The Mafia's Dove (Hyunjin centric)

Shirt

(⚠️Warning: Mentions of past abuse, mentions of overdosing⚠️)

Five Years Ago

-Jeongin's POV-

I dragged my bruised body towards the door of my room, fingers clawing into the ground as I reached forward desperately. The plate of food they haphazardly discarded near the door would be my first meal in the last three days, and my stomach ached painfully as I dragged myself closer and closer.

I had lost control again.

Another patient had yanked on my hair while in line for lunch, and I once again lost control of my anger. I had beat the kid severely before I finally returned to my senses, and when the guards dragged me away, they then did the same to me.

I had let the voices win again, and three days without food or water was my punishment.

The days had dragged on slowly, but as I couldn't move to the cafeteria even if I tried, I found the temptation of food to be a tempting yet futile want. By the third day I could move a little easier, and as soon as they dumped the food tray into my room, I began my journey towards it.

My fingers grazed against the edge of the dish, and I strained my arm forward, too tired to continue dragging myself closer. Thankfully I was able to grab the edge before pulling it towards myself, and my mouth watered at the sight of bread, green beans, and pork. Some of my energy returned as I began to desperately swallow down the stale bread, not at all caring about how it clung stubbornly to the back of my throat.

"Careful, kid." My eyes snapped up to the small window in my bedroom door, and I locked eyes with an almost unnaturally beautiful man. Black hair cascaded down to the bottom of his ears, a small beauty mark visible under one of his cat-like eyes. "You might choke."

He didn't look that much older than me, yet he was calling me a kid?

"Hey! Dr. Hwang!" He turned his head to see whoever was calling for him, and he offered me a practiced smile before rushing towards the voice.

Present Time

"He was there. He was at the psych ward." I kept my eyes locked with Hyunjin's, tension filling my shoulders as I waited for his response.

To my surprise, instead of growing panicked or disappointed that the jig was up, he seemed to have a realization as he met my gaze. "The psych ward . . . you were there?"

He didn't know? Was he pretending to not know me so he could play innocent? But it seemed genuine. Was he just good at lying? But he was so easy to read. Was it all intentional?

Minho drew his gun before pointing it towards Hyunjin, no remorse or hesitation in his eyes as he cocked the gun. "Explain before I shoot. What the fuck do you mean you were at the ward? The reason you've decided to stay here, does it have anything to do with Jeongin?" His voice was filled with venom, and despite the warning look he received from Chan, he didn't falter or even acknowledge the presence of the others.

Hyunjin raised his hands in surrender but kept his gaze locked with mine, and I desperately searched his eyes for any hint towards what he was thinking. He remained calm despite the gun pointed at him, and when he spoke again, his voice was cold.

"That would depend. Was he a doctor or a patient?" He then tilted his head in thought, and I found my stomach knotting tighter the more I looked at him. "No, the ward was taken down five years ago. You wouldn't have been old enough to pass as a doctor. And I'm fairly certain every doctor involved has been killed by now."

So he really didn't remember me? We had only locked eyes for a moment back then, but his face was burned into my skull. Was I really not memorable at all? Sure, it took me a couple weeks to really be certain it was him, but . . . He really didn't recognize me?