danger

6: Beneath the Ashes

♡

Seokjin ran his slender fingers through the delicate locks of Jungkook's hair, the younger boy sprawled across his chest, his gaze fixated on the movie flickering on the TV. The colorful lights from the screen danced over his face, distracting him from the quiet footsteps approaching the living room.

"Who said you could just walk around free—"

"Yoongi," Namjoon interjected, his voice firm, shooting a sharp look at the sulking gang member before turning his attention to the teenager standing at the doorway. "How was your shower, Minjun?"

The boy, dressed in Jimin's black sweatpants and a cream hoodie, stepped into the room. His damp hair was free of the stains it had carried earlier, but his anxious fingers still fidgeted with the fabric of his hoodie, tugging it nervously around his waist as his eyes scanned the room with cautious indifference.

"I... I just— I got the bandages wet," Minjun stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He raised his arms slightly, revealing his wrists, where the makeshift bandages clung to the raw, tender skin. Seokjin winced, his lips pulling tight into a grimace at the sight of the wounds.

Hoseok, pulling his hands from Taehyung's waist, stood and approached the boy. "Follow me, I'll get you cleaned up."

Minjun recoiled slightly as Hoseok reached out to assess his injuries, and the boy flinched away, his eyes wide and wary.

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid," Hoseok reassured gently, but his patience was wearing thin. "Let me help."

Minjun remained motionless for a moment, then, with a reluctant sigh, finally allowed Hoseok to take his arm. The moment their skin made contact, the teenager tensed, his frown deepening.

Yoongi, who had been lounging in the corner with his arms crossed, snorted derisively. "You kidnapped him," he reminded Hoseok, an edge to his voice. "You're the last person he wants to be near."

The words hung in the air, but Hoseok refused to be baited. "I did what I had to do to protect myself," he muttered, his tone cold. "What happened to his parents, that's between him and Yoongi."

Minjun, standing in the doorway, glanced up at Yoongi, his eyes full of a silent, unspoken question. His lips parted, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of hurt, confusion, and fury all wrapped into one.

After a moment of quiet tension, Hoseok gently gripped Minjun's wrist again, leading him from the room. As they passed Yoongi, Hoseok added in a low, firm tone, "You may not understand it now, but there's a reason for everything. And trust me when I say, if you try to retaliate against Yoongi, we'll all make sure you never get the chance."

Minjun didn't reply. He simply nodded and lowered his head, defeated. His heart pounded against his chest as Hoseok guided him through the hall.

The medical office was simple, nothing like Namjoon's sophisticated, high-end office. It was a clean, clinical space, white walls with a lone bed at the center, and sterile first-aid kits stacked neatly in a corner. The harsh scent of disinfectant made Minjun's stomach turn.

Hoseok directed him to sit on the bed, and Minjun complied, his eyes flitting nervously around the sterile room. His lips trembled, and he didn't look at Hoseok when he spoke.

"How... how did they die?" Minjun's voice cracked, his eyes brimming with sorrow.

Hoseok paused, looking at him carefully. He saw the raw pain on the boy's face, and despite himself, his heart softened. He let out a long, slow breath, choosing to spare the boy the truth.

"Gunshot," he replied quietly, avoiding Minjun's gaze. "It was instant."

In his mind, Hoseok could still see the horrific scene, the screams and the flames that had consumed Minjun's parents. The grotesque imagery lingered in his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the teenager before him. Minjun didn't need to know the gruesome details. Not yet.

Minjun, blinking rapidly, struggled to comprehend the calm response. His hand gripped the edge of the bed, trying to steady himself, but his breathing was shallow. "I-I won't go... I won't try to run..." His voice was barely above a whisper as he curled in on himself, holding his wrists protectively close to his chest.

Hoseok, exhaling with a trace of frustration, unwrapped the damp gauze from Minjun's wrists. "Good," he said firmly. "But don't think for a second that you're free. You're trapped here, kid, whether you like it or not."

Minjun swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn't respond, but he didn't have to. The words had already settled in, confirming the grim reality he now found himself in.

"Now, get up," Hoseok ordered, his tone softening only slightly. "Seokjin's in the other room. He'll get you something to eat."

Minjun, eyes downcast, slipped off the bed, his movements slow and hesitant. His feet felt cold on the tiled floor as he made his way back to the living room. The muffled voices from within grew louder as he approached.

As he passed an open door, his eyes flicked toward it, drawn to the large window on the far wall. The window seemed so out of place, a strange sense of freedom behind its panes that Minjun couldn't shake. He paused, staring at it, the desire to escape whispering in his mind.

"I'll remember that," he thought, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.

Before he could linger any longer, he turned to find himself face-to-shoulder with Jimin, who had been waiting for his return. The shorter man flashed a warm, friendly smile and gently nudged him aside to close the door.

Looking down at Minjun, Jimin's voice was soft, almost gentle. "Hungry?" he asked, his eyes kind, offering a sliver of comfort amid the overwhelming tension.