WHXRE ;; TAEGGUK

zero

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P R O L O G U E

It was down in the impoverished, derelict ghetto, squatting as a rotten blight against the outskirts of the glimmering city of Seoul, that a brothel lay.

Concealed from view, it raged as the heart of late night visits for men who desired time away from their burdensome lives, women who had yet to explore their sexuality, teenagers who would drink with their friends down in the basements, drowning in the depth of corruption, of exploitation, of an infestation of opiates and liberty. Liberties that couldn't (wouldn't) be uttered by the tongue, deemed unacceptable in society yet acknowledged by the young and old alike. No one ventured too far up to the North Side, no one dared to step foot into an area so dangerous; so feared.

It was Jeon Jeongguk's home.

All he had ever known.

He cherished the roof over his head with his entire life. Privileges that he'd been granted after the death of his dear parents.
He was left to fend for himself on the streets, not a dime to spare.

Min Yoongi had taken him in with open arms, had nursed and nurtured and raised him till he was old enough to know his morals and to make the right decisions. He'd never asked him anything wrong. Never asked him for a single penny in return.

Yet Jeongguk felt obliged to return his debt, to contribute what he could, at least. He needed to, it was by choice and he had promised himself that he'd pay it back if it was the last thing he did.

He wasn't proud of his position, he showed this with the lack of self respect he possessed. But by all means he was doing what was necessary for his own him. He was an adult and in full control of his actions, nothing anyone could say would convince him otherwise. He hated it, he hated himself.

But he wouldn't stop.

The boy idly sat on rooftop of the tall building, gaze cast out at the city that was stirring from its gentle slumber. Lights flickered on, so visible from this distance. A half-burt cigarette rested loosely between his nimble fingers, withering away into clouds of bleak ash in the bleeding sky.
His mouth was turned down into a soft frown, nothing in his eyes held remorse, or hope. In fact, the only thing that kept him going was this guilt. The guilt that would never leave him no matter how hard he tried to accept his fate.

He owed a dept irredeemable by money, it was something far more than that. Something that he'd never understand.

And his fate... he didn't wish to think that far. It would do him no good at all.

Tendrils left his mouth as soft whisps of smoke, disappearing into oblivion before him as his hand slowly crept up to his neck to trace over the purple stains that adorned his once milky skin. They were as fresh as ever, deeper, vivid and more pigmented, than yesterday's.

He ever-so-gently grazed them with his fingers as his mind replayed the events of his weekend shift.

With absence, a stoic look on his face, he wondered why they were always so boisterous, so bossy, so... dirty. Why couldn't the men that he held as clients be gentle and loving and caring and kind? They didn't know those words. Jeongguk knew that for sure.

Far too much to ask for a world so corrupted, run by merciless beasts with power that they didn't deserve.

There was a particular area on his neck that he knew felt a little different to the rest- a moment that the calloused fingers wrapped around his thin neck had dug a little too hard into his skin- a little too far. A little too deep to be alright. He remembered those seconds like a locked memory, it haunted his sleep, his waking hours. Every second he breathed; his mind was cast back to those few seconds... that he couldn't.