𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬 | Jikook

8. Call Your Name

"ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴜꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ."

- ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴘᴇɴʜᴀᴜᴇʀ

Jimin

He hadn't expected a friendly conversation. He hadn't expected to be treated like anything close to an acquaintance either. He had wanted to be pulled out of the hedge and into the clearing, so that he could finally have a grasp on what was happening. He wanted an explanation, and he wanted one now.

Of course, after everything was said and done, what could Jimin have expected from him? Had the pink hair tricked him into thinking, that this man, 'Seokjin-hyung', was amiable by nature? Had he expected everything to come so easy, just because after all this time, someone had finally reached out to him? Jimin had of course, taken that hand from his small, dark corner from which he had resided for the past two years of his life. But, then again-

He shouldn't have expected that hand to pull him out immediately.

Fists clenched atop his thighs, Jimin tried to ignore the building layers of sweat amidst the creases in his palms, as well as the increasing wash of anxiety. As he sat as complacently unproblematically as possible, he eyed the driver, who had only one hand on the wheel. Kim Seokjin. Just, who was he exactly? Jimin had always considered himself a good judge of character, because when life got in the way in the forms of people, he had taken it upon himself to passively swerve by them without unnecessary hurt. He figured, that that alone should have qualified himself enough to be able to read this man, who by now, he had had two conversations with. That wasn't enough time at all, but it had been enough for Jimin. By now, maybe he'd have gotten his deal already.

But, Jin had a look in his eyes, one that Jimin had never once seen in another...human, before. It wasn't something that he saw very often. Because, not everyone had been so close to a Bionic before, for as long as he had. And not everyone could drive so smoothly, so perfectly, and yet...so recklessly. Neither detachment, nor disinterest.

Apathy.

"...So." He eyed Jin again, watching his reaction carefully, to see how he'd respond to a break in silence. To his dismay, Jin didn't even bat an eyelid. "You said that we were going to a car repair garage? Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Rolling his eyes, Jimin sighed before turning to face the passenger window. "Do you always avoid questions with questions?"

"Avoid." Jin took a left, off of the main road and down a smaller street, the gap between his words longer than it should be, and because of this, seeming all the more foreboding. "I'm 'avoiding' questions, am I?"

"See, there it is again. Another question." Leaning into the window, Jimin watched how his breath painted the inside of the window with milky opaqueness, and as he did so, his reflection caught his eye in the wing mirror. And, before he could process his appearance, he sat back up and dropped his hands back onto his lap. "You're clearly avoiding my questions. I can guess why, but it's frustrating."

"It would be."

The buildings, as they drove further down this street, became all the more small. Rough. Dirty. Where once was smooth grey concrete, was now cracks and pioneering weeds. The buildings were long overdue for a pressure wash, considering how fast the lichen had colonized the faces of each filthy house, and every supermarket-stolen trolley in front gardens. Jimin had no right to question Jin as to why they were in this part of the city: a part of the city that reeked of heinous crime for sure, and possibly poverty. He had no right, because he had gone along with this man since the beginning.