Ace For Hire // BTS Reader Insert

16

Jimmy's Bar. Dead end.

Snake Lounge. Dead end.

Club Eclipse. Dead end.

Your old house. Dead end.

Super 180 Motel. Dead end.

The papers and the envelope. Both dead ends.

You finally got to your apartment after hours of running through the underground streets. You rubbed your nose against your sweater paw and frowned a bit at the shiny line of snot, which made you wipe the sleeve off on your pants.

Reaching the top of you apartment stairs, you dragged your feet to the front of your door. The sides and edges of the envelope were worn out from your hopeful grip and sweat. While you fumbled around your pocket to feel for your keys you noticed that wet droplets were falling onto the package.

A pipe leak? You thought to yourself as you looked up at the ceiling roof that stretched out and stopped above the railing. There was a crack in the filthy white plaster of the ceiling roofs material, and the same dead bugs caught in the webs surrounding the single light above your apartment door. But no water.

Shrugging it off you look back and tiredly pushed your keys into the door knob. Sniffling again you wiped your nose with your sleeve, but your fingers brushed against your cheeks feeling a sudden wetness. Hesitantly tracing your fingers up till you stopped right under your eye you realize it wasn't a leak getting the packet wet.

You were crying. And you didn't feel it or noticed it, until now.

Suddenly feeling weight drop onto your body you hugged the envelope tightly as you dropped down onto your knees. Your lip kept trembling even as you bit it. Lowering your head down to curl up a bit while holding the package, as if you were trying to protect it. Or protect yourself from the countless disappointments it actually held. You sniff again as you watch more tears fill your vision before falling onto the ground in front of you.

Small cries still escape your mouth, making you bit into your bottom lip harder. You didn't know why you were crying. Maybe your body is trying to tell you physically that it's throwing in the towel. Or maybe it's the fear that all the work, time, and effort you're spending to risk your life to find answers; will just keep disappointing you. It could also be the crushing pressuring thoughts from the back of your head that keeps telling you to give up. There's a million reasons to explain your unexpected cry fest, or break down.

Finally able to overpower your body's sudden weigh down, you unlocked your door and sluggishly pushed yourself inside. Leaning back against the door you used your own weight to close it shut after taking the key out. Wiping off the streaks of tears that stained your face, you shuffled your feet as you kicked your shoes off. Walking down the hall you tossed the envelope packet onto the kitchen counter. You were relieved when you noticed the night lights were on, illuminating your apartment as you went to your room.

You fell onto your bed with your right side sinking into the used mattress, as soon as your shins gently tapped against the side. Closing your eyes after fighting your heavy lids for the past hours, you curled up onto the bed. You pulled a pillow into you arms and wrapped your arms around it tightly. Pressing your face into the people, you kept replaying your wild goose chase in your head. Your hands curled up into fists thinking about all the dead ends after dead ends. But you weren't ready to give up, if it was the other way around you knew dad would look for the truth. Look for the real killer. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

Relaxing your tense laying position you exhaled loudly before you felt yourself drift off. Until your body shot straight up, making you sit on the edge of the bed from your alarm clock. Which sounded like world war 2, due to it's warped out parts. Squinting to read the clock in the dark you grumbled, 'fuck', before getting up and putting on your school uniform.