Immunity (BTS Fan Fiction) | ABANDONED

Chapter 8: Speak of the Devil

Summer classes started this week so the next two months are going to be super hectic. I'm gonna still post once a week, though, so don't worry.

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Though Jungkook's cold, unamused smile held years of practice, it was touched by weariness. He knew Taehyung saw it, for the elder was meeting his eyes whenever he could. Jungkook didn't offer a look of reassurance - it wasn't worth it. Taehyung knew him too well. They were both aware of just how in sync they were - they didn't question it, though sometimes they loathed it. Being a gang boss was difficult - being a gay gang boss with a murderous twink for a boyfriend was something else entirely. Still, Jungkook never regretted choosing Taehyung. He just regretted what he lost in the process...

Ah, but that was years ago. Things change. People change. Make new decisions, leave others behind. He wasn't sad about it anymore, though he knew that sometimes Taehyung still mourned.

Shaking himself from his walk down that blackened memory lane, Jungkook offered his guests a smile. A slightly more genuine one, at that. Because sure, these were strangers, but these were Immune strangers who could come in handy.

He wasn't sure about the one called Namjoon. He was quiet and meek, all shifty eyes and jumpy shoulders. He held himself like a bonafide nerd, his body made up of all limbs and no muscle. No wait, perhaps Jungkook was wrong. Because there - there - he had a slight dusting of definition along his legs, coated by his ripped skinny jeans, and he actually wasn't as gangly as Jungkook assumed. He was slouching, though, which made his torso seem stunted and his arms look too long. Maybe he was a runner in his free time. Hell, maybe he did ballet. He could be a fucking rapper for all Jungkook could figure out just by glancing at him.

Yoongi wasn't much better. He was different, sure. Stronger. His eyes held the dull light of someone who'd traversed hell just for shits and giggles. The black hair that hung over his forehead was tousled and messy, the only thing about him that was out of place. There was an ethereal sadness about him, with an unknown trauma brewing under the surface of his skin. Like he had faced Death himself and lived to tell the tale, but had lost something (or maybe someone) in the process.

What a shit show the Sickness had created.

"So," Jungkook said, his voice jovial. The silent table grew even more quiet as his three guests froze. It was almost funny how their eyes watched him with different levels of horror (from Hoseok) and disdain (from Yoongi), while his boyfriend just kept merrily eating. "Where are you two from?"

Namjoon managed to surprise Jungkook. He'd been silent up until that point, meekly prodding at his plate like he feared it'd jump up and bite him. But he perked up at the question, offering, "I'm - I mean, I was a med student."

A surprise. A genuine surprise. And a happy one, at that. Turned out the boy could actually have a use. Jungkook wasn't stupid - this was a war they were in, drafted by their Immunity, and there was strength in numbers.

"Just got back from Greece," Yoongi said, his drawling voice almost bored.

"The war?" Hoseok asked, immediately shooting Jungkook a wary look.

For fuck's sake.

"Jesus," the youngest snapped. "Stop looking at me like I'm gonna pump you full of lead every goddamn second. You're fine, J-Hope. We're cool."

Hoseok dropped his gaze, chewing his lip in nerves, and Jungkook rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Yoongi.

"A soldier, huh?"

Yoongi nodded, "A soldier. Drafted."

They both could be of use. Jungkook didn't have much of a plan yet, but he knew they had to get out of the city. Maybe find Jimin, maybe leave him to rot.