PRISONERS [Taekook]

열아홉

{all credits go to @nonconman for this amazing fan art! Please check him out!}
I'm back bitchez
(not for long I gotta study hxhsjsbd bYE)

"Shall we continue talking about our deal?"

Seokjin's heartbeat slows down as Taehyung gets out of the visitation room. He pries his eyes away from where the younger man disappeared and turns his attention back to the judge sitting across from him. To Taehyung's fucking father.

"Yes, judge Kim." He replies quietly. "I think our meetings should start taking place in private visitation rooms. Even with this... whatever disguise you've got going on, if anyone recognizes you, I'm fucked. Even more so if your son sees us."

"I'll arrange that for my next visit, you don't have anything to worry about." Kim reassures, then pushes his sunglasses down slightly to stare at Seokjin expectantly. "How has he been?"

Seokjin sighs. "Fine, so far, but he's been throwing himself head first into trouble, and no matter how much I try to get him away from it it's like he's fucking addicted to being in danger."

"Trust me, I know. Sometimes I get this sick feeling that my son gets high off the feeling of impending doom."

Seokjin can't help but think, if only he knew.

If only he knew just how much his son loves playing with fire, and it seems that the more he gets burned, the more he wants to keep going. It's like the closer he gets to death, the more alive he feels.

"Seokjin, I'm really sorry that my son's a bit of a pain in the ass, but I need you to keep protecting him, please. We've got a few leads that might help mitigate his sentence, but we need his record to be spotless, and most of all we need him to stay alive and well while we work on his case, so he absolutely cannot be discovered."

The young man sighs. He leans back against his chair and runs a hand through his brown hair, slicking it back from where it was sweaty and matted down on his forehead. Seokjin's fidgety, nervous, like anyone with such an important responsibility would be. Looking after the son of the judge who is the reason at least half the men in this prison ended up here in the first place is no easy task.

"Look, so far Taehyung is doing well hiding his identity, but he's drawing way too much attention to himself. They're calling him Gucci boy because he won't wear his prison uniform and showed up to the yard on his first goddamn day in a Gucci suit." Seokjin explains.

The judge snorts and chuckles bitterly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"However," Seokjin keeps going. "He won't trust me. As long as I remain an inmate he doesn't know and that is completely unrelated to him, he won't trust me. He's already starting to wonder why I'm helping him so much."

Judge Kim lifts up his head. He stares at Seokjin intently, a crease forming between his eyebrows and making his skin even more wrinkly than it already is.

"What are you getting at?"

"You need to let me tell him who I am. That we have an agreement."

"No," he refuses immediately. "Absolutely not, are you insane? What do you want to tell him?"

"The same things we said for my trial. That I'm an informant and an old friend of yours who has been helping you with your cases since you were still a lawyer."

"He won't believe a word of it, Taehyung knows my partners."

"And you think he'll believe it if I tell him I was a whore who only managed to be here because I used to give you intel on all the important clients who fucked me?" Seokjin snaps, whisper-shouting with his jaw clenched to avoid being overheard by the others. "That you promised me a comfortable life with privileges if I ever got arrested and that's why even though I was a fucking prostitute I ended up in a prison with people who bathe in gold?"