Jungkook had been treated by the surgeon and nurses the Bangtans kept on retainer for under-the-table medical aid a week ago. They told him he was lucky; a quarter-inch either way, Yoongi would've punctured his lung or severed a tendon, leaving his arm crippled. Jungkook scoffed, bruised ribs aching at the motion.
He growled at the fools that he didn't feel very lucky and they scurried off, tails between their legs, after changing his bandages. The assassin sighed and lifted his eyes to the low, damp ceiling. He'd been stuck in here for almost two weeks with Hyunjin, and only one person had come to see him in all that time.
Lucky had come down the very night he'd been treated and thrown in here, apparently, but he had been unconscious. So he made sure he cut back on the opiates and was awake when she came two days later. She looked worried. Anxious. Like she wasn't eating or sleeping enough. He tried to keep the smile off of his face. She's so sweet to worry so much.
He wished he could explain everything to her, so she could rest a bit easier. But this was necessary. Had to be done. Not just because Suga had ordered it, but because Jungkook saw the stark, shrewd and calculating logic of it. Ruthless. A word that described Yoongi's way of thinking well. Jungkook tongued the inside of his cheek and turned towards his new friend.
"Hey, asshole," the assassin said. "Throw me the water."
"Dick." Hyunjin grumbled, his blonde hair now lank and greasy, but he obeyed. Despite the fact that JK was a captive too, he was still scared of him. "Here." He tossed Jungkook the water and pushed his hair off his face as he watched the larger man gulp it down.
"Hey," he said. "D'you know if we're ever gunna get out of here? Suga already got everything he needed from me, right? You got your slut back, you even got a taste of her before Suga kicked your ass and threw you in here with me." Hyunjin laughed, so he didn't see the quiet threat of violence cross Jungkook's face at his words.
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"Yoongi will get us when he's ready. Not before," he answered, sighing. He strode around the perimeter of his workspace, eyes flicking to the iron door leading up the stairs. To his home. It was locked, of course. Jimin was personally guarding it.
Occasionally, in the deepest parts of the night, when everyone else was sleeping, they whispered through the tray flap to one another. Jungkook licked his lips as he passed the door, stretching his arms slowly over his head. His ribs were still sore as shit, but his pectoral muscle was healing nicely where Suga had knifed him.
"Augh," Hyunjin groaned and flopped back onto his limp little cot. "I need to get out of here, bro." His voice shook. It had been nearly a month that he'd been down here. The strain was starting to show. He chewed on his lower lip before meeting Jungkook's eyes.
"Hey, Jungkook. You know how to get out, right? Your Boss left you for dead, dude. Let's just get the fuck out of here. This used to be your place, right? You've gotta know it's secrets," Hyunjin's eyes were hungry for the knowledge the assassin held in his head.
"Pointless," JK said, flopping lazily down onto his own rickety little bed. "They'd kill us before we got two feet up the stairs."
"Not if we time it right. When they bring the food before bed, there's only one, yeah? They come real late, almost midnight. Most of your gang is sleeping then, right?"
"Mm," Jungkook hummed, closing his eyes and threaded his fingers together over his toned abdomen. He'd start working out again tomorrow. He needed to stay in shape. "I guess, yeah. But what's your point, Hyunjin? I don't have anywhere to go. I've been a Bangtan Boy my entire life. A trained killer. Murderer. Assassin. I don't know anything else. Can't do anything else."
Jungkook shrugged and rolled over, uninterested in further conversation.
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Hyunjin got the message that he didn't want to talk anymore, but the blonde didn't care.
He was too busy thinking.
Making plans.
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ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ:: Hmmmm. What do we think Jungkook and Hyunjin are gunna do? Think Hyunjin will have enough balls? ♥
