Smoke and Fire

one

Gunshots.

That was the very first thing Yoongi heard as he shifted awake from his slumber.

Bang!

He gripped the sheets of his raggedy bed. The covers torn, the thin mattress pressed against a metal bed frame that squeaked at the slightest movement, the dusty ceiling above him shedding some gravel and dirt onto his face. Covering his eyes, he messily spit out dust that got into his mouth.

Bang bang!

A low octave groan slipped from his chapped lips, moving his hands from his face, resting his arm across his forehead, staring back up at the ceiling covered in spiderwebs.

Bang!

"Alright what the hell..." he mumbled, pushing himself up off the bed. Rubbing his tired and bruised eyes, he pushed himself off the mattress. Sleepily stumbling to his door that he opened quickly (and unnecessarily aggressively) walking out into the dimly hit hallway.

Walking to the front door, he kicked it at the bottom, knocking the door open, he walked outside, the afternoon air brushing against his face, the fresh air filling his lungs.

He wasn't surprised at what he saw.

Sookjae, a muscularly built man with dark brown hair pushed back, was shooting his gun at another man Yoongi didn't know, neither recognize, the two in an intense gun fight.

Rolling his eyes and turning on his heel, he headed back inside where he was greeted by Akela. The person who owned the little shack-house he stayed in (by force, he'd rather be on his own), Akela swung his arm around Yoongi's shoulders, pulling the sleepy boy into him and holding up a beer to him. "Drink."

Yoongi glared at the beer but took it anyway, popping it open and taking a salty sip. "We're gonna go vandalize the fences on the north corner." Akela informed, the ash-colored hair boy stared at Akela like he was crazy. "That's the rich peoples side."

"Exactly, time to spice things up, wanna go?" He asked, Yoongi ran his hands through his hair, taking another swift chug of the cold beer. "Unfortunately," he choked out, coming to a halt and facing Akela, "I'm not in the mood."

"Unfortunately," Akela restated, reaching for the beer in Yoongi's hands, "I don't take no." His finger tips grazed the beer, but Yoongi pulled the beer back away from him, asserting that it was given to him, and now belonged to him.

Akela eyed Yoongi, before dropping his hand back to his side. "Come on, Sookjae got the truck working."

"Sookjae's also currently shooting somebodies face off." Yoongi grumbled, stumbling towards the front of the house again, Akela following after him. "Oh he's no big deal. Just threatened Suyin, so he's taking revenge."

"Nobody can touch his cousin, not even her own brother." Yoongi mumbled, walking around the side, ignoring the gunshots ringing down the shabby neighborhood of falling apart homes. "He's protective, not a bad trait." Akela perked himself against Yoongi's black mustang that sat next to the blue rusting truck. Yoongi eyed him, he didn't have a lot, but his car was the thing he cherished most, since it was the only thing he was allowed to have.

Setting his beer down on the edge of the truck, Yoongi grabbed a rag, wiping down the license plate. "No, something you could learn from though." Yoongi whispered, but Akela heard it. "Yeah, I could, but why would I?" The black haired man grabbed Yoongi's beer, chugging half of it, earning a disgusting glare from Yoongi.

Akela set the beer back down, Yoongi's eyes falling to it, glaring at the label on the side of it. "Got a cig?" Akela asked, leaning further on Yoongi's mustang.

Yoongi shook his head. "Get your own, I'm not your servant." He looked back at the car, Akela chuckled, getting off the mustang and walking away. The ash-haired boy looked at the beer he wanted. His jaw clenched, grabbing it and throwing it at the sidewalk, the beer shattering and the left over liquid spilling everywhere.

The gunshots ceased, leaving the neighborhood once again in silence that barely lasted for a second because more gunshots popped from down the street.

Sookjae walked up to him, patting his shoulder, sweat trickling down the older boys forehead. "Hey Yoongs."

"Don't ever call me that." Yoongi sneered. Sookjae put his hand up like he was surrendering, walking up to the front of the mustang. "Sheesh, just saying hello, is the pink spray paint in there?"

Yoongi didn't look, not caring. "Yeah sure." He wasn't technically lying because he never actually looked. (Which was his excuse if he was to get yelled at later for forgetting it).

"Great, get in." Sookjae nodded, Yoongi sighed, but obliged, watching as Akela came back outside with another man, all three of them hopping into the truck at the same time.

Yoongi still hadn't quite woken up yet, his tired eyes daring to close, his mind slowly drifting off, he looked at his mustang one last time before the truck pulled away.

Off to go do some damage.

At least, that's what he thought.