PRISONERS [Taekook]

스물 일곱

30

The prison is grieving.

The walls feel smaller. The ceiling feels lower. A chilling atmosphere reigns over the prison and everything is quiet. During the day, there are whispered chatters in the cafeteria, cell doors creaking open and closed, the prisoners' footsteps are barely audible, as if they moved furtively to avoid being seen or heard. Fear holds the inmates and guards by the spine and keeps them far, far away from block J, cell one.

Everyone knows that the elaborate scheme that killed Lee Donghyuk couldn't have been orchestrated by anyone other than Jeon Jungkook.

Everyone knows, except for the ones who can do something about it.

Because Jeon Jungkook never gets his hands dirty. Every finger that dares point at him is amputated by the blades of his guard dogs, the disposable pawns at his service, even if it leads to their sacrifice.

His memories travel back to the time he managed to force a family to drop the charges they pressed against a big industrial company that had built a factory near their house. Their air was intoxicated every single day by the smoke and they couldn't sleep at night because of the noise. When he gave them an ultimatum that pressured them into dropping the charges, he recalls the mother asking him a question.

How do you sleep at night?

He doesn't.

It's three in the morning. Jungkook came out of the interrogation room three hours ago after being interrogated for the entire afternoon. They concluded that they didn't have enough evidence to keep suspecting him, and his brother did a wonderful job making the investigators believe he was only spying on his boyfriend at the scene.

He got away with it.

Again.

It's three in the morning. Jungkook is standing at the window of his cell, softly banging his head on the metal bars. He feels like his teeth are going to crumble from how hard he's unconsciously clenching his jaw. Taehyung is sleeping in the bottom bunk, soft snores oozing out, and it's probably the only moment in the day when he isn't hatefully glaring at him.

Jungkook feels like he has no purpose. Like a queen on a chessboard without a king.

He looks down at Taehyung's sleeping body. If only he could sneak into the bed and snuggle close to him. If only he could kiss him and allow the taste of cigarettes and candy to invade his mouth. If only he hadn't fucked up, perhaps there would've been a way to redeem himself, to become something, anything other than what he is today.

A part of him sort of wishes he hadn't gotten away with it. Maybe his heart wouldn't feel like it's one more tiny emotion away from bursting out.

Jungkook sighs heavily. He drags the desk chair under the window as silently as possible, then pulls the bag of candy closer on the desk and steals a cigarette out of the pack Taehyung left near him.

As he listens to the night bugs singing in the distance, Jungkook closes his eyes. He pops a candy into his mouth and lights up a cigarette.

 
  Taehyung shivers from head to toe.
Half-asleep, he revels in the soft, feather-like kisses planted by tender lips on his neck, the gentle caresses of manly hands slipping under his shirt to brush against his tan skin, the fingertips grazing down his spine and making his back arch. He feels hot sunlight shining pleasantly on his body, engulfing him in a warmth that contrasts perfectly with the cold fingers making him tremble in all the right ways.