Chapter One

Pretty Doctors  & Darwinism

Namjoon hates stairs on good day. On bad days, like today coincidentally, he absolutely despises stairs. Why can't every building have elevators installed? It’s downright barbaric to have to climb ten flights just to visit someone normally, but for Namjoon to have to practically crawl up that much while injured and clutching his side is thoroughly inhumane.

Hoseok has been a good sport about having to shoulder most of Namjoon’s weight, however. He makes a mental note to take his friend out for dinner soon for his efforts.

Once they reach the tenth floor landing,  the two men stagger down the hallway. Hoseok knows where his is going, obviously, but he had insisted on keeping Namjoon in the dark about his friend’s whereabouts. Hoseok has been getting stitched up by said friend since forever, but has he never told a soul who was willing to commit malpractice; probably to protect the person from getting swamped with unwanted criminals who need medical attention, but know better than to go to the hospital. Not telling him, Kim Namjoon, one of Hoseok’s best friends, turns out to be a moot point as they approach apartment 204. They  leave a small trail of blood behind them. Someone should really clean that up before it stains the carpet.

Sweat drips off his face as Namjoon knocks, more like beats, on the door while Hoseok supports them both. They hear muffled voices and a pair of feet slapping against wooden floors quickly before a man appears.

“What in the world,” the man starts, then immediately pulls them into his home and shutting the door as the worry on his face transforms into a look of professionalism.

“Jungkook! Get me the first aid kit,  sterile dressings, the IV stand and make sure all my instruments are sterile and on the tray.” The guy tosses over his shoulder as he shifts Namjoon so both he and Hoseok are dragging him by his armpits further into the house.

“On it, Jin.” comes from the next room over. A boy rushes down the small hallway carrying several clear fluid bags in his arms.

His name is Jin.

It might just be the hypovolemic shock, but Namjoon’s heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest just looking at Jin.

“Okay, Hoseok, you know the drill.” Jin says.

“I’m fine, just bruised and a few cuts here and there but Namjoon has a stab wound and probably a concussion or something.” Hoseok lists off their injuries.

“How long ago did this happen?” he questions.

“Not too long, maybe ten minutes. We were on our way to a pick up near here.” Hoseok leaves out that the meetup was only a block away, but Namjoon guesses Jin wouldn't want to know how close he lives to the illegal hotspots of the underground.  

“Alright. Help me get him on the table.” It’s difficult but they manage to haul Namjoon onto a black operation table. Namjoon swears harshly when a hand presses to close to his wound and his lightheadedness peaks.

“Namjoon?” He can't catch his breath long enough to answer Jin.

“If you’ve lasted this long, you probably haven't nicked anything too serious.” Jin rambles on more to himself than to Namjoon. “I'm going to try to stop the bleeding and then we'll see how bad off you are. I’ll give you something for the pain soon.”

When did Hobi leave?

Jin turns to speak to the dark haired boy behind him, who inserts an IV drip into his arm. Namjoon thinks he looks smidge too young to be sticking things under his skin, but then again, he isn't in a situation where he can be picky.

As Namjoon lay there, Jin and the other boy working on him diligently, the most absurd thought crosses his mind: Jin is so pretty.  

Someone bangs on Jin’s door around ten o’clock.. Jin knows who it is right away. No one else would be rude enough to come knocking on his door that late.

“Should I get it, Jin?” Jungkook speaks up from the living room.

“No, I got it.” Jin sets the dishes he was washing on the towel placed on the counter and wipes his hand on his sweater. He shuffles swiftly to the front door.

“What in the world,” Hoseok is standing there with any other man who is bleeding all over the floor. He slips into doctor mode instantly and directs them into his home, instructing Jungkook to get all his equipment ready.

He doesn't have the time to really inspect his patient Hoseok says his name is Namjoon, and that’s about all Jin knows about the probably-gangster.

After Jin has slowed the bleeding to an almost stop and verified that Namjoon doesn't have any injured internal organs, he stitches him up and has Jungkook put a dressing on his wound.

Without a break, Jin goes to check on Hoseok’s condition. His friend only requires a few bandages, his knuckles are split and there is a gash on his cheekbone, but mostly Hoseok is covered with black and blue bruises.  

Jin checks on Namjoon, who is thankfully resting, again and takes a nice hot shower. As much as he would like too, he doesn't dwaddle. He trust Jungkook to hold things together for at least 20 minutes but if any complications arise he knows Jungkook, who is only an MA, isn't equipped to handle it.

Luckily everything’s fine by the time Jin is dressed and has the chance to check on Namjoon again. Everything seems okay, but he wants to keep on an eye on how the wound heals; it could get nasty real quick if he doesn't

Now that Jin isn’t in doctor mode, he can fully appreciate how good looking Namjoon is; he's got blonde hair (that has blood crusted on the strains), thick lips (his bottom lips is split.), thin and tall., (almost lanky). He looks awkward just lying on Jin’s operating table, his arms and legs dangling off the sides like an adult in a child sized chair.

Jin stifles a laugh with his hand and shuffles into the living room. Hoseok and Jungkook side-eye each other but don't say anything to him.       

Yoongi loathes weak people and is a strong believer in natural selection.

Jay knows this. In fact, just about everyone knows it. He makes to attempt to hide his disdain for those who can't survive on their own. It’s one of the reasons he has a limited supply of friends and constantly has a bounty on his head.

If he wasn't as cold and apathetic as he is, he would never had climbed the ranks in BTS as an interrogator (more like executioner, if he was honest. If someone was sent to him, it was expected they wouldn't been seen again.) or been as - grudgingly - respected as he is. Being able to disconnect with one’s feelings was a talent, apparently. One that was heavily envied within the underground.

Mr. Lee slumps in the wooden chair across from him. The bastard was stubborn, but Yoongi had been able to get the information Jay asked for.

His phone vibrates on the table, rattling his instruments. He goes to answer when he sees it’s his boss, but stops when he sees the blood coating his hands. Typically he would have on latex free gloves, the kind they use in hospitals, to avoid these messy situations but Taehyung  had forgotten to pick some up from the store yesterday and he had a deadline to meet.  

He wipes his hands on his white t-shirt not caring if it stains; the shirt was already splattered here and there with various juices and he is planning on burning it with the body.

Dragging the corpse to the kiln in harder than it should be. Yoongi is a small man, too thin to be hefting another grown adult across the basement floor. It takes him a few minutes because he has to stop every few feet to catch his breath.

He lets out a groan and mops up sweat on his forehead with them hem of his over-sized shirt, smearing red on his face on accident, before reaching the kiln.

Yoongi wishes Jay had given him an apprentice so he could pawn off all the annoying parts, like burning bodies and cleaning up afterward, on the poor sap.  

Pushing the last of Mr. Lee into the kiln, Yoongi takes a breather then sets the temperature hot enough to cremate a body.  

A throat is cleared.

Yoongi snaps his head up to see Jay Park, his tall and imposing boss, and a smaller figure hiding behind Jay’s muscular, inked up shoulder.   

When the kid doesn't move to introduce himself, his boss shoves the smaller boy in front so Yoongi can see.

“I brought you a gift.” Jay says.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He bows 90 degrees. His voice is quiet and soft and he keeps his eyes lowered as he speaks.  

“This is Park Jimin, the new pupil you asked for.” Jay elaborates.

Jay’s phone blares hip hop music obnoxiously loud before Yoongi can say anything. He answers it quickly and points to the exit over his shoulder, gold rings flashing, signaling his intent to leave, as he talks in english (probably because he knows Yoongi isn't fluent in the language.).

Jimin and Yoongi both bow as their boss takes his leave.  

Yoongi knows right away that the kid Jay has charged him with won't make it far. Jimin’s all chubby cheeks and pouty lips. He’s got hella manners, not only towards Jay, but everyone. Every action is hesitant and even when he’s just standing still waiting for Yoongi to speak his body automatically shrinks in on itself like he’s afraid of taking up too much space. Or maybe he’s trying to disappear.

Yoongi hates him already.

Author's Note:

  Inspired by Jay Park's song "You Know"