes Yoongi nervous, he realizes as he blinks up into the darkness, when he has the time to think about it. They are being filmed all the time, 24/7, non-stop. He would feel so much better if he actually knew which moments are going to get aired world-wide and which ones are going to be edited out, left to belong to Yoongi and Jimin only, making those moments the most sacred ones of their relationship as only the two of them would know about it.
This moment right now, too. Yoongi tries to shift a little in the bed, but the body besides him presses only closer, an unfamiliar arm coming to drape itself loosely over his stomach. The grey-haired boy drags his gaze away from the ceiling to glance down on the mob of black hair tickling his neck, Jimin having snuggled closer some time ago in his sleep and Yoongi didn’t have the heart to try and push him away, afraid to wake him up. It took long enough for the younger boy to fall asleep after all, today’s events having the expected effects on him.
Yoongi can’t help but ask himself if they are watching them right now too. He… kind of hopes they won’t. Or at least won’t broadcast it, for the whole world to see.
He honestly doesn’t know how they ended up like this, curled around each other in Jimin’s bed. After he had explained the whole situation to Jimin with honest and blunt words – maybe being just a little bit too ruthless, in a clumsy attempt to earn Jimin’s resentment and safe the boy and himself from unnecessary pain – Yoongi had actually planned to leave Jimin alone and give him some time to let everything sink in. He therefore stood up and made a move to leave the room, but he only managed one single step. Looking down, his heart leaped painfully in his chest at the piteous sight.
Jimin, still sitting on his bed, had reached out with a slightly shaking hand for Yoongi’s left sleeve, now holding it delicately between pointer-finger and thumb. The young boy didn’t dare looking Yoongi in the eye, instead bowing his head down low, shoulders drawn up and trembling, as if he was mentally and physically prepared for a harsh reaction, for rejection. He looked so lost and miserable like this, so small and fragile, Yoongi had felt sudden tears of sympathy spring to his eyes.
This was so unfair! Why did it have to be someone as sweet and defenceless as Jimin!
In a sudden moment of bitterness and pity, Yoongi had done something very uncharacteristic for himself. Instead of keeping the cold, unapproachable act up and breaking loose from Jimin’s grip, he had turned more towards the younger, placing a steady finger under his chin and gently forcing his head up. The last of his resolve had crumbled right then when he was greeted by Jimin’s tear-stained face, his gaze so hopeless and broken, cheeks pale and plump lips trembling harshly. Jimin had stared directly into his eyes then, fresh tears plastering his long lashes together and Yoongi had surprised even himself when he had allowed Jimin to drag him softly backwards until he sat down on his original spot besides Jimin on the bed.
“This is a mistake,” he had whispered, more to himself.
“Jimin…” his voice had gone so soft while calling the other’s name and an actual sob had wracked through Jimin’s body.
“I’m no good for you. Us getting close with each other… Us getting attached… It’s going to come back and bite us in the ass,” he had tried to reason, but Jimin was having none of it.
“I know but I… I can’t help it. I can’t do this on m-my own, hyung. I’m not strong enough. I- I need you. Even if it’s a mistake, even if I’m going to regret it in the end. B-But you are the only one here right now and I- I just don’t want to be alone. Please, hyung, don’t leave me alone,” he had pleaded and Yoongi could see it in his eyes, the despair, the fear of ending up all by himself and he got it, in some way. Got how scared Jimin had to be of being abandoned, of having to face himself and his own dark thoughts when nobody was there to distract him or keep him occupied.
He had given in. When Jimin had let himself fall backwards to lie on the bed and had dragged Yoongi with him, the elder didn’t object.
And when Jimin had asked after what felt like an eternity, in a tiny, anxious voice if he could please stay the night and give him some company and warmth, he had mumbled his agreement.
That’s how they ended up in the current position, with Jimin seeking protection in Yoongi’s arms and it’s so ironic and cruel, because those very arms, those hands, Yoongi himself is going to try and kill him in five days. Jimin looks for solace in his greatest threat. And the worst thing is… Yoongi knows Jimin only for a few hours now, but he cares about him already. Yoongi is definitely dangerous for Jimin. But…
How dangerous is Jimin going to be for Yoongi, in return?
~~~
“You… really don’t know what you are doing, huh?”
“…Not really. No.”
“Well, I can see that. It’s almost painful to watch.”
“I… am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just do better. Your whole stance is a disaster and I am not even talking about your grip here. You’re doing it wrong, here let me help you.”
Without even waiting for Jimin’s response, Yoongi leaves his spot at the side-lines to move to the younger’s side, reaching out for his hands and taking the blade he’s been holding right out of them.
“You’re holding that knife way too hesitatingly and loosely. It’s not going to come to life all of a sudden, so toughen up a bit, will you. If you act like that during combat, your opponent will be able to take you down in seconds.”
He shows Jimin how to hold the knife, first using it like a small sword, letting his hand jab forward quickly a few times as if to stab an imaginary person in front of him in the stomach, then quickly switching the blade around with skilled fingers and wielding it like a dagger, lifting his hand and guiding it in a harsh downwards motion, now aiming for the invisible neck.
His movements are so quick and secure, so powerful, Jimin can only watch him with wide eyes. Yoongi gives him a small half-smile to reassure him, before giving him the knife back.
“You need to harden your grip if you don’t want to get that blade of yours knocked out of your hand in an instant. Steel your mind and your body should follow. It’s important, Jimin, if you want to survive. Oh, on another note… I should probably teach you how to change grips quickly as well. Flexibility is your strongest weapon in hand-to-hand combat.”
He gives Jimin’s shoulder an encouraging pat, before returning to his original position a few steps away from the younger boy. Jimin looks down on the knife in his hands while gnawing on his bottom lip, brows furrowed to a slight frown, before he sighs in what seems to be defeat, resuming his earlier exercises.
Yoongi watches him closely, praising him when he makes some improvement and giving advice where he’s still lacking.
“Well, there is still some room for improvement, but I have to say, you’re doing a lot better already. You’re quite a fast learner, Jimin,” Yoongi admits during one of their quick breaks, both of them sitting beside each other on the ground, Yoongi cross-legged and Jimin with his legs drawn up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.
He doesn’t receive an answer immediately and when he turns his head to look at Jimin from the side, the boy has a sullen look on his face, eyes glazed over and distant as he stares into nothingness. Something is obviously bothering him and Yoongi is about to ask what, slightly concerned by Jimin’s lack of response, when the younger boy speaks suddenly up:
“Why are you doing this?”
His tone is weirdly serious and calm, given how overly excited and emotional he had been the whole day and yesterday when they met. Yoongi feels his throat going dry, sudden anxiousness clawing away at him.
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about-” he tries to play dumb, but Jimin interrupts him with throwing a glance in his direction, their eyes meeting. Yoongi stops talking abruptly at the sheer whirl of emotions swimming in those warm, brown orbs.
“You are teaching me how to kill people. You are teaching me how to kill you, to be more specific. Why?”
For a long moment, they keep just looking at each other and Yoongi contemplates if Jimin would maybe just drop it if he kept silent long enough. But there is this hard glint in Jimin’s eyes, the spark of determination, and he comes to realize that he has already lost.
He heaves a sigh of defeat.
“It’s… because of completely selfish reasons, to be honest,” he whispers, watching Jimin’s reaction carefully. The younger boy’s eyes widen in surprise, but he keeps silent and waits for Yoongi to go on.
“I told you yesterday that I’ve been here for four weeks already, starting my fifth today. I have… fought four people already and I always won. All of them were definitely able to handle themselves and they had no problem with attacking me, as much as I had no problem in hurting them to defend myself in return. But you… are different. I don’t know you that well yet, but I can already tell that you are a sweet guy, simply not capable of bringing any harm to anybody. You would be utterly defenceless in our upcoming fight if I didn’t give you any tips, and just- the thought alone of me harming you without even giving you the chance to do something about it-”
Yoongi breaks off with a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and willing himself to keep his composure.
“Look, if you manage to take me down in a few days because I taught you one thing or two, I couldn’t care less. It won’t concern me anymore, if you know what I’m trying to imply here. But if I end up… defeating you without doing something about your vulnerability, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for the rest of my life, and that’s some kind of hell I really don’t want to bring upon myself.”
He feels a gentle hand on his forearm suddenly and only now does he realize that sometime during his little monologue, he started to shake. Yoongi blinks his eyes open again, once again turning to face Jimin and instead of accusations and anger he finds only softness and warmth in them, and somehow that’s even worse.
“You are a good guy, Yoongi. I’m genuinely sorry all of this had to happen to you,” Jimin mumbles, hand gliding lower to link fingers with Yoongi, giving him a reassuring squeeze and Yoongi feels like crying once again.
Why can’t Jimin be just a douchebag or something? Why does he have to be such an angel? Yoongi doesn’t want to die… But he starts to think that he wants to take Jimin’s life even less. And the worst thing is, Jimin is still not blaming him, but instead seeking his company even more now.
Jimin sees a saint when in reality, Yoongi is nothing but a monster. This whole situation is nothing but a mess.
“And because you are such a good guy, training is so hard for me. I keep messing up, because I keep seeing you in the air I try to hit,” Jimin continues, letting go of Yoongi’s hand to jump to his feet, his frustration getting the better of him.
“I keep seeing you in that target over there that we keep using for tossing exercises,” he turns around, building up some momentum and throws the knife at said target with all his pent up aggression, hitting it square in the middle, the tip digging deep into the foamed plastic, “and I can’t help but hesitate and hold back each time, because I keep seeing your face and I just- I just can’t hurt you!”
The end of the sentence Jimin is practically screaming, breath coming in short, agitated gasps and he crumbles in on himself suddenly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets to prevent his upcoming tears from falling.
Yoongi stumbles to his feet besides him, wide eyes trained to the destroyed target and he looks quite shocked by the sudden outburst of skill. His face seems to have lost all colour.
Swallowing hard and gaining his composure back, he turns towards Jimin, refusing to look directly at him, however.
“That was- that was perfect,” he tells him, fighting his feelings down and returning to his former cold, emotionless self, for the sake of both of them.
“Maybe, instead of imagining the target to be me, you should just start to think of me as the target. Just reverse it. Should make things easier.”
He wills himself to turn around and leave the training area then, Jimin’s pained wails and sobs a symphony of torture and despair that accompanies him on every step. He keeps his resolve though. He doesn’t weaken, doesn’t crumble.
He keeps on walking. He doesn’t turn back.
~~~
One thing that changes as soon as you enter the ‘death zone’, as Yoongi likes to call the house they get locked in until they have to fight for their lives, is the time. When you don’t know if you are going to take your last breath in a few days, you begin to measure time differently. Every hour, every minute, every second gets so much more valuable, is experienced much more intensely, much more conciously. It protracts the days greatly.
Yoongi has met Jimin only yesterday, but he feels like he has known him for years already.
It may also be the reason why, after their little dispute earlier that they, Jimin still comes crawling into Yoongi’s bed at night, smiling at him as if nothing had happened. Yoongi debates with himself, if he should keep the distanced act up, but to be completely honest… He doesn’t want to. His resolve has left him already and he yearns for company and comfort. God, he is so weak... Still, he makes room for Jimin without hesitation, lifting the covers for Jimin to slip under them and draping them over both their bodies. After all, they only have each other.
They settle down and make themselves comfortable, Yoongi lying on his back once again with Jimin cuddling into his side, head placed on his shoulder, and after some time Yoongi drapes one arm loosely around his small frame, fingertips drawing lines onto his upper arm and shoulder.
God, he’s way too comfortable with the younger already…
“So… how did you… actually end up here, hyung? I- I just take it from your explanations earlier that you didn’t choose to end up here… Just like me…” Jimin finally breaks the silence, turning his head a little to glance up at Yoongi. He looks half afraid, as if he regrets his sudden braveness, but Yoongi feels way too relaxed and peaceful for once to act on it.
“Well… Basically, I got kidnapped. My life… Is not that spectacular though, I grew up in a foster home and the foster parents weren’t that concerned with us… I ran away when I was sixteen and they never came looking for me. Don’t look at me with those sad puppy eyes though, Jimin, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I never got into bad shit. You know… I’m quite good with cars and stuff, so I got a job as a mechanic. I was saving my earnings, so I didn’t have a flat… I wanted to get a decent one, in a few months, when winter would come. So… basically, I was all alone and nobody would be going to miss me. I think that’s why they chose me. Nobody to shout to the public about how I never wanted this.”
He trails off, looking down on Jimin, their eyes meeting. There is a sympathetic look in the younger’s eyes and Yoongi can’t help but smile affectionately.
“It’s really okay, Jimin. I didn’t have much, but I was happy,” he reassures him and Jimin stares into his eyes a little longer, only looking down and resting his head back on his shoulder when he is convinced that he’s telling the truth.
“It’s actually funny…” Jimin starts again, and this time Yoongi can only see the top of his head but not his eyes when he looks down again, “Or- ‘funny’ is the wrong word. Maybe it’s actually more sad than funny. But… these past two days… The days I spent with you… I was happier than I had been in a very long time.”
Jimin is using his words carefully, Yoongi can sense it. He doesn’t know why, but his heart skips an anxious beat all of a sudden and he can just feel that something is seriously wrong. Yoongi would really like to see Jimin’s eyes right now, but the younger hides his face on Yoongi’s shoulder, voice slightly muffled as he keeps on talking.
“I didn’t choose to participate in those sick games either, but our stories are still a little different. Nobody kidnapped me… I more like- got sold off? My mother died when I was very young, so I got raised by my father alone. He is… a difficult person. Drinks a lot. Gambles, too. Got into contact with the wrong people and he owed them lots of money… Seems like it were the guys that organize this show, because they offered to take me instead of the money and he- well, he agreed… My own father sent me away to get killed, just to save his own skin. Saying it out loud like that just makes it clear how awful that is.”
Yoongi can tell that Jimin tries to keep it together, fighting to hold his tears in, but Yoongi offers his comfort by hugging the young boy close to his chest, cooing lightly as he instinctively presses tender kisses between his raven locks, and he can feel Jimin practically falling apart in his arms, lips starting to tremble against the skin of his collarbone, a strangled sob wracking through his small body.
“Hey, it’s okay. You really didn’t have it easy, huh, kid? But you’re doing so well, staying so strong all the time and keeping it together… Your father doesn’t deserve an angel like you,” Yoongi soothes him, but he knows damn well what it feels like when everything just gets too much and breaks to the surface at once, so he just stays silent soon enough, letting Jimin cry into his shoulder.
“N-not everything was b-bad, you know?” Jimin sniffles finally, obviously trying to calm down and cheer himself up and Yoongi is quick to react to it, making an approving sound and pressing another kiss to the crown of Jimin’s head.
“My father was an asshole, but at least he allowed me to go to school. I think it’s because he actually enjoyed it when he could get rid of me for a few hours. Anyway, in school, I met those boys, you know? Taehyung and Jungkook... They are really nice! I was pretty shy at first and was reluctant to make friends, but they came up to me immediately and treated me as one of their own right from the beginning, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and just- those two… They are my only friends, hyung. I love them so much, I know they care for me too, and now I’m here and they have to watch how we two are going to fight, how I’m going to d-die, o-or become a murderer and… I’m just so sorry for them. I’m so sorry to cause them so much pain.”
“It’s not your fault, Jimin! And I’m sure they are well aware of that.”
“I- I know. I think… They might actually be looking for me. Taehyung is good with computers, you know? We always called him ‘hobby-hacker’ jokingly, but he’s actually a real genius. If one is going to be able to find me, it’s him. I know… he won’t be able to help me, he and Jungkook are just two teenage boys after all, but… I still like to pretend though. A-A boy can at least dream, right, Yoongi-hyung? It’s the only kind of silver-lining that’s left for me,” Jimin keeps on explaining, getting quite drowsy and exhausted now after his teary outburst just moments ago. Letting out a hearty yawn, he snuggles further up to Yoongi, his eyes closing automatically when the elder goes back to drawing soothing patterns into his arm and shoulder, now spreading the comforting caresses out to his back. A pleased hum escapes him.
“Yeah, I understand. Hope is really the only thing we’ve got left,” Yoongi agrees, and he gets it, he really does. Looking down at the young boy in his arms drifting slowly off to sleep, Yoongi can’t help but feel like this is all a dream. Jimin is like a miracle, having come into his life so unexpectedly and suddenly, but having such a strong impact already. Under normal circumstances, it would be crazy to feel such a connection towards someone he only met a day ago. But the circumstances are not normal, they are extraordinary and Jimin is such a sweetheart despite his troublesome background and really, Yoongi just wants to hide him in his arms forever and protect him from all the evils in the world. He feels responsible already.
Goddamn, he’s really in way too deep.
But strangely enough… that fact doesn’t even bother him anymore. For once, he just wants to allow himself his own kind of sliver-lining. For once, he just wants to pretend as if everything is going to be okay. Settling back into the sheets and holding Jimin a little tighter to his body, he closes his eyes and allows for sleep to wash over him, his slumber deep and dreamless for the first time after almost four weeks.
~~~
It’s the next day during lunch, after one more training session where Yoongi helped Jimin to get used to wielding a blade, when they sit down at the dining table to eat. The food got brought in earlier, while they were in the training room, without them even noticing. It’s nothing spectacular. Just some rice, with chicken and vegetables, but they are both starving, and hunger is the best sauce after all.
“I’m really sorry for asking so many questions, but I’m just curious. I want to get to know you better and I… would like to know how it feels like… you know, just in case…” Jimin trails off, thinking of a way to finish his sentence without offending or hurting Yoongi, but the older knows exactly what he is trying to say.
“You want to ask me how it feels like to take a life,” he finishes bluntly, and Jimin has the decency to blush in shame, nodding in agreement.
“Well, to be honest… I kind of lucked out all four times, you know? As I mentioned earlier, all four of my former opponents knew damn well how to handle themselves and… for some of them, there is even more to the story.”
He takes a deep breath to collect himself, gathering his thoughts. He has never talked to anybody about this – and how could he have, when nobody had been there that would have listened – so he doesn’t quite know how to start.
A warm hand is gently placed on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles lightly, and Yoongi gives Jimin a grateful smile. The younger’s eyes are full of understanding.
“Yoongi-hyung, you don’t have to talk about it, it’s fine-” he starts, but Yoongi interrupts him: “No, it’s okay. I actually want to talk about it. Just needed a moment to think.” Jimin squeezes his hand in reassurance and Yoongi feels his fingertips tingling slightly.
“Last week… was actually the easiest to cope with. I like to tell myself that it’s not because I’m slowly getting used to it… It’s more the fact that I didn’t really kill her? I was not directly involved in her death. She was only sixteen. But she looked really mature for her age and those bastards plotting this whole shit were most likely lying to the public and cutting out our talk where she told me how old she was, so people out there most definitely think she was already of legal age. Anyway. I think it’s because she was so young, but she was really daring and desperate to win and she climbed this tall-ass building… She was pretty good with arrow and bow, so I assume she wanted to shoot me from a better position. But she… tripped and fell, and she had been pretty high up already and I- I watched her fall and hit the pavement a-and it was definitely not a pretty sight and… and I couldn’t save her… I just stood there and watched her fall…”
Yoongi is gasping for breath now, his vision blurry with tears and this is worse than he expected… If the most benign case gets to him to this extent already, will he even be able to tell Jimin everything? But he wants to… He feels like he needs to. He has kept to himself for way too long and he needs to get it finally off his chest.
Yoongi half expects Jimin to ask if he wants to stop there but the younger boy seems to actually understand because he keeps silent. He just pulls on the other’s hand gently until Yoongi gives in and practically falls into Jimin’s arms and it’s kind of a reverse of last night, with Yoongi crying into Jimin’s shoulder this time and the younger comforting him with rubbing his back soothingly.
“T-the second one… was not that bad, too,” Yoongi finally continues between little sniffles and sobs.
“The guy was pretty hostile towards me and I actually found out that he, for once, really volunteered to take part in this show for the sake of the money. So… he had no problem with killing me and he- he really tried hard, but I guess I got lucky and managed to somehow knock his gun out of his hand – he was good at close-range shooting, but I hid myself and snuck up on him and used the cover of a garbage can as shield. We fought for that weapon for a little while and that bastard even bit me, but I still managed to get a hold of the gun and I just aimed blindly and shot and I must have hit him in the process, because he suddenly got slack and heavy against me and there was blood on my cheek and he- he was dead.”
Yoongi manages to stay relatively calm this time, turning his head to snuggle more into the crook of Jimin’s neck. If his shirt gets damp by Yoongi’s tears, Jimin doesn’t speak up to complain.
“I’m not telling this in the right order, I know. Anyway, the woman I had to face on the third week is a little harder for me to take. She claimed that she was actually an undercover police officer, working on a case of drug dealing and they must have mistaken her for a homeless person like me or something, somebody that nobody would miss. Well, they actually made a mistake there because obviously, her whole department would start to look for her. I don’t know if the creators of the show didn’t catch it when she told me her identity, or if they just didn’t care, but they never came to replace her. She had a partner, Jung Hoseok, which she described as very nice and determined. She never told me directly, but I could tell she secretly hoped he would find her in time. Well… he never showed up. God, it’s kind of hard for me to talk about this one.”
Yoongi sighs into Jimin’s shoulder, feeling another wave of tears coming up, but he fights them down. He sits there and allows Jimin to fret over him, when in reality, he doesn’t deserve this amount of comfort and concern. His victims should be pitied, not him. He deserves all of his suffering.
“Being a police officer, she felt responsible for me. She felt the urge to protect me and of course, she wouldn’t have been able to kill someone innocent. I- I had no idea what she had planned. I think she knew I would have tried to stop her… But the game had been going on for some time already and an hour was almost up, with none of us trying to go for the other and to be honest I started to get a little restless, because they had told us that – if none of us is dead after an hour – both of us would have to die. So… as she realized only one of us dying would be better than two, and she absolutely refused to take my life, she used her own gun to shoot... herself. I- I wasn’t even near her, so I didn’t have to witness it… I’m actually quite thankful about that. And ashamed.”
He chokes on a harsh sob, and Jimin is quick to draw him even closer, rocking him gently like a little kid, cooing softly into his hair, but Yoongi shakes his head and presses on, because the last story is also the worst and the longer he waits the harder it gets to talk.
“The last one… Was also my first. It’s the death that gets to me the most. Her name was Glenda. I think she was around fifty? I don’t know. But she- she was there for me. Right at the beginning. Much like I was there for you. When everything was scary and confusing and I had no idea what was going on, she had her arms open and ready for me, explaining everything to me with patience and consideration. I automatically clung to her, sought her company and comfort and she kept saying that I reminded her of her oldest son who had died in a car accident years ago. The five days practically flew by and to be honest, I still couldn’t quite believe it. Everything was so surreal to me. I couldn’t believe they really wanted us to fight each other, I couldn’t imagine myself taking someone else’s life. So she… helped me. During our fight, she kept making those ridiculous mistakes… I think she let me win. Glenda died in my arms and I couldn’t see her face clearly, because my vision was blurred by tears, but I’m sure she was smiling up at me, and even then, with the life slowly leaving her body, she was still holding my hands in hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze.”
And Yoongi had killed her. Yoongi had killed them all. Four people, gone, because of him. He is to blame. He is to blame! He is to blame!
He only realizes that he started to cry again when Jimin lifts his head up gently by placing a finger under his chin, pad of his thumbs ghosting over his numb cheeks swiftly to wipe the tears away and Yoongi hiccups miserably, shaking hands reaching out to bury themselves in Jimin’s shirt, holding on to the younger boy as if his life depended on it. Jimin cradles him in his arms once again, practically dragging him into his lap now, hugging his thin frame close as he trembles in his hold.
They sit there for quite a long time, Yoongi crying his heart out and Jimin letting him, offering silent comfort. When the older finally starts to calm down, the exhaustion hitting him so unexpectedly he’s practically falling asleep on Jimin’s shoulder, it’s already starting to get dark. The second day is about to end.
Only three days left.
~~~
These three days go by much like the first two. Yoongi and Jimin build some kind of routine, training together in the morning, then eating lunch, training some more before cuddling a little on either one of their beds or on the big couch in the living room – the house is equipped with the usual stuff, two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, bathroom and the training hall – often talking in hushed voices or just lying there and enjoying the silence and the little caresses they exchange. After a quick dinner, they return to that activity until they grow tired and fall asleep in each other’s arms.
There’s really nothing much to do besides training, eating and talking. There is no TV, no books, no paper or pencils or any other stuff that could be used to entertain oneself. Yoongi suspects it’s because the creators want to raise the drama. Without having anything to distract yourself with, it’s pretty much unpreventable to think about the upcoming death match. The creators surely hope for the contestants to go for each other’s necks even before the actual fight, to increase the action and drama and please the audience.
Well, they should be really disappointed with Yoongi and Jimin then. After their little dispute on day one, they never once had an argument again, deciding – especially in Yoongi’s case – to just stop fighting the obvious attraction they felt for each other and instead enjoying the precious time they have with each other.
People may now argue that five days, or even less than that, are definitely not enough to build such a strong relationship like Yoongi and Jimin claim to have, but then again, if you are stuck together 24/7, with nothing to do but to spend time together and talk with each other, you get to know each other impossibly fast.
In those five days, they tell each other practically everything, from their favourite colours to their most treasured secrets and fears. Yoongi knows that Jimin loves dogs but his dad never allowed him to have one, that he enjoys action movies and comedies but is quite sceptic about horror movies because he’s a scaredy-cat, that he loves to dance and draw. Yoongi also learns that Jimin is so fucking worried, because he was so young when his mother died and now he’s starting to forget what she looked like, that he picked drawing up in a desperate attempt to get her features on paper, that the only time he used violence against someone was to defend Jungkook, who got bullied a lot because he was smart enough to skip a class and that he was ashamed of himself a lot, because he sometimes couldn’t help but hate his dad and because he thought of himself as weak since he seemed unable to improve his situation.
Jimin knows that Yoongi is a fan of dogs too and that he used to have one named Holly but that he left him behind when he ran away because he felt like he wouldn’t be able to take care of him well. He finds out that Yoongi also has great passion for music, teaching himself how to play the piano when he was only twelve, but being unable to play for a very long time since he lived on the streets. Yoongi also confesses that – while being content with his life – he was also constantly scared of not making it another day, of getting robbed and stabbed or just freezing to death in a pretty harsh winter, and that he therefore doesn’t value his own life that much, feeling guilty that four people had to die while he got to live on.
Jimin admits to Yoongi that he is afraid to die, yes, but he is even more scared of taking a life, not prepared to take such a responsibility just yet. Yoongi tells him about his nightmares in return, about the amount of times he wakes up screaming, drenched in cold sweat and memories of pale, accusing faces vivid in his mind.
They find solace in each other’s honesty, reassurance in their trust. They are dear to each other. It’s a tender rose growing in a field where only thorns are bred.
~~~
It’s the last night before their fight and Yoongi can’t sleep yet again. He’s lying on his side this time, spooning Jimin from behind, the younger boy’s body warming his chest and his short hair tickling Yoongi’s nose. He has a nice scent. Fresh and clean with some underlying sweetness, like vanilla and cinnamon mixed with peppermint.
Yoongi is debating with himself, if he should disturb the silence by asking if Jimin is already asleep, but the other beats him to it.
“…Yoongi?...” A soft murmur, so quiet Yoongi almost doesn’t understand it.
“Yeah…” he breathes, arms unconsciously tightening their hold around Jimin’s middle.
“Are you awake?”
He just nods his head, but he’s pressed so snugly up to Jimin’s back, he’s sure the boy is able to feel his movement. Jimin hesitates for a second, before starting to twist and turn, rolling over until he’s facing Yoongi, both of them still lying on their sides.
“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.
“Hey,” Jimin echoes, voice soft and wavering a little, eyes glossy.
“Everything alright?” Yoongi asks, lifting a hand to catch the first falling tear right at the highest column of Jimin’s cheekbone with his pointer finger.
“Just scared of tomorrow,” Jimin admits, eyes closing automatically at the intimate caress.
“Me too,” Yoongi agrees, flattening his hand against the side of Jimin’s face to cup his cheek in it. Jimin leans into the tender touch, reaching up to lie his hand on top of Yoongi’s.
“I… I can’t kill you. I know you want me to sincerely try, but I- I just can’t, Yoongi! I’d rather die than harm you in any way and even if you’ll get mad at me now… You can’t force me to hurt you. I’m not going to do that,” Jimin confesses, eyes filling with tears once again. Yoongi coos at him and moves forward, Jimin instinctively mimicking his actions until their foreheads are pressed together, both of them wanting to be as close to each other as possible.
“Yeah, I know. And I’m not getting mad at you, Jimin. I’ve come to realize over these past few days that I share your concerns. I can’t ask you to give your best when I feel like I won’t be able to do it, too. I can’t harm you, too.”
Jimin gasps softly in surprise and Yoongi smiles.
“B-but what are we going to do then?”
“Well, I’m not going to attack you and you are not going to attack me either, but I also won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for me-”
“Yeah, I won’t allow that either! You hear me, Yoongi? I-I wouldn’t be able to take it,” Jimin chimes in frantically and Yoongi chuckles despite the serious topic.
“It’s okay, I get that, Jimin. Which is why I’ve thought about something… It may not be the best solution, but it’s the only one I can come up with right now.”
Yoongi lifts his head a little, to be able to mumble something in Jimin’s ear. He doesn’t want the speakers and cameras to pick up on it, afraid that the creators might not approve of his plan.
He settles back down into the sheets, leaving a little more distance between them now to be able to see Jimin’s reaction. The younger’s eyes are wide in wonder as he thinks Yoongi’s idea over, before his features morph into something a little more understanding and sad. A melancholic smile ghosts over Jimin's features as he reaches for both of Yoongi’s hands, linking their fingers together.
“It… seems to be the only way, huh?” he asks, and Yoongi’s heart aches.
“Yeah,” he confirms.
“Okay.”
Yoongi knows fully well what Jimin’s intentions are when he leans slowly closer then, eyes switching from Yoongi’s brown orbs down to his lips and up again. He doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t want to, in fact. Instead, he welcomes Jimin with open arms and an encouraging smile, and Jimin’s eyes water for the third time that night, his hands squeezing Yoongi’s in a tight hold.
The kiss is a shy, chaste one. Just a brush of lips against lips, a feathery touch that’s gone soon, but it’s soft and gentle and fragile just like Jimin, and Yoongi wouldn’t want to have it any other way.
They rest their foreheads together again, falling into comfortable silence.
Still, the upcoming day hangs like an executioner’s axe over their heads.
Both of them don’t get much sleep that night.