[as told to the author]

 

 

If you can’t fly, run.
If you can’t run, walk.
If you can’t walk, crawl.
Even if you have to crawl, get up.
Point, aim, and shoot.

The life of organized crime is harsh, but the life of unorganized crime is even harder.

This is the way it has always been, and how it always will be.

Of course, it’s definitely not the fault of said organized crime. It’s not even the fault of said unorganized crime. It’s just-

It’s not anyone’s fault.

It’s just the way of the world. Survival of the fittest. Eat or be eaten. Do or do not, because there is no try. If you only try, you’ll likely end up in jail.

And it just so happened that I was born into the world of organized crime. It was a great youth, learning how to murder people in cold blood, locking away your emotions forever.

Or so you thought.

That is not the way of organized crime, not here. It may hold true in other parts of the world, but not here, certainly. Never here.

But I’m not here to talk about that.

I am here to tell you about a life after organized crime, a life away from the protection of the upper tier, without the trust and community that entails everything the family is.

This is the life of someone ungrateful, someone who threw away everything they had, a successful career in the making, a sacrifice of selfishness.

This is the life of someone who only knew crime, of someone who could not change his life.

This is the life of Min Yoongi.

 

 

The first time I met him, I was in grade school. He was two years above me, and I was not familiar with him. How would I be? He was the son of the underboss, and even from such a young age, he held a formidable amount of power within the family.

I had no reason, no excuse, to acquaint myself with such powerful people.

Until the day I was almost murdered.

It wasn’t even such a big deal. The kidnapping of a daughter of two members of the lowest rank. Who was I? Just some speck of dust in this game of power? Yes, the daughter of two soldiers was not such a big deal after all.

I knew this, and I was wholly prepared to die. But that didn’t mean I wanted to die. No, of course not. I cried, I screamed, and damn, I was so scared.

And I was wrong. It was a big deal.

The family tore apart the city in their search for me, and ultimately, it was he who found me.

Him, Min Yoongi. The only son of the underboss, the one who singlehandedly, at age thirteen, defeated five grown men, just to rescue the insignificant daughter of two insignificant soldiers.

I remember how he burst in, beads of sweat sliding down his neck, mingling with the blood plastered on his skin.

It’s not mine, he told me, swiftly cutting the thick ropes around my wrists and ankles. Come on, let’s get you out of here.

His hand was slick with sweat, but I held on all the way. Even when grown men charged, even when blood flew, even when lives ended, I held onto the boy who became my guiding star in this huge world of darkness.

It was only later, back in the relieved arms of my parents, that I realized. He had been hurt. The sheer amount of blood on the right side of his shirt, fresh and glistening, even after delivering me back to the family building. That, that was a wound, and a deep one too.

Normally, I would have had no reason to associate and visit with the upper tier, but he was my savior, and I was obliged, at least, to give my thanks.

My parents pressed a thick envelope into my hands. Money. As much as we could spare. Give it to him, they ordered. He saved your life.

And he refused.

Propped up by the white pillows in the sterile hospital ward, why did he seem so weak? Not at all like the fearless boy who protected me with his life just the other day. But his eyes, damn, did they ever blaze.

I don’t need money, he said shortly, turning his head away. A life for a life, not money. Never money. I don’t want it. It devalues my actions.

There was nothing more to say. I sat with him for the rest of the day, in silence, and when it was time to leave, I left the money on his bedside table.

But how his eyes burned, and how they smoldered with anger.

I TOLD YOU I DON’T WANT IT! he screamed, throwing the envelope at me. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE, THEN? JUST A PACKET OF MONEY? I DID NOT SAVE A PACKET OF MONEY! I WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE BOTHERED ABOUT A PACKET OF MONEY! GET THE OUT OF MY FACE!

I was terrified by his sudden rage. I left the money, running out of the room.

That very night, the money was returned to my parents.

I don’t need your money, the note wrote. Life is priceless, and saving one was my honor.

Min Yoongi’s handwriting burnt itself into my heart. Carelessly graceful, trailing tails, almost as if he knew and did not care.

My parents kept the money, earning much more respect for the only son of the underboss, and I kept the note, rereading it late into the night.

This was the Min Yoongi I knew.

 

 

The second time I met him, it was at his induction ceremony.

As burns this saint, so will burn my soul, he murmured, mesmerized by the burning card in his bloodstained hands. I enter alive and I will exit dead.

The Mary, slowly reduced to ash, and the ceremony, near complete. He was presented a dagger and gun, the symbols of a made man. Slowly, calmly, he sheathed the dagger in his own belt, took the gun into his hands, and fired.

The smoking hole in the ceiling was nothing more but an initiation rite. There were many more like it on the same ceiling.

Silence in the room. Even the waiters dared not breathe as the boss handed him a piece of paper.

His first contract killing, the gateway to truly becoming a part of organized crime.

His eyes, darkly determined, swept the crowd and landed upon me. For a moment, just a moment, his gaze softened, sadness flashing.
And then he turned away, ready to murder the unsuspecting enemy of an insignificant businessman.

But I wasn’t. Struggling through the crowd, just barely keeping the top of his head in view, I called his name.

My voice was swept away, drowned in the multitude of noises of the family, but he stopped. He stopped, hesitated, and turned around.

What do you want? His voice was cold, and I stood unsure, words flashing across my mind. His eyebrows rose, and he turned to leave.
Be careful, I said hastily. Come back soon. He looked back, an unreadable expression on his face.

Yeah, of course, he said, flashing a smile. Don’t get into any trouble, you hear?

Of course not, I answered, heartened. He threw back one last smile and headed off.

He returned at the end of the night, expression dark and almost angry. His gun was one bullet short, and he refused to talk to anyone.

I found him on the rooftop, gazing blankly into the distance. The sky was unusually clear that night, and his tears fell like rain.

He had a family, he told me between sobs. He had children, a wife, parents who depended on him. And I killed him, just like that. I left his family to fend for themselves. I left them to die.

I remained silent, and he turned his eyes upon me, dark and accusing.

This is what the family does, he spat, shaking with rage. Do you want to live in such a world?

It’s all I’ve ever known, I responded softly. I don’t know what kind of person you are, Yoongi, but I can’t just leave my life behind.

His eyes pierced me, and the silence was heavy with disbelief, betrayal, anger.

Fine, he finally said curtly, standing up. Stay if that’s what you want, and if it is, I respect that, but just so you know, I, I don’t- I just…

He trailed off, and the anger left his eyes, replaced by an unbelievable sorrow. Quietly, I tugged him down to sit beside me, leaning my head on his shoulder.

I’m sorry, he whispered, letting out a trembling sigh.

Stay with me, I whispered back, closing my eyes. He did not respond, and I revelled in his warmth, if only for that night.

The next day, Min Yoongi disappeared from within the family. The family torn apart the city in his search for him, and yet they found nothing.

At the same time, a note with carelessly graceful handwriting crinkled in my pillowcase.
I’m going. Don’t bother to look for me. You chose this life, so live it well. Please forget about me.

And that was the last time in a long time that I saw Min Yoongi.

 

 

The third time I met him, I was a prestigious college student.

The family paid for my education; after all, as long as we are in power, others will fear us. I left our city, my home, and travelled far away, secretly reveling in my victory. Maybe I needed a break, to forget what had happened in the past. Maybe I yearned to find a long-lost acquaintance.

Whatever the reason was, I ventured out into the world, all too prepared to experience life on my own, with the weight of the family upon my back.

And by all hell, I loved it.

I loved going anywhere and everywhere without having to be on the lookout for enemies. I loved having friends, loved having fun with them, loved not worrying about my safety. It was freedom, it was bliss, and it was the light at the end of the tunnel.

I dreaded returning to the family during holidays, during the summer, during the initiations, but most of all, I dreaded the fact that one day, I would have to return for good.

Because I chose this life, so I must live out its consequences.

The night my first semester ended, I visited a nightclub. The heavy perfume lingering in the air intoxicated me, but the atmosphere caught me on edge. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not relax. It was too much like being back home.

And that is where, in the midst of the floor, I saw him. His hair was dyed a mint green, but I would recognize his face anywhere.

Min Yoongi, hitting up some rich kid, roaming his hands over her body, slipping his fingers into her pockets, keeping whatever he’d extracted for himself.

So he couldn’t beat it after all. After a life of organized crime, he had resorted himself to petty, unorganized crime to stay alive.

And he was doing much more than just staying alive, I realized. He had a gang. From what I noticed, at least, there were at least six people hovering on standby.

All eyes on him.

What else could I have done in such a situation? Of course I approached. The shock, the disbelief, the wild, pure joy in his eyes as he threw his arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He had grown, and I toppled backwards.

You got out! he exclaimed, the glee evident in his voice. Let me introduce you to my friends!

I spent the rest of the night, instead of explaining, meeting his gang. Namjoon, Taehyung, Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin. All petty criminals, all young and brave, none full aware of just how dangerous of a life they chose.

But if he was happy, then I was too.

Yoongi, I said later, as he was driving a clunky, completely rusted-over car back to the dormitory. The road had no lighting at all, and the sky was so dark, the stars shone so coldly.

Yeah? he answered absently, humming a song to himself.

I didn’t leave, I said quietly, closing my eyes to brace for the impact of the shock.

Yeah, I know.

You what? I whispered, eyes opening, taken aback. He knew. All this time. He knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave, he knew me so well-

The family pays for education, don’t they? he asked, throwing me a side glance. Yeah, you’re just here for the time being.

There was a note of scorn in his voice as he rested his elbow on the window frame. The rest of the ride to the university was silent.

Hey, he called as I stepped onto the pavement. I turned back, eyebrows raised. Don’t ever forget about me. I got your back, ready to cover anything, anytime.

His eyes twinkled, and I couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, I answered, I know.

And so I let Min Yoongi walk out of my life again.

 

 

The fourth time I met him, I had been estranged from the family for a long time.

They would no longer pay for my education, and the school was no longer afraid. There was no oppressing power above them. My grades fluctuated; I was let out.

I turned to the profession that I have known my entire life.

Women were not allowed to participate in the inner workings, but we knew. We knew more than the men ever imagined.

I lured in the innocent, them dry, and let them back out into the world, a few possessions short. Just a few… thousand dollars short.

I was independent, I was free, and I was powerful. I didn’t need anyone to tell me what to do, and I realized that the family was only people who were reluctant to dirty their own hands.

I rose, word spread, and one day, he came.

Got yourself a nice little operation going, he remarked, throwing himself down on one of the overly-soft cushions. I rolled my eyes, wrapped up in my furs and silks.

What about your gang? I asked, tossing him a pack of cigarettes. Camel, top quality. His brows furrowed slightly but nonetheless took one between his teeth, lighting it with a snap.

Ah, beautiful, he sighed, running a hand through his ever-mint-green hair. They’re doing fine, why do you ask?

I’ve heard about you, I answered, waving a hand carelessly. The Bulletproof Boys dominate the underground, and it’s all thanks to the Mafia leader Suga. Or would you prefer, I grinned, leaning forward, Agust D?

He scoffed, taking another drag of the cigarette. One can never be too careful, he warned. If there is one thing I took away from the family, it’s that everyone is watching you, even if you don’t think so. So be careful, sweet.

He stood to leave, flicking the ash away. I placed a hand on his sleeve, stalling. Yoongi, I implored, summoning as sweet a voice as I could manage. Are you really not going to stay?

He looked down at me, an oddly disgusted expression in his eyes. I don’t waste my time with , he said, an edge creeping into his voice. Look at you. What have you become? A plaything for the rich and famous? Honey, there’s better. You could do more.

Shaking off my hand, he stalked out of the room, taking with him my heart and my pride.

 

 

The fifth time I met Min Yoongi, he was dying in his own blood.

Run! he screamed at the others, clutching his stomach. I’m done for! Save yourselves!

Only the youngest one, Jungkook, dared disobey. He dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around him.

I’ll stay with you, he whimpered, tears filling his eyes. I, I’ll die with you, Yoongi! You don’t have to be alone! I know you hate being alone, and-

Gently, I pulled him away. Run, Jungkook. Run while there’s still time. I’ll stay with him.

After only a moment of hesitation, he nodded, wiping away the tears that yet remained. I watched him go, but what made him go? Was it my presence? The look in my eyes? Or his own will to survive?

ing , he growled, rolling onto his back. You could have had a great life, you know? If only you didn’t drop out.

, I retorted, lying down beside him. You were the one who made me.

ass . ing . I wasn’t, but even so, you could have gotten a regular job.

Do you think they would have wanted me? I was exposed. They made sure to release everything about me. I was done for from the beginning.

Silence.

Yeah, okay. Fine. Maybe so.

Silence.

Yoongi?

Yeah?

I’ll die with you.

He laughed, a choking, painful sound. Oh, my sweet, you could still have a great life, you know? Even as a , at least you’d be rich. But you’re wasting it all on me.

No, Yoongi, I reminded him. I could have had a great life, but I didn’t. It was always my part to protect you, even though you were the one who protected me first. So now, let’s die together.

Yeah. Yeah, let’s die together.

Silence.

Yoongi?

What?

His voice sounded weak, faint, as if his life had already bled out.

I can save you. I was a medical student, and-

Don’t bother. Just don’t. I was never supposed to live.

Silence.

Yoongi?

Yeah?

His voice was slow and lethargic, as if he was on the brink of falling asleep.

What did you do this time?

He laughed, coughing wetly.

Oh, my love, we tried to rob a bank. We thought we had everyone under control, but there just happened to be a spontaneous patrol nearby… otherwise, we would have gotten away with it.

How did you manage to get all the way here?

Heh. With great difficulty, he turned his face to mine. His eyes were already clouding over, and it took all his willpower to speak. Because I knew I wanted to see you again.

And then he was gone.

Yoongi?

Silence.

Yoongi? Min Yoongi?

Silence.

Suga? Agust D? Yoongi?

Silence.

Silence.

I love you, Min Yoongi.

And that was the last time I ever saw him.

 

So no, I did not die. In the end, my cowardice won out, and I let myself be towed away in a flashing blue police car. I did nothing wrong, except I did everything wrong. Fraud, ion, harboring a fugitive. Many fugitives.

The rest of The Bulletproof Boys, I was told, were never found. Later, in a faraway city, a gang by the name of BTS rose, and news travelled back to me.

And I knew. That was them.

They stayed six until their simultaneous convictions.

Far away, in a city I grew up in, my family fell. Embezzlement, fraud, murder, the list went on and on.

The life of organized crime is harsh, but the life of unorganized crime is even harder.

This is the way it has always been, and how it always will be.

Past the end of this cold winter,
Until the spring comes again,
Until the flowers bloom again,
Stay there a bit longer;
I’ll wait for you.