ANCIENT | SEQUEL TO YOUTH | JJK

fun

Hoseok feels blood dripping down his face. That's the odd sensation he wakes up to, the lukewarm droplets thickly sliding down his cheek from the stinging cut above his eyebrow. The sting of the cut is nothing compared to the dull but persistent ache in his head, though. He has to strain himself to open his heavy eyelids, and when he does, the fluorescent artificial lights hurt his head even more. It's only when he comes to his senses and processes that the place he woke up to is not, in fact, Taehyung's apartment, that he realizes that everything is wrong. He's bleeding, and his head hurts, and he's groggy and kind of nauseous, and he's in a gray room with dull gray cement walls, with unfinished gray cement floors to match.

Only then does he remember what happened. Only then does he remember stopping to tie his shoe in the hallway of the news building, Yoongi just a few feet in front of him. Only then does he remember the sharp pain of a blunt object connecting with his forehead, and then, vaguely, beefy hands under his arms, the feeling of carpet dragging beneath him as he was pulled away. Hoseok's drowsy, clumsy fingers go to the scar of his bullet wound on his stomach, the same way they always do when he feels that dreadful sinking feeling in the it of his stomach. Panic finally sets in.

He sits up abruptly, and immediately regrets it as the room begins to spin, just a gray blur before his eyes. Hoseok tries to calm himself down enough to assess the situation by reminding himself that things have been worse and he has made it out in one piece, but it doesn't do much to comfort him. This just feels different. The way Mrs. Choi methodically picked each of Jeongguk's friends off one by one is more strategic, planned. Jeongguk had managed to negotiate his way out of their last altercation, but Hoseok can tell that whatever comes out of this interaction will be finite. This is non-negotiable. 

"Oh, good morning, Hoseok." A voice echoes. Hoseok looks around frantically, searching for the source of the voice, but finding there's no one else in the room. He briefly questions if he's losing it, but then there's a melodic laugh. That's when Hoseok locates an old speaker in the ceiling, like something connected to a PA system. "Settle down. I am not with you. Solely watching you from afar." That sends a chill up Hoseok's spine.

"What the hell do you want?" Hoseok asks, struggling to keep his voice even. He subconsciously keeps his hands over his bullet wound, a defense mechanism and a habit that makes him feel less vulnerable.

"Oh, you are not that dense, are you, Hoseok?" The voice asks. The PA system is so old and out of date that the voice comes through muffled and staticky, to the point that Hoseok can't even tell if he's talking to a man or a woman. "You know exactly what we want. I had assumed you would have other inquiries upon realizing where you are. For instance...are you not curious as to where your other companions are?" 

Hoseok's blood runs cold. Taehyung, Namjoon. He hadn't even thought about them yet, too preoccupied with the mysterious voice and the impending panic.

"Where the hell are they, you sick bastard?" Hoseok asks, wincing at the way his cut stings when he furrows his brows.

"Do not worry about them, Hoseok. Let us talk about you." The voice says, a sly edge in it's tone. Hoseok rolls his eyes, smiling humorlessly. Of course he wouldn't get a straight answer to that question. "Does your cut hurt?" 

"I've had it worse. Now, tell me where my friends are." Hoseok tries again.

"Oh, that is right. You have been shot, correct?" The voice asks, and Hoseok scoffs indignantly.

 "Don't act like you people aren't the ones who pulled the trigger in the first place." He snaps, filter gone at this point.

"We have?" The voice asks, and it sounds genuinely confused. This perplexes Hoseok. The bouncer is the one who shot him, and he works with Mrs. Choi. Surely they both would know, right?