The Seven Passengers (BTSxTitanic)

Chapter 29: Taehyung

I should be merciless, completely cold and vengeful. Instead, I'm apprehensive.

I think back to when I first found out about Jimin's work. I remember waking up at three in the morning, and seeing Jimin's bed empty. It wasn't like him to leave without warning, so I checked around the apartment.

I think of how cold the night was, and how I realized that the door was cracked open. Jimin hardly ever left the door unlocked, always reminding me when I left for auditions. It was almost too easy, walking downstairs into the basement and seeing men crowding around a lean boy with big, glossy lips.

That night, Jimin sat me down and explained how a simple misunderstanding between him and a guy led to an exchange of money. He swore that it was just for a week that he would do what they asked, and he demanded they pay him before he stripped.

Then the bruises became noticeable.

On a Wednesday afternoon he burst through the door. One of his co-workers at a diner they sang for pointed out the bruises. Jimin wouldn't tell me what he did or said, but whatever happened, it got him fired that day.

Nights would pass and I would watch him disappear into that basement for hours on end, only to crawl out wearing nothing more than hanging threads and covered in so many bruises he looked like a banana peel. He's possibly the most strongest person I know, if not the stupidest.

It's a cold, dark night now, as it was back then. The difference is that I'm holding a notebook full of Yoongi's secret feelings for Jimin. The difference is that I'm going to stop him from touching a hair on Jimin.

The more I think of Yoongi taking advantage of Jimin, the more confused I am. Yoongi was anything if not genuine with Jimin. I saw the way Jimin would return after practicing the piano with him, almost always singing a love song under his breath. It was refreshing to see this side of him again, an innocence that was nearly lost.

I secretly wish for Jungkook to be wrong about Yoongi.

As I circle around the deck and head for the stairway to the third class cabins, I spot a familiar man dressed in a large coat that puffed up around his neck swiftly entering the wheelhouse, shutting the door behind him.

This makes me stop. Shouldn't the Captain or any of the officers only be allowed in there? He did not look official, especially with the unusual width of his neck.

I look down at the notebook in my hands, then back at the closed door. The stairway is in my sight, but something nags at me to stay. I tend to listen to my gut more than I should.

I duck and move carefully into the shadows. The door is shut, but I hear the sound of the wheel creaking. Not five seconds later do I feel the ship turn more abruptly than its usual smooth sailing. I have to force myself to stay hidden as I am caught off balance.

The ship stops turning, and the door to the wheelhouse opens.

I hold my breath. The man is so close that I can count the individual mustache hairs on his face. His eyes scan the deck and when he's satisfied he is alone, the man shuts the door behind him and starts to leave.

His back is to me, giving me the chance to slip inside the wheelhouse.

I have no idea what I'm looking for, but when I look outside I almost faint.

The ship is sailing right for a field of icebergs.

"Oh God!" I gasp.

"What are you doing in here, kid?" a voice shouts.

The man is back, looking from the wheel to me. His eyes widen as his attention is drawn by the giant icebergs. I tear my eyes from the danger outside and focus on the danger standing beside me. The man is about my height, if not a bit shorter. I wonder if he knows that I saw him enter.

"Did you do this? Did you turn her toward those?" The man says. His eyes are intense, like he wants me to say that I did it.

My throat closes up. He inches toward me, this I'm sure he knows that I'm aware of. When my back presses up against the wall, I realize just how easily he could kill me and leave me for dead. How easily it would be for him to walk away and claim he was never here.

"I think you did," the man nods.

Then I understand where I've seen him before. Jungkook was dining with him and the captain. He is the one who found Namjoon and Seokjin after the fight. He is the one who the rich people call Aster Johnsson.

He knows I've followed him.

I try to run past, but I'm grabbed by my hair and shoved to the floor. Aster Johnsson holds a boot over my chest and presses hard and fast. I barely have time to take a breath before his foot beats me down once more.

My hands fly around for something, anything. When his foot leaves my chest, I roll over and crawl out from under him. I gasp. It hurts to breathe. My ribs are definitely broken. I manage to stand upright, but I am too slow.

Aster Johnsson wraps an arm around my neck and squeezes hard. I flail around until he pins my arms behind me. I raise my feet and start kicking. This gets him to release his grip on my neck only slightly, but it gives me time.

I stretch my legs out until my feet are pressed against the wheel, then I push back.

Aster Johnsson stumbles into the wall, dropping me.

The floor comes faster than I realize and my face hits the patterned carpet. I can't tell if the dark red is my blood or the color of the rug. I manage to get on my knees, the room spinning under me. It won't take long for me to throw up.

Then I find Aster Johnsson at the wheel, turning until the ship is pointing toward a giant iceberg.

"You'll kill us all!" I shout.

Aster Johnsson rips the coat off and I see a white life jacket already strapped to his torso. He chuckles like I told an amusing joke. "That's what I had in mind, but now that you're here, you can be the traitor who kills all these poor people."

He drops his jacket on top of me and raises his hand, fist clenched.

"Wait!"

Then I'm out cold.