44: OUR RUDE AWAKENING

"Artistic," by Code Kunst

                Whatever people say, it’s never fun to sleep on the floor of a holding cell. You become (painfully) aware of all the parts of your body you didn’t even know possessed the potential to ache that way—and not in a fascinatingly scientific or enlighteningly introspective way. Their wake-up call wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. It came in the form of a raging intruder into the police station. His shouts were so loud that they woke everyone in the holding cells even though it had to be past 2:00 A.M.

                Taehyung roused, looked up, and bowed his head almost immediately. The sound was one very familiar to him. He sat up and shook Namjoon by the shoulder.

                “Hyung. He’s here. He’s—”

                His whispers were quickly drowned out by the increasing volume of shouts.

                “Wh-why wasn’t I informed my—my son, my own son—was-was arrested?!”

                “I apologize, sir. We tried to call you. Please—”

                “I didn’t get some phone call or anything!”

                “Sir, we tried to call you. None of our calls were—”

                “Where is my son, huh?”

                “Sir, please! Calm down!”

                “Where are you, you bastard son of mine?!”

                Without thinking about it, Taehyung began backing away from the entrance of the holding cell, crouching behind Namjoon, who was just starting to sit up. Several officers had come in now and were trying to restrain Taehyung’s father.

                “We need you to sign some papers here, and here…”

                Some of the officers looked uncomfortable dealing with the unruly man creating so much trouble just while writing his signature. When he began ranting about how he couldn’t possibly pay the fine and how the government was ripping him off for something that wasn’t his fault.

                “Regardless, your son will need to serve some time in a juvenile detention center.”

                “What did you say?”

                Taehyung’s voice, weary but firm, voice broke through the commotion of voices. “I would rather that. Anything is better than going back with you, appa.”

                Finally the man looked up and noticed his son. Oily strands of hair had fallen over his eyes and all that was really visible was a bony nose and the hard line of his lips, surrounded by a week of stubble. As recognition dawned on his face, he raised up one finger and pointed it at Taehyung. His face grew read, cheeks bulging with fury.

                “You little brat! How dare you speak to me like that!” His eyes wandered down to the floor of the cell, where Namjoon sat, rubbing his face wearily. “I see your with that worthless punk again. Yah! You! What were you doing with my son again, huh? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? What sort of trouble have you gotten him into now, huh?!”

                “Appa! It’s not his—”

                “I apologize.” Namjoon pushed himself onto his feet and bowed to Taehyung’s father. “I should have taken better care of him.”

                “Hyung…”

                “This worthless bastard,” growled the father, stomping away from the officers toward the holding cell.

                “Sir, please!”

                “You can’t do that! Sir!”

                “Please clam down!”

                “Sir!”

Author’s Note

I know I’ve been really MIA for the past…gosh I don’t even know how long, because life. I am out of the country right now, and I’ve been busy getting ready for that and travelling and getting settled and going to my cousin’s wedding. Anyway, I’m really sorry everyone, especially since I didn’t give anyone some sort of warning >_<

I’m posting another chapter within like an hour or so because this one is really short. The next one is pretty long so I hope you enjoy it!