Hustlers || Taekook

Chapter 19

Fuck.

That was about the only word that made up Jungkook's vocabulary recently.

Fuck. The air cut into the skin at the back of his throat as he drew in quick, desperate, burning breaths. Fuck. White-hot pain burst in his lower leg as he tripped over a bundle of thin steel pipes jutting out from the rusty pile of timber to the side of the dingy street. Fuck. Footsteps thundered behind him ceaselessly and his vision was starting to blur both from sharp wind whipping past drawing unshed tears, and the numbing waves of despair dragging his feet. He wasn't going to be let off so easy this time, he knew.

It'd been roughly three months of this shit.

Jungkook wasn't too sure, as time has blurred and pitch black days merged with endless nights of constant running, running and more running. Three months since that night at BigHit. Three months on the run.

The reason Jungkook was half wanting to just stop running and let his pursuers catch him, let them do whatever they wanted and just give up on surviving through this, was because his debt had increased into an overwhelmingly impossible black hole of money. As if the nine million wasn't enough to fuck him over, he discovered that his father, his good old imprisoned father, had racked up an even greater debt. A debt Jungkook was required to pay.

"I have to what?"

"Pay for your father's debt. He'd signed your name here on the contract we'd set up years ago, that you were responsible in covering the remaining money in the event he was unable to keep paying. Unfortunately Mr Jeon is officially behind bars as of today, so that puts you in a rather terrible position. But don't worry, Mr Jeon has been obediently paying up for twenty years now, he only has sixteen million left that you'll need to produce for us." Namjoon smiled in a way Jungkook could only imagine was a mockery of encouragement. Jungkook's head was spinning again. His lips had parted and he could feel them moving slightly, but no words came. He couldn't quite tell if he was breathing.

"He... He 'only' has six... sixteen million left? He's been... paying a debt for... twenty years? My... my father?" Jungkook could hear his slow, stammering response as if it was spoken by someone else, the buzzing in his mind enveloping his body and shrouding clear thought. The air felt like ice encased around his skin.

"Yes, even the rich, successful Mr Jeon couldn't quite handle the admittedly enormous amounts of interest his original debt had generated. We've been very civil towards him over the years, but unfortunately that resulted in this contract dragging out for about as long as you've been alive." Namjoon explained in a regretful tone of voice that had Jungkook wanting to throw up, each word twisting the knife deeper into his gut.

Jungkook had difficulty taking in a breath to speak. "The debt... What was it even for...?"

"Is that what's most important right now, Jungkookie?" Hoseok piped up chirpily and Jungkook slit him a scathing glare at the fake familiarity. Hoseok merely smiled benignly.

"We've assumed that you wouldn't want your portion of debt to drag out the way your father's did, so we're willing to cut the interest for you." Seokjin spoke quietly, emotionlessly and Jungkook slowly slid his eyes over to rest on that stupidly blank face, his body all but paralysed, frozen stiff from the horror of the situation.

"Oh yeah? At what cost?" Jungkook was impressed at the steadiness of his own slightly derisive voice. Seokjin smiled at that, sliding a thin pile of papers across the table towards him. A contract, Jungkook assumed.

"You need to pay us everything you have right now. Your savings, assets, possessions, everything you can access. We can stagger the repayments after that but for now, we'll be having a few men accompany you to the bank and your house tonight." Seokjin replied pleasantly and Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his body sway in his seat as dizziness threatened to consume him whole.