The truth is, you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed. – Eminem

The tv hummed of the news, the new anchor man telling of the stock market, the inbalanced state of the Korean Won. With a shift in his chair and a new glint in his eye, he recounted the day’s main stories. Not even half reached the ears of the 5 BAP members, their backs turned to the world. As always. “The of three weeks ago has been caught by police, witnesses providing information… A fire in the inner city area... 4 car accidents recounted, the government being pressured to enforce more… Suspected bikie gangs causing trouble…” Zelo flinched, and grabbing the nearby remote, turned the tv off.

“I don’t know where he went!” Daehyun desperately tried to recollect the day’s happenings. He counted off his fingers in near hysteria. “We went to the supermarket to get food for tomorrow…”

“Why the do you need to buy ing food at 1 in the morning?” Himchan was beyond irritated.

“I thought...” Daehyun guilty looked away at the floor. It was all him. Once again it was Daehyun the up who screwed everything up. The others didn’t even have to spare a moment to know why he had decided to go.

“DOES YOUR ING GLUTTONY HAVE TO GET US INTO TROUBLE EVERY SINGLE TIME?” The usually calm one was seething, a coating of red thickly spreading over his sight. He stormed up to the younger boy, his eyes penetrating through the other, his eyes a finger’s width away from the other, their noses merely a hair’s breadth apart. His hot panting misted onto the other’s face. A steely moment of cold tension clawed itself under Daehyun’s already cold, sweaty skin before the angered elder was pulled away by Yongguk, the most collected member out of all of them. “Why can’t you

just let your mind think for once, not your stomach? Not even once?” The quiet stringed up words stung harder than the yelling before, embedding deep in the already hurt Daehyun’s chest, letter by letter. He stared at the carpet, eyes tracing each fibre in block shades of guilt, worry and hurt.

The two youngest were almost titanium statues. Cold. Unmoving. Fear, dread reflected in their eyes. Always the hyungs had been there to do something. They could always fix, mend whatever had gone wrong.

When the duo were first led by fate to the intimidating Yongguk, and had together, burnt half the kitchen down while baking a cake, he had fixed it. The marshmallow softie Dr Hyde of Yongguk had miraculously forgiven them, all because they had tried to bake it for him; so he would like them more. They learnt that it is really, the thought that counts.

Even when Zelo had accidently practised his knife throwing at the wrong time, and place they had forgiven him. Himchan and Yongguk hyungs had vacuumed away the shattered shards of the expensive vase, and they had calmed down the traumatized Youngjae. And somewhat fixed his hair. Having half his gelled up hair sliced off wasn’t too easy to resurrect.

Even when Jongup broke his wrist after fighting his the other gang, Himchan had fixed it. And he had pieced back Jongup’s ego too. The poor guy had a permanently crooked nose. A bloody stream of curses and dark fluid flowing through Jongup’s memory. It was ironically, a happy one. Despite the unbelievable pain of his wrist zipping through his nervous system, vaguely clouding his awareness, he had definitely remembered that warm furry rush of pride and respect as he had looked up at the fury driven Himchan compensating his younger ‘brothers’ pain. It still was there, subtly pumping around his body. The pounding of realisation. The realisation of how much the boys cared for each other. Enough to risk their lives.

“Where did you go? The one down the road, right?” Zelo managed to unglue his mouth. His mouth had seemed to have been cemented together with the adhesive that was fear. Untreated, unpasteurized, unpurified, raw fear. Like a virus, it had seemed to have infected the other members too. It weaved itself into their lungs, around their chests and throats, slowly pulling, that dread- enclosing and clenching itself around their beings. Ontop of that, it lowered a boulder on their consciousness, that feeling that wouldn’t disappear. That precise feeling that something is wrong. Terribly, miserably wrong.

They took the slight movement of his head as a signal of agreement. With a split second decision, Yongguk spoke up. His rusty voice scrapped around the walls, rebounding to each attentive, yet frozen, member.

-

“Pick up your phone you bastard, pick your phone up! Pick up!” Himchan ped his jacket and fanned himself in frustration, almost throwing his phone against the brick wall. The window of the electronics shop reflected his red face, his helpless entirety. What it didn’t quite reflect behind the blue tv screens, was the complete amount of emotion that was churning in the deepest, darkest pits of his stomach. Himchan wasn’t angry at Daehyun, or Youngjae even. In reality, he hated it. How helpless he was, that is. He masked the ugly broken down Himchan, the growing screen of fear over

his vision, with forced anger. Defense mechanism, Yongguk had decided one day. Defense mechanism.

He felt overwhelming, suffocating responsibility over each and every member in the gang. No, they were not a gang. They were a family, a whole, closed up group of tender, loving boys who covered up their lives with the calloused, scratched, tough sun-tanned dried skin on their exterior. Himchan was the one they always ran to for support. Whether if it was simply physical wounds, or a solution to pointless squabbling, it didn’t matter. They ran to him. Emotional pains, healing of the heart, they always ran to him, in stone hard faces, sometimes the tear stained faces. His heart wrenched and reached out to each of them, and not once, did he ever let any of them stray too far, always in reach so that Himchan could ran to them and help.

But now that he had no power, no power to help Youngjae, his fear grew over him like sickly leprosy. It crawled under his skin, scrapping tender areas. Almost like black spiders scrambling over his body, he couldn’t shake it off. He needed to help Youngjae. Unable to keep his mind in check any longer, wiping frantic tears away; he sniffed once, and started running, yelling out as he ran the streetlight illuminated pavement.

Sweat seeped through Himchan’s button down as he wearily roared Youngjae’s name again, the sound of his worn out voice reverberating throughout his body. Once again, the quiet sweep of passing cars only answered him in a moment of yellow and red lights before he was greeted by the cold winter wind. Once again. Grabbing at his burdened chest, he panted, physically exhausted. “Youngjae ah… Please…” He plopped on the nearby staircase, stretching out with an overwhelming exhaustion. His limbs were of concrete, his heart of granite.

Each car zoomed past, his eyes catching each blur of fluorescent colour, each streak molded together. He couldn’t distinguish each car from another. Not anymore. Until one stopped infront him, that is. A metre in front of his worn out body, a black van slowed down. The sliding door revealed a male. Himchan’s sharp eyes caught a glinting watch strapped to the male’s wrist. Expensive. He was of considerable height, crouching obviously in the interior of the car. His mouth mask slipped as he bent, revealing a hazy tattoo. It could have been a skull, an eagle. He couldn’t tell. In a leather gloved hand, the mysterious man held something. It was small. Himchan squinted. Eyes, widening, he caught the flying ‘small thing’, his quick reflexes kicking in. His curled fist unfurled a black usb in his palm. Realisation dawned, a quick, sharp jab in his consciousness. “WAIT-“

The van was already out of sight, the green light on the other side of the road teasing him. Himchan glared down at the chip in his hand, fierce concentration throbbing through the icy air. “You better help me.” Himchan glared at the black usb, his gaze unwavering, rivalling his reflection in the shiny metal strip of the usb. He tore his gaze from the usb, his hands tightly clasping it. The thought that he might crush it didn’t even scratch his new sense of urgency.

He leapt up and ran. Ran with firm resolution, destination in sight. He was going to find Youngjae even if it killed him.

-

I haven't editted this chapter so please turn a blind eye to any mistakes! c:

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