Smoke Song

Smoke

Smoke.

Jeon Jungkook would always remember the smell of the smoke.

It sank into his skin and clothes, raced up his nose and into his lungs, blocked everything else out. Happy memories surfaced in his mind but were dragged away by the sheer force of the reality in front of him. This was not some secret retreat, not a vacation to a place where he could play his guitar without fear of being caught.

The smell of a campfire had never been so terrifying to him.

Jungkook winced as the cuffs slipped over his wrists, rubbing the raw skin underneath. Flashes of pain stammered their way up to his shoulders as he tensed, swallowing. No matter how he yanked and tugged, they wouldn't slip off. They were some kind of leather, but they held him like iron.

He was going to die.

And for what?

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his friend Taehyung, who was already cursing and screaming, still yanking at his chains like an angry dog on a leash. The smoke pouring off the pillar in front of him wasn't a welcoming sight, either-- soon he would be choking on that smoke, like every other 'example' that had been made in this arena.

They would read the crimes.

They would set the pillar on fire.

Then, operated by the crank moved by that anti he'd watched so many times, the pole would begin to turn, dragging them closer to the flames.

For what?

He bit his lip, thinking of the smoking recording equipment back at their studio, the sparks dancing around wires and landing on papers filled with half-finished music. He imagined the flames dancing along the length of the pillar, the smoke billowing out towards him, ready to fill his lungs and smother him, burn him like another sheet of paper.

Why?

The scent was overpowering. He started to cough, pulling his arms up to cover his face, but the chains stopped them a good six inches away. He stumbled forward, coughing intensifying, and heard Taehyung scream his name. He shuddered and felt his legs give way beneath him as the screech of the microphone blared in his ears. It's begun, he thought frantically, squeezing his eyes tighter shut, I'm going to die.

Why?

For what purpose?

"Kim Taehyung."

Taehyung's angry yelling grew louder and the chain connecting him to the pole rattled as he cursed, trying to pull out of the cuffs, yelling Jungkook's name over and over.

Why?

"Jeon Jungkook."

They were attached to opposite ends of the pole, the chain short enough that Taehyung couldn't come close to him without passing through the smoke. Jungkook opened his eyes for a moment and saw his friend's figure through the thick haze, writhing and struggling. Orange flames whipped up the pillar, disappearing in an instant. His eyes began to burn, and he shut them again.

"Both caught in the act of recording music, that most abominable of all things..."

We just wanted to sing.

Sweat broke out on Jungkook's forehead. He couldn't hear anything more over the ringing in his ears. But he'd heard the speech enough times to know the ending. 'Being irredeemable, we consign them to the fire for the hope of a better world'.

It was just music.

He began to cry as the chain slithered out from under his hands. The heat licking his face dried up the tears quickly, but he couldn't stop.