danger

4: truth

♡

"I'm taking this off," Namjoon declared with authority, "the door is locked so don't try anything."

Minjun sat coiled up against the wall, submissively permitting the elder man's hands to delicately untie the knots behind him. Crisp air brushed against the recent wounds on his wrists, causing short whines to fall from his lips.

The boy squirmed his fingers as they regained feeling, faint tingling throbbing through each one. He was helped up into a standing position, swaying from the numbness in his legs.

"My name is Kim Namjoon," the man spoke, sitting Minjun down into a cosy armchair, "I'm the leader around here."

Minjun stroked the pads of his fingers against the arms of the warm chair and bumped his feet together, "please... the ba-bag."

"One moment." Keeping still, Minjun heard a brief humming noise before a tugging on his neck alerted him. The tightness of the fabric diminished, soon clenching his eyes shut as the bag was lifted over his tear and snot covered face.

"It's okay," Namjoon said, "I closed the curtains."

The teenager pried open his dark eyes, frightfully taking in the luxurious, unlit office he was sat in. The room was diminutive but filled with expensive items.

Minjun wavered but eventually lifted his head to look at the man in front of him. The situation was a severe contrast to the kind, almond eyes that stared down at him. He observed Namjoon's smooth skin, watching the way his plump, red lips curled upwards into a pleasant smile.

"We aren't going to hurt you," he said, knowing he had the attention of the boy, "can I ask how old you are?"

"Se-seventeen... why a-are you keeping me here?" Minjun fussed, bringing one of his unsteady arms up to wipe at his messy face. Namjoon reached down to pull his arm away, grimacing at the fluids he transferred onto his clothes before handing the teenager a tissue.

"For both of our safety, right now."

"No... I'd b-be safe! With my parents," Minjun spat out a few dry sobs, opposed to feeling the ache of crying for the umpteenth time that day, "they'll come looking for me."

Kim Namjoon sighed, running a hand across the nape of his neck before rounding a computer desk and sitting at his chair. His abducted guest simply sat trembling, eyes trained to the leader with no guesses at what was to happen next.

"They're dead."

His raw screams filled the house, a mix of hatred and melancholy.

"Think Joon told him?"

Jin deflected his eyes to Hoseok's slumped figure, nodding with a tender sneer on his lips from the unpleasant sounds of the boy's cries. He ran a therapeutic hand over the man's thigh.

After a disturbing 10 minutes, the weeps abruptly ceased into silence. A couple of confused looks were shared between the four gang members that remained in the living room before Hoseok's phone pinged from his pocket.

"Namjoon said that the kid passed out," he yawned and got up, stretching out his limbs, "I have to go treat his burns."

Getting a supportive grin from Seokjin and Taehyung, Hoseok lightheartedly stomped his way down to the office of their leader, holding one of his medical kits.

He let himself into the unbarred door, inspecting the room as Namjoon beckoned him over worldlessly. Minjun had been set by the leader in the armchair that he'd slipped out of in his state, looking serene if it hadn't been for the puffy, red face stained with snot and tears.

"Here," Hoseok crouched down and handed Namjoon a tissue, "wipe his face."

He gingerly brought the teenager's arms out so that they laid on his legs, giving the medic-figure easy access to both hurting wrists. The worse of the two, likely the boy's dominant hand, would need attention for at least a week - daily cleaning and dressing. The other wrist only sported a discoloured ring in the area where the rope clutched him.

Hoseok used a cloth and sterile water to clean the boy's wrist, his touch light and unwilling to wake the boy up. The small amount of blood that spotted the wound was wiped away, leaving just the damaged skin.

After fiddling with some bottles and tubs, Hoseok dug out a pot of antibiotic salve and used his index finger to paint it over the burns. Minjun's hand mechanically jerked at the pain, but the drained boy stayed in his slumber.

Hoseok smothered the less injured wrist in a soothing burn gel.

"All done?" Namjoon stalked up behind Hoseok, watching him wrap both wrists up with gauze. The older boy nodded, packing away his small bag of medical equipment and taking it out of the office.

Namjoon saw the man out, then returned his gaze to the young boy he held confined. His chest heaved up and down with each calming breath, and his arms naturally moved to wrap around himself. He reached down and pulled Minjun up, keeping him asleep as he carried the small figure towards his personal bedroom.

The boy was placed on the bed, spontaneously curling himself upon the bedsheet where Namjoon left him. He shut the door, not bothering to lock it based on the amount of security he and the other 6 men provided.