danger

7: tracker

♡

Minjun awoke in the morning by the honey-coloured sunshine that peeked in through the drape-covered windows. Fastened windows, much to his disappointment when he frantically tugged them the night before.

He murmured, stretching his limbs out below the satin sheets that he slept beneath. Seokjin's bed, as he had come to realise in the evening prior.

He was alarmed to hear the door handle rattle, shooting his eyes towards the intrusive sound and pressing himself even more buried into the mattress. A little sigh of contentment left him when he realised it was only Seokjin, carrying in his arms a few articles of clothing.

"Good morning," he addressed the young boy in his bed, "I am here to get you up and ready. Namjoon and the others have eaten and are out working currently, today you will just be with me. I've brought some clothes, however, Jimin left before I had his permission so these are mine, I expect you dressed in five minutes."

And then the tall criminal with the broad shoulders left the room without a second glance at the sleepy boy.

Minjun sulked as he felt the sharpness of the air bombard his uncovered body, gliding himself out of the bed and finding his way to the collection of clothes. With ease, he slipped out of the sweatpants and hoodie that he slept in and coiled them up neatly beside the new clothes.

His fingers caressed the outfit for today, effortlessly dragging the white sweats up his lean legs and wriggling his arms and torso into the long-sleeved t-shirt that he was provided.

Minjun tip-toed to the bedroom entrance, opening it easily with his left hand and the other stayed in a fist by his hip.

"All done?"

The boy let go of the handle, sending it springing back upright with a noisy clunk. He faltered away, cowering with his arms up covering his chest. An entertained Seokjin entered the room by lightly shoving the door.

"I- I, uh, I wasn't trying to esc-uh, escape."

"You wouldn't," Seokjin beamed and held the door open for his hostage, "I know you're not stupid Minjun. I'm sure you know about the security alarm and cameras, and that tracker."

Seokjin paced insignificantly ahead of the boy with his lip clenched between his teeth, hoping the teenager would buy his false information. It seemed to work, the gunman seeing the boys face drop from the corner of his eyes.

What before was a tired, gloomy face had morphed into a disturbing grimace.

"Tracker?" His voice was merely a hum.

"Oh, you didn't know? Silly me, you'll have to keep it a secret that you know," Seokjin whirled and grabbed the scared boy by the shoulders as they reached the kitchen, "anyway! Breakfast, yeah?"

"Relax, kid," Seokjin lamented towards the stiff teenager who sat on-edge, attention far from the television which showcased an uninteresting news report, "talk to me."

Minjun's lower lip quivered as he held back tears for what felt like the hundredth time since the day before. He gradually turned his head to look at the concerned face of Seokjin, the chef with deep, caring eyes.

A chilling sea of goosebumps raced over Minjun's body and a familiar burning titillated his nose, inevitable tears lining up at the base of his eyelashes, waiting to scatter. Seokjin's eyebrows narrowed as he watched the grief build up on the boy's face.

He scuffled over the couch until he rested beside Minjun, keeping his hands to himself as he watched the boy sniffle.

"What's wrong?"

"My- my parents," Minjun hiccuped, smearing a small fist against his cheek aggressively as a line of tears succeeded down it, "I, I miss them." Minjun covered his face, his skin scrunching up by his eyes as he allowed himself the despair of grieving.

He glimpsed through his fingers at the man in front of him, his dripping eyelashes clumped together. Seokjin swept his hands away from his face, brushing his left thumb warmheartedly over one of Minjun's reddened cheeks, stilling the sobbing teenager.

"Before I- I, uh, left for school my fa-father got angry with me," Minjun stopped momentarily to catch his breath, "and I left without saying goodbye." Seokjin quietly watched the boy mourn.

"Or- or saying I- I love them."

The elder scrutinised through dim eyes at Minjun. He'd curled himself up, tugging his face out of Seokjin's hand as another surge of melancholy consumed him. His fragile body shook with each tumultuous bewailing.

"A-and my cat," he cried into his sleeve, not again bringing his head up to view the man sitting beside him as he wailed in sorrow.

"You have a cat?" Seokjin reached into the bundle of clothes and tears and lifted Minjun's chin so that they could see each other. Minjun nodded, tensing his lips together that formed a deep-set frown.

"He- He was a housecat, so, so I- I think," Minjun stopped himself from finishing his sentence, gasping back another tidal wave of cries.

"What was his name?"

"Pororo..."

Seokjin rubbed his large hand over the boy's arm, comforting him with his nurturing touch.

"Like the cartoon?" He asked, voice toned down to unwind the younger, who agreed in response to his question. He smiled at the purity, "is that your favourite show?"

"Y-yes."

"Come on," Seokjin used his free hand to wipe away remnants of Minjun's tears, "we can watch it." The teenager, with his legs tucked up below his body and his arms nonchalantly hugging himself, leant into Seokjin's touch and allowed to elder to hold him sideways.

Seokjin, contented at the peace, drew his phone out and searched for the show. He directed it towards Minjun and rested his eyes, knowing that the boy could pacify himself against his torso.

Infrequent sniffles left the young boy's nose, but he remained soundless against Seokjin as he let himself become mesmerised by the cartoon blaring from the phone that the gang member held securely.