—i don't know how to
fix this.OCTOBER 18:
KIM SEOKJIN==
"ah, here we are."
the jingle of jae's keys in her frail fingers snaps seokjin to his dazed senses (it's six a.m. and the morning coffee clearly hasn't kicked in yet), and he watches the old woman step out of the car with a soft huff. her energy level is something admirable, he's noticed. it's no wonder she was able to take care of taehyung so well all these long, brutal years.
"sorry for hauling you boys here so early," jae says, struggling to keep a cheery tone. "but it's a thursday and, well, society members have pretty demanding jobs. it was either this or nine in the evening, and i'm sure you'd never be able to wait that long, what with all that's happened, yes?"
seokjin finally shakes the remaining drowsiness from his system and nods, smiling wearily. "you don't know how much we appreciate what you're doing for us, auntie."
"jae," she corrects. "we know each other, i'd think, well enough to discard formalities. and it's not just the right thing, kiddo. it's the necessary thing."
when seokjin glances at the others from the corner of his eye, he sees miles of events: from the exploded subway, to the fourteen dead in sunab—including the car crash—, to seeing abraxas and taehyung separately, and to the fact that wonchol still hasn't been caught, much less tracked, by the police yet.
there's also determination. seokjin feels it, too.
==
when they step into the large, victorian-styled house, seokjin realizes just what jae meant by "people with money".
the mansion, rather, is unlike anything he's ever seen before: high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers, marble columns and glossy wooden floors, silken rugs and leather sofas. the place reeks authority and success, and seokjin feels just the slightest intimidated. it's placement itself is a bit reserved, maybe thirty or so miles down from the interior of useol, that allows it to gloat its extravagance in isolation. if it weren't for the fact that someone here is a first witness, seokjin would crinkle his nose in distaste.
it's only when seokjin sees hoseok and namjoon shaking hands with a few people that he tunes into the conversation.
"ree gunho," says a short, stout-looking man with wide, perpetually-concerned eyes and a thick mustache. "feel free to drop honorifics, please. you'll be talking side by side with us, anyway." he gestures to a thin, steel-faced woman with choppy bangs, "that is kim haewon—one of the society's most important members, if i might add. she—"
"i'm just a communications asset," interrupts haewon, voice monotone. "that's all."
"and i'm," says the last one, a tall, awkwardly-built man with thickly rimmed glasses and a warm smile, "gwon iseul. i'm afraid we couldn't gather any other members, unfortunately. it's just us and jae, as we know of, in useol."
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afflicted / bts
Fanfictionbut he died, didn't he? © boxache 28/12/16─28/06/18 bangtan sonyeondan.