Chapter Text
Rain had been falling for hours, washing the city's streets in damp petrichor as the black Lexus GS rolled through the silent district on the outskirts of Seoul-a safer route Seungmin had explained though the roadway was cramped and dirty.
The mission had ended twenty minutes ago and for once, nobody had been seriously hurt, a rarity worth appreciating, and the atmosphere in the vehicle reflected it. In the middle of the typical chaos expected from the eight, Changbin was in the middle of an argument with Jisung over who had technically been responsible for setting off the warehouse alarm.
"I still say it wasn't my fault."
"You kicked the metal barrel."
"I kicked it strategically."
"It echoed through the entire building. I'm sure anyone within a twenty mile radius heard it."
"It echoed tactically. And if anyone heard it they obviously didn't care."
Hyunjin snorted without looking up from the expensive fountain pen he was idly spinning between his fingers, gaze preoccupied with the unpleasant view of the damp streets. Felix laughed from the passenger seat, smile bright despite the physical exertion of the past hour, while Seungmin sighed from where he was staring absentmindedly out the window, an exhausted sort of breath though he had long since come to accept that this was his life now.
"Could you all just be quiet for a few minutes?" He muttered though the question was more or less rhetorical.
"I think that's impossible." Minho hummed dryly from the back.
Chan, seated behind the wheel, rubbed the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. Today had been a long day-honestly the entire few months have seemed to stretch into a particularly dreary sort of purgatory Chan was far too impatient to bear. "Seungmin is right. I'd like to make it home before one of you starts another argument."
"I wasn't going to-"
"You were."
The car faded into quiet conversations after that. Although it was more of a playful tease, the underlying command in his words made the others settle into their respective obedience. Only the low hum of the car's engine and murmur of voices filled the warm interior.
Chan focused back on the road ahead. He hadn't argued with Seungmin when he had declared this passageway was safer and much less public than some of their other routes though now Chan was beginning to second guess the man. It was a small, dark bricked road and the surrounding houses and buildings looked old and neglected underneath the gray rain. He hadn't realized how much smaller the road had become until the stark silence that the car had settled into stirred him from his thoughts. He glanced up from his focus on the road, eye catching a figure in the distance. He instinctively slowed the vehicle, instincts as sharp as ever despite the lingering exhaustion from the mission.
"Hyung?" Jeongin's voice filled the silence, vocalizing everyone's tensed confusion at the vehicle's sudden dip in speed.
Chan didn't respond, gaze fixated out the windshield. The rain was a thick, translucent curtain over the night-time landscape of old buildings, but a small, faint figure sat in the middle of it.
Felix followed his gaze from the passenger seat, eyes landing on that slowly progressing figure. Hunched over. Still. Sitting on what looked like some form of stairs or railing though it was too dark to tell currently.
"That's...a kid." Felix breathed. The words caught the attention of the others as their eyes settled on the rain pebbled windshield as the car slowly pulled towards the small figure.
Changbin specifically looked taken aback, his expression hardening almost instantaneously. "What the hell are they doing out here?"
Jisung leaned forward in his seat, his usual rhythmic fidgeting stilled as he peered out the windows. "This neighborhood is completely empty." He pointed out, a hint of skepticism in his voice as he focused on the approaching figure.
"I agree with Jisung," Hyunjin hummed though his eyebrows were furrowed in thought. "Could be bait."
"It could." Chan murmured though his gaze was still focused on the figure as they approached. They were closer now, close enough to make out a pale, small face through the rain though specific details were nearly impossible to see.
Silence settled again in the Lexus GS, a deep, contemplative quiet. The Black Rose didn't survive nine years by assuming anything was innocent, even something that was supposed to be so wholly pure. Children had been used before. As distractions, as leverage, as traps.
"Chan, stop the car." Felix's voice cut through the silence, firm and tensed with a rare hint of his deeply protective and just morals. "They're covered in blood."
That statement made the corners of Chan's lips tense imperceptively as the car slowed to a stop. He glanced back at the figure through the windshield, the dark smears of the blood Felix had mentioned against the white shirt. After a moment, Chan gave a slight nod. "We check."
The doors opened in an underlying unison. Changbin instinctively moved to take point, scanning the street while Minho circled the area wider, sharp eyes checking every alleyway and rooftop. Jeongin lingered behind the vehicle, quietly watching the surrounding blocks.
But Chan moved directly towards the child, flanked by Felix's gentle presence. He was small, drenched in rainwater and incredibly thin, seated on the doorstep of a dirty, small house. The boy looked up as they approached, but didn't really react, dark eyes glancing up to meet Felix's softly freckled face as he crouches down in front of the doorstep.
"Hey, kiddo." Felix said gently, voice barely carrying over the rain as he settled in front of the child. There was a molting bruise on his cheekbone, skin slick with rainwater though the child wasn't shivering at all. "Are you okay? It's been raining pretty hard."
The silence that followed Felix's question was heavy, interrupted only by the rhythmic patter of rain against the pavement and the distant hum of the city. The child only stared up at the warm, freckled face for a moment before his gaze lowered back towards the dark brick of the porch he sat on, finger idly tracing the sooth, damp line of the grout.
The others watched silently, staying back in their respective positions, but Chan stepped up behind Felix, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the immediate vicinity of the house the boy was sitting in front of. He wasn't looking at the child anymore; he was looking at the environment. The house looked old, neglected, and far too quiet for a home with a child as young as this little boy who couldn't be older than seven.
"He's not answering." Jisung murmured to Minho, leaning in slightly though his gaze was focused on the child with a sharp, focused concern. He always found discomfort in things that felt inexplicably 'wrong' and this felt profoundly 'wrong'. "Is he hurt? Felix, look at his cheek."
Before Chan could move to more directly tell Jisung to shut up, Seungmin spoke, voice a low murmur as Felix tried to speak with the child.
"He looks hypothermic," Seungmin murmured, words placed matter of factly though there was a subtle tension to his jaw. "And those aren't just scrapes. Those are old bruises and burns, Chan."
Chan didn't immediately respond, just gave a curt nod and a look that silently spoke, speak quietly or don't speak at all, before he turned back into the conversation Felix was attempting.
"Do you want to get out the rain? We have a warm car and we can get you dry so you're not cold." Felix suggested gently. He gestured vaguely to the vehicle behind them where the heater was most likely humming, a stark contrast to the freezing dampness of the dark streets.
The child's eyes flickered upward at the sound of the man's voice, his gaze momentarily catching the warmth of Felix's face before his focus shattered. He looked back down at the ground silently, small finger returning to its slow monotone tracing of the grout between the bricks.
The silence was more expected this time, the heavy fall of rain the only sound for a moment before Felix sat back on his legs and reached into his thick raincoat, pulling out a clean, silk handkerchief still faintly warmed by his body and smelling faintly of vanilla.
He offered it to the child as he hummed gently, "You're very brave sitting out here all by yourself. Are you waiting for someone?"
The child's gaze lifted again as Felix spoke, lingering on the offered handkerchief, his dark eyes wide and unblinking. Hesitantly, he reached out, blood stained fingers brushing over the warm, soft silk before he pulled the item toward him. The tactile warmth of the fabric seemed to rejuvenate his sluggish mind because suddenly, the vacant stare vanished, replaced by a sudden, startling lucidity.
He looked up at Felix, round eyes suddenly bright and searching as his head tilted in a curious sort of innocence. "Can you..." His eyebrows furrowed, focusing back down on the handkerchief in his hands, whatever decision he was making obvious by the endearing tension to his lips before his head snapped up again, eyes alight with that same sort of bright curiosity and hope. "You can help Eomma!"
The words were excited-even thrilled-voice soft and light as the boy pushed himself up with a sudden burst of explosive energy. As he moved, his cold fingers brushed against Felix's sleeve, a silent request as he began to bounce slightly on the balls of his feet, staring down at the handkerchief, a jarring shift from the ghost he had been just moments ago.
Chan felt a slight prickle of unease at the child's words. The change in his mood...it all seemed too performative. Too sudden to be natural. He felt Hyunjin's hand settle against his shoulder as the younger man moved to stand beside him, his skepticism obvious by the tension to his brows. But still, as the child took off, scrambling up the stairs without waiting to see if the others would follow, Chan exchanged a look with Hyunjin before giving a single nod, and moving to follow Felix.
The boy was surprisingly quick on his feet, and he scrambled up the stairs, worn shoes splashing in the puddles as he led the way into the house with a startling sort of energy, sweet voice ringing out in a playful announcement, "Eomma, I brought help!"
The moment Chan filed into the small entrance, his instincts flared with unease. The air had changed-the clean, metallic scent of rain replaced by a thick, cloying sweetness that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The boy led them through the cramped, filth strewn hallway, bypassing a room littered with broken, neglected toys without a second glance, his eyes burning with a terrifyingly bright hope that seemed entirely disconnected from the reality of the decay around him.
They reached the opened bathroom door and the air became thick and sweet enough to taste. The child practically ran inside, a wide smile filled with child-like pride on his face as his small feet splashed in puddles of something dark and viscous. Changbin swore under his breath as he moved in behind Chan, holding the rotting door open for Jeongin as he strayed behind.
The wallpaper, yellowed with time and printed with worn patterns of soft flowers, was thin and peeling, the wall beneath filthy and smelling of decay. Their shoes stuck to the tile floors, Jisung's nervous tapping and Chan's own heavy breathing filling the humid room.
Before the small boy was a porcelain bathtub, old curtains torn and stained. A shallow pool of stagnant bathwater had been drawn, attracting the faint buzzes of insects fluttering about the humid air. And inside lay a woman, soaked children's blankets clinging to her form. One arm hung out the rim of the bathtub, pale and smelling of rot, a deep, swollen and uneven cut to her wrist where flies were already festering. Her lips were a deep shade of pink, soft flesh of her face pale as the layers of nerve and muscle peeled away leading up to the deep, wet exposition of thick, blood clotted tissue. Her hair was matted and stuck to her slumped body, the tile wall behind her shattered and smelling of gunpowder underneath the thick stench of the slow, gruesome rot of a life left neglected.
Chan had stilled, and for a moment, he simply stared at the form of the mangled corpse, before the movement of small, filthy fingers tugged at the sleeve of his expensive suit, pulling him closer.
"She's sleeping." The child said simply, a proud smile plastered on his face as he looked up at Chan. "See? Why are you scared? She's nice I promise." His fingers tightened their hold on Chan's sleeve almost imperceptively, a silent, desperate demand. "You have to wake her up. You're a grown up, you can help her. She'll be really nice when she wakes up because she'll be happy we helped her."
Swallowing past the thickness in his throat, Chan gave a gentle smile as he sank down to his knees, filth soaking his trousers as he settled in front of the small boy. He reached out a slow, gentle hand to cup the child's cold, smooth cheek, calloused thumb brushing just below the molting bruise on the boy's cheekbone.
"She's...she's just resting isn't she?" He murmured gently, voice low and thick with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to show. "She must be so, so tired." He swallowed, not daring to look back up at the bathtub as he continued. "We're going to help." Chan promised, the fierce, protective edge to his voice subtly shifting the room's atmosphere.
He looked up at the others, the silent command in his gaze meeting Minho's sharp eyes and he watched silently as the man began to murmur lowly to Felix and Hyunjin, sending them back to prepare the car as Chan's gaze settled back onto the boy, profoundly tender. "We can't wake her up, baby, and I'm so sorry. But we can take you somewhere warm and safe. With lots of food and nice people. Would you like that?"
The boy's gaze flicked between Chan's steady eyes to the movement behind him, and the confusion in his eyes and chest curdled into a sharp, frantic desperation. His cheeks were suddenly filled with tears that made soft tracks in the grime of his face, a sudden, jagged burst of anger bubbling over nearly inexplicably, tearing through the forced silence.
"You have to help!" He choked out, the words a broken, guttural sob as he wrenched his face away from Chan's hand.
The sound of the child's voice-a raw, jagged thing that shouldn't have ever come from a child, tore through the room like a serrated blade. It wasn't a cry, it was an accusation sharp enough to make Chan feel powerless despite everything he'd built for the past nine years.
"Why-why aren't y-you-you can help!" The frustration bubbled over, his expression screwing up in outrage. "You have to help her!"
Then he scrambled for the tub.
"Kid, wait!" Jisung had shouted automatically, instinctively moving forward though the child was already climbing over the porcelain edge, splashing in the water as he settled himself into the woman's lap, his tear anguished face pressing against the cool, blood slicked body infested with insects and rot.
But Chan didn't freeze this time. He didn't hesitate as he moved with a sudden, decisive grace, sinking further into the cramped, disgusting space. He reached into the tub, hands finding the warm water and clots of gore, and, with a gentleness that seemed completely at odds with the carnage surrounding them, he slid his arms around the boy's small, shaking frame, providing a solid, warm barrier between the child and the rotting corpse.
"Baby," Chan murmured, his voice a low, grounding hum, vibrating with a strength he didn't know he possessed. He pulled the boy flush against his chest, effectively shielding the child's eyes from the worst of the carnage. "Baby, look at me. She's so, so tired. She can't-"
"No!" The boy's scream was a jagged, broken thing, tearing from his throat. He fought fiercely against Chan's hold, his small hands pushing and clawing at the man's arms uselessly though it was done with such intense desperation. He simply couldn't fathom ruining Chan's suit or being punished for his behavior, all this small child knew was that they were all standing there, simply watching as if she couldn't be helped. "She-She-you have-you have to-to wake her up!"
The sound of the screams felt like a physical blow that left Chan breathless. He didn't pull away from the child in his arms, resting his chin atop the head as tiny fists punched and claw at his chest and arms, the desperate, ragged sobs echoing through the bathroom. Chan peered up over the child's head, pulling him tighter against his chest.
Jeongin was speaking lowly with Changbin, expression shifting to one of a deep, hollow ache at the visceral display of grief, but Seungmin met Chan's eyes giving a single nod, face pinched with the sympathy peeking through his usual clinical stoicism.
"We need to move him." Seungmin said, a low, distant murmur behind the child's hysteria. He was already at the door, his eyes scanning the room with a clinical intensity that was masking the deep internal tremor.
Chan nodded, his jaw set in a hard line of resolve. He leaned down, gently swaying the child in his arms as he murmured, "You're going to get cold. You're going to get so cold if you stay here, baby. We can help you. We can keep you warm, and we can help your Eomma-"
But Chan wasn't sure if the boy had even heard him, had registered the logic behind the gentle words. Every time he tried to pull the child closer, he fought harder, a terrifying strength of desperation from someone trying to protect the only thing he had left.
"No!" he shrieked, the sound tearing from his throat. "I-I don't wanna go!" He screamed, voice cracking into a high, thin wail that broke off into a deep sob. "No, I-I wanna stay with Eomma! She-She needs me-me I-I need her!" He fought against Chan, desperately trying to crawl his way back to the quiet stillness of her lap, but as the boy tried to lunge for the tub again, Chan gathered him up with a grunt of effort, scooping the small, thrashing boy up entirely, lifting him away from the porcelain rim of the tub. He tucked the child's tear filled face into the crook of his neck, effectively shielding him from the sight of the blood and stillness though Chan was sure it was engrained in his memory.
Minho, jaw set so tight it looked like it could snap, was carrying a thin white sheet, carefully draping it over the figure in the bathtub before he and Changbin crouched down by the rim, preparing to move the body into a proper bag for a proper burial.
Chan watched quietly before he turned his back to the carnage, his grip on the boy unyielding as he began to stride towards the door. The child still fought, still screamed out for his Eomma, jagged guttural shrieks as he desperately tried to look at her one last time as they carried him into the warmth of the vehicle. But a collective silence had settled over the group.
He's ours now and God help anyone who tries to take him from us.