You were happy

Pt4

Ever since that day Jimin had picked up the hobby of walking-especially after a long grueling practice session. It helped pull the lingering thoughts from his head; it tugged out the unnecessary drivel of daily life. But, when he walked he remembered everything. He would walk past your apartment, past your favorite restaurant until his feet landed him in front of the club where he had lost you.
He would stand there, at the side entrance where Jungkook had said Tae found your shoes. He'd kick a rock or brush his toe along the spot. You had stood here at some point, crying because of him.
So you were going to let me live in limbo for the rest of my life?
You were in the back of his brain, clawing your way to the front with every step of his walk. It felt like a punishment to him, but one that he had to endure. Your conversation with him would replay on a loop until he took a step away from the club. You refused to climb from his head; rather you wanted to leave deep scratches on your way to the abyss of the forcefully forgotten part of his brain. It'd only been a week since his birthday party, but here he was like an ass trying to forget the conversation that landed you wherever you were now.
He covered his eyes with his forearm, stuffing his free hand into his pocket.
You knew? God he'd never seen your face crack in on itself, he didn't think it was possible. You cried a lot in the past, yeah-but it was over stupid dramas and movies. When it came to real life, he'd only ever seen cry when he cut open his thumb. You didn't know what to do, so you floundered for a bit before flat out bawling as you clutched his thumb to your chest. He'd had to wipe away those tears and convince you to get a bandage. "No, I'm not going to lose my thumb because you're stupid." The memory lifted up the corner of his mouth. He was stupid to think that he couldn't hurt you.
He was stupid to think that happiness is always shown through expressions.
His phone vibrated his back pocket and without moving his arm he pulled it out and pressed it against the shell of his ear. "Hello Hana." He whispered.
"Are you coming home? Your walk is taking longer than usual."
"I'll be home soon. I promise."
There was a pause on her side, but he couldn't hear any movement.
"What?" He whispered, knowing full well there was more she wanted to say. He knew her well enough if he'd claimed to love her in front of you. Now he was being an idiot to Hana, he should be thinking more about her in situations like this right? What does it look like to her when her boyfriend runs around town because he's upset over his best friend who happens to be a girl.
It was almost like he forgot that fact-you were indeed a female, that was very much clear by your outfit at his birthday party. The man that stared at you as if he would like to devour you whole, just the fuzzy picture his face had become in Jimin's mind set him off in anger.
"Nothing." Hana hummed innocently; she only did that when she was lying. "I'll see you when I come home."
He shoved his phone back in his pocket and dropped his arm, leaving the spot that calls out to him every night in favor of heading to a warm bed with a waiting girlfriend.
He passed one of the hundreds of posters Taehyung and Jungkook had stapled up to a telephone pole. Your face smiled at him-it was a picture he had taken of you after he had tickled you because you were studying too hard. It was meant to be a blackmail image, but it turned out too perfect to be useful. He'd kept it though and sent it to Taehyung with the caption try for blackmail and get a photogenic idiot, what the hell? Taehyung must have kept it.
Considering he loved you. God the thought sent Jimin into another angered tailspin and he didn't even know why.
He let her go. He didn't predict her movements well enough and she was gone-he'd made her leave. He didn't love her like she loved him-so why?
Because Park Jimin was a sweetheart on the surface, and an asshole who convinced himself he was justified on the inside.
In short, he was more of an idiot than you-and that was saying something to the one who got drunk and kidnapped by a questionable man.
~.~
The police had both Jungkook and Taehyung's number, but they preferred talking to the younger because he was more composed. He screamed a lot less about results. It didn't mean he was any less worried or any less anxious about your immediate return-it just meant he was more composed about the fact that you were missing.
So when he got the call that you'd been spotted by a bystander he practically ran to your apartment where Taehyung had been staying in hopes of your return. He tried the door, knowing Tae wouldn't keep it locked even if it meant his own lack of safety. He'd always just say that what if you were hurt and needed to get in quickly-a locked door would mean you couldn't do that.
Jungkook's hyung was hopeless, but he let him do as he pleased to avoid the backlash. It was easier.
"Taehyung."
The man buried in stacks of missing posters and a colorful array of pictures including you looked up from his nest. The place looked like an explosion of grief, the way a mother digs out everything from a son lost in war. Taehyung had every memory of you displayed in a chaotic mess in front of him and he refused to clean it up for fear that when he did he would forget each of the moments captured by these otherwise meaningless objects.
"What is it?" His voice sounded like he'd been talking all day without a break for water. He was probably calling places, screaming, speaking to your photos or a combination of all of them.
"Someone saw her."
He nearly knocked the coffee table over in the process of getting up, a slew of papers and photographs whizzing around the room with the sudden movement. Jungkook could taste the stale air it stirred up, when was the last time his hyung left the room?
Jungkook spoke before Taeyung could grab his shoulders and shake his words out of him, like the man's expression wanted to.
"The police said they got a lead, apparently some woman had recognized her from our posters and called them."
"Where?" Taehyung interrupted.
Jungkook debated telling him the truth, but he knew Tae would find out eventually and kill him for lying. "The red light district two towns over."
"Did they say what she looked like?" Taehyung was shrinking in on himself, slowly going back to his perch in the nest of photos and numbers that would lead him to you-or so he hoped. It was like the man was saying this because he needed to know, not because he wanted to hear it.
"The woman described her yes. She said her hair's been cut-pretty horribly-and given a bleached dye job."
Taehyung laughed with an iron spike of pain in his throat, his gaze was already lost somewhere else. He saw you jerking your head as they tried to change your appearance, refusing to give them the satisfaction. He could imagine your frown when you looked at yourself in the mirror, your actions causing you to look like a mop-headed shoddy blonde freak. You'd hate it. He knew you would. You hated the smell of hair dye, it was one of the reasons you enjoyed teasing Yoongi.
"She had bruises on her face and some yellowing in other areas that were visible. She was still wearing the dress that was in the poster's description. And..."
Taehyung closed his eyes tightly as if to block out Jungkook's words. But all he did was picture the words coming out of the maknae's mouth in live action.
"Help!! You fuckers! Help me, don't just stand there and watch!! I'm being-MPFH!" You screamed, breath coming out in ragged gasps past your bleeding lips. A hand stifled your screams, forcing your head against his bony shoulder so hard you were seeing the constellations out of the blinding neon lights on the buildings. You sucked in breath through your blood clotted nose, choking as he dragged you. Your fingers dug into your sides as if that could keep your bruised and probably broken ribs in their correct places.
Your entire world felt like it was in slow motion, the people passing by, the swirling lights, the way your eyes flickered from face to face for help because now even screaming was banned from you.
They loved to hear you scream before, practically begged for it.
Your eyes connected with a woman who looked up at you for a second and then immediately swerved into a restaurant. But you saw the phone in her hand and the number she dialed.
In all your struggling you kicked up a wind that knocked a loosely stapled poster to your feet. You stepped across it without time to recognize Tae's writing or your own face.
You let out a strangled scream past his hand, your fight strengthening as Hanseul's friend dragged you towards a brightly-lit house full of screaming girls.
He opened his eyes when Jungkook finished, refusing to look at him. Instead his eyes begged to your face pictured in a string of photobooth pictures the three of you had taken. "Please tell me they got her and we can go pick her up." He whispered.
"They sent some DNA samples found at the place to see if it was her. When they arrived they found no one matching the descriptions that the woman had listed."
Taehyung was afraid to close his eyes again; he knew if he did it would be like the nightmare of his nap earlier that day. Your hands reaching for him, clawing at his mouth to stifle his screams. Your voice was hot in his ear, begging at the end of sobs for him to come and rescue you from hell. From the men that had become demons the moment they laid eyes on you.
"Hyung, this means she's alive."
Taehyung let out a bark of a laugh, his neck bending backwards as his head rested on the seat of the couch and his legs sprawled out on the floor underneath the coffee table. The floor was more comfortable, if you were in pain then he must be too-however minuscule it was. "Is that a good thing now?" He watched your ceiling fan spin circles until he got dizzy and was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. Your scream from his dreaming drilled through his head. "Some things are worse than death, Kookie."
Jungkook didn't want to imagine what you were going through, unlike Taehyung he threw himself into his work. When he wasn't working he threw himself into getting the entire world to recognize your existence so they could find you. He'd even reached out to his fans, and like wildfire they'd spread the news just to try and bring a smile to his face.
"Jimin called as well." Jungkook was afraid to mention the other male's name. BigHit had even separated their individual training schedules so Tae and Jimin wouldn't have to cross each other's paths for fear of Taehyung starting something.
Taehyung's eyes opened, his glare darting to Jungkook who stood behind the couch. "Did you tell him to rot in hell?" When Jungkook sucked his lips inward and looked anywhere but his face he snorted. "Then I don't care what the hell he said."
"He wants to fix this, he wants to talk to us again-he wants to help. We need more help right?"
"I don't need his help." He spat, pulling himself off the couch and turning his back to Jungkook to compile the stacks of missing posters better.
"Taehyung-"
"If he saw her he'd probably just watch her go again. He can talk to me again when we find her." He picked up a picture Jungkook had taken of the two of you on one of those stupid kiddy rides they put outside grocery stores. A little mini carousel that neither of you had fit on too well. Right after that picture was taken you had hit your head on one of the decorative tassels of the roof and fell off onto your ass. You had a plastic rope-textured bruise for a week on your temple. "But he can't talk to her." He whispered, pressing the image to his forehead. "Not after what he did."
If he put the image close enough to him he could imagine you bursting through the door, shouting profanities about work like you always used to. You always bought ice cream after those particularly bad days, and because you disliked plastic bags with the fiery passion of strangled ducks you would carry it in your hands from the convenience store-no matter the outside temperature. It would make your hands freezing. After putting the ice cream away in the freezer you would always sneak up behind him and press your icy fingers to the back of his neck. He would squirm and scream, but you were quick to chase after him with laughter.
It was funny how he couldn't even remember the sound of your laughter anymore. All he could hear were your sobs.
You weren't here with cold fingers and laughter, but he was still chilled.