29; Friendship

Dear Mister Kim

After much careful assessment of your true intentions, Officers Park and Woon – on behalf of the chief of police, who is currently unavailable – require your presence in the event of a nightly field expedition to the school at this time.

Any damage of property will be accounted for by Officers Park Jimin and Woon Kyungja.

Yours sincerely

P & W

Jongin wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to read over the text for perhaps the umpteenth time since receiving it a little less than an hour ago.

He had been relatively at ease in his apartment; the weather a pleasant combination of a cloudless sky and an easy breeze. The stars winked at him from above; the crinkled planes of his baseball cap mirroring the accompanying moonlight that splayed across the side of his building.

He had returned from his nightly work of poising himself on a cheaply-lit stage at a crummy jazz bar downtown, playing backup vocalist for some two-bit vintage artist. Kim Jongin never liked to believe in good fortune. Since having graduated from high school, his dreams were as soaring as the sprinkle of stars that hovered above him like glittery theatrical knickknacks.

Having his own plush leather chair, a room glowing exquisitely in autumn colours, and a gold plate on his desk with the word ‘detective’ in front of his name, Jongin had big dreams. Big dreams that – with time and experience – had become unreachable for a young man whose circumstances refused to accept.

Being the only son of a middle-class suburban family, expectations were to be reached. Achievements to be made. But the young man had left it all behind, refusing to accept the fate of a typical, run-of-the-mill doctor or accountant or lawyer, opting to escape his troubles over fighting a futile battle for his passion. But little did Jongin know that the consequences of his rebellion would lead to a life that consisted of long hours and menial work that would drive him to the brink of his sanity.

Graveyard shifts driving delivery vehicles, a canteen attendant, a security guard for several factories… he could list every job he’d had since moving to the big city on all ten of his fingers if given the chance. It was either bad luck or his stubborn lack of interest that contributed to the numerous rotations. He wasn’t quite sure himself.

But this time, he managed to land himself two jobs simultaneously. Playing a school janitor paid peanuts, but the night job was surprisingly rewarding. Despite his contract requiring a change of hair colour to suit his evening transformation, the weekend pay – gigs scheduled only at the end of each week – was relatively decent. Jongin wasn’t quite certain what about his vocal talent seemed as extraordinary to his employers as they claimed, but what he was positive of was the fact that he was hired for his princely looks. Curved, fruity lips, a prominent jaw, defined, diamond-cut facial angles and a rich skin tone: perhaps he was blessed in some ways if not with keeping a steady line of work.

However, there was something of greater importance on his mind other than working towards a better job. Ever since his dismissal at the port, Jongin had perhaps – in some way – become obsessed with solving the mystery that was the questionable cargo he and his colleague had discovered.

It had been almost half a year since then. And what Jongin initially intended to be an act of revenge turned out to be something much more profound than that considering the police were involved, undercover or not.

The young man dwelled on a number of things as he glanced back into the dubious text message in his phone. An hour had passed since receiving it, and Jongin wasn’t quite sure how this happened, but he soon found himself a street away from Melon High School.

I cannot believe I’m doing this, he mulled, biting the soft inside of his lip as he shoved the device back into his pocket.

But despite Kim Jongin’s disbelief of his own actions, there was no doubt he was curious. It was simply in his nature to be. Not that his inquisitive spells ever worked in his favour, but he felt a remarkable tinge of suspicion. From what he gathered of the officers – when they played the part, that is – he couldn’t quite understand how such a situation had come to be. Was this some sort of trap? Surely, if they were competent enough to wring answers out of him as commendably as they did, they could carry out their ‘nightly field expedition’ just as well? Then again, would his lack of participation land him back at the station under suspicion?

There was something fishy about it, alright. And cradling the cool metal of the Swiss Army knife he brought with him for extra precaution in his palm, Jongin felt a piling uncertainty in his gut.

He didn’t like the feeling. It reminded him of his investigative days at the docks, and was enough to have him turn tail and return to the comfort of his apartment. Yet the moment Jongin rounded the corner to his destination – his eyes flicking from his worn sneakers to the road ahead – he stopped almost immediately at the sight of a vehicle parked against the lip of the pavement. Reflexively, his feet bounded back behind the corner; his shoulder grazing the edge of the building as he peered out in secret.

‘Yah, that was close…!’ he hissed under his breath, pinching the bill of his cap as he leaned aside just enough to take full notice of the car.

A silver Prius lingered idly across the school gates; sunset hazards blaring like police lights in rhythmic intervals. Jongin’s eyes narrowed at the incongruous sight; the question of whether the correctional officers in question were perhaps responsible for the feat rising to the surface; however, suddenly noticed the thin outline of two figures standing on either side of the idle vehicle.

It was them. It had to be. Jongin took in a deep breath of air – relief evident in the lengthy inhalation – but before he could reveal himself in full confidence, stopped short at the sound of a voice he couldn’t recognize.

‘Jihye,’ the voice rasped; exhaustion evident in the soft sigh that followed. ‘It’s dangerous to stand out here. Come on. Let’s go back in the car.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

Jongin cocked an eyebrow at the name. Jihye. It was definitely the name of the girl who had narrowly escaped the last of the bathroom kidnapping attempts. But just what on earth was she doing here?

The janitor poked his head around the corner a fraction to take note of the events up front. His eyes were trained on the boy whose surname he was positive was Kim, and who was also a witness to the close-call. Ah, Jongin recalled. Kim Taehyung.

The boy turned around at this point; his forearms resting on the roof of the car, and his back arching as he leaned forward to address the back of the girl’s head from across him.

‘Don’t be like this. Please…,’ Taehyung paused, his lips during the short bout of thoughtful silence that ensued. ‘I don’t like fighting with you.’

Taehyung watched with hopeful anticipation as Jihye’s head tilted in his direction ever so slightly at the words. However, just as quickly, she turned away again; her fingertips turning white as she clutched either elbow with what appeared to be restraint. The young man couldn’t tell whether she was still showing signs of being upset, or if she was simply being stubborn. Nevertheless, it was a frustrating situation to be in.

Much like his statement, Taehyung never quite enjoyed being in disagreement with the girl. It was usually in Jihye’s nature to initiate healthy debates with him, but this time, he was certain the topic was one a lot more personal than to be treaded on as lightly.

And Taehyung – during the thirty or so minutes he’d spent in silence beside Jihye since their friends’ departure – suddenly realized that perhaps he was in the wrong this time. He always imagined he was the ‘better person’ in the situation, but the more he dwelled on it in the time they shared painstaking silence, the more it began trickling in that his outlook was no different than running away from the problem. Disregarding it. And gradually, he could understand the frustration Jihye most likely felt considering his easy escape.

Taehyung looked up again; his features easing into one of uncertainty and contemplation as he readied his following words.

‘You know, now that I think about it, I…’

The sound of tyres screeching against a wet surface cut him short with startling awareness. The youngster whipped his head around almost immediately – surprise etched into every one of his features – and stared, blinking in what felt like slow motion into the glaring headlights of a vehicle that descended the slope behind the school gates.

Within the few, swift seconds he managed to take in details of the auto mobile, Taehyung noted it was an incredibly bulky van as it sped closer towards the street, bumbling to a stop within the mist of burning rubber. However, that was all he managed to note in the short time given.

The following events passed by in blurry sequence. Before either of the two students could comment on or question the bizarre interruption, the passenger door of the onyx van swung open, revealing a figure dressed in an equally sombre colour... and the fact that the figure approached them with little to no hesitation – strides heavy and powerful with intent – made Taehyung's heart leap up his throat. Something ominous resonated from the impending stranger as intensely as the heat of a blazing fire, and instinctively, the younger man stepped forward; his arms stretching out beside him in a protective stance without thought.

Danger was always something that urged his conscience to escape. To flee from. But this time, the only thought running through his mind was the safety of Jihye for reasons he could only imagine were a product of his gut.

Yet the slightest of movement Taehyung was capable of in that instance immediately triggered a switch in the stranger. Noting his advances towards the girl, the man's brisk walk turned into long, urgent strides of a full-blown sprint.

The blonde's face contorted in absolute horror as he bellowed, 'Jihye, run!'

His voice reached her without difficulty. Every syllable echoing in her ears with eerie clarity, and processing the command, Jihye stepped back. Her legs trembled beneath her violently; her heart hammering uncontrollably in her chest with shock and terror at the figure who had suddenly began leaping directly towards her.

Run. The instinct was a simple one. But Jihye's heart refused to cooperate with her mind. Instantly upon taking the single step back in preparation for an escape, the ground sent back a dreary chill throughout her entire body in response. Whatever was happening seemingly played out like a film in front of her. She felt a cold sweat trickle down the length of her spine, and in her conflicted state, Jihye's eyes quickly flicked over to Taehyung who she watched tail the stranger equally as fast. She wanted to scream his name, to scream out anything at that point, but her voice had been pinned down by a taut lump in .

Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, her mind cried, wailed, reached out to in desperation. Yet all Jihye was capable of was a gasp as she watched the latter ram into the stranger’s back, grabbing fistf