Tainted Bloodlines

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*Author's note: all italicized paragraphs are visions*

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"Where the actual fuck is he?" RM asks to himself while looking at the white plastic trimmed clock that adorns the far side of the living room wall. The timepiece's slender black arms point out that it is now 11:55 pm. It's not like Seokjin to be out this late. Especially since the older has been having those attacks more frequently.

Namjoon's eyes follow a line from the clock over to the small couch next to the bay window on the oposite side of the room. He watches Yoongi's chest rise and fall as he lays there. His hyung lays on his side with his hands tucked neatly between his knees. There's a look of peacefulness written across the older's unconscious features.

Joon looks at the wooden rolling pin sitting beside him to his left. He honestly didn't mean to hit Yoongi that hard. But truth be told, he is glad that he did. The repercussions recieved from knocking the white haired male out, would be far less severe than the alternative. The thought makes Namjoon's shoulders shudder lightly.

Joon slumps himself into the two-toned grey recliner that sits on the oposite side of the small room. Thoughts of Yoongi's previous actions circle around within his brain while he stares deeply at the older male. What could have caused such a reaction to occure? The older has never showed any of the slightest interest in himself, whatsoever. It was almost like a tidal wave of raw emotion and primal instinct had replaced the other's rational thinking.

In Namjoon's mind, he ponders as to what the missing denominator is. He knows that something in those miracle pills must have triggered the sudden change... But what?

"Shit..." he sighs frustratedly.

He furrows his eyebrows, his mind retracing the previous events of the night. He leans forward, resting his left elbow onto his knee, and continues to stare at the older male stretched out on the couch. He tilts his head in contemplation as his middle and right index fingers tap relentlessly against his lower thigh on the same side.

Excelleration of the heart rate? Increased agitation? Maybe... an overdose of adrenaline?

Another thought comes to mind. Jin had gone missing only a few moments before Yoongi had started looking for the bottle.. There's no way that Seokjin would have taken off the the pills... Right? His eyes widen and his heart drops into the pit of his stomach.

He quickly stands up and runs to the kitchen counter to search for his keys before stopping abruptly, remembering that he was unable to locate them before. He then rushes to the window above the couch, trying his best to not wake his sleeping hyung as he pulls up the blinds. His eyes fall onto the empty parking spot that his old Chevy used to be parked in.

Thats right, Jin had apparently taken off with his car when the older left the apartment earlier.

To the left of the empty space, a jet black Jaguar sits with what looks to be the remains of a six pack of beer on its hood. He squints his eyes, trying to focus in on the brand... OB Blue Lager...

Realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

...Seokjin's favorite brand.

Shit! He needs to find Seokjin, and he needs to find him right now.

~~~~~~~~

...A tunnel of darkness engulfs Seokjin's mind. It's as if the world around him is shrouded in a deep shadow. The feeling overbears his consiousness with an innate sense of fear and abandonment. In the distance, he can hear what seems to be the helpless cries of an infant. The noise starts off weak, but soon grows, becoming too loud to ignore. As the seconds stretch on, a feminine voice begins to break through the small hiccups and whimpers. Seokjin steps forward, his feet automatically following the noise into the darkness. It leads him into a a dimly lit corrador where a woman sits upon a large oak throne engraved with delicate details that are trimmed in gold. The woman softly hums a beautiful melodic tune as she coos at a small baby held tightly within her arms. The melody is familiar, like a song that had been lost and long forgotten. The woman's voice holds an almost sorrowful tone, shown clear by the slight desperation heard inbetween each note...