The Black Parade

chapter 1

He wakes with the sound of blaring horns and the bustling street. He hasn't a good, heavy sleep in 5 years anyway, yet he always wakes with the city.  Stretching his bony arms he gets up from the bad shakily, hair and sheets dirty,flimsy and  begging to be washed but at this point Jimin could hardly give a fuck. Survival comes first. Which means money. And if you don't got money this harsh world won't let you live in peace. 

Skipping his breakfast Jimin gets ready for his usual day of work. On his way he glances at the mirror. Only to see a pair of puppy eyes stare back at him that have long lost their sheen. There are tired stress lines across his face, dark circles curving under his lashes and a pale, bloodless face. His gnaut cheeks give him an almost gostly appearance. Quickly fishing out his broken make-up swatches he begins to fill out his face. ' This is not the face they're expecting'  he inwardly warns himself.

The walk from his apartment to the brothel was 15 minutes long. Yes, Park Jimin is  a prostitute. Go on, judge all you want. Whore, slut, harlot; it,s all he hears everyday. It doesn,t hurt anymore. The pain is numb at this point. He is used to all these. However, becoming a harlot wasn't one of his own choice. 'The Drop' he called it. And now his life is divided between  before and after The Drop.  The Drop  was the pain and suffering that drove him on the streets and in front of Madam's feet. He could not even look up to meet her eyes out of shame. He could only beg for food in his stomach  and a shelter over his head. And that is how Park Jimin grew up to be the  the disgrace he is today. That happened 5 years ago. But he was someone entirely different before The Drop.He used to be a bright, young boy with stars in his eyes and a fire in his veins. He had dreams. Jimin dared to dream to be a dancer. And modern dancing seemed to be up his alley. He moved with such  swiftness and grace that even the air seemed to hold it's breath until he was done and the crowd seemingly going wild. Jimin was alive, he was free, he was happy but most impotantly he felt powerful. Like he was the king of the world. The exhilarating feeling of being on stage ; the cheers of the enthusiastic crowd is something that always left goosebumps on him. Even now. But he should have known that it is too good to be true. All in a blink his dreams shattered. The crowd went silent and the curtains closed. That fateful year Jimin's father passed away leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves. She married yet again. And the new husband was so cold, so scornful that he-

"Name?" The monotone voice the gaurd broke him out of his reverie. He was here at the red-light area of the town."Jiminie". He replies in a breathy voice. The walk towards the entrance always made him anxious. Reaching the entrance he pulls at the brass gates and walks in. The familiar smell of marijuana and semen hits and he visibly relaxes. This was something he could work with, not old memories and flashbacks.

Lunch hour begins and so does Jimin's dance rehersal for the following evening. Yes, he still dances. But not for his dreams but for survial. Before The Drop Jimin wanted to dance in front of millions of people but now he dances for cash being shoved in his thong.But Jimin liked it as never even once he got a rest break. It's a good thing. During rehersal he doesn't need to think at all.It's nice letting his body move in autopilot. He has been doing this long enough, taking customers like the good slut he is. Tips are always welcomed, of course. He smiles at a handful of customers who give him extra and they always come back with more . He knows how he looks, he knows how to use it to his advantage. Life is a business and he's too good at this to know anything better, anything different.

Just an hour till The Velvel city opens it's gates to eager customers, Jimin cleans himself in the cold shower. Washing away the hardwork and exhaustion of noon he dazes out.'Maybe...just maybe today will be different.'Someone once told him that he might just be looking for a place where he can belong. A person whom he belongs. He supposes it could be true. Isn't that what every human being is looking for? Something that's never meant to be found? And he sighs to himself. There he goes again dreaming of the unreachable. Everyday it's the same routine . He hadn't realised but he had been intently glancing at the clock every few minutes with wild anticipation in eyes. Is he that desperate? This pathetic now? That's how Park Jimin spent his days of harlotry and sinning. Even after hours and hours of having blood and semen dripping down his legs, thoughts of him still linger in his mind. The handprint burned onto his skin, the curve of his tongue that he got so used to, his rough grip on Jimin's neck as he mercilessely pounds in him. And Jimin's absolute favourite: sweet nothings whispered in to his ears.His hip throbs with memories of what happened three days ago, the nail marks still not fully healed yet. How could it when he secretly digs his own nails to the healing tissue in the shower, loving the sting it brings? He needs to feel. He needs to feel more. It's been three days too long and he craves for him already. He's addicted and  can't let go.