C8 - Villaintine

He stalks into the apartment as if he owns it, which he does. His cool grey gaze takes in my father and his broken knee with a single, disdainful glance.

Dad struggles to stand. And fails. “Mr. Kim,” he says. “What can we do for you?”

What a sad attempt at valance. That makes my heart squeeze in a way his apology never could. Who am I to blame my father for his addictions?

He couldn’t control them anymore than I could make my brain into something else. Kim Yongdae gestures to the lumpy armchair as if it’s a gold-plated antique in his palace.

“Please sit down, Jaewon. Don’t strain yourself on my account.”

Dad shudders a little, his good leg already failing him. I move quickly to help him. There’s no point in overexerting himself. Nothing he does would stop this.

Kim Yongdae takes the maroon corduroy sofa. Somehow his presence makes it seem like a throne.

“I understand my son has been to visit you.”

My heart stops. Kim Taehyung was here, in our apartment? Dad didn’t tell me that. Was that before or after I went to the Inferna? He might see it as a kindness to harass my father instead of me.

‘I told him we’d get it,’ Dad says, breathing hard. ‘I swear.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Kim Yongdae says, his voice underlaid with steel. ‘There’s no way for you to get ten thousand dollars. Little Jungkook could serve a hundred pies a day, and you’d never be able to pay.’

I’ve had enough.

“Stop it,” I say, because I’m the reason he’s really here. “Leave him alone.”

A flash of excitement crosses Kim Yongdae’s face, sending a shiver down my spine. He likes it when I talk back, when I fight. That’s what Jessica told me, but I told her the truth.

I don’t think I can let him. Like I’m underwater. The body will fight to breathe. His voice is mild.

“I could. Leave him alone, I mean. If you want me to.”

It was always leading to this. I try to keep my voice steady.

“What do you mean?”

“Ten thousand dollars.” He pulls out a thick envelope. I can guess what’s inside. Money. It’s his gamble. In this rundown tenement, his odds are good.

“Would you like this, Jungkook?”

“No, leave him out of this,” Dad says. “He have nothing to do with it.”

“You’ll have to give the money to Taehyung yourself,” Kim Yongdae says to Dad, his dark liquid gaze still trained on me. “Do you think you could manage that? Or would you gamble again, hoping to turn it into twenty or thirty thousand?”

We may not need to give that money to Kim Taehyung, but Dad doesn’t know that. It still hurts to think he might trade my life for one last gamble. Then again isn’t that what he always does?

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” I say, imagining myself waiting in the apartment for him. How safe I would be. It’s enough to make me laugh, if I was capable of it. What an illusion, safety.

The impressive thing isn’t what I can do with numbers, with lines and curves in my head. The impressive thing is that I ever believed, even for one moment, that home would be safe.

“You won’t,” Kim Yongdae says, casual in his dismissal.

“Why not?” I say, almost a whisper.

“You’ll be with me.”

With him, where Taehyung can find me. Where Taehyung can save me. At least I hope so.

“No!” Dad fights to stand. And fails. “You can’t do this.”

Kim Yongdae gives me a smile that’s almost handsome. If I didn’t know how evil he was I could have been fooled. It’s enough to prove he doesn’t have to force anyone to be with him.

With his smooth silver fox looks and his money he could have anyone he wanted.

He prefers to force.

“It’s up to you,” he says.

“You’re a monster,” I tell him, this one statement sincere.

“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Fight me.”

Don’t fight them.

I’m shaking with something—maybe fear, maybe anger. I prefer to be angry. Some part of me thinks it might seem more realistic, but the truth is I am angry. It’s not pretended.

“How dare you do this?”

“Offer you money? Well, sure, call the cops. Tell them how horrible I am for paying your Dad’s debts.”

“Aren’t the police in your pockets?” I ask bitterly.

“Or you can take your chances with Kim Taehyung. He has quite a reputation.”

He glances at Dad’s broken leg. “I suppose you’re already familiar with it. What did he promise to take next?”

Dad looks at me, his eyes helpless. It doesn’t matter who broke his knee. Doesn’t matter that the debt to Kim Taehyung has been won, because that was the deal I made.  To be bait for this man.

This dark king.

“Tick tock,” the dark king says. “Would you like the money?”

He shifts ever so slightly on the old lumpy sofa, revealing a flash of silver in his coat.

A g/un.

Will he use it if I refuse him? It doesn’t matter because this is my purpose.

“I’ll do it.”

In a graceful move he stands and strides from the room, leaving the money on the sofa. It’s too much to hope that he’s changed his mind as soon as I’ve agreed.

No, he expects me to follow him. I’m not even worth a basic command. I’m not a wolf but a dog, trained to heel by poverty, trained to obey by circumstances.

“Wait,” I call after him into the hallway. “I’m coming.”

There are only minutes to run back, to hold Dad’s trembling hand. To squeeze.

“Kim Taehyung will come,” I whisper, breathless. “I’ll try to leave a trail. Tell him to follow me. Tell him what happened.”

His eyes are wide, helpless. I don’t even know if he’s hearing me. I grab my ironman figurine from the rack and the dismantled parts too. And that’s what I need—dark red limbs and things made green and blackened from use.

I run down the stairs; the broken parts clutched in my sweaty palm. It’s only on the street that he stops, as motionless and contained as if he had been standing there all along.

I’m out of breath, still wearing my old diner uniform. A handful of broken limbs he can’t see.

“I don’t wait for you, little boy. That’s not how this works.”

Go to hell. That probably isn’t going to help my position any. And that’s not what I really want to say.

Please find me, Taehyung. He’s the only one who can solve this for me. He’s also the reason I’m in the middle of this, a twisted game of tug-of-war between father and son.

“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll be good. I swear.”

“Do you really think Dad is going to use the money to pay off the debt?”

I don’t care about the debt anymore. Don’t care about the money. What I care about is that Dad tells Kim Taehyung what happened.

“He knows what I’m giving up.”

Silver eyes gleam in the dark. “Do you?”

I glare at him.

“You want to have sex with me.”

“Wrong.”

Goose bumps rise on my skin, despite the warm night.

It only makes it worse.

“What, then?”

“I want to break you down into parts—into hope and despair. Into love and fear. I want to consume your humanity, feast on you, until there’s nothing left but a small, jagged core at the center.”

What a bastard.

“Why?” My voice is meek and small.

He laughs.

“Do you ever think about how mechanical sex is? Men so desperate for something warm and wet to fcuk. A purely physical sensation. We might as well be automatons.”

I’ve never thought about sex like that. I never think about it at all.

‘That’s a lie, Jungkook. You think about Taehyung.’ My omega is conjuring weird thoughts.

He continues, his expression severe. “I learned to block out physical sensations as a child. Pain. Sex. Hunger. They only touch our bodies. Not our minds.”

I swallow hard, remembering how that wild boy had left home. Something had been done to him. And something had been done to the one in front of me.

Alpha turned monster.

“What happened to you?”

He holds his hand out like I’m a 3-year-old crossing the street. “Come along.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, little peach. I’m the only sane one in a world full of rabid animals.”

Please find me, Taehyung. Find me in time.

I put my empty hand in his. He squeezes gently, as if to comfort me. It’s a strange sensation, to be consoled by my enemy. Less strange to be led by the king.

I drop a single wrist near the curb, hoping it will be small enough to escape notice, hoping it will be enough to bring Taehyung to me. The dark king takes me down two streets with a familiarity that shows he’s used to walking the west side streets.

Every few steps I drop a limb bringing out of pocket stealthily, leaving a trail for Taehyung to follow. As long as he comes in time.

Please, Taehyung.

The sign for the Midtown Asylum has long since crumbled, leaving only a large, plantation-style building. On either side, there are houses falling down.

It’s dark inside them.

Empty.

We’re alone.

The last head falls into the overgrown weeds. He unlocks the front door and steps inside, finally releasing me. Leaving me to stare at the pictures spread over the floor.

The insides of senators’ houses. The interiors of city hall. Windows into our twisted little world.

“The desk,” he says, hanging his coat on a hook like this is a five-star hotel instead of a broken-down mental hospital.

I take a step forward, horrified to find my bedroom in a photo. “You watched me.”

My faded quilt and my bunny poster. The room I had undressed in and slept in. The bed where I had touched myself thinking of Kim Taehyung.

As if he can read my thoughts he smiles. “Sometimes at night, I’d hear you breathe faster. See your hand moving under the covers. It’s so beautiful, the way you love...yourself.”

My eyes widen. “I’m not leaving here, am I?”

“Not alive.” He sounds almost regretful about that. The last thing I see will be those silver eyes.

I run for the door, knowing I’m trapped. Of course, he catches me. That night I learn why Kim Taehyung could hold his breath underwater for so long.  Because his father forced him there, longer and longer until he had to adapt to survive.

It’s a brutal existence, the water closing in on you, almost praying for death because it would be a relief.

Green tiles. Black water. The certainty that this will be the last thing I see. The decision to survive, if only to spite the monster.

My body is broken and split apart.

Violated.

Abused.

Used.

Thrown.

Used again.

And again.

Until I gave up.

Then used again.

Twisted into something unfeeling. That night my mind cracks into a million splinters. But the dark king was wrong about one thing.

I don’t die, no matter how many times I wish I would. I learn to hold my breath, the same way Kim Taehyung did.

We have something in common now.

We’re both monsters. Not the kind you can see on the outside. He wears a secret smile on his handsome face. Bruises faded back to pale skin on my naked body. It’s only inside that something can never be repaired.

Only inside that I never really leave the water.

Inside that I learn to need the dark.

!~~~!

All those years ago I didn’t like the water. I was too busy clinging to the slippery rubber, too frantic kicking to stay close to Amma. Way too afraid of drifting away.

And then Kim Taehyung came into my life.

A force of nature.

A tidal wave.

And I learn that there are compensations for drowning. That I can float, my body shivering and catatonic.

My mind can float, too. That’s how Taehyung finds me. He pulls my body from the water, his hands iron-hard on my bruised skin. Strong arms cradle my limp body. Held so close I could hear his heart beating, too fast.

I want to tell him—don’t worry. I’m okay here, floating down the river in my head. Except I can’t say a word. That’s one thing about floating. I hear him talking to me, his low voice so different than ever before. He’s been amused and casually cruel. Never terrified and tense, never broken. The words come through a thick swirl of dark water, my thoughts inky black.

“Wake up, Jungkook. Talk to me. Oh God, what did he do to you? Tell me where you’re hurt. Let me help you.” He speaks faster the longer he goes, his voice turning hoarse.  “Beautiful Kookie. Smart Kookie. Come back to me.”

He called me golden, pretty but never beautiful. I think I really look pathetic enough to be called beautiful even in my broken state.

He carries me for what feels like miles, my torn uniform drenched, his grip impossibly tight. Part of me wonders how we must look, a man in a suit carrying a half-conscious boy.

Does no one stop him?

Does no one wonder?

The irony is that he’s the only one who would protect me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my forehead. “God, I’m so sorry. I tried to stay away from you. I wanted to keep you safe. If he knew…if he touched you…”

Kim Yongdae did more than touch me. He tortured me. He violated me in every way that an alpha can hurt you. I’m sure there’s tearing, enough to show what’s happened. I wish there weren’t any marks, not because it would hurt me less, but because it would hurt him less.

The unlikely prince charming come to take me away. No white horse, though. Only his bespoke Italian loafers against the asphalt. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s raining, the water on my skin fresh and clean. Unlike that horrible pool of water where I had been trapped, unlike the salty tears I couldn’t hold in. Taehyung swears, but I wish I could tell him the rain will help.

I don’t want to be dirty. We reach a building in the historic district, with white stone and black metal balconies on each window. He pushes inside as if he owns the place, and maybe he does. Maybe he owns the entire street. The whole town.

I hear a sharp gasp. “Is he—”

Is he dead? That’s what the unknown man asks. The strange part is not knowing the answer.

Am I dead?

!!~~~~!!!!~~~~!!