He was roughly thrown inside a cell when the car finally stopped.

“Dimmed up the lights,” one of the men speaks before he closed the door, “It could be a power source to him—the cuff is going to die in three hours,”

The other nodded, turning a knob on the right wall of the room and slowly the lightings inside the cell died down into a very minimal percentage, that Jimin couldn’t really make up the room anymore. He could only see the shadows of the men in suits due to the backlight the outside cell has, and the room just gotten colder from the low luminousity.

His eyes was drooping as the door closed, leaving him alone in the dark cell with only a creaky bed present on the far corner of the room. His body was aching from the futile struggle tht he had attempted to do and his clothes was rattered from all the fightings he had done. The last meal he remembered was lunch as he predicted it already grew dark outside—loud grumbling noises are going to come because he was sure hungry now.

Just before he slipped into dreamland (that he hoped was much better from his reality now), a voice rang inside his head.

“I finally got to see you now,”

******

“Hoseok,” Yoongi sighed, “please, stop moving,”

They reached an abadoned safe house in the middle of their escape, still in the Daegu area. Yoongi quickly shutted any windows and backdoors as soon as he concluded the house was empty, and turned off any source of light, only leaving some small ones and the main room they’re residing on.

“It hurts,” the younger winced under his touch, “I feel like my head is splitting open,”

“Well it actually is,” Yoongi sighed, pressing an alcohol-drenched cotton to a small cut after done fixing up any dangerous wounds, “Seriously, even that you have regeneration on your side, it would really help a lot if you don’t move,”

“Okay, okay—Augh!” Hoseok let out a yelp of pain when the older pressed too hard, “Ugh, this is torture,”

The older scoffed, “Torture is when they give you obvious silent treatments,”

“Is Jungkook still not talking to you?”

“Apparently not,” he sighed, finally finished and currently tidying up the medkit. He was thankfull that he always had one in each car, “Taehyung’s not coping up good either,”

“Sorry,” Hoseok frowned as he leaned back to the bed as Yoongi stood up, “They’re just teenagers and still young—their emotion aren’t as stable as us do. Even though we’re all practically over twenty now,”

Yoongi perked up one of his eyebrows to him, “You.. remember?”

“My memories are slowly getting back the more I hang out with you guys, I guess,” he hummed, “I remember Jungkook use to bite your head—or your hair?”

“It’s my hair,” the other chuckled softly, “Well I guess you’re right. I’m twenty-one when Zhoumi bought me,”

Hoseok let out a low laugh, “There’s at least a thing that’s good from all of this—we don’t age,”

“Yeah,” Yoongi huffed, “I can’t believe I look like this when I’m 16—I expected something much.. handsome,”

The younger laughed out loud at his statement, “The gens are only good to Jungkook!”

Pursing his lips, the older added, “And Jin-hyung,”

“Ah,” Hoseok stared at the ceiling, “My memories of him are still vague—but I’m sure he.. wasn’t supposed to be like that, right?”

Yoongi only nodded, “He’s the nicest person on earth,”

“I wonder how did they changed him,”

“Brainwash,” the other looked down, “It’s the only thing that I could say,”

“Brainwash,” Hoseok repeated, and he widen his eyes, “Could they possibly... forced Namjoon to do it?”

There was a heavy silence dawned on them, with the statement that the younger had said could be the truth. Big Hit doesn’t have a lot of experiments like other corporations, and their project was probably their best one. Yoongi didn’t remember to have any juniors when he was finally deemed good enough to be sold to the players, that it confirms that the fact Namjoon could be the one who racked up Seokjin’s mind.

Yoongi turned his heels instead of answering Hoseok’s wavering question, “You should get some sleep, Hoseok,”

“Yeah,” it isn’t surprising that the younger complied to what he said—despite being the brightest and the loudest of the group, Hoseok isn’t as demanding and spontaneous as the maknae line, “Thank you... Suga-hyung,”

The older only gave him a smile.

“You’re welcome, J­-hope.”

There was an unfamiliar face when Jimin opened his eyes.

He was no longer handcuffed and was now lying on the bed, clothing changed into a white loose long-sleeved shirt and a pair of cotton pants, sporting the same color as the top. A boy, seemingly taller than him was sporting silver—almost platinum—hair, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Ah,” the boy sensed the movement in the sheets, turning to him who’s eyelids was still fluttering to open, “You’re awake,”

It was strange that Jimin thought him as familiar. As if he had saw him before. As if he had talked to him before. As if he did know him before—

“Are you—,” his voice croaked due to his sore throat, “Are you Namjoon?”

A smile crept up the boy’s lips as the question slipped of his lips, “Do you—do you remember me?”

“Not really.. Sorry,” there’s a noticeable pain all over his body and he can’t keep it low, “But I heard you from Yoongi-hyung,”

“Ah,” Jimin knows that Namjoon was probably a little disappointed that he hadn’t got his memories back, “I see. That’s okay, you don’t need to say sorry,”

Guilt was bubbling inside of the orange-haired boy, but he decided to shrug it off and tried to sit up, with Namjoon quickly helping