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chap 8

The tie around Seokjin's neck suddenly feels like a noose, so he pulls at it and opens it up. Lets the knot unfurl and the tie fall to the table. With that hand he picks up his beer, brings it to his lips and tips as much as he can allow down his throat before he drowns himself in it.

"So," Yoongi sighs as he looks off somewhere in the bar, eyes unfocused but tense. "There's going to be another murder."

Seokjin nods and feels himself lament silently over the rim of his glass of beer. One hand in his hair, fingers running through it like he's trying to relieve some of the stress running around the skin of his scalp, but it doesn't help. His skin is still tight, still suffocating. It doesn't help.

"Your little brother was the one who found the anonymous letter. He showed me, but neither of us could figure it out."

Seokjin just licks his lips and reconstructs the image of the letter Jeongguk had taken a picture of and sent to him in his mind, and he takes another jab at deciphering what it could mean, but nothing comes to mind. Neither he nor Namjoon at the time could decode it, but what did Seokjin expect? The letter that foretold Jang Jaewon's murder was impossible to figure out until after his murder, and only because they knew what to look for. Jang Jaewon's name.

Right now, they don't have a name. The name is what they're trying to figure out so that the murder could be prevented, but Seokjin doesn't even know how to tackle the problem, let alone what the answer could be.

So instead, he pulls his hand down from his scalp and uses it to cradle his chin, to keep his head up. "There's one other thing I haven't mentioned yet," he huffs, and keeps his eyes latched onto the middle of the table even as he realises from the periphery of his vision that Yoongi has raised his head to look up at him. "Just before Jeongguk called me to tell me about the letter, I received a bouquet of flowers. Red spider lilies."

He hears Yoongi shift uncomfortably at that.

"Sorry for your loss, it said," Seokjin continues. "On my first day back to work after my mother's passing."

For a moment, neither of them speak. Seokjin, because there's absolutely no words he could think of that will explain anything that's been happening. Yoongi, because he's trying his damned hardest to help Seokjin with that.

"Seokjin," Yoongi sounds after a moment, and Seokjin looks up to meet Yoongi's serious face. There's a shadow cast over his face from how deeply he's furrowing his brow, but none of it elicits a response from Seokjin. He'd expected it. He's expecting something to hit the fan, and he's pretty sure it's absolute shit. "Do you have any enemies?"

"None that I can tell you the names of," Seokjin replies flatly.

"Does that mean you think you have enemies, you just don't know who?"

Seokjin apathetically shrugs one shoulder. "I'm sure I have enemies. I've sent to jail people who have hid from the law. But my job aside, there will always be people who hate other people. Maybe it's my personality. Maybe it's something I can't explain."

"Can you think of anything that may make someone want to target you?"

Seokjin shakes his head.

"I would tell you to ignore the bouquet," Yoongi sighs, "but don't. Red spider lilies aren't normal flowers you give to a grieving person. Especially to someone leading a case like the ones on our hands."

Seokjin just nods and finishes off his beer before the two of them head out of the bar. He waits with Yoongi until their cabs arrive, and Seokjin climbs into the back, rolling his head back against the headrest. The driver glances at him momentarily through the rear-view mirror and doesn't ask any further questions past Seokjin's destination.