among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm [COMPLETED]

1.4

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Seoul, South Korea

It was late evening the following day when they finally reached the korean interpol offices. Seokjin held the gate to the cell open, motioning with hid chin inside. "Get in."

Jimin did as he was told without any words of protest, the gate bars closing behind him.

"You know, I should be glad," Seokjin exhaled then while sliding in the keycard to the automatic lock, "I should be glad we caught you so easily and without any incidents. But for some reason I can't." His gaze fell on him, offering him a sympathetic look. "I don't know what happened to you, but this isn't the master thief I know."

The younger man remained silent just as he'd done all the time time till then. Silently observing the agent walking away, pausing at one of the guards to give them exact instructions before leaving Jimin back alone.

The bed was as uncomfortable as it looked, squeaking when he took a seat on it. His brows irises wandered around the grey walls, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He'd seen them more than once before, a memory of it swirled in his mind. Causing the throbbing in his head to return, along with a stabbing pain in his side. He groaned quietly, not wanting to gain the guard's attention who was seated at the very end of the corridor.

When would these headaches finally stop?

Hours passed. A day. Several days.

One after another passed by like this without Jimin taking any notice as day and night seemed the same, the hours blurring together. Time either not passing at all or passing too fast.

Every day Seokjin paid him a visit, checking on him, attempting to get any piece of information out of him, but everything was in vain. Each day Jimin would just sit there, not saying a word, not even flinching when hearing all the charges - theft and identity theft in multiple cases, as always.

And every day Seokjin would shake his head and sigh deeply in defeat before escorting him back to his cell. Sometimes he did consider Jimin faking it after all and this being perhaps a higher plan Perhaps his subordinates had been right after all and he shouldn't have trusted Taehyung's words.

After all, he knew Jimin containing great acting skills as well which tied to his numerous disguises. However, his gut feeling persisted that this wasn't an act. It seemed like his antagonist had indeed become a complete stranger.

After Seokjin brought him back, Jimin would just lay there on the bed, with his hands folded underneath his head, and stare at the white ceiling. Hours and days simply passing by like this. He barely ate, barely drank, barely slept. His eyes simply trained to the ceiling, only interrupted by his occasional headaches caused by single fragments randomly popping up with no context. Images flasing in front of his mind's eye. Accompanied by loud voices, talking across each other.

And every time it felt like his brain was melting at the attempt to gain any of his memory back, clenching his jaw and pressing the pillow against his head in deserate attempts to sooth the pain. Day by day the headaches got worse and the memory fragments longer and clearer.

It got especially bad on the sixth day when he suddenly saw a 14-year old Taehyung in the middle of his cell. Laughing down at him from a car's hood right after they'd stolen liquor from an illegal transporter.

"I guess it's the thrill, isn't it? I love the thrill of it!" he said, holding up a bottle.

"The thrill huh?" Jimin remembered answering him. "That's the reason I do this, too. The reason I enjoy stealing. It's the thrill and the rush!" Both boys grinned at each other. "I wanna become a thief, but on my own terms. Not my grandfathers!" Jimin announced then holding his own liquor bottle up like he was preparing for a ceremony. With determination in his eyes and mischief on his lips he arched a brow at his classmate. "You wanna join me?"