Don't Ask Don't Tell

Chapter 7: Leave me alone

As soon as Suga was taken back to V's house by Minghao and Co., he collapsed face-first onto the plush leather sofa in the den.
"Tired?" V asked from his position in the armchair across from him. His voice hurt Suga's ears.
"You're loud."
"And you look ready to die. That's okay, take a nap. I'll wake you up when we have to get ready."

Suga is half-asleep when he feels someone's hand carding through his hair. The touch is soft and gentle. He isn't sure exactly where he is, but with the soft down comforter wrapped around him and the feeling of dainty fingers in his hair, he can assume that he's in bed, maybe home sick. That's the only time when he gets any kind of affection from his mother anymore because she works so much. She's never home. Neither is his father.
"A 101-degree fever." His mother says. Yoongi isn't sure exactly how hot that is, but he knows he feels terrible. It's dark outside, early in the morning, too early for him to be awake.
"That's not good." His mother says. Yoongi nods.
"There's no way you can go to school. I'll call you off sick."
Yoongi doesn't like the idea of missing school, but he guesses that there's no arguing with his mother. He's only seven, after all. Nobody seems to listen to seven-year-olds.
His mother runs her thin, bony, dainty fingers through his hair and pulls the comforter up around his shoulders.
"Get some sleep, okay?" she says.
Later that night, Yoongi is woken up by his parents arguing.
"Oh, for fucks sakes. He should have gone to school."
"He's running a fever, what did you want me to do?"
"What you should have done."
"You're being unreasonable, Eunhyuk. He's seven."
"This is fucking ridiculous. I'm sick and I still have to work my ass off, he should have to go to school."
"He has the flu. It's entirely different from what you have, don't try to twist this."
"I'm not twisting-"
"Yes, you are. He's a seven-year-old with the flu. You need to stop being so hard on him, Eunhyuk."
"I told you that you ran him ragged. If you had just calmed the fuck down a little."
Suga opened his eyes. He wasn't seven, he wasn't home in bed, and to his knowledge, he didn't have a fever. Instead, he was on an impossibly plush leather sofa, a no-doubt expensive down comforter wrapped around his small frame, with V sitting beside him, running his hand through his hair. It was nice. Too nice.
"Sir, we-"
"Shut the fuck up, Jackson," V said, sharply. Suga had wanted someone to say that all day.
Suga sat up. V looked mildly surprised.
"Oh. You're awake. Have a good sleep?"
"Yeah."
"Wonderful."
Suga rubbed his eyes. "Didn't you threaten me with a gala earlier?"
"Oh!" V exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "That's right!"
V pulled Suga off the couch by the arm, chattering all the way up the stairs.

"That's a whole ass limo."
"You know, you think you would be used to that by now."
"You would think," Suga said. Suga had been forced into a perfectly-fitting, astronomically pricy tux, and V was standing in front of him in a black suit with a red tie, both impeccably clean and pressed. They looked like a million dollars. Suga wasn't sure he was all that comfortable with that notion.
Suga was trying to focus on not coming off as a weirdo. If you acted weird in front of members of the mafia, you ended up six feet in the dirt. And that's if they were being nice. He might end up in pieces in the Geumho river. That was the last thing Suga wanted.
"Nervous?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yes. Don't worry about it, okay? Everything will be fine. Anyone hassles you, just tell them you're with me."
Suga took in a deep breath. He could totally do this. It was just a stupid fancy rich-people party, after all. He could handle that.

An hour and a half later, Suga wasn't so sure about his prior assessment of the situation. V was nowhere to be seen— and Suga had lost him an hour ago— Suga was backed into a corner, and he was violently uncomfortable. This place was insane. If he had marvelled at V's house, this was nothing compared to it. Everything had a polished gleam, there were massive crystal chandeliers everywhere, and mostly everything was gold or marble. Suga didn't want to touch anything and sully it with his dirt-spoon, low-class, poor, filthy hands. He stayed in the corner of the room, speaking to nobody and pretending he didn't exist.
Until he made direct eye contact with Bogum.
Of course. He should have known. Obviously, Bogum would be here, the entire goddamned Yakuza was here. It only made sense to everybody on earth. Apparently, Suga was as dense as his valets thought he was.
Suga felt the panic settle in his chest. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Bogum had seen him. He couldn't find V. He was alone in a room full of people.
No, this was fine. It was perfectly fine as long as he stayed right here and Bogum stayed over there. That would be absolutely, perfectly fine.
Of course, as Suga could obviously not have anything good or nice in his entire existence, even for a minute, Bogum started towards him.
Suga was frozen. Where could he go? He didn't know this house well enough to dart off somewhere else, away from the creepiest man in existence. He couldn't see very well anyways, being so short in a crowd of men twice his size.
The pawn was being cornered by the bishop.
"Didn't I tell you that this wasn't over yet, Suga?" Bogum said, right next to Suga's ear. Suga suppressed a wince. He didn't have anything to reply with.
"Maybe this time," Bogum said, still much too close for Suga's liking. "We won't get interrupted."
Bogum's grip on Suga's arm was too tight and forceful, dragging Suga along into a nearby empty hall far enough from the party that Suga was sure nobody would be coming around for a while.
Bogum pressed Suga against the wall, and Suga tried to squirm out of his grasp.
"You aren't going anywhere yet."
Fuck, Suga thought. Of all the times for V to be in absentia, he had to pick this one? Suga knew he couldn't fight Bogum off, he was too strong. Suga was fucked.
"You see, doll," Bogum said, and Suga suppressed a cringe. " I don't think you know just how long I've been watching you from the background."
Suga tried to knee Bogum in the crotch, but he missed, and Bogum pulled him back and slammed him against the wall.
"There'll be none of that. I don't think you know how long I've wanted you, do you?"
Suga couldn't form words. The wall slam had rattled his brain too much.
"Why do you think I hired you to begin with?"
"You didn't... hire me."
"Yeah, I did. Chanyeol is just a figurehead. I run the place."
Suga tried to wriggle his way out of Bogum's grasp again, but it only got him another wall slam.
"And that means I fucking own you." Bogum hissed. "I can do whatever I want to my own property."
"Don't. Please."
"I don't want to hear your begging."
Bogum sharply yanked at Suga's dress shirt. Two of the buttons went flying down the hallway. Suga took the opportunity he was given to claw at Bogum's face, which only got him a punch in the face. It felt more like the entire right side of his face was hit by a tire iron. Suga knew he was fucked. In one last futile attempt to get Bogum to let him go, he let out the shrillest, loudest scream he could possibly make. It was cut off by Bogum slamming a hand over Suga's mouth, digging his fingers into his face. Hot tears streaked their way down Suga's face. Bogum was clawing at his belt, and Suga was trying to fend him off, but it wasn't working. This was possibly the most helpless Suga had ever felt in his life.
Suga could hear footsteps echoing down the hallway. Thank fucking God, Suga thought. Finally, someone would come and get this six-ton fucking creep away from him.
Bogum didn't seem to hear it, or maybe he just didn't care. The footsteps stopped, then there was the sound of dress shoes sharply turning on tile flooring and sprinting down the hallway.
"Can you fucking stay still?"
Suga replied with another attempted knee to the crotch. It didn't work, and it got him punched again.
He could feel blood trickling down his face. It felt like the center of his face had exploded.
He could hear footsteps down the hallway again, this time more urgent.
They slowed as they got closer.
"Never thought of you a swine until now."
V's voice was like music to Suga's ears, but they seemed like nails on a chalkboard to Bogum.
"Guess I'll just have to be the butcher."
"What in the sweet fuck are you talking about?" Bogum said, finally turning to face someone other than Suga. Bogum let go of him as he went to confront V, and Suga dropped to the floor, hands trying to hold his shirt together. He looked up long enough through blurry, tear-impaired vision to see V grab Bogum by the tie and yank him outside. Woojin dropped down to the floor with Suga.
"Holy shit."
Suga nodded.
"Are you alright?"
"Not really," Suga said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Here, come on. We're going home." Woojin said, helping Suga off the floor. Suga noticed the pool of blood he'd left behind, momentarily wondering who was going to clean that up.
Woojin half-carried, half-led Suga out a back entrance to the waiting limo. He pretended that he didn't feel bad about leaving blood trails down the marble-tiled hallways. He also pretended he didn't feel absolutely pathetic crying and bleeding in Woojin's arms.
"God, I am so sorry that happened," V said, as Sehun was patching Suga up on the kitchen counter. Seokjin had been looking at them like they were aliens for the last twenty minutes, quietly talking with someone V had referred to as Chan when they first came in.
"Why? It isn't like it's your fault." Suga said as Sehun looked intently at his nose.
"It kind of is. If I hadn't taken you there, then this wouldn't have happened."
"It isn't your fault Bogum decided to be disgusting."
"You nose is broken," Sehun said. V sighed.
"I guess that means a trip to the doctor. The sooner the better."
"I'm tired of seeing people," Suga said.
"I'm afraid this time you don't have a choice."
"I never have a choice."
V frowned at him and then bit his lip.
"Get Songjong down here as soon as possible."
Sehun nodded, assent. Then turned and walked off as fast as possible.
"I'm still really sorry this happened. Even if it isn't my fault."
"It wasn't." Suga suppressed a sob. V pulled Suga into his arms, and Suga let him. For once, Suga didn't feel stupid for crying about something. V held him close, rubbing soft circles into his back, careful not to make his broken nose even worse.
Suga knew this was the kind of shit he had signed up for when he entered into this sort of life. Being a criminal wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. He knew he would have to deal with shitty people and people who thought they held more power than they did, but he never anticipated that something like this would happen.
Maybe this kind of life wasn't meant for him. Maybe life wasn't meant for him at all.