They blindfolded me then dropped me off in a deserted street.

It was around eight in the morning, but that I could only try to guess since my phone had obviously been taken away. I tried not to think about how many times my mother had called to no avail.

I was vaguely aware of my whereabouts, because I could see the Han river.

It was all I had to locate myself, so I proceeded walking northwards, in the direction I knew led to downtown Seoul.

By my calculations, it would be a good one and a half hour walk to Bo's. I wasn't planning on going there - I couldn't and shouldn't - but the bank where I opened my account was nearby and I desperately needed money to get around. 

They had taken my phone and my wallet, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my body, but I knew that at the bank they could verify my identity by digital fingerprint, which I had to register when I opened my account to have my salary deposited in.

And so, with Suga and Hoseok in my thoughts, I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Along the way, I thought. 

I thought a lot.

The sheer idea of Suga hurting and in danger made me sick.

He disliked me greatly, I believed, or maybe he didn't and he just didn't quite understand my character, so our personalities clashed. Likewise.

But there was something else.

Something that caused my entrails to twist and heart to hurt so much I lost my capacity to breathe at times.

I couldn't stand the thought of Suga's fair skin being bruised, or his deep eyes glossy, at loss of life. Blotches of his blood still stained my hands and sleeves.

It hurt.

It hurt in a way different than the way I worried for Hobi. And my worry for Hobi was already and on itself profoundly painstaking. 

But I knew it was different. 

It felt different. It felt wrapped in something else. Something that even in this desperate moment and overwhelming circumstances, wouldn't stop raising butterflies in me at the thought of him. The frowny boy with mint hair.

I had a pretty good idea what it was, since there was no denying anymore. Frankly the current situation wasn't one that allowed me to afford beating around the bush, wasn't one for drama and double thoughts. And so I promised to the universe that when - if - everything was over with, I'd tell Suga that... 

That he wasn't so bad at all. 

That he was, in fact, great... Amazing. 

I'd invite him for ice cream. 

I promise, Yoongi. 

🕒

I hid my hands in my sleeves so not to scare the people who passed by, people that were increasing in number as I came closer and closer to the downtown.

I spotted a public toilet and quickly slid in through the women's door. I couldn't do anything about the dry blood on my jumper, which was at least black so it didn't give away what it was that stained it, so I rolled up the sleeves to my elbows and quickly started to rinse my hands and arms, trying not to mind the reddened water going down the drain. Once I was done with it, I pulled a handful of paper towels and then tossed them in the bin, as I walked out and proceeded further into the heart of Seoul. 

Soon enough, I made a turn at the street where Bo's sat. Everything looked the same. Everything looked normal. People rushed in every direction, getting on with their day. The city was alive as ever. 

As though the world wasn't crashing down on me.

Keeping myself on the low and walking behind vehicles to avoid being recognized by, say, a coworker, I hurried to turn another couple of blocks until I spotted the banking agency.

What followed was a theatrical act put on by none other than myself, where I whimpered about having been robbed of my purse that contained all my ID's and cards, by some masked mugger.

Upon verifying my identity via digital fingerprint recognition, they cancelled my previous debit card and provided me with a new one.

Bowing my gratefulness, I quickly hurried out, heading to the closest underground stop, relieved that my jeans at least had a zippered front pocket in which I could safely store my card without the risk of losing it. I used it to buy myself a muffin and chocolate milk at a little caffe in the underground premises, as well as a daily pass. 

I knew where I had to go. They had left me with the knowledge of who to look for, when and where. 

So, with my thoughts eating me alive and a whole day to waste away, until the dark came and it was time to do my thing, I stepped into the metro that headed where I needed to be.

That was Seoul's most famous night club.

Octagon.

🕒 

FLASHBACK

"Daeshim... Honey... Why?" Ms. Min mumbled in a weak voice. 

Yoongi sat on the couch, squeezed between his parents. Daeshim stood close by, eyeing arrogantly the man in front of him. The man held a gun to his face.

"Ugh, please shut it mother."

"I won't ask again boy, pay up."

"We had a deal." Daeshim spat, which made his mother whimper. "I asked for another month. Come on, it's not like a couple thousand Won will make a difference for him."

The man snickered. 

"You really have no idea who you're dealing with."

Daeshim rolled his eyes, looking annoyed rather than fearful for his life. 

Yoongi stood up. The man pointed the gun at him this time. 

"Sit down before I blow your brain against the ing wall." He growled. 

"Yoongi, sit down!" His father hissed. "If you hadn't set this kind of bad examples for your brother, this wouldn't be happening in the first place!" 

"Son, sit down." Ms. Min seemed about to pass out.

He ignored them both, along with the painful pang on his chest that came with his father's words.

"Close it with me, give me time and I'll pay up the triple. As long as you leave us alone."

The man cackled a laugh.