D o n' t  t r y  t o  d i s a p p e a r

He knew it.

Those dreams weren’t just strange images and random scenes—those were memories, his to be precise. It was true that he had a life before he become this mess—this monster that they had created out of greed.

It wasn’t even those kind of normal teenage life he had seen in the movies in the cafeteria’s television. He didn’t have loving parents nor any next door crushes, instead he had that 941209 boy as his first friend and white walls as his shelter. It calmed him a little when he knows he did have some schooling other than just pure training his skills everyday, but it saddens him as he found out his childhood consisted of him with some other boys confined inside an intensely chemical scented facility.

920412.

Kim Seokjin wasn’t his name at all.

It was Jin.

He curled on his bed, jeans getting tattered more and more as days passed. New fresh bruises colored his skin as his guilt grew deeper. He doesn’t know if it was a sign of his memories gradually coming back, but every time he turned his room light’s off it will gradually light up again.

Just a few days ago, he half-forced that one experiment—scratch that, trainee, that’s what they call them now—Taeyong to spill everything he knows about the company. It was hard to make him comply, but Seokjin managed to lure him by promising to get him out from the place as he knows most of them hates being inside the facility.

There’s a scream outside his room.

“STOP, PLEASE! I BEG YOU!”

Well, who doesn’t with that kind of treatment.

His room is in front of the test room unfortunately. It usually doesn’t bother him, but now that he almost got his memories back, it creeps the hell out of him.

“I’m really sorry, Seokjin-hyungnim,” he sobbed, “I was the one who was ordered to lock your memories,”

He shuts his eyes close tightly as the memory flashed back in his mind. He couldn’t believe that the company that he had trusted had done this to him—locking his memory, switching his powers completely from light to dark, turning him against his only family—he almost thought that Taeyong was lying.

It feels like it’s going to eat him alive. No wonder that boy—who was his name? Jungkook?—sees him in sorrow rather than fear. The stare in that salmon-haired boy, the anger in Min Yoongi’s eyes, and the disbelieve expression plastered on the 941209 boy’s face—everything finally comes together.

He was a someone who they had trusted.

“But you can’t do this to us!” Jungkook’s eyes began to gleam silver, car parts and tools thrown at the blond-haired man as he kept stepping closer, “You’re hurting us—and we’re your brothers!”

“You’re not that different form us, yet you can say such a thing as if you’re higher than us,” he sneered, “They really changed you,”

“Please,” Taehyung moved forward, blue-grayish eyes staring back at him, “Please let us go!”

But he crushed it in a single fist.

He almost cried—how would he feel if he was them? Since Taeyong took off his lock in his mind, everything began to flow back in little by little. The training sessions, the arena, even his life after that incident (he can't believe he had an education degree!)—it overwhelmed him so much to the point he thought he was seeing other person’s memories, because the current him right now doesn't look like the same person as he saw in his mind.

“Kim Seokjin,” the speaker in his room blared out his name, but he didn’t even look up a little, “You are requested to be in the counseling room in five minutes,”

He wanted to kill himself so bad.

“What the ?!”

Taehyung sighed in desperation as he slumped on the couch, Jungkook sitting beside him. The boy bit his lower lip as he downcast, as if the floor was the most interesting thing in the world. There was a frowning Namjoon standing beside the couch and he could hear Yoongi fuming from the kitchen.

“It’s only been two ing weeks,” a string of curses went out of the mint-haired boy’s mouth as he cut up some onions angrily, “The neighbors haven’t even memorized our names and they ing sent out a search announcement?! Through a ing national TV channel?!”

It was Saturday and the boys just woke up to get breakfast. Everything started of pretty normal until Hoseok decided that they should turn on the TV to brighten up the mood, only to found their faces and names plastered on the news as a list of wanted criminals. Apparently Big Hit had gone into such length that they paid the channel to broadcast their needs, and offering a one-million won for anyone who reported them in.

“Calm down, Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon puts up his hands, “Our neighbors are mostly seniors and they probably didn’t even turn on their TV in this hour! They’ll probably even forgot about it in a second if they see it too!”