|| CHAPTER ONE || 

“Sam, you have to wake up.” 
Voice wakes me up. It’s male. Strong. Commanding. Familiar. I connect it to the face straightaway. It’s Jungkook. There’s a picture of his dark brown bangs falling ove his forehead appearing in my mind straightaway.
My eyes open, one after the other. I rub them. My hands are by my side, on the hard wooden bed covered with dark bed sheets. I look in the direction voice comes from. My eyes land on the nightstand next to my head. My phone is on it, shining with green light. I lazily move my hand and I take it in my hand. Without moving any other muscle I put the phone next to my ear. 
“What do you want?” I ask impatient boy on the other side of the call. My voice is hoarse. I wonder what we did last night. We had a mission in the shelter. We had to help exactly one hundred and fifty nine homeless people. It wasn't an easy job, but we got used to it. Every weekend, on Saturday, Jungkook and Mike and Ruby and Dakota helped in the shelter. I don't know the other three kids, but Jungkook was always the one to make friends faster. I don't remember how late it was when I came home, probably after midnight. Jungkook and I stayed talking on the porch for some time. We had a lot to talk about. It's a good thing Mom couldn't hear the topic, otherwise she would've freaked. 
People don't talk about the topic Jungkook and I did. It's not allowed, forbidden even. But in fact, the only thing we said was the truth. 
These days, people hate hearing about the problems of society. However, we have to do it. There are too many people on this planet, and that's exactly the problem we’ve been facing in the last fifty years.
Too many people, too little food.
Too many people, too little water.
Too many people, too little helping.
Luckily, now I don't have the time to think about it. Because now is - I look at the clock on the screen - 8.13 a.m. 
I am going to kill Jungkook.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I immediately shriek when I realize how early it is.
“Hey, it’s better that I wake you up than Bruce. You should be thanking me!” he yells back, obviously in better condition than I am currently.
“Bruce?” I murmur his name like it’s the first time I heard it. It takes my mind few seconds to connect it’s not the first time. Oh, how hard do I wish it is. But, sadly, there’s nothing I can do about it. I know the name Jungkook said. I know it quite well, in fact. And it’s the only name that could make me get out of my warm bed this fast, because before I can register what I’m doing, my legs are moving on their own. I get out of the bed, I ignore the sneakers next to my bed I must have left here when I got home this night, and I head straight to the closet. Or better said my chair which represents the closet. There are roughly around hundred T-shirts and jeans on in. I’m not complaining, my mom does. 
As I struggle to put on my black skinny jeans with way too many pockets Mom hates seeing me wear saying they look like boy jeans,  I continue arguing with Jungkook. 
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?! I’m going to be late! He is going to kill me,” I say in despair. I can imagine Bruce’s face, I mean his stare. Oh, it’s already sending goosebumps all over my body. I shouldn’t have stayed out so late yesterday. What was I thinking for crying out loud?!
“Yeah, because it’s suddenly my fault you forgot about volunteering,” he retorts sarcastically. I wish I could wipe off that smirk he must be wearing right now.
I pretend I didn’t hear his comment for few brief moments as I take off my XXL shirt which looks like a bag of potatoes on me. I put on a little smaller XL T-shirt, of course, black. Mom would put in another comment saying, “Shocker.” Sorry, Mom. Black just happens to be a nice color.
When I run into the bathroom in a hurry, I stay mortify at the scene. My hair, sticking in every possible direction, dirt on my face because we had to transfer bags of potatoes, and a little larger scar on my left cheek from where Jungkook hit me with that same bag of potatoes.
I still shrugg, “That could’ve ended a lot worse.”
I quickly brush my hair, brush my teeth, wash my face and (hopefully) get rid of all the dirt. My brown hair looks better now, thank God. It falls a good five inches below my shoulders, down my back. Without further ado I run out of the bathroom as fast as I came. I pick up my dark olive green bag and I throw it around my shoulder. I take one last look at my room, green walls, shelves with books, my broken laptop on the table in the corner. Everything is here. Just as it should be. I close the doors of my room with “NO ENTRY” sign on them. I run down the stairs, next to the kitchen before my mom sees me and holds me back for coming so late this morning.
Before I get a chance to exit the house, I make a quick stop. I stand on the door frame of the living room. 
There's an empty box of pizza Mom and I ate few days ago. On the table in the far corner of the room is a broken computer I promised Mrs Rachel I would fix for her daughter. I still haven't done it. Lately, my life has been even bigger mess than before.
A reporter on the old black box Mom still calls TV stops me from speeding and pretending I haven’t seen the mess our house is. Mom stopped cleaning it every so often when she had to get two jobs to keep us alive. In today’s anarchy, only those with money can survive. I can't say our dad left us with any of it. I don't see either of them anymore. I have no idea where Dad is now, but Mom is still here. Probably in the kitchen, making breakfast after she got home from the night shift. I tried helping her, saying I’ll get a job, but there's no jobs left. Like I said, too many people.
I start listening in the middle of the sentence, “—day, on March 25th, president Ward made a statement regarding PND project he and Europe started in January of the last year. He said that they are planning on sending troops in Germany in three months time. People are causing disarray, protesting and stopping traffic in the middle of the streets. This is not just a case in Germany, many other countries around the world have been facing the same difficulties.”
Picture behind her changes from president Ward, man with white hair in light grey suit, to ruined cities.
She starts listing them one by one.
“Oslo, Norway.”
“Paris, France.”
“Los Angeles and New York, USA.”
“Sao Paulo, Brazil.”
“Tokyo, Japan.”
“People are wondering; is this only the beginning?”
Woman changes from a blonde to a Korean woman with black bob and dark eyes. She says how everyone is worried and then she changes subject, again. 
Out of the blue, a dog barks through the open window. I take the control that lays on that stupid mustard yellow sofa and I turn off the TV. Mom hears the noise. I hear her small heels against the old wooden floor, and before she can see me I continue down the familiar path. 
I put on my black boots, I don’t lace them. It’s a waste of time. I pick my green military jacket along the way and in a second I’m out of the house. I wipe the sweat off my forehead. 
“Safe,” I mutter out loud, looking around the street. I hop on my motorcycle, knowing I should better hurry if I wanna keep this job. 
My helmet is in my hands, I’m about to put it on when I my phone makes a sound again. It's from Jungkook, also one of the four contacts I have saved in my phone.

PS. Happy birthday
xx Jackrabbit

I smile to myself, definitely looking stupid.
“Sam?!” I hear Mom yelling my name from the house. I look back, already sitting on the motorcycle. She’s looking outside the kitchen window, obviously cooking breakfast. Judging by her expression I would say she’s angry, but it’s hard to tell. She has those days in the month. “Get back here!”
Ups! I look back in front of me. Maybe it’s not too late to pretend I couldn’t hear her. Oh, well. I’ll deal with her later.
I start the engine on my old red bike, the only good thing Dad left me, and just as I’m about to go further away from my house, something catches my attention. It’s Mrs Rachel from across the street. Her grey hair, or what's left of it, is evident underneath her small black hat. She wears her famous dark purple dress suit without no shame, even though, she has been wearing it for the last seventeen years of my life. Today officially makes it seventeen. 
She’s standing on the porch of her home. There’s ton of kids outside on the streets. They’re laughing while dodging the balls other kids throw at them. I’m amazed they weren't the ones who woke me up. They’re causing enough noise to alarm the whole neighborhood. Literally.
Grass outside every house has turned yellow. We can't use water anymore. It's too expensive. Trees have been cut down. A little bond in my street has gone dry. 
Everything turned into nothing. 
Mrs Rachel is the first one to wave. She sends me a big smile, and the one thing I can do is to return it. I give her a small wave of my hand, too. We stand like that, one opposite of other, until I look away. I start the engine, and in a matter of a second, I’m speeding pass the kids on the streets. They call for my name. I don't turn my head to meet their eyes. Jungkook is waiting for me, and I’m awfully a lot late.
Town is full of people. They all look the same. Everyone has the exact same frown on their face, walking like they have died yesterday. People are selling things around the streets, begging for at least a coin. No one ever gives them anything. Believe me, I know. I work with those people on Saturdays. Yes, I complain about my life. I do it all the time. But I shouldn't do it, though. These people are living worse lives. Much worse.
High skyscrapers are almost touching the sky. Enormous screens on every building are showing various news articles. I read as much as I can, but I have to keep my eyes on the road. I get a chance to study the rest of the city that is on the verge of dying when I make a full stop. Traffic is horrible. Everyone is honking at each other, cursing, showing middle fingers. I got used to it. Everyone has really.
I have to suffer through half an hour in the crowded city before I finally take my keys out of the motorcycle. I take off my black helmet. I put a hand to my eyes to stop the sunlight from blinding me. I scan my surroundings. My bike is few meters away from me. I left it parked. There's no one around me. I’m not afraid. This is my part of the town. The one I know better than where I live. Doors on the far end of this small street are locked. There's a word written above them in shining red light.
OUTCASTS.
When I come to conclusion no one is anywhere close to the old warehouse we take care of homeless people, people in need of protection and salvation, I take a step forward. I get a chance to make another step before I hear noise behind me. I turn around in a flash. My hand is on my back pocket, but I forgot I took the small pocket knife out. Damn it!
I look behind the big garbage tank, many of bags scattered around it, however, they're lying on the floor empty. Nothing goes wasted these days. Not even one quarter of a bread that has been in that garbage for more than a whole week, drenched in soda. It's disgusting, but it's survival. 
In game of survival, you only have one choice. Live or don't. Sadly, this is the only way towards the first one.
A dark cat, with piercingly yellow eyes that stare right at you, walks beside my legs, sprinting away from the darkness. 
“Okay…” I murmur out loud, thinking this is my mind’s way of tricking me.
I turn around again, ready to continue my walk. That doesn't go as I planned either. After three meters, there's that noise again. I stop in ny tracks. I don't turn around this time. I wait for something, anything. I watched more than enough old horror movies on TV to know this is the last thing I want to do. When you turn around, especially in a small and dark, abandoned street, nothing good ever happens. With time, after few seconds, noise is gone. However, I stay on my spot. My breathing hitches in my throat. From the corners of my eyes I’m watching what's going to happen. When nothing does, I divert my attention to the double metal doors a little away from me. I can probably get to them before anyone gets a chance to move his finger. 
Out of the blue, I see a figure jumping down beside from the balcony above me. I hear their feet hitting the ground with a thud. They put their hands on me, yelling, “Bo!”
I jump on my spot, a scream escapes my lips.
Person beside me, dressed in the same colors I am wearing, except they have a black baseball cap on top of their curly hair, laughs. And they don't stop laughing for another whole minute.
“What the hell, Jungkook?!” I shriek so that the whole own can hear me. “You can't do that! It's not funny.”
I hit him in the shoulders, and if I can say so myself, I can throw a pretty mean punch. Especially if it's Jungkook.
“It kinda was,” he laughs again, putting his hands on knees so that he can finally calm down. He's panting from the laughing. He only deserves an eye roll. With that, I leave him behind. I walk towards the doors (finally), I knock two times, than one second pause, another knock and a half. It took Jungkook a month to remember he needed to add that “half” at the end.
Doors open. I mean, Gally does it for us. When my nose comes in contact with the air inside, I scrunch my nose. It's toxic, I swear. I’ve never said that to anyone. They’ll think I’m sensitive. I’m not, but it really does smell rather bad. Imagine twenty three rooting bodies mixed with blood of a rat. That's pretty much not as half as bad as this.
I make myself take a step inside, Jungkook follows behind me. He joins me by my side. I can see he’s watching me from the corner of my eyes. There's an everlasting smirk tucked in the corner of his mouth.
I elbow him in the stomach. “Shut up.”
“I didn't say anything,” he replies, pretending to be serious when it's obvious he's not.
He looks away from my face, and I get a chance to study him. Under the UV light of dark hallways, his skin looks particularly green. But his hair is still his hair, dark and falling over his forehead. It's one thing everyone knows him for. He tried to hide it under the cap. It's failing. It's good that it is. I love his hair. When we were kids our parents were close friends. He would often come to my house. We would sit on the rooftop, without our parents knowing, and when he fell asleep while stargazing, I would run my hand through his hair. I wasn't afraid of him waking up. That guy sleeps like a dead man. Ever since that day on the rooftop, I was persistent on keeping Jungkook in my life. I succeeded. Here we are now, eight years later, doing God knows what.

HI!!! HOPE YOU ENJOY MY NEW BTS HALF-AU. ONLY JUNGKOOK ISN'T IN THE BAND, EVERYONE ELSE IS AND THEY'RE COMING SOON IN THE STORY, BUT AFTER FIFTH CHAPTER!! Stay tuned bc more of JUNGKOOK coming in the next chapter. Also the story is complicated so I couldn't come up with any good summary but I promise it will be a good book.

+ please note that I'm writing this book with different characters names and I'm adding BTS members when I upload it to quotev so if you ever come across name FINN it actually means JUNGKOOK. Occasionally I may make a mistake and not correct a few names. Sorry.

So, FINN = JUNGKOOK.

I don't know how many of you like fantasy or adventure and action genre but I promise I'll put in romance. STAY TUNED XOXO❤️❤️❤️