“Stay outside.”

“What?”

“I'm going to go talk to them.”

“Are you high?” Chaeyoung grabs him by the scruff of his neck before he could jolt into the lobby of the building. “You can't even lift me up and you're just going to confront armed loan sharks without a plan?”

“I do have a plan.”

“To die?”

“Will you just trust me, please?” Jungkook shakes out of her grip, gulping from the adrenaline starting to rack his body.

“If I had ever trusted you for a moment, we'd be dead by now. I'm coming with you.”

“Well then I'll have to change the plan,” Jungkook says as they start on a steady pace into the building, muttering more to himself than to her. In truth, he was a few steps ahead of her, knowing the moment she bolted out of that door, she would follow him straight into hell (and nag him about how they got there and how it's his fault). When he stepped out that door, uncertain of the mess that would ensue, part of him had hoped she would run after him, and was relieved when she did - not that he would ever admit it.

An idea starts to brew in his mind, eyes flickering to Chaeyoung who stares back, evidently trying to conceal her uncertainty with a deadpanned expression. She punches him in the arm with a frown and questions why he suddenly starts chuckling to himself like a crazy person — really, it's at how impressed he is with himself to have figured out how to read her so well.

“I'm gonna need you to be patient,” he says.

“With who? Them or you?”

“Both,” he replies with an oddly charming smile, unfitting to the situation. “Especially me.” And it's the last thing he says before he pulls her to the side to start a brief yet elaborate explanation. The look she gives him throughout his ramble just oozes with skepticism, but for his sake, he knows she'll go through with it. 

As he watches her leave, the doors of the elevator closing on her, his heart starts to pound wildly in his chest. He's glad that she cared enough to come - but that really was more so to his ego. Another part of him is screaming at him for letting her go (alone, too) because none of this concerns her at all. This is his issue - it's absurd and weird, things he expects she'd have gotten used to by now, but he's still uncertain about whether she would understand. So he takes off the moment the doors close, muttering a silent prayer to himself that they'd both be okay.   

Chaeyoung doesn't quite know what she expects when the door swings open, though she quickly finds it's the oddest (albeit no less frightening) sight she's ever seen — four men lounging nonchalantly (and rather bored) in the Jeon's small dining area, feet propped up on the table and cigarette smoke hovering above their heads. Some were dressed in white, stained tanks and khaki shorts while others were a little more conservative despite the summer heat, sporting black sweaters and jeans. Not the attire she imagined but knowing what was attached to their belts makes her more than uneasy.

“What?” the man at the door croaks, eyes squinting as if she was the smallest thing he's ever seen. He smells of musk and stolen beer, unshaven but not the most intimidating in the room.

“I'm the housekeeper,” she answers.

The man scoffs with furrowed brows, turning his head to the others. “She says she's the housekeeper.”

“Yeah, we heard her Minho, we're not deaf,” the tallest of the five sits up, the heel of his boot clicking against the tiled floor, “this family is piss poor, can't even afford air conditioning and they can hire a goddamn maid?” He pauses for a moment to laugh at the absurdity.

“They managed to get a pretty one, too.” Minho smirks, startling her as he brushes past to get to his seat, “what should we do with her, Changmin?”

“Let her do her job,” Kyuhyun says with a yawn, his back turned. He doesn't look like the others - much better groomed and seeming to be the brains of the group.

“How do we know she isn't here to smuggle out the money we've been looking for?” Ryeowook questions.

“How much are they paying you, girl?” Changmin asks.

“13,000 won an hour,” she answers off the top of her head with a subtle gulp.

“Still seems pretty generous,” Minho pipes up. “Here, clean this up.” He flicks his lit cigarette onto the carpet beneath the table, crushing it with the heel of his boot until the orange turns to grey, mixing the ashes into white fabric. Looking her in the eyes, he starts to laugh hysterically as she quirks an eyebrow at him, unsure about how to react. She may not be a maid but she definitely has enough sense to trudge carefully.

“Do you have any idea where those ers could be right now?” Kyuhyun finally turns around, disinterest evident in his eyes. “We've been scouring the place for hours. We're not leaving until we get our due.”

She simply shrugs. “I'm just here to clean.”

“I have something for you to clean—”

“Just leave her be, Minho. She's useless to us. May as well have her get rid of the stench from that god forsaken room.” All four pairs of eyes turn to the left, and Chaeyoung doesn't have to follow their gazes to know they're referring to Jungkook's chicken-infested bedroom that she's tried more than once to disinfect. “Start there, we might even pay you if you make it quick,” Kyuhyun orders with a sneer before sitting upright, tossing a file onto the table.

She doesn't hesitate to dart out of the kitchen, feeling her heartbeat quicken despite her calm demeanor. In her haste, she rushes into Jungkook's room, the familiar stench somehow more comforting than the pungent odour of the unknown men. It's only when she's inside that she remembers the reason she's there - to smuggle out that goddamn chicken. 

Her eyes scan the length of the room, from haphazardly organized bed to the open wooden closet, clothes hanging off the edge. Yet the metal cage is nowhere in sight. It isn't on the nightstand where she last saw it or in the closet where Jungkook tends to hide it when his parents are home. She quickly checks under the bed, only finding specks of dust and chicken feed. 

Is this it? she wonders, running a hand through her hair in contemplation. All of this for a doomed farm animal. Yet some part of her beckons for her to think more of it than that. Jungkook makes a deal out of a great many trivial things but she's certain he knows where to draw the line. Peering out the door, she sees the men grouped around the table inspecting something - probably the file Kyuhyun had just set down. There's no way she can simply run out without conflict, so she decides to continue the seemingly endless search. 

For a moment, she thinks perhaps the bird had jumped out the window to follow him (are chickens really that fond of their owners? Chaeyoung doesn't think so) and then it occurs to her how high the fall was when she's on the balcony, a gust of wind seeming to blow upwards. Jungkook really could have died slipping off the ledge, and if Nugget had fallen from this height, even her cushiony body couldn't have saved her. 

“Are you almost done in there?” It's Minho's throaty voice that calls out to her. He seems to be the most invested in toying with her. 

“I'm just... folding the clothes!”

“ the clothes, just spray the place down! Doesn't matter how clean this place is, those idiots won't live long.”

Their ruthlessness is chilling. Surprisingly, it isn't even herself that she's worried about though she's the one in proximity to them because it isn't her that they want. Jungkook is out there somewhere, carrying out his end of the plan, whatever the heck that is (she didn't get a chance to ask) and she only hopes he's smart enough not to step foot into this apartment. But Jungkook is Jungkook, the most unpredictable hardheaded kid she's ever come across - only outdone by Taehyung.

Even from inside, she can hear their conversation over the files. 

“Where do you think they're hiding?” Changmin turns to Kyuhyun.

“We don't have details on where they work, but they do have relatives scattered around the city - they could be sheltering them. Ryeowook and Minho can go scoop out those places while Changmin and I wait here.”

“Why do you two get to laze around while we go?” Ryeowook complains.

“Because I have other people I need to keep on profile and I can't stand looking at you agitating horsefaces for longer than two seconds.”

Chaeyoung muffles a laugh at Kyuhyun's frankness. But what he says next makes her tense up, fingers clinging to the nightstand.

“We've been patient with them for months. Don't bother piling up any more interest. If they don't fork over what they promised by the time you find them, them up. We're getting that money back whether they're ready for it or not. Tell them it's a bullet to the head or they can sleep on the streets.”

“Any idea where we can find that kid of theirs?” Minho asks, “like a school or something?”

“Yeah, I found a soccer jersey with the name on it. He could be hiding out there. Or with his parents,” Ryeowook answers.

“Or with his girlfriend.” Minho smirks.

“The kid has a girlfriend?”

“I've seen some photos in his room. A lot of them.” For a grown man, Minho's tone indicates he's more amused than ever, a little chuckle sounding at the end of it.

Then again, when one beats up poor people for a living, Chaeyoung guesses a great many things amuse him. Her brows furrow at the revelation. Jungkook hasn't ever mentioned having a girlfriend. He tells her many, if not everything (or at least she believes) - from the neighbourhood dog that chases him to the bus stop every morning, to the financial issues that plague his family. Yet his love life is unchartered territory, presumably because he's never had one - not a serious one, at least. Would it be crossing a line? She ponders for a long while, completely forgetting the conversation outside.

Half an hour later, she finds herself in the same place - her thoughts drowning out the chatter of the voices outside. Why is she here? The question always crosses her mind at some point, usually when she's knee deep in the mess he started. It used to be skipping school, watching the birds feed on insects on the rooftop, eating pretzels by the river, running from teachers threatening to have him expelled. But this is something else entirely, she remembers as she hears the click of Minho's gun from outside while he toys with it - out of the blue just hours ago, and she followed him into it's just another day, running through alleyways and listening to him laughing his head off. Except he isn't here this time, not yet, and it feels strangely more lonely than terrifying. 

She stops by his bedside, noticing the corner of a black book poking out form underneath the sheets. It's a photo album, partially dusted off. Inside, a page is marked - probably the last one he was looking at (before jumping out his window?). And then it hits her what Minho was blabbering on about. The “girlfriend” he has so many photos of. A subconscious weight seems to lift from her chest as she turns the page.

The first photo she sees, flipping to the folded page, is of her and Jungkook at the age of eight in the local daycare. She doesn't remember who took the photo or why, perhaps it was her own mother who has always been so fond of the two, but they managed to get a nice shot. They were in her futon bed - each child was provided one for nap times - with Jungkook having crawled into her's like he always did no matter how many times the staff scolded him and brought him back to his own until he had defied them so many times they gave up trying. And then he slept like a log, head resting in her lap while she lay back against the wall and drifted off shortly after. 

As dimly lit as the photograph is, it's remarkably iconic - a representation of the one thing that hasn't changed all these years. Beneath the photo, scribbled in black marker, reads - Sing to me a little longer, let me sleep on a cloud to the sound of your voice.

“Something funny?” The album falls to the wooden floor with a thud as she stumbles back at the sound of the voice. When she turns around, it's Minho's smirking face leaning against the door frame.

“E-Excuse me?”

“You were smiling for a while, thought you were looking at something funny.” He takes a step closer. “I knew you looked familiar the moment you walked in here. You're that little girl in the photographs, aren't you?” His smile grows wider as he sees her pupils dilate in panic. “I knew you weren't a maid. Most families we hit fire their workers after we've cleaned them out.”

He steps a step forward, she takes two back, almost pressed against the wall behind her. “So you're the little girlfriend he sent here instead of coming himself, hmm? Sounds like a cowardly boy. Don't you think you deserve better?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hand brush past the belt of his trousers, the shiny handle of the revolver coming into view. 

“He's not my boyfriend,” she manages to utter. 

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow, slowly closing in on her, “kid doesn't have a sister, last we checked. Let me guess, a distant cousin? He seems to have a huge crush on you, keeping so many pretty photos.” It's only when he's close enough that she can feel his breath fan out against her skin with every taunting remark that fear finally sinks in. It felt like a strange dream walking into this all - the four men dressed in casual wear really throwing the situation off - and now it's dawned on her that this is a mess she isn't sure she can undo. His expression contorts from morbidly amused to cautious - likely from the realization that she knows too much. “Why did you come here?” The metal of the weapon feels unsettlingly cold against her head, even more so from the click of the drawn trigger so close to her ear.

“To—” get a chicken. To get a useless chicken that's nowhere to be found, and now she has a gun to her trembling temple. “To get...” she breathes, eyes clenching shut in an effort to conjure up a legitimate response. 

“Well? What's the ing answ—”

The ceiling seems to shake violently above them when the fire alarm goes off, an unpleasant blaring sound travelling throughout the building followed by the patter of water pelting the carpeted floors as the sprinklers come on.

“The ?” Changmin's voice comes from the kitchen, helping Kyuhyun frantically cram the papers back into the file so they could scramble out. Yet Kyuhyun's calm demeanor is unwavering, still managing to maintain some order in his work as he tucks the folder back into a suitcase and follows the other two boys out.

“Minho, hurry up. If you die here, we get your share,” he says, just before leaving.

Minho contemplates dragging the girl along with him, considering her a possible liability. But then another thought crosses his mind, and he lets her drop to the ground with a groan before making a dash to the door. She hears the bang of the door slam shut, followed by another loud crash that she can't identify but it makes her spring to her feet anyway, an instinctive dread churning in her stomach. This wasn't part of the plan.

There's resistance when she pushes on the door - a heavy object on the other side, budging just slightly with every push. To her left, she notices one of the tall standing bookshelves by the tv missing. It's both frightening and astounding how quickly and easily Minho could move such a large object out the door. But what's even more frightening is that his plan was to trap her here and let her go up in flames 

“Oh ... , no!” she screams. From outside, she can hear the sounds of residents flooding out of the building, conversations reducing to murmurs. None of them bat an eye or turn around to the sound of banging on the door or hectic screams for help - too occupied with getting away from the sirens and water threatening to drench them.

And then it finally occurs to her that Jungkook hasn't shown up throughout all of this despite it being his insistence. No, he wouldn't just leave her like that. They're a bunch of savages, Chae. He knew that, yet he let her go in alone. This is hardly the time to feel hurt, but that doesn't stop her. It's not so much hurt that bums her out in this situation but the pure frustration of not knowing what the hell was going on in that boy's head, and a decade with him didn't turn her into a psychic.

Pacing around the apartment, curses falling from her lips and panicking sinking to the pit of her stomach, she questions a hundred times over why she's here in the first place. She could be at home right now, her nose comfortably buried in a textbook or having dinner as her mom drags on about how bitter their home grown cucumbers taste or how ugly the new haircut on her secretary looks. Yet she's here, in a burning building on a failed mission to retreive her friend's pet. What was she thinking? Jumping into this mess without a second thought (that's a lie, she had many doubts yet she went anyway). More importantly, what was he thinking? He's insane, that's a given, but he isn't that much of a prick.

“Be patient,” she mimicks his words to herself (albeit a little scornfully), leaning against the couch with an exasperated sigh. She's always been a person of faith, being raised on religion, and shockingly even more so when it came to dealing with Jungkook. So she closes her eyes, trying not to think about approaching crackling flames and exploding windows. 

It's three seconds after - she counts - when she hears the screech of the object against the floor on the other side of the door being moved. Her head turns and heart quickens, instinctively grabbing the first thing in sight from the counter - a flower vase - gripping it in her hands. Either someone's come to help or Minho's back to finish what he started and the last thing she needs is for the latter to be true.

It takes quite a few seconds - a tantalizing while, really - for the screeching sounds to come to a halt before the door knob turns. Chaeyoung takes a few steps to her left, eyes glued to the door. When it finally flies open, knocking against the wall, it's Jungkook who comes rushing in, breathing so heavy his chest visibly rises and falls. He's so psychotic looking in his haste that Chaeyoung starts to wonder if she should be relieved or petrified because she seems to have escaped one horror film only to hop into another. 

When their eyes meet, she barely has time to take in the way relief washes over his face when his arms wrap around her, securing her tightly in a more frantic than gentle embrace. He sighs into her neck, still trying to catch his breath, and then he pulls away to find her wide-eyed and at loss for words. All the threats she thought she would make if she ever saw him again disappeared in a puff of smoke the moment she saw how terrified he looked for the first time - shaking violently, hands grappling at her jacket as if to keep his own balance, and eyes never in focus as he checked her for any visible injury. 

“We need to leave, right now,” he says, moving his hand from the lapel of her jacket to her hand, taking it in a tight grip and tugging her to the door.

“Where's the fire coming from?”

“There's no fire.”

“What?”

“I pulled the alarm.”

They don't speak again until they've hurriedly escaped the sprinklers raining water down overhead. For an old run down building that could barely maintain a functioning pool, Chaeyoung thinks it's unexpected how thought out their fire system is.

Instead of leaving through the fire exit of the building, where swarms of people push in an unorderly fashion to make it out, Jungkook leads them further down the stairs, sneaking past the security guard leading the evacuation, too occupied to notice them in the panicking crowd. 

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

No , she thinks. “Where the hell were you this whole time?” she finally musters up the sense to question. But then he lets go of her hand, disappearing into the darkness of the basement. “Jungkook?!” 

The paint on the cars around her glisten in the faint light behind her leading into the stairwell. The only sign of Jungkook's presence evident in the sound of his footsteps running further towards something a little distance away from her. Before she can shout at him, she hears the sound of a door clicking open, his feet landing on the ground, and then another click followed by another door rolling open. With the flick of a switch, the back light of the vehicle comes on, illuminating the entire space.

She watches Jungkook climb out from the backseat, looking back at her. He stands in front of an unfamiliar looking black van - not an impressive one, but a large one probably meant to carry a lot of equipment - gesturing for her to come over. “Hurry, get in!” he shouts, shutting the backdoor before getting into the driver's seat. 

Chaeyoung saves her questions for when she gets into the passenger's seat next to him, finding him a little more relaxed, exhaling a sharp breath. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and whirs the engine to life with the twist of his wrist. She starts to feel uneasy again at the realization of what he's about to do, and the shock sets in even further as he steps on the gas, causing the engine to roar, slightly bucking them forward. She usually doesn't ask questions in situations like this - she doesn't remember why, it seems more than appropriate - but her heart is kicking into gear again and the uncertainty threatens to drive her crazy.

“You can't drive.”

“I can drive, I just don't have a license.”

“You don't have a license because you can't drive. And where the did you get the van? You didn't even answer my question from before. Where the were you?”

“I located their van in the public parking lot, broke into it and turns out they left their keys here so I drove it to the basement and here we are now stop asking questions.” His speech is rushed and frenzied - understandable given the circumstances - but that doesn't sway her in the slightest.

“How did you know how to break into a van? And how are you so sure this is their van? I thought you said you jumped out your window the moment they broke into your living room.”

“I used a YouTube hack, it's not that hard. Look behind you.”

“Wha—” 

A little rattle comes from the cage in the backseat, as if the bird knows attention has been turned to it, giving a few small hops and flapping it's wings. Chaeyoung doesn't know how, considering she's never given a damn about it, but the sight relieves her, though only for a few seconds before the vehicle starts to move - Jungkook unsteadily behind the wheel.

She turns to face the front, eyes wide and hands subconsciously clinging to the edge of her seat. “I don't trust you.”

“You promised me you would.”

“I almost died in there!”

“Well you didn't and that's what matters.”

The van speeds out into the open parking lot, and both of their hearts nearly jump into their throats when the group of loan sharks come into view - standing in the empty parking space where their vehicle had stood before. Their half-initiated attempt at slipping by unnoticed fails when Minho turns his head towards them, eyes wide and rage clouding them in an instant as he shouts - “you little ing brat!” - right before Jungkook pulls out into the streets. In the rearview mirror, Chaeyoung sees Ryeowook, Minho and Changmin attempt to run out, only to stop halfway and glare angrily at their van slowly disappear amidst the traffic. Right before they're out of sight, she sees Kyuhyun lay a hand on Changmin's shoulder and his lips move as he tells him something that makes him nod and turn around. 

She doesn't know what they're saying, or what this means for them, but they're out on the open road now and Jungkook's trembling fingers on the wheel is the biggest concern for the both of them right now. She doesn't say a word until they're on the freeway, noticing how he relaxes gradually to the peaceful groan of the engine and swish of passing cars. This really isn't his first time driving, she sees now, though it does little to quell her anxiety. She tries not to scold him about traffic rules and safety because people generally drive worse when you do that, she found out when her sister was learning to drive and nearly ran over a cat when their mom shouted at her about a stop sign she already saw a few feet away.

Something is strangely, disturbingly exhilirating about driving off like this with the windows partially open and a breeze sifting through her hair. Never would she have been able to imagine the rush of escaping loan sharks. In fact, she imagined quite a lot of twisted scenarios she'd end up in because of him but not quite like this. She wonders if she'll have to prepare for them from now on. When she turns to look at him, steely eyed and finally at bay, another quote from Keith comes to mind — What's the rush? We're here in a yellow truck, a road ahead of us and nothing but opportunities. Except it's a black van instead of a yellow truck, and the rush in this case is justified. 

“Where did you learn to drive?” she asks calmly.

“I had an uncle who tried to teach me when I was twelve.”

“Twelve? That young?”

“That's what I thought too.” He smiles to himself, recollecting the memory. “He said I was a lot smarter than most kids at twelve, and my legs were long enough to reach the petals. So he sat next to me, made sure I didn't crash the car, and we drove around empty parking lots and local streets.”

“He taught you well.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his smile grow wider while his eyes remain focused on the road. Something about it warms her heart and soothes her nerves about all of this. Likely, it's knowing he had someone besides his parents (though she wonders why he's never told her). It's been a while since she's been driven around by anyone, little did she know her first time back on the road would be with him, let alone while running from a violent gang.

“You know I never would have left you there,” he says after a few minutes have past. He can still vividly remember how hard his heart thumped against his chest, how hard the adrenaline pumped through his veins, when every second they were apart, he had no idea how things could go wrong. His imagination had run wild, and what seemed to be a relatively good plan started to develop holes. All he could think about in his rush to get the van open was how they could be holding her hostage, torturing her until they came back.

“I know,” she replies, and he sighs. “I also know that you wouldn't have let me go if it wasn't for a good cause.”

He seems to seize up at the statement, breath going shallow. He doesn't answer her for a few seconds, biting his lip in contemplation. 

“Jungkook.” She places a hand on his shoulder. He turns to look at her briefly in surprise, then back at the road. “What is that hen to you? You keep comparing it to Snickles but you know even I wouldn't go to such an extent to get Snickles back. This bird is something else, I can feel it. There's something you're not telling me.”

“There isn't—”

“I can tell when you're lying, Kookie.” He shivers at the nickname, not expecting it at a time like this. “You're good at it but you've never gotten past me. Why is Nugget so important to you?”

He sighs, “you wouldn't understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You'll think it's stupid.”

She groans in exasperation, almost throwing herself back in her seat at the stubbornness of him. She nearly entertains the idea of giving up trying again, until she sees it — the slight tremor of his lip, the glimmer in his eyes — and realizes he hasn't changed that much at all. He's still in shock contrary to what he lets on - frightened and distrusting - and it's really no different from how he used to be when they were kids. He always liked to play the bigger person, snap back at kids and adults alike, but every time he was scolded or punished, he'd let out his anger and sadness alone in a room somewhere with the door locked. She wonders what would have happened if she hadn't walked in the one time it wasn't.

“You're right,” she says, “I will think it's stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“But that won't make me care any less.”

Jungkook's fingers tighten their grip around the wheel, the gravity of her words unavoidable. It takes him back to the place she was probably thinking of before, back when he would confide in her things he wouldn't tell his parents or the boys he thought he trusted more than anyone because it wounded his pride. Chaeyoung was always the first to notice when something was off—when he was holding in something he shouldn't, when he was ineffably angry at his parents—she always knew, and she listened no matter how ludicrous sounding it was.

“Chae—”

A loud, blaring siren goes off, growing louder and louder, much different to the one in the building because it belongs to a large freight truck, skidding in their direction, losing control. Jungkook rapidly turns the wheel, trying to swerve it past the oncoming vehicle — but his reaction is just a second too late. The vehicles collide, sending the van toppling over off the freeway. And then, Chaeyoung realizes that exactly what she was terrified of in the imagined burning building is coming to life right now - walls collapsing in on her, windows exploding, the suffocating stench of a burning, crackling engine. Right before they crash to the ground, Chaeyoung thinks she feels his hand drape protectively across her stomach, tightly holding the edge of her seat. The last thing she feels is the blood rushing to her head as they go over.

And then there's nothing — dark as the night and silent as death.

A road ahead of them, and nothing but opportunities.

A/N: Yep, it's taken an action-y turn and hopefully for the better. Meanwhile, hope ya'll check out INKED - a fic I'm putting my blood, sweat and tears into. :^) Again, thank you for all your lovely comments and support. I appreciate it so much. ♡♡♡ 

On a less bright note, school is coming up soon and how often I'll be able to update fics from then on is uncertainty but I'll try my best.