If you'd have told Jungkook that he'd be a fugitive at sixteen, running from the law and his family with a misfit band of other boys in a gang, he'd have laughed. Maybe scoffed, but he'd have blown it off, because he was a good kid. The one that paid attention in class, that got the perfect grades, joined after school art clubs for extra credit. He was the goody-two-shoes that the students simultaneously hated and admired, and he'd never ever put a foot out of line. Ever.

And so to think that he'd be evading police, standing in a dark alley over the bloody body of a man he'd bludgeoned to death with a crowbar, he wouldn't have believed.

Even after it'd happened, he still didn't believe. Not really.