danger

5: unlucky

♡

"Thank you for dinner."

Seokjin beamed a playful grin as he set the final plate down in front of each of the gang members, taking a seat between Namjoon and Jimin. A pleasant chatter settled throughout the dining table, convivial and disregarding of the double murder earlier in the day.

Jungkook occasionally forked some food from Yoongi's plate, thieving numerous pieces of meat whenever the elder wasn't paying attention. 

To say Minjun's head hurt would be an understatement. He felt every torturous pulse that wracked through his skull and his face was in a metaphorical vice as a relentless, agonising ache squeezed his head from every angle. The back of his throat was replaced with arid sandpaper, each time he swallowed becoming increasingly painful.

Memories of what the man had told him seemed to swarm into his stressed mind, tormenting the excruciating pain. He gnawed on his lips, sniffling and yet utterly incapable of releasing a cry. No noises could pass the spiderweb of discomfort in his jaws.

Delicately, Minjun let his fingers roam the velvety bedsheet he was curled up on. The comforting feeling pleased him, ignoring the agony as he turned to rub his face over the material. A soapy smell radiated from the sheets, easing the clenching behind his eyes with each serene inhale he took.

An irritating churning grew inside Minjun's abdomen. A surge of saliva filled his mouth as if he were in the presence of a gratifying meal, but he felt more unhungry than ever. He raised his head away from the sumptuous bed, eyes narrowed and lips quivering.

A few coughs involuntarily left his mouth, bubbling from his stomach. A glossy lining of sweat trickled down the teenager's face as he lurched over the side of the bed. Swiftly alert, Minjun swung his arms out in front of his body, catching his fall before his face slapped the ground.

A stream of vomit shot from his mouth, pooling on the wooden floorboards all around him. The boiling liquid made his throat scream for relief, causing the boy to gasp and splutter as his hands uselessly held onto his neck.

The bedroom door swayed open, Minjun unable to see the entering men from his position in the stinking puddle of throw-up. 

"Woah, what happened?"

"Go, leave a towel and some clothes in the bathroom."

"Can you please get some water?"

Minjun was lifted slightly into somebody's arms, being held securely and rocked. He pried his eyes open, pushing aside the stinging on his eyeballs as he looked up to see the man holding him.

His head was turned away, looking towards the entrance of the room as if someone were there, but Minjun could see that it was Kim Namjoon.

The leader didn't fuss about the gooey bodily fluid that stained his sleeve from Minjun's hair, nervously swaying the teenager as he waited for Jimin to return with the water he'd ordered. His throat clenched at the smell that molested his nose, but for the sake of Minjun's wellbeing, he wordlessly looked away and held the trembling boy.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon briefly glanced down to Minjun, watching his eyelids flutter as he struggled to watch the elder's face.

Minjun's bottom lip vibrated, miniscule and troubled whines leaving his lips. He weakly pointed to his throat, the combination of raw screaming and stomach acid leaving an unbearable pain in his body.

"It's okay," Namjoon looked away again, "you can drink some water soon and then get washed up."

Jimin re-entered the room with Taehyung trailing behind him like an obedient puppy, "here!" He handed over a green beaker filled with cool water, prolonging his hold on it as Minjun weakly grasped his fingers on the sides.

"I didn't know who's clothes to give him, he's so puny so I just used Jimin's." Taehyung spoke, bowing gently to his leader before exiting the room much like he arrived, following an overly happy Jimin.

After letting Minjun take his time with finishing the refreshing drink, Namjoon helped the boy to his feet. He wobbled slightly, holding the gang member's arms to stabilise his first few steps before getting control over his legs.

"Do you need help getting washed up?"

Minjun, taken back, ripped his hands weakly away from Namjoon's sleeve, shaking his head with a firm frown.

"Go on then," Namjoon smiled warmly as he beckoned the teenager into his en suite, shutting the door and leaving his bedroom to give him the privacy he clearly wanted.

Minjun dropped his buched up fists, eyes alert and darting in each direction. His determination to escape the confusing group of men outweighed the discomfort throughout his whole body.

A medium-sized, patterned window decorated the wall above the toilet. It displayed a dark evening, not much to be seen in any direction by the tired eyes of the boy on his tip-toes.

He kneeled on the toilet lid, disliking the soreness that came when he stretched out and tried the window handle. It didn't budge, no matter what way his little hands tugged it.

Panicking, he pressed his hands against the glass and pushed as hard as he could. Minjun made a fist with one of them and hit the middle of the window, disappointment raging through him.

When it was clear that the window wasn't going to open, Minjun felt himself sink into an unwell, depressed mess. He blinked some unnecessary tears back, holding himself with his hands while he stepped away from the impossible opportunity and undressed himself.

His sick-ridden clothes were kicked off onto the floor, still laced with the pungent smell of vomit. Minjun dragged himself to the expensive-looking shower, soaking the gauze on his wrists as he carefully drenched his body and washed himself.