DELIVERY! | JHS

one

in which the constantly scared delivery boy walks in on a gang war—

and she teaches him to be brave.

The last thing Hoseok expects when he gets out of his piece of shit car, bag of Chinese food in hand, is to see that his GPS lead him to an abandoned warehouse. Weird. He has been to a lot of odd places for his job, delivering Chinese food from Ming's Palace, but never any as strange as this. He self-consciously straightens the hat that's on his head as he looks up at the warehouse, made of stone and wood, paint chipped from weather and time. Is this the right place?

He doublechecks, triplechecks the address, and both times it says that his location is correct. Gulping, he grips the bag of sesame chicken and hot and sour soup tighter. Hoseok feels the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows it well, considering he gets scared ridiculously easily. He knows that, and he's not ashamed, though his friends torment him endlessly for it and pull off lame little jump scares for shits and giggles. Hoseok doesn't think it's a bad thing, though—he thinks of fear as having good instincts. The more scared you are of something, the more likely that thing is dangerous, and if you're scared of it, you're not going to associate yourself with it. Therefore, by Hoseok's logic, fear makes him extra safe, so he doesn't have a problem with it.

Except, right now, he's scared, but there's nothing he can really do about it, considering he's being paid to deliver this food to whomever is inside this creepy, weird building. "The things I do for money." He mumbles, walking around the warehouse in search of an entrance. As much as Hoseok would love to turn around, go home, and eat this person's Chinese food for himself, he needs this job. He's a junior in medical school, with a minor in dance. Money isn't exactly of the essence, and Hoseok knows that if he plans on ever paying back his student loans before he's eighty, he needs to start having some gradual income.

When Hoseok finally finds the door, there is a sign plastered to it that makes driving away as fast as he can even more appealing—

NO TRESPASSING.

Does this count as trespassing? Hoseok doesn't know. He hopes not, because the last thing he needs is to pay some fine or meet some rabid guard dog. Sweaty palm gripping the bag of Chinese food tightly, he reaches up and knocks on the door a few times. No answer from within, no shuffling of feet, no voices. No barking dog, to Hoseok's relief, but that doesn't make him feel much better. Mr. Ming will castrate him if he comes back to the shop without money. Gathering up what's left of his limited courage, he knocks once more—

And the door swings open with a creak.

If Hoseok wasn't scared before, he's absolutely terrified now. The lighting is dim and there's no one within immediate sight, so Hoseok wants to drop the food on the doorstep and pay Mr. Ming for it with his own money—that solution begins to get more and more appealing as the silence continues to ensue. Hoseok pats his front pocket where his wallet is—that's all it takes for him to know that there's not nearly enough in there to cover the bill. He has about seven dollars, maybe nine if he counts his change. "Fuck." He curses under his breath, realizing that he has no choice.

Cautiously, he pokes his head through the door, taking a peek inside. The place reeks of dust and mildew, and Hoseok resists the urge to sneeze. No one to be found. "Hello?" He asks, and his knees feel weak as he realizes he sounds like the stupid character in a horror film that dies first. "Anyone, uh, home?" He asks, brain unable to articulate an intelligent sentence. "I have your Chinese food. Delivery from Ming's?" He says, forcing his voice a little louder. It echoes briefly, but no response is heard. Slowly, he steps inside.

Suddenly, something black darts across the floor of the warehouse, and Hoseok screeches, nearly resorting to using the bag of Chinese food as a weapon before realizing the black smudge in the peripheral of his vision was only a cat. The cat blinks at him with its stark green eyes, as if to say, "Seriously?" Hoseok laughs at himself and catches his breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. The tension he felt before disappears. How stupid can he be? His friends are probably right this time—he was totally just freaking himself out for no reason. Who would actually order food to a place like this? He probably has the wrong address.

"Wow—okay, Hoseok, let's just go, before you start hallucinating things—" Hoseok mutters to himself, turning around to leave. He reaches for the doorknob, and twists—but it doesn't budge. "Weird." He mumbles, wondering how the door got stuck. In fact, he doesn't even remember closing it—

His blood runs cold.

He doesn't remember closing it because he never closed it.

He shakes the doorknob more violently now, but stops dead in his tracks when he feels something cold and metal press into the nape of his neck. A feminine voice sends shivers down his spine as he breaks out in a cold sweat, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Move a muscle and I'll put a bullet through your head."

wow hiii

this is my new hoseok story !!!

i won't be super invested in it until youth or picturesque is finished but i wanted to get the idea out there and get you guys excited for it!

i hope you guys are gonna like it i have big plans for this!