The night was young.  Wind blasting through his hair, music cranked up to the max and his boys by his side… Kim Namjoon was living the life.

Or so he wanted to believe.

Once in a while, when he wasn’t paying attention, a sliver of emptiness would sneak in and shake up his mind.  Doubt would seep through the cracks and anxiety would settle… but only for a brief moment before his boys would pass him the cigarette for another drag.

Tonight was no different.  Their oldest, Min Yoongi, drove like a racer down the streets in their open hooded jeep.  In the car they had built and called their own, their joyrides often lasted long into the night.  Cops were few and sparse in this neighbourhood; even the authorities gave up on cleaning up the dirty part of town.  The area, known for its drug deals, gambling, and various shady gatherings, was a hotspot for young, wild men like them.  They took pride in their sense of belonging.

“Namjoon-ah,” Jung Hoseok, his close friend, called to him from the back seat.  A beer can was passed forward for him to take.

Taking it, Namjoon took a swig and passed it to their youngest.  Jeon Jungkook took a big gulp before passing it to Yoongi.  The latter took a drink without batting an eyelash as he swerved down another empty street.

As they flew through a red light, Yoongi crushed and tossed the empty can onto the street.  “We got any more?” he asked as the wind whisked his hair wildly, “I’m thirsty damn it!”  He laughed and threw his hands up in the air.  He came screeching to a halt and pointed at a convenience store across the street.  “Jeon Jungkook,” he said lazily, “Go get more booze.  The good stuff.”  He leaned back and lit up another cigarette.

“On it,” Jungkook said, hopping over the side of the jeep onto the street.  He took off towards the store in a light jog.

Namjoon watched as a trio of men lazily walked towards the store, their eyes on Jungkook’s back as the latter entered the store.  Taking another drag, he hopped out of the car and followed Jungkook. 

The men noticed him, took in his face, and sniggered.  Namjoon locked eyes with the biggest one.  Tucking his hands in his trench coat pockets, he walked towards them lazily but with obvious intent to stir up some trouble.  After a few tense moments, the biggest guy’s gaze changed towards the jeep and he gave a chuckle.  Shrugging, he moved along down the street, his two cronies following as they shook their heads.

Releasing his hands from the hidden fists, Namjoon paused at the door and watched the men until they turned the corner and disappeared.  He checked back towards the jeep; Hoseok was leaning over the ledge, his face grinning but eyes sharp as he watched.  Yoongi’s gaze flickered towards the street corner before he stretched and yawned. 

Sighing, he lit up his own cigarette and leaned against the wall.  He looked up at the night sky and took a long drag.  The night air was cold and helped cleared his head.  He was broken out of his stupor by a distant scream before it was quickly cut off.

He looked around wildly, his cigarette hanging at the edge of his lips.  The streets were empty and his boys were lounging in the jeep as if they’d heard nothing at all.  Was it his imagination?  He listened again but heard nothing else other than the sounds of the night.  Giving his head a scratch, he looked over as Jungkook walked out the doors with two bags of bottles.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, surprised to see him, “What are you doin?” 

Slinging an arm around the younger, Namjoon blew out a puff of smoke and said, “Waiting for your skinny .  What took you so long?”  Together, the two walked to the jeep and handed the bags to a waiting Hoseok.  Jumping back onto the back, they took off down the road at a much slower pace as they each opened a can of beer.

Namjoon hung over the side of the car and drank slowly.  Before they got far, his eyes caught sight of three familiar men as they emerged from an alleyway heading the opposite direction.  Their faces held nasty smirks as they shifted their belts and spat on the ground.  One of them stretched and yawned before also catching sight of him.  The guy flipped him the finger and proceeded to hump the air several times before laughing.  The others followed suit as the jeep disappeared around the corner.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said suddenly, curiosity getting the better of him, “Stop the car.”  He hopped out as the jeep slowed to the surprise of the others.

“What the-Namjoon, where you goin?” Hoseok called, bewildered.

“Don’t wait up,” Namjoon called without looking back as he jogged back towards the street they had just came from. 

“Don’t get killed,” Yoongi called before stepping on the gas.

“Kim Namjoon!” Hoseok’s fading voice echoed in the air as the jeep drove away.

He didn’t know what compelled him to get out of the car.  He paused at the corner and looked over; the three men were nowhere in sight.  He walked down the street towards the alley.  Did those guys have anything to do with the scream he had heard earlier? 

He peeked into the alleyway.  Didn’t look like an ambush… just a garbage bin and… was that a foot?  Taking out his knuckle dusters, he walked towards the bin slowly.  His mind was alert as he stepped forward, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

His breath caught in his throat.  A man’s body lay faced down amongst the bags of garbage, his ripped shirt hanging off of one arm and his pants pooled at his ankles.  His pale and smooth skin was riddled with old scars and new bruises.  A pool of blood and puddled between his legs; one arm twisted behind his back and the other pressed into the ground beside his head. 

“,” Namjoon muttered, looking up and down the alleyway.  Guess he knew what those guys had been up to… and where that scream came from.  He nudged his toe against the calf and, when he received no response, knelt down near the body and sighed. 

He was willing to bet this one was a Doll.  An exDoll, he corrected himself mentally.  He saw and heard of things like this far too often nowadays.  It was all over the news.  Another exDoll found dead in some back alley trash.  Mugged, , beaten... the list was endless.  Despite the new laws and regulations, they were still often victims that graced the headlines.  It was like setting free caged rabbits only to be eaten by wolves.

He scratched his head and pulled out his phone.  Was it the police he was supposed to call at times like this?  Or… what was the name of that department that dealt with exDoll again?  Maybe he could find it on the internet and-

He let out a gurgle as the body suddenly moved.  Stumbling backwards, he fell on his backside as he held a hand to his thudding heart.

The body -no, person- coughed and let out a soft whimper.  His back rose with laborious breathing and his hand twitched.

“Y-Yo…” he said, inching forward, “Um…” He looked up and down the alleyway again, unsure of what to do.  Getting closer, he rolled the man over onto his side and got a good look at the face.

Namjoon felt his heart skip a beat.  Even covered in wounds, blood and , the man’s face screamed beauty and delicacy.  His skin, where unwounded, was soft and damp.  Namjoon felt as if he had come across a discovery not quite meant for mortal eyes. 

He snapped out of his daze when the man’s brows furrowed slightly in pain before it smoothed out again.  The man was once again unconscious.  He gnawed his lips as he held this stranger in his arms.  Should he call the cops?  How could he explain this?  What if they mistake him as the criminal?  What about an ambulance?  Would they even come down to this part of town?  Should he call the boys instead? 

Weighing his options, he sighed and shrugged out of his coat. Laying it over the man, he dialed Yoongi’s number.

Everything hurt.  Cold… he felt so cold.

Seokjin opened his mouth and took a breath.  His consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it sharp aches across his body.  The pain was familiar, much too familiar, though it used to be dulled with the help of a ual enhancement drug.  What was it again?  Oh right… Sugar.  An ironic name since what usually followed was a crushing bitter desire for death.

He felt hands on him again.  Gentle ones, this time, unlike the ones before.  He heard a low voice mutter soft curse words, smelled the light scent of cigarette smoke.  He felt himself get lifted awkwardly, felt the pain of bruises already forming in his sides and scrapes stinging against… fabric?  He didn’t know.  He didn’t know much of anything except the pain and nausea.  He felt it bubble in his chest, tasted the sour stomach acid as it came up, smelled the rancid waft of what must have been mostly water.  Dinner was a luxury he usually couldn’t afford.

More colourful language from someone with a low husky voice… it wasn’t unpleasant to the ears.  He could imagine warmth spreading through him at gentle words spoken by that voice.  Words that would give him hope, and make him feel more important to this world and less like damaged goods.  Instead, he heard curse words and more muttering.

It was getting difficult to stay conscious so he welcomed the painless alternative without any fight.

Namjoon wiped his face as he looked down at his work.

The beautiful man was successfully in bed, his scrapes and cuts covered with all the Band-Aids Namjoon had ever owned in his life.  Thankfully, or not, the man had less than five areas to cover.  The rest were bruises that were developing quickly, like film in a dark room.  His abdomen was already beginning to turn a galactic colour of the universe.  Parts of his thighs were still marred with red.  The most painful looking wound, however, was his rear end… and Namjoon hadn’t the smallest inclination as to how to dress that wound.  How, exactly, did one bandage a badly torn ?  He’d done what he could with the stuff he had on hand but even that was simply cleaning and letting it be.

He shook his head and looked down at his own half self.  Thankfully, the vomit had only covered his shirt.  His pants, probably the last clean-ish pair he owned, had safely evaded any splatter. 

It had been a and a half hauling the guy up the stairs to his apartment.  Elevators had broken down once again, so he had to rely on good old organic stairs climbing… which wasn’t easy given the dead weight and smells of puke.  He was impressed he was able to suppress his own urges to toss his cookies right there at his own doorstep.

Clean up had been hard too; the man was thin but taller than the average girl that usually graced his bathtub.  The process had cost him his last two dry clean towels and a bruised elbow from some unintentional slip and slide.  Luckily, his pants were only wet at the knees.

Sighing now, he tossed the towel to the floor to join his other towels and glanced around his apartment.  It was a modest bachelor pad, with dirty laundry décor and left over takeout container centerpieces.  The night was still young, so to speak, so he got to cleaning.  He desperately needed clean laundry and his apartment to not smell like dirty dishes with a splash of vomit.

Gathering the trash and loading his laundry into a bag, he glanced back at the now sleeping beautiful man in his bed and closed the door behind him.  The trip to the laundromat was a short one; it was waiting for the wash and dry cycle that took some time.  Luckily, the place was empty at this time of night so he opted for a trip to the next door convenience store.

He picked a few things; some more Band-Aids, a tube of antibiotic ointment, some bruising spray, a couple packs of fever suppressants just in case, and a few packs of ramyun.  He paused as he passed some ready-to-eat foods and grabbed a few rice balls and kimbaps.  Stocking up on some drinks too, some alcoholic and some not, he made his way to the cashier and checked his phone as he got rung up.

Nothing from the boys… always a good sign for his friends that regularly got into some kind of trouble.  The booze Jungkook picked up was probably doing its job keeping them busy.  Meanwhile… Namjoon dropped a few dollar bills and picked up his bag of groceries.  He walked back to the laundromat and helped himself to a small role of kimbap.

His mind wandered back to the beautiful stranger in his bed.  It was definitely a different kind of beautiful stranger to the ones he’s used to.  Discounting the fact that the stranger was a man and likely an exDoll, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to such lengths to put a beautiful stranger in his bed… without getting anything in exchange.  He sighed as he took a swig of a sports drink.  He’d been blown away by tonight and not in a good way.

The three goonies that were responsible had been no laughing matter.  They looked like a tough crowd to beat, literally, even for Namjoon.  They looked… dangerous, more dangerous than the usual thugs that committed petty crime in these streets.  They had committed gang without so much as batting an eyelash.  Who knows what else they were capable of?  Namjoon took another swig and capped the bottle up.  He was lucky they decided to not engage him and his boys tonight, even if he had been the one to bluff up a challenge.  He was glad he did nonetheless; he would probably be capable of murder himself if anything like tonight had happened to Jungkook. 

The beeping of the machines brought him out of his stupor.  He transferred his clothes from wash to dry and sat back down again with another sigh.  He hated laundry.  Taking out his phone, he scrolled through social media and lost himself.

Author's notes: 

Damn, it's been a long time!  I very much still want to work on this story but my time is now very much not quite my own anymore!  Life sets in as usual!  Thanks for reading!  More to come... er eventually!