jangmi (장미) ● taejoon

f o r t y e i g h t .

Seokjin took the wheel and drove to the location. Both men in the van were silent, the soft breathing filled the inside - both didn't bother to touch the radio. Neither did they look at each other, the hickies all over their necks had already sunken into Seokjin's mind.

He didn't know what to think. What to say.

He only sighed quietly, one hand on the wheel and the other resting against the arm rest.

"... Why don't you tell me about how you and Namjoon met," Jimin spoke up for the first time in the car ride. "You must've met him before we started dating, right?"

Seokjin glanced over. "... Yeah," he says, "I already told you how we met."

"I wanna know the full story," the other shrugs, "... I know about the rehabilitation center, but why were you in there in the first place?"

Seokjin takes a deep breath. "... I needed help."

"... What kind of help?"

"It's hard to have two personas, Jimin," Seokjin takes a turn on the street, "It's hard trying to mask my entire life for my mother's sake. She's familiar with a good son not some drug dealer."

"Before I met Namjoon," he continues, feeling Jimin's eyes on him. "I got in fight during one of my drug deals, and broke my arm. The doctor gave me painkillers when I had my cast... After a while, I started to abuse it. When the doctor stopped prescribing them, I stole my mother's..."

Another turn. "When I started to realize what the fuck I was doing, I went to a rehabilitation center. Tried to put my life on pause, I couldn't let my mother know. I couldn't let her see me, not when she's ill and I was a mess.."

"I walked into the rehabilitation center for the first and last time, that's when I met Namjoon..."

Seokjin flinched at the sound of a body being slammed against the cold tile floor. He turned his focus away from the papers on the front desk to the sudden body limp on the floor.

"Get up," One of the security guards spat. "Kids these days trying to walk around like lowlife junkies, the government has to lock people like you up here like you'll change ways. It's absolute bullshit."

The teenage boy had his arms cuffed behind his back, so he struggled to get up by himself. His hair was a mess, and he looked absolutely disheveled. It was clear that he fought back, but didn't win.

The boy doesn't speak. He get back onto his feet, struggling to balance as he stood back up with his head down.

The guard pushed him toward the front desk, right next to Seokjin. Seokjin tuns his gaze back onto is application papers, clenching the pen in his hand.

The boy's ribs slam against the corner of the desk, and he lets out a gurgled choke. "Tell em your name," The man gripped him by his wrists. "Worthless piece of shit."

"... Kim Namjoon," the teen's voice was hush, "... I've been here already, my ID is 199409. Just... Just take me to my isolation room, please. I'm begging you..."

Seokjin side eyed the nonchalant boy. The young one looked like he wasn't worried about his situation at all, calm, cold, numb. The older ended up gripping his pen till his knuckles were white, but he didn't notice.

... Nobody deserves to be treated that way.

Seokjin took a deep breath.

"Namjoon, dear god, I told you to stop doing this!" The stranger suddenly cried toward the teenage boy, cupping his cheeks. "Christ, you can't keep doing this."

"E-Excuse me?" The receptionist said, "Sir I-"

"I'm so sorry, that he's acting up again," Seokjin says, "... I'm his guardian, I got the call that he's back here again, so I came as soon as I can."

"Please get him water, he's parched."

The receptionist shook her head. "... Sir, he's-"

"Please, just look at him!" Seokjin pleaded, glaring at the woman. "Let me talk to him."

"I need you to unhand the patients-"

"He's my brother!" Seokjin hissed, pushing back the security guard. "Have some goddamn respect, will you?!" As he places his hands on the man, his fingertips airly slip over a hook on his belt. Keys in hand. "Give us a couple minutes! By ourselves."

Seokjin glared the man down with intimidation, hearing the woman rush away in the background to get Namjoon some water.

"Is this true?" The man hissed, looking at the teenager.

"... Yes," Namjoon murmurs. Looking at Seokjin somberly, and almost with a sense of hope for the first time. "... Please, please. Hyung."

"... Five minutes, make it quick."

Once Seokjin heard the man's footsteps go distant, he grabbed Namjoon's wrists and the keys from the security guard's belt jingled every time he tried to insert the key to open the handcuffs. "I'm gonna get you out, okay?" he says.

"... Why?" Namjoon simply asks, "... You don't know me."

Seokjin tsked every time each key wouldn't fit. "I know you don't belong here," he says. "C'mon, c'mon."

He heard the handcuffs unlatch, and he threw the keys onto the floor. Namjoon rubs his wrists, "... Thank you," he says, softly.

Seokjin grabs his hand. "... Let's go, I'll drive us to the mall and you can figure out where to go."

When they ran, the rehabilitation center's alarm started to ring throughout the whole block.

[unedited]