Logolepsy (Taekook/ Vkook)

21. Atticates

(A/N- PSI is Police staff investigators — the ones who solve crime as well but focus less on the police work elements.)

T/W- Mentions of abduction and torture.

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Love,

The four people who went missing this month are closer than you think. Thank me later.

ADDRESS- XXXX.

-Well-wisher, Kim Taehyung

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"Fuck am I doing?" odor of car-seat rubber mixes with perspiration dewing his nose bridge. Squelching of oscillating wipers, uselessly wiping the heavy downpour, rhymes with the turbulence of radio channels.

He buzzes with anticipation and alarm. Who's Taehyung? Why is he obeying him?

Mind reading. Sounds marvellous for a superpower, right?

Young Jungkook would've argued. Cribbing formerly how being Darth Vader or even Yoda would've been better than a power that tells him it was Timmy who farted?

And solid most catch? It only works when nobody's watching him!

It's like life's perennial spoof — 'Here's a superpower... but not really.'

Now, the story is different. Now that he's pulled a lifelong fib, his abilities bagged him eight promotions in four years, making him the only one in the PSI with so.

Befittingly, there are no complaints anymore.

Except tonight. He finds himself in his car fronting the shabby cabin in the woods, while skies pour his dismal for him.

Tension soars; queasy wrenches of not remembering the lyrics to the song playing in his head just adds more to it.

It's his profound worry for the victims (definitely not the hefty sum/ promotion that it promises).

Stepping out, he jogs to the patio, jumping over puddles with hand on his slicked back hair.

He gives a small knock on door, mostly because it looked a blow away from crumbling. He waits, frustrated over the song ebbing him.

"Attic."

A deep, spine-chilling voice rings. He jolts, aghast.

Whipping head around, he finds no one. Perhaps his mind too pressured by the stupid song, concocting voices, who knows?

The door swings open revealing a stout woman, crow-feet of age engraved around the tired eyes, yet a warm trace of empathy in them. She beacons him to come under the shed.

"Yes?"

To get this over with, he foremost tries to enter her thoughts. Unable in the trial, reckons someone on the streets could be watching.

"Miss, I.." a sneeze pauses him "I'm gonna have to search this place." He whips his ID. "There's a warrant." He keeps his jitter controlled, lest the woman ask for the non-existent warrant.

She flagrantly blanches at this; looking back over her shoulder into the small house with nothing besides few pieces of crippled furniture scattered. "Umm.."

"Attic." the voice rings again and this time he feels chills in their wake down his body.

He watches her resolve tremble. Taken aback, rightfully so, she steps aside for him to enter.

"I'm officer Jeon. This place was reported for suspected breaches."

"Adria Faring. You can go ahead. This was my friend's place before he went missing last month. I'm sure you'll find nothing."

"Attic" This time he takes a whole baffled spin. The fuck? He needs to get out of this creepy place, ASAP.

"Some water—"

Watching her distracted with that, he tries to get into her thoughts but there's... none? That's not possible.. Unless..

"This friend of yours, how.."

"....Nobody knows"

He nods. She stirs something in the pot, seemingly in deep thought.

That is his cue but again— nothing? Seriously, what?

"Attic."

Fuck this.

Inside a stray trunk, in trash-brimmed closet, inside couch cushions? There wasn't even much for him to look into. He begins to desperately rummage through the cottage knowing deep down the futility of it.

He can feel the woman's confounded gaze on himself but all he does is stand by the window pulling out a smoke.This was a stupid idea to begin with.

Wait "What's that?!" not waiting for an answer, he sprints out-- to the ladder that inclines against the back wall.

Inundated head-to-toe, his shoes soak in muddy puddles. This is the last of his concerns, when he's already climbing the ladder that seems on the edge of grave itself. It quakes under his weight, but thankfully doesn't pulverise. He jumps up to the small locked roomlett his eyes zeroed into.

"Attic! Of course, the attic!"

Thanks to the flubbed wood and his impeccable strength it takes a few bulldozes before the door is knocked off its hinge.

He gags. The stench is oppressive enough for him to feel his previous meal backing into his food pipe.

The first thing he sees is the mutilated faces, bowdlerized versions of pictures hanging on his office bulletin. Fuck.

There's taste of bile on his tongue; next thing he knows he's rushing out, disgorging the contents of his stomach.

Whipping out his phone, his hands tremble. He sits outside the attic, calling for back-up to track his location, and waits for them to arrive. It's all too much, even for him.

When the team arrives, they pull out a body on stretcher, then another, then another. The fourth never comes.

"That is all, officer."

Legs trembling, he stands by the door. What are they talking about? There is a fourth.

A frail, skinned bone, boy sits with head on his knees rocking back and forth.

"Hello?" he looks up and Jungkook freezes.

There's dried blood all over the boy and fresh one leaking out of his mouth like an overfilled beverage.

All blood drains his body when the boy looks into his eyes and.. Smiles.

The sneer is unsettling as it is, but what tremors his body is the soft humming the boy begins-

"Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you..."

It was the song that was stuck in his head.

Jungkook feels dizzy, lightheaded, when the boy gets to his hands and knees; starts crawling towards him.

"Wh-who are y-you?"

His world spins when the boy smiles wider, bloody teeth on display, whispers-

"Love, I'm your well-wisher, Kim Taehyung."

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Thank you for sparing your time