Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

- Part 01 -

Blood Sweat & Tears

***

Chapter 001 - Jungkook’s nightmare

Jungkook knew it was a dream.

At least for now. Because he had this nightmare enough times to know it wouldn't last.

Jungkook was wearing his high school uniform, sitting in the middle of their home, back in Busan. His grandmother was putting delicious dishes on the table: japchae, doenjang-jjigae, and more banchan than he could count on one hand. All his favorites. He tried to ignore the wicked eyes that were looking at him from behind her shoulder, but the thing had a mouth now. And it was smiling creepily.

"My puppy, why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not that hungry, halmeoni."

"Well, I died because of you, the least you could do is eat my food, don't you think?"

Jungkook didn't know if it was his grandmother or if it was the spirit attached to her, whispering words into her ear that had spoken. Still, the words hurt the same, since they were the truth.

Despite that, Jungkook shamelessly looked at his impassible grandmother's face, trying to commit her features to memory. Knowing damn well it was impossible and that, upon his waking up, he would forget them again.

Jungkook smiled a sad smile, took the metallic chopsticks, and pulled the japchae dish towards him. A voice, deep in his mind, was screaming at him not to, not to eat it, but it was like he had no control over his body. So he took a mouthful of noodles, only to cough them up a moment later: the maggots crawled and dispersed, but the awful taste and repugnant sensation in his mouth didn't disappear.

A hand on his chest, the other on the ground, as he was on all fours, Jungkook was trying not to vomit.

His grandmother patted his back in an attempt to help him and whispered soothingly: "My poor puppy, that's okay... everything you touch becomes rotten or crumbles into ashes, you should've known better..."

Jungkook, heaving, tears in his eyes, slowly looked at his grandmother.

But she had no face anymore.

Jungkook woke up, bathed in sweat.

Chapter Text

- Part 01 -

Blood Sweat & Tears

***

Chapter 002 - Hyejin's Choice

A series of bad choices.

If Hyejin had to sum up her life, this would definitely be how she would do so. By a cruel twist of fate, that was probably how she would sum up her death, too.

Yet, the day had started well. After her shift at the Itaewon bar where she has been working for three weeks now, she managed to catch the 04:14 bus, the first one of the day. That was rare. She even managed to sleep a bit before getting on the second bus leading to her neighbourhood.

As soon as she got home, she had time to plant a kiss on her sleeping son's forehead, take a shower and prepare a simple breakfast. All without waking her father. At the stroke of 6 a.m., she woke Yoongi up, helped him wash up and get dressed, and, together, they ate a bowl of rice each and the still-hot seaweed soup she made. After all, it was Yoongi's birthday.

They talked, voices hushed in the early morning, about the upcoming school science fair. The boy was overly excited, he had a very specific idea, but Hyejin couldn’t understand half of the words he used. She tried to read books, on the bus or when she was on the graveyard shift at the convenience store. Books about stars and planets and spaceships, so she could at least join him in his excitement when he told her about something space-related. But this was the next level: all she understood was that he wanted to send something very high in the sky. And she was going to do everything she could to help him do it.

“You still haven't told me what you want to do for your birthday,” she whispered to him, as she patted a napkin over the corner of the child's mouth.

Yoongi seemed to hesitate, his eyes glued to the pattern on the ugly tablecloth that covered the kitchen table, suddenly more interesting than his mother's eyes.

“Eomma, could we have cheese tteokbokki?”

Hyejin scooped up her last spoonful of rice and stared intently at Yoongi. Cheese ttoekbokki was relatively inexpensive. Even if it was the child's favourite snack, she expected him to ask her for a toy or some fashionable backpack… Or even a cake! Usually, she couldn't afford it, but she had put aside a few wons, hiding them in a crack in the wall of their bedroom, to spoil him for his birthday. And that’s why she took that job all the way to Itaewon. But all there was in his downcast eyes was resignation. And a hint of worry. So, her heart sank at the thought that her baby had grown up far too quickly. Because she knew what he was doing.

“Oh? Really? That's all?” she asked, overly detached. “I'm going to cancel the cake I ordered yesterday, then!”

She smiled when her son's little cat-like eyes widened like saucers, his gaze fixed on her now. She didn’t order a cake, but there were ones at the convenience store she could afford.

“A cake?” he shouted.

A loud growl escaped from the next room. Yoongi and Hyejin glanced sideways at the closed door.

“A cake?” the child repeated, this time in a whisper, when the loud snores resumed.

“Yes! A chocolate cake! Would you like that?”

“With vanilla frosting?”

“With vanilla frosting!”

Yoongi’s gummy smile illuminated his face and Hyejin’s morning. A series of bad choices. That’s what her life was about. Or, rather, a series of bad reactions to all the bad things life threw at her. Because every so often, it didn’t really feel like Hyejin had a choice at all. But seeing Yoongi beaming at the simple mention of a cake made Hyejin's heart sink again, but for a whole different reason, this time.

So, she thought that, yes, despite her life being a series of bad choices, keeping Yoongi was the one she never regretted making.

Hyejin also remembered spotting some space-themed candles at the convenience store. She made a mental note to buy them too.

“Quickly finish eating, we're going to be late for school!” she smiled at him.

***

Hyejin was tired. But, again, when wasn’t she? The day passed in a frenzy of sheets to be washed and toilets to be scrubbed: she worked at a small love hotel for most of the day. Then she managed to sleep for an hour on the bus that took her to her third part-time job.

So, now, in the middle of her shift at the grocery store, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to her. She tried to focus on the book she was reading — an entry-level book about Saturn and its moons she borrowed from the library because Yoongi was having a Saturn phase. But she was pretty sure she read the same paragraph half an hour ago. Did she forget to turn the page? Luckily, there were never customers at this time of the day, when it was already too late to call it an afternoon but still too early to call it night.

Head, eyes, and book heavy, she dozed behind the counter. Until—

“Wah! You look like a real zombie!”

Hyejin jumped, hand on her chest, her eyes scanning her surroundings frantically. Then, when she spotted Gahyeon, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Yah! You scared me!”

Gahyeon was the student who worked part-time here when Hyejin wasn’t. Hyejin frowned, though: there was still at least an hour before the end of her shift. Gahyeon seemed to understand Hyejin’s confusion.

“Ah, Unnie, I finished early, and I know today is your little angel's birthday, so I thought I’d come to save you from this boring ass job!”

Hyejin looked at Gahyeon in disbelief.

“What?” Gaheyon beamed, quickly. “It’s not for you, it’s for Yoongi! And I expect you to cover for me sometime in the future, of course!”

Hyejin knew that Gahyeon wasn’t serious: the younger girl was incredibly kind and always helped anyone around her when she could. A bright little sun, that’s what she was.

The two young women were almost the same age and yet led two very different lives. Gahyeon was studying business and marketing, she had friends, went to parties, and had the time to be kind to people around her. Hyejin, on the other hand… Well, for starters, she didn’t even get to finish high school. Still, they shared a lot of the same interests, and they got along very well.

At first, Gahyeon dropped by between classes sometimes to eat ramyeon — her dorm was not too far away from the convenience store. This is how they had come to sympathise. And they became even closer when Gahyeon took the part-time job. Hyejin would never dare to admit it, but she considered the student her closest friend.

“Thank you, Gahyeon-ah!”

“It’s okay, Unnie! When he becomes a famous astronaut, I’ll definitely brag about wiping his snot and butt! He better be prepared!”

Hyejin laughed, taking off her vest while heading to the small locker room at the back. She then folded it neatly and put it in her locker. When she came back to the front of the store, Gahyeon was already behind the counter, with a notebook, a cute purple pen case, and pens scattered all around, frowning over a very highlighted book page.

Hyejin put 20,000 won on the counter in front of Gahyeon and lifted the bag containing a small chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and a pack of space candles she had in her hand. Gahyeon just laughed.

“Have fun and send me a video of your little angel blowing out the candles!”

Hyejin promised and ran to get her bus.

***

A shout.

A sudden thud.

A muffled pained moan.

Plastic bags that fell to the ground.

Hot tears and a silent prayer.

Her father was bent in half over Yoongi, his little wrist squeezed between the old man’s dirty paws. Yoongi had a hand over his stomach and seemed to be in pain.

The setting was familiar, too familiar to Hyejin. Although, usually, she was the one the old man was bent over, not Yoongi. Never Yoongi.

Hyejin's blood swirled. She grabbed the first thing that came to her hand and threw it on her father's head.

“Do not touch him!” she screamed.

It was a bottle of soju, but it didn’t break.

It only made the old man more angry, Hyejin felt it in the way his movements stilled and Yoongi’s eyes filled with even more fear.

Her father turned his head around, slowly, freeing the little boy’s wrist, eyes glassy, features twisted with anger. Hyejin got between the man and her son.

“How dare you, you bitch! Your bastard—”

He slapped her so hard, she fell on the floor. Then, he proceeded to take off his belt.

“Yoongi,” she said with a firm voice, despite the fear that rocked her up and down.

She crouched down, hugging a sobbing Yoongi, panic gripping her: she needed to check that her little one was okay, but she didn't have time.

“The closet,” she whispered. “And lock the room’s door.”

She read the hesitation in the child's eyes. But she knew he would listen to her. She knew that Yoongi only wanted to help. But he couldn't do anything. She needed to know he was safe, so she gently pushed him towards the bedroom.

The second blow hit her before Yoongi closed the door behind him. Hyejin, tried to hold back her cry, but failed miserably. Her eyes shut, she prayed that Yoongi would remember to put on his headphones and the playlist she made for him. Every time she could, she would add soothing songs or happy ones to console him and express her love.

To drown her screams.

This had happened far more often than she would ever dare to admit: her father, half-drunk, filled with rancour by life, filled with an anger that only he knew the source of, but only she knew the bitter taste of, beating her.

Until today.

Because that's what was different, this time around. Despite the blows, the insults, and the constant little harsh comments, her father had never raised his hand at Yoongi. She had always been able to prevent it or, at least, that's what she thought. Her mind wandered anywhere but in the living room of their crappy apartment — the only way she had to silence the physical pain. And it was filled with a thousand questions that could all be summarised into one: had this happened before?

She had come home early today and had caught the scene. She always tried to never leave Yoongi alone with this monster, but with three jobs, it wasn't always easy. Guilt and another feeling, very foreign to Hyejin, seeped all over her and became even more unbearable than the pain of the blows.

It was anger. A fit of anger fuelled by fear that she had somewhat failed her son, failed to protect her precocious little angel. And for the first time in years, she was aware of the hits inflicted on her body, drawing screams from her and hot reddish streaks all over her flesh — except her face. Because the bastard always managed not to touch Hyejin's face, as drunk and in bad shape as he would become.

“How dare you throw a bottle at me? You whore!”

A blow, on her stomach. She lost her breath.

“Wasn’t it enough disrespect for you to fool around and get pregnant? To bring a bastard under my roof?”

A blow, on her back. A muffled cry.

“Noooo, you throw bottles at me, now!”

A blow, on her leg. A scream and more tears.

“I’m gonna kill you…”

He lifted the belt, again and she braced herself. But the blow never came. He lowered it, the buckle pounding loudly against the floor.

“No more disrespect. I’m going to kill you then kill your bastard—”

“No.”

Her voice was desperate yet firm, commanding. A desire that she had not known for years crept into her heart: the desire to protect herself, to no longer suffer. She had to survive to protect her son.

The old man looked at her, surprised. Clearly confused.

“What did you say?”

Hyejin tried to even her breathing. With a hand, she leaned against the door and tried to get up on her right leg — the one that wasn’t hit. All of her body was aching. Hell, even breathing was painful! Fear and tears ragged her breath, and she was shaking like a dead leaf. But anger fuelled her determination. She had enough. So, never again.

“This is the last time you put your hand on me or my son.”

The old man smirked. And Hyejin’s determination began to crumble. She didn’t know what kind of reaction she was expecting. She didn’t really think things through as she was acting on instincts and adrenaline. Was she expecting him to encourage her and open the door for her, so she can escape with her son? No, of course not, she wasn’t delusional. But she didn’t expect him to smirk. She didn’t expect his expression to become even more venomous.

“Is that so?”

He was laughing now. And every cackle sent shivers down Hyejin’s spine.

“And where would you go, mmhh??”

Hyejin didn’t have an answer to that. Or, rather, she had one, but it wasn’t a practical one: after all, anywhere was better than here. He took her hard-earned money, so she had no savings. He made sure to scare every person in her life, so she had no-one. And she could’ve endured it all, as long as she was the only one suffering at the hands of this monster. But now that he hurt Yoongi… Never again.

The old man stopped laughing suddenly.

It was so sudden that Hyejin couldn’t help but look at him.

“Change of plans, I’m going to kill him but then—”

His smile grew bigger.

“I’ll let you live, so you never forget who you owe your life to, you bitch.”

Things then happened fast. So fast that Hyejin didn't understand at first. All she knew was that her father shoved her to get past her to the door she was standing in front of. A feral need made her stand up on her feet in the blink of an eye, again. She didn’t feel pain anymore. Not pain, not anger, nothing at all. Just fear. Pure and utter horror.

She grasped her father’s arm to stop him, clawing at his skin, and he hissed when he tried to escape her grip. He frowned when she landed on the floor, threw the belt and grabbed the bat he kept by the TV. Now, he was aiming for her head. Her instinct made her raise her right arm to protect herself, and she heard a crack. She screamed again, her left wrist tightening around her arm and her eyes closed.

Another blow, this time to the back of her head.

Hyejin’s ears were ringing, loud, and her vision was beginning to blur. But through the fog muffling the surrounding noises, she heard the distinctive hiss the tip of the bat was making, being dragged on the floor. She tried to raise her head and that’s when she understood she was lying on the floor. All she could see was her father’s steps toward her. Toward the door. Toward Yoongi.

Before she could think, she was standing in front of her father again, and she jumped on him, screaming, clawing at every inch of flesh she could find. And the man finally lost balance. He was trying to get Hyejin off him, but all he could do was stumble back. And then, he fell backward, and his head landed on the metal and glass table, shattering it.

Hyejin crawled back, away from the old man. She was still breathing very harshly, crying and sobbing from time to time. Her father was lying on the ground, his head streaked with blood and broken glass. She couldn’t see anything else, her vision was blurry again. And she was in pain. Her face, her right arm, her leg, her chest, her stomach, and the back of her head. Everything was aching. Her heart too.

In a sad attempt, she tried to open the door, but the handle was too high to grab. She gave up.

An annoying buzz drowned out the myriad of noises around her. Hyejin was sleepy now. She knew someone was talking to her, but she couldn't quite register their words. They were urging her to get up, handling her not so gently, putting her on her legs, putting something around her wrists. But all she wanted was to see Yoongi. She tried to tell them, but only a gargle came out of her mouth. The sound had an awful metallic and rusty taste. The noises and lights around her became more frantic.

And Hyejin was feeling the fatigue of the last few weeks — no, scratch that, the last few years — take possession of her body. She wanted to sleep, only a little. Then she would go find Yoongi and leave this crappy apartment. Maybe they would go to Gahyeon? Yeah, they could. She loved Yoongi. When she wakes up, she was going to do that. Sleeping was a good idea. Just a little nap. Five minutes, that's all she needed.

She closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

- Part 01 -

Blood Sweat & Tears

***

Chapter 003 - Familiar

Jungkook's pocket watch was reading 23:32 thus indicating he was late. And Jungkook hated being late. More often than not, it meant trouble. 

He had to be at Hangil General Hospital to collect Oh Hyejin’s soul in exactly 46 minutes.

The thing is, he was nowhere near the damn hospital yet.

“It must be here," he kept mumbling to himself, wishing once again he could bring his phone on missions, because he had no idea where he was.

At that point, JungKook was almost tempted to become visible to humans just to ask the few passerbys for directions.

It wasn't his fault being late, for once, though: he never worked in Dobong-gu before. Usually, Jungkook was assigned to Gangbuk-gu, the neighbouring district. But the Grim Reapers of the area were on a very delicate case — some gas leak incident. If not handled quickly and efficiently, dead souls could become evil spirits or, worse, an egg spirit — when several souls fuse together forming a single and powerful ghost – could form. It was rare but the chances of it happening after a collective disaster were too high to ignore. So every bit of help was welcome.

And, of course, Jungkook agreed in the blink of an eye: for once, he was tasked to collect regular souls, not rogue ones. And if he managed his time and locations well, he would be able to collect at least 4 souls before he had to head to his regular job at 10am. Jungkook absolutely needed that: he hadn't met his quota for two weeks now.

If only he was permitted to go to the gas leak incident, too! He could've escorted at least half a dozen souls. Or maybe it was a blessing in disguise: Jungkook was too antsy these days to take any derogatory comment from the other reapers, that night.

A blue flame flailed in front of Jungkook's face, trying to get his attention. 

"Huh?" Jungkook followed the flame with his eyes and saw an ambulance turning right at the intersection. He smiled, relieved. 

“What would I do without you, Eunchae-yah!”

The blue flame fluttered for a bit before settling on Jungkook's hair. 

He closed his eyes in utter concentration and felt the familiar feeling of warmth all over his back. He spread his wings and took off, flying into the direction the ambulance was heading. Soon enough, he found himself in the hospital parking lot. 

Hangil General Hospital was a sad white-walled building with not much light nor life. As soon as his wings disappeared behind his back, he ran and walked through the emergency double door, passing by the previous ambulance.

Jungkook glanced at his watch: 43 minutes left.

The hall was a storm of noises and colours and frantic movements. There were occupied beds all over. He ignored it all and approached and scanned the information board to find OR number 4. That was where Oh Hyejin was going to be taken, where she was going to die. But he couldn’t find anything about Operation Rooms, just indications about the multiple general services.

While he was debating again if it would be worth it to just make himself visible and ask the front desk nurse, his ears perked at something behind him.

“Oh Hyejin, 24-year-old, Female. GCS 3.”

Jungkook turned in a snap. That was his client, on a stretcher pushed by 2 paramedics, surrounded by several nurses in purple and two doctors in green.

“BP 90 over 50. Tachy 140. Stats 100%. Pressure dressing on her head, but it’s still bleeding pretty bad,“ one of the paramedics continued.

Four men — two of them with police officer uniforms — followed the stretcher closely.

“All right, we're gonna replace the King with an ET”, one of the doctors said, and Jungkook could only see his broad back, but his voice was thicker than honey.

He seemed very familiar, though...

“Nurse Do, grab the intubation kit. Let's move her on my count. One… Two… Three.“

Jungkook followed them, until they got to a small glass-walled room by the entrance. The doctor and the nurses lifted Oh Hyejin from the stretcher to install her onto one of the beds. Jungkook frowned: his client had her hands cuffed. He looked at the policemen and the two other men, who were probably detectives. All were pretty indifferent to Oh Hyejin’s fate and one even looked bored.

“Breath sounds good on both sides,” the small doctor said, winding a stethoscope around her neck.

“All right. She’s still bleeding too much for my liking. Hang two units of blood.“

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Get me a plastic tray.”

“Got it.”

“We need to stop these bleeders. Saline?“

“Here.”

“Oh, Doctor Kim, she's got glass shards in her scalp,“ one of the nurses observed.

“Heart rate is erratic, Doctor,” the one surnamed Do warned.

“Suction”, Doctor Kim ordered with a steady and perfectly calm voice.

“Yeah, got it.”

Jungkook watched them, impressed. No, fascinated. More than he cared to admit. It was a well-oiled machine, he thought to himself. The doctor’s orders flew, and the nurses responded quickly and efficiently. There was no hesitation, only trust, and precision.

Suddenly, one of the machine’s beeping got more erratic.

“Pressure's falling,” a nurse shouted.

“Nurse Do, get me the ultrasound!” Then, a few seconds later: “There's free fluid in her abdomen.”

“Pressure's still low,” the nurse reminded him.

“The thing is, she's not stable enough to go to CT. We need to open her up now. Call the OR and tell them we're on our way up.“

“Yes, Doctor Kim.”

“Also, get these handcuffs off her.”

Jungkook glanced at the doctor. He still could only see his back — and his fluffy dark hair. But for the first time, tonight, he seemed irritated, which surprised the Reaper. The detective’s answer confused Jungkook even more.

“She killed her father, that woman is dangerous!”

Jungkook laid his eyes on the man who just spoke. His voice was coated in venom and the Reaper frowned: he didn’t have the time to read his client’s folder and regretted it now. 

But, really, Eunchae informed him of the four opportunities only two hours ago. And he still had to go to the Northern Lighthouse to officially and personally answer the requests because it couldn’t be assigned it to him automatically since he was from another district. And it was a lot of paperwork.

Like, a lot.

Jungkook observed the doctor's back. He was tense so he expected the man to explode and command the handcuffs to be taken. Jungkook was sure he was the kind of man who yielded authority and was used to get what he wanted.

But, surprisingly, when he spoke again, his voice had lost all authority and was singsong-y, almost subversive. 

"Ah, detective, seeing how she's unconscious, I'll take my chances," the doctor beamed.

Ugh, Jungkook thought. He hated people like doctor Kim – in other words... fake people. Because maybe it wasn't obvious to everyone but Jungkook could see how tense doctor Kim was.

“She even went to juvie for robbery… Twice! She’s a criminal!“ the detective insisted.

Jungkook was used to it now. He accompanied many people in their death. After all, it was his job. And he saw it all: beautiful souls and less beautiful ones. None equal in life but all equal before death. Still, for Jungkook, they all deserved to be treated with decency. Oh Hyejin could have led a bad life, full of bad choices and bad decisions, she still deserved to be given a proper chance to be saved. Even if it was only to face justice afterward. 

So, by now, Jungkook wanted to smack the detective, badly.

"She's also my patient," Doctor Kim answered, still a smile in his voice. "I can't treat her properly until the cuffs are off. And I'm pretty sure you must be busy with more important things than to safeguard a dying woman. Tell you what, if something happens, I'll take responsibility. My name is Kim Taehyung, you can use it if needed."

Kim Taehyung? Jungkook was sure he had heard that name before... or, rather, he had read it somewhere. But he couldn’t remember where... 

Jungkook moved so he can see Doctor Kim's face. He had incredibly warm eyes, adorned with the longest eyelashes ever. A mole punctuated his right eye, then he had one on the tip of his straight nose and another on his lower lip. The three formed a straight line and it was adorable. His skin was clear and his tone olive. And Jungkook became sure he had never met that man before: he would never had forgotten such striking features if he ever had.

There was still something familiar to him, though. 

While Jungkook was racking his brain, three heartbeats, punctuated by the machines’ noises — some constant, some uncertain — and the stillness of everyone. One. Two. Three. Then…

The detective finally seemed to understand that he wasn’t going to win this one.

“All right… But if anything happens, it’s on you, doctor!“ he yelled, an accusing — or threatening — finger pointed at the doctor. 

“Of course, that's what taking responsibility means, detective,” doctor Kim answered all smiley and cheerful, and Jungkook chuckled. He may be fake but even he couldn't suppress the sarcasm from his voice, this time.

The staff began moving before the doctor could yell an exasperated “To the OR”.

Storm. 

That was the word Jungkook decided for the doctor. 

That was a silly game he did, sometimes… Assigning a word to people. For example, for his boss, Lee Sayoung, her word was Fire and Jungkook couldn’t explain why. Maybe because of her temperament but also her warmth. For Gu Samsa, he could. He was one of the Reapers with whom he shared Gangbuk-gu's responsibilities... And one of the few who talked to him without prejudice. His word was Cigarette — because he always seemed tired, like a cigarette smoked to the edge of the filter, threatening to crumble to ashes at the first gush of wind. 

Usually, though, Jungkook only assigned words to people he knew, not random strangers he didn’t even see the face of. Even if their voice was deep like the ocean, their hair fluffy like a honeyed cloud and their features striking like a chiseled alabaster statue of some forgotten deity.

He didn’t have the time to dwell on that or meditate about why Doctor Kim was a Storm, though. While following the medical crew to the OR, Jungkook took his black notebook from his inside pocket. He opened it to the first page where the name of his current client was written in 3 bold Hanja characters. There was two dates and a reason of death underneath. The other pages were seemingly empty but when he turned them, new sentences appeared, carving Oh Hyejin’s story on the grainy paper.

Jungkook read about her — too brief of a — life. And about her miserable death. About her, not many desires, her frail hopes, and her only regret: her son.

The Reaper knew then that helping Oh Hyejin let go of her worldly attachments wasn’t going to be easy.

Several minutes had passed before Jungkook finally lifted his eyes from his notebook. They were now in Operating Room number 4 and there were two doctors bent on Oh Hyejin’s body now. The room was cold and smelled nauseating and overpowering and the Reaper may have done this job for 13 years, he still couldn’t get used to it.

All he could do, now, was wait. So, for the first time, Jungkook took the time to observe Oh Hyejin. She was petite and frail, and he could see that life didn’t spare her. She was still beautiful, with her long dark locks framing her small face. Her skin was grey-ish, and she had some faint scars on her blood-soaked arms — nothing too noticeable, it was mostly in the way there were faint, crisp white scratches on her golden skin. Between the old marks, though, bruises recounted the painful evening on her skin. 

Jungkook knew she was unconscious, dying. But it felt like she was just asleep. 

Resting.

That didn’t prevent a frown from knotting her eyebrows.

“Lap sponges”, the doctor ordered.

“Yes, Doctor Kim.”

Doctor Kim had big steady hands and gentle but sharp focused hazel eyes. 

“And keep them coming… I can’t see shit…”

“Language, Doctor Kim!”

The other doctor was both hands wrist-deep in Hyejin’s stomach. Her eyes were focused on the ceiling like she was trying to see with her hands. 

“There's too much blood, Doctor Hwang! And I can't see where it's coming from.”

“Feel for it, then,“ she answered.

“Pressure's dropping again,” a man sitting in a corner said, his back to the operating bed, his eyes glued to the lights and noises of a big machine.

Jungkook looked at his pocket watch. It was a pretty shiny thing, embossed and polished by the years. A beautiful object that announced terrible things. 

Two minutes left.

"Eunchae-yah, get ready," Jungkook whispered touching the blue flame in his hair. Eunchae's form darkened and spread like she was stretching after a long nap.

“The belly is still packed, and the spleen is in pieces. Something else is bleeding," Doctor Kim said.

“Okay, okay… I'll run the bowel… Oh, the mesentery's bleeding! I will clamp it, okay? Doctor Kim, you get the spleen.”

“Curved 8 to me… Metz scissors.”

“Scissors.”

“Bowl.”

“Bowl”, a nurse answered.

“Thank you. I'll hold the clamp, you tie.”

“All right, the bleeding stopped. How's she doing?”

“Pressure's still dropping…”

“Fuck! Something else is bleeding, and we don’t know what it is!” Doctor Kim yelled and Jungkook could hear it in his voice that he was alarmed now.

00:18. It was time.

Jungkook stood up straight, opened his notebook again on the first page with the Hanjas, and called for the dead, pronouncing every syllable correctly and distinctly. Three times.

“Oh Hyejin. Oh Hyejin. Oh Hyejin.”

The woman’s soul rose from her body. She was still clinging to life, Jungkook could see it in the way her soul seemed a little immaterial like she was some sort of ghost. Her eyes scanned the room, frenetically, until they met Jungkook’s.

“I am dead.”

It wasn’t a question. So, Jungkook didn’t answer.

“I can’t. I can’t die. Not now, he— He needs me.”

Jungkook approached her, slowly, and held out his hand to her. She observed it, wary. The Reaper knew she thought: that once she took it, there was no going back. Jungkook didn’t have the heart to tell her that it didn’t matter whether she took it or not: there was already no going back.

“I really can’t die”, she said, her eyes still locked on his hand, her voice calm, too calm. “My son. My son needs me.”

“I know”, Jungkook sighed. “I know, Oh Hyejin-ssi…”

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally grabbed Jungkook’s hand. Then, she began crying and the more she cried, the more her appearance was tangible.

Then, a long beep rang in the room.

“Oh Hyejin.”, Doctor Kim said, his voice slightly cracking. “Time of death: 00:21.”

Chapter Text

- Part 01 -

Blood Sweat & Tears

***

Chapter 004 - Rebirth

Gu Samsa arrived at the Oh household mere seconds before his client’s death. And, not for the first time, he was glad the bureaucracy of the Afterworld and the paperwork made him late because the scene at the tiny apartment was gut-churning. Two bodies were lying on the floor. There was a female one crawling with difficulty towards a closed door, every strut snatching a pained moan from her. And the other had blood pooling from the head, glass shattered around him like a halo. But he was no angel, Gu Samsa knew that, because the almost-dead man was his client. All he had about him was a name — Oh Sangeok, and an address but he read a brief summary of his life on his way here that testified to his cruelty. So he knew.

Gu Samsa crouched beside his client’s body and observed him. He was big and buff and his skin looked yellow like some kind of old parchment. He had a baseball bat in one of his hands, the end of which was blood red and looked sticky. A belt lied on the floor next to the female body, like a snake ready to pounce on her, the buckle catching the reflections of the buzzing light from the ceiling. 

“Oh Sangeok. Oh Sangeok. Oh Sangeok,” Gu Samsa called, speaking each syllable distinctly, loud and clear, his eyes on the Chinese hanja on his notebook.

A groan escaped from Oh Sangeok and his soul rose from his body, his silhouette clear and distinct, not immaterial as it could sometimes be for some people who were still clinging to life. Oh Sangeok’s death was brutal and quick, his passing to the In-Between clean and tangible.

The dead man looked at the Reaper, frowning.

“I’m dead,” he said, and Chugho frowned too, in turn. His client seemed aware and not at all surprised. He looked at the sobbing girl near the door and his face painted with a loud guilt.

“She’s finally free,” he whispered.

The Reaper was clearly surprised. Oh Sangeok showing signs of guilt and regret... he didn't anticipate this. Reading his story on the way, nothing could have prepared Gu Samsa for this. On the contrary, he thought he'd have to restrain his client so he didn't attack his own daughter. The Reaper sighed, thinking if his client had this guilt in him, he should have shown it to his daughter. It was too late, now.

Before Reaper Gu could urge his client to follow him, since he had seven other souls to collect before the end of his shift, Oh Sangeok, his eyes still on his daughter, put his fingers in his ears and began whispering something quietly. It felt like the soul was having a breakdown but Gu Samsa didn't know why or what was happening. This was unusual and definitely not in the manual.

Gu Samsa didn't have time to utter a word or calm his client, when the rice cooker beeped, startling him. Then it was the TV, then the light in the hallway and the kitchen. A small radio on a shelf so high the Reaper was sure it hadn't been used in ages, blared white noise and catchy music in intermittence. The volume of the TV seemed to gradually increase, becoming almost deafening and drowning out Oh Sangeok's mad litany. As tall and buff as he was, he looked like a little boy now, and had taken refuge under the table, his hand over his ears, his eyes tightly shut.

Then everything shut down, the lights went out and that’s when Gu Samsa heard it.

The growl.

At first, it wasn’t faint but it wasn’t clear, like some background noise or like it was coming from a dog next door. Or from the walls. It was only when all the devices went off and quietness reigned in the apartment, that Chungho realized that the noise had been there since the moment he had set foot in this hovel. 

Now, it was coming from one of the corner of the apartment. He turned carefully his head to the source of the growl and only saw two eyes, red and vicious before the thing was on him.

The Reaper hadn’t felt pain that searing in 26 years and he screamed until darkness consumed him.

Chapter Text

- Part 02 -

Mama

***

Chapter 005 - A mother’s heart

Usually, when a person died, they generally were confused and disoriented. Sometimes, they couldn’t control their limbs, like the sudden absence of a body made them lighter, less anchored, or like gravity didn’t have the same hold on them anymore. After a few minutes or so, they would start to forget the circumstances of their death, be it a painful or a peaceful one. Then, they remembered little of their life, too: only major events or turning points. The happier the memory, the easier and the better they remembered it. Half an hour or so after their Death, souls usually couldn’t recall their close ones’ names or faces. Only feelings: warmth, love, fear…

That was the nature of Death. 

The reason was that their names were borrowed when a Reaper called them. The goal was to prevent souls from wandering the Living Realm and ease them into the next step. They would regain their names and all their memories after they crossed the Gates of the Afterlife, so they could defend themselves before the Seven Gods.

Death wasn’t painful or scary. It took only when it couldn’t help it, only when the strings of fate exhausted all their possibilities.

Regrets were the last things that clung to the newly departed souls. Regrets were sneaky little beads of possibilities that were ignored in life — on purpose or not — and didn’t like being overlooked. They still accompanied the souls onto their next lives, if said souls were deemed worthy of reincarnation.

The "What if"s and "Oh I wish I"s made some of Jungkook’s cases very difficult to handle. Nothing he couldn’t get through, though.

However, this time, something was wrong: It was already an hour since Oh Hyejin died, and she still had her memories. They were in the hospital's poorly lit parking lot. The weather was cold, with wind rustling tree leaves and rare passersby. The Reaper and the soul didn’t feel it, though: the perks of being between life and death, Jungkook knew.

It was an hour since Oh Hyejin died and she still remembered her son. She perfectly recalled his name and hers, their address, and the circumstances of her death. She was frantic, fumbling with her hands.

"You don’t understand, Jeoseungsaja-nim! He’s alone! He’s alone, hiding in that closet, and he’d never go out of it if I don’t tell him to! He— I told you, he’s only seven! You can’t— I mean, he’s only seven!"

"I’m sure the detectives did their job and found him, Oh Hyejin-ssi."

Jungkook knew that he wasn’t believing it himself when the words escaped his mouth. Maybe that was the reason Hyejin didn’t seem to believe him either.

"Then let me check! Just— I promise, I’ll do whatever you want after that, just— I need to see him! I need to tell him it’s okay, and I need to— Yes, I just need to be sure he’s okay, please!"

The distress in her voice made Jungkook falter. Almost.

"Oh Hyejin-ssi, you’re dead. Even if you see him, you won’t be able to talk to him, and he won’t be able to see you, you’re a soul, now. You don’t want to become a ghost."

She looked at him, weary.

"Ghosts are souls that, for one reason or another, find an anchor in the living world that makes it hard for them to leave," Jungkook continued. "And, contrary to people’s beliefs, ghosts can’t haunt places, they only haunt people. But a soul is only the sum of its good and bad experiences, raw and primal. They get obsessed. They cling to the object of their fixation and build walls around them. A haunted person will withdraw from the world, from life, because Death is clinging to them and, therefore, not really living. I’m sure you don’t want that for your son, don’t you?"

The more he talked, the more jittery Hyejin became. She was rubbing her hands against her arms now, her eyes lost somewhere behind him.

"But I just want to make sure he’s okay, I don’t want to haunt him! It won’t take long, I promise."

Jungkook was beginning to lose his patience. He was already late for his second client, for whom he had only an hour and a half to collect his soul and send him to the In-Between. If Oh Hyejin didn't listen to him, he was going to miss the opportunity to meet his quota. Calming the bubbling anger that threatened to take over him, he took Oh Hyejin’s arm as gently as he could and shook his head.

"We wasted enough time here, I need to get you to the—"

Hyejin struggled against his grip and, as she freed herself, began to run towards the exit of the parking lot. Jungkook wouldn't have cared at all — while flying, he knew he'd catch up to her in no time — if she hadn't... disappeared before his eyes. As if she had evaporated.

And no, that wasn't something souls were supposed to be able to do either.

The Reaper sat on the edge of one of the plant pots that framed the hospital doors. There was only soil and dead wrinkled branches on the pots, at this point. 

He thought, not for the first time, that he really wasn't cut for that job. Usually, he only dealt with rogue souls: souls that their assigned Reapers couldn't collect for some reason, or souls who wandered and stuck to someone. Souls who were on the verge of becoming vengeful spirits and were highly unstable. And even souls who wandered the living realm enough to become a gwishin — a ghost or rather an evil spirit. Those were difficult to deal with and it was a really thankless job, since those souls were considered lost and bringing them to the underworld was useless. They were used to feed the dokkaebis that served the Reapers.

That was the reason that job was reserved to 4th rank Reapers, in other words the bottom of the feeder. Those who committed sins so evil, not only they were denied the right to reincarnate, they were condemned to collect those rogue souls, putting what was left of their lives on the line. There was only 46 of them in all South Korea and Jungkook was one of them. Not that his sin was unforgivable... It was just that Jungkook was the only Reaper that was still... alive. That was why he wasn't allowed near newly departed souls, since Reapers had their empathy erased, so they could do their jobs better. Feeling bad for the dead could only lead to mistakes. And since Jungkook was human, under a temporary contract with death, he was allowed to keep his empathy.

The fact that he was alive, that he kept what made him human, was also why he was despised by other Reapers. That, and the fact that Eunchae worked with him.

Jungkook sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. 

"Eunchae-yah, I need to call the boss," he whispered. 

The blue flame leapt from Jungkook's hair, where she had nested, a calming presence, to settle on one of his palms. There she grew and grew and became almost green until a face appeared in the flame.

"Oh, Kook! I was about to call you."

As he heard Lee Sayoung's first words, the flame was purring against Jungkook’s palm, and he couldn’t help but smile.

"Noona! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you," he spoke with a smile.

"No, I just got here, Kookie… How did it go with your case? Oh Hyejin-ssi, was it?"

"Mmmhhh not very well, I have to admit…"

"Is everything okay?"

"She disappeared."

The silence was louder than any words Sayoungng could have uttered at that moment.

"She just vanished, Noona, right before my eyes."

"Are you talking figuratively or—?" she asked, in a whisper.

"No, no," Jungkook assured her. "It’s like she teleported or something."

"Jungkook, souls can’t do that."

"You don’t think I know that? This whole thing is weird, she’s been dead for an hour but still has all her memories."

"Oh? That sometimes happens, but I’ve never heard of— wait, wasn’t that a double death?"

"Yes, she killed her father before dying, why?" Jungkook answered, hearing the sudden worry in Sayoung’s voice.

"I haven’t heard about Reaper Gu Samsa yet, he was dispatched to Dobong-gu, too, since every free Reaper from there is dealing with the gas leak. I think he was the one on your client’s father’s case..."

"Oh, how is it going, by the way?"

The explosion was the reason the Northern Lighthouse allocated Reapers from neighboring districts to Dobong-gu and the reason Jungkook had to work in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

"Too many souls to gather and guide, and they’re still cautious so no one becomes a vengeful spirit," answered Sayoung, some kind of emotion in her voice.

"I see," Jungkook whispered. 

It was sad they couldn’t do anything about it, but Jungkook understood long ago that it wasn’t his role to save people or help them. He couldn’t save everyone, his only duty was to guide some of them to the Gates of the Afterlife. It was either that or more lives got lost.

"How are you going to find Oh Hyejin, then?" Sayoung asked.

"Oh, I know where she went, so…"

"Oh Hyejin-ssi is your client until she crosses the Gates of the Afterlife," Sayoung reminded him. "The originally assigned Reaper can’t work on this case anymore since it became yours. So, please don’t do anything stupid, I don’t want Chil Asshole thinking we can’t handle a job, please!"

Chil Asshole’s real name was Chil Isam, and he was the Chief Reaper of Yongsan. 

Jungkook met him enough times to really dislike the man: he always bragged about his district being the best one or about handling famous people’s cases. And when he didn’t do that, he took every opportunity to belittle the districts on the outskirts.

Sayoung hated him.

"Yah, Noona, I’m offended, really! When have I ever not correctly handled a job?" Jungkook sulked.

"Don’t ‘yah’ at me, you scoundrel! Just be careful, okay?"

Jungkook smiled. Lee Sayoung was a delight and probably his only friend, even if he didn’t know if he could use that word. She was the Chief of the Gangbuk-gu district and had a fiery temperament. But she loved her team and made sure they were always taken care of.

"Yes, yes, I’ll be careful. Also, don't assign my three other cases for tonight, I'm taking care of them after I get Oh Hyejin through the Gates, okay? I've got to go, now! I’ll see you later!"

"Jung—"

The flame became small and blue again when the connection broke, and Jungkook smiled.

Then he spread his wings and took off.

Chapter Text

- Part 02 -

Mama

***

Chapter 006 - The boy in the closet

The flight wasn’t long, it took Jungkook less than 10 minutes to get to Oh Hyejin’s apartment. He just hoped she was where he supposed she was.

He landed before a small two-story red-bricked building. The street was poorly lit, but Jungkook could see that the second floor was empty, like most of the surrounding buildings. There were trash bags pretty much everywhere and an old car was parked in the corner. Nothing really special in itself, except for the yellow police tape barring the entrance, which, surprisingly, blended into the surrounding setting.

He climbed the few stairs that led to the apartment door. They were topped with dust-covered plastic flower pots and some persistent weeds. Without opening the door, he entered the house and immediately, the smell made him wrinkle his nose. Jungkook wasn’t bothered, though. All his senses were dulled when he was in his Reaper mode, so unless it was some unbearable smell or taste, he didn’t feel it. 

He ignored the bloodied floor, dotted with glass shards and black footprints — probably made by the detectives, and headed to the lightly opened door at their left from where he could hear pained sobs.

"He’s in there", Hyejin sniffled. She was sitting on the floor, looking at the closet’s door, when Jungkook entered the room. "Under one of my coats, probably… He— I think he likes the smell of my clothes…"

Jungkook’s heart sank a bit.

"I can’t open the door, and the closet is too small for me to enter," she continued.

Slowly, Hyejin stood up and moved forward to open the closet, but she couldn't grab the handle, her hand slipping completely through it. 

"I called him, but he can’t hear me… You said you wouldn’t interfere, but… It means you can, right?" she asked Jungkook, hopeful.

"No!" Jungkook answered, firmly. "No, absolutely not!"

"We would only open the closet door!", Hyejin pleaded.

"I told you, we can’t and this is—" Jungkook began.

"My son is alone, confined in a closet, and scared!"

"There are rules, and we can’t break them; this is my final answer!" Jungkook yelled angrily.

"And I don’t care!" Hyejin was screaming now too. "Please, please, help me," she then pleaded with a softer voice.

Of course, Jungkook broke the rules before. When he was still young and stupid. And every single time, he had paid the price. So he knew now that the rules were there for a reason: to ensure everything would be okay, to make the line between good and bad clear. And it’s not like Hyejin was asking him something simple, because Death only had two Unbreakable Commandments for its Reapers:

1. To not interfere in a living person’s death
2. To never reveal one’s existence to a living person

So, at that moment, for Jungkook, it wasn’t just about opening the closet. If they found the boy, then he would have to do something about it and explain to him that he had to keep his existence a secret. Surely, there was another way to check if the boy was still there? Another way to help him without involving himself too much?

He wanted to help, he really did.

"I’m— I’m really sorry, Hye—"

"Ahjussi, who are you?"

Jungkook and Hyejin both turned to face the closet again, but now, an ebony black-haired little guy was peeking through the door. Jungkook frowned. He wasn’t supposed to be able to see them.

Hyejin was the first to break the stunned silence: "Adeul…?"

But the little boy didn’t even give his mother a look. He only tilted his head and blinked, his eyes glued on Jungkook.

"You can see me," the Reaper exhaled.

"Ah... Yes, I can. Are you here to take me? Or are you here for my eomma? Is— Is she okay?"

Hyejin let out a sob and collapsed on the ground, hitting her chest with her fisted hand.

"Oh, my Yoongi, my precious…"

Jungkook was still processing how the boy was able to see him. Only him. Not only that, he seemed aware of Jungkook's role as a Reaper somehow. And that, Jungkook couldn’t wrap his mind around it… But when he heard someone pick the front door’s lock, he snapped out of it. 

Jungkook had heard of some crime scenes being visited by thieves, and he didn’t want the boy to get hurt. And it’s not like he chose to meddle: the boy could see him already, it was too late to do something about it and too early to think about the consequences.

The only thing that somewhat reassured him was that no other Reaper was at the scene, and that meant that no one was to die tonight. Well, no one else. Yoongi's life wasn't in immediate danger, at least. He ignored Hyejin’s silent sobs and crouched in front of the little boy, so their eyes could be at the same level. Then he smiled, as reassuringly as he could. 

"Yoongi, listen to me…"

Now, muffled voices were coming from the living room. The kid, who had his gaze on the slightly opened door, the hand he had clenched around the closet door shaking a little, turned to him.

"Go back to the closet and don’t make a sound, okay?"

"O-okay", Yoongi whispered.

Yoongi only had the time to close the door on him that the bedroom’s door flew open. Hyejin was already in front of the closet door, her cheeks wet, guarding it like her life depended on it, glaring at the intruder who couldn't see her.

Jungkook stood there, completely stunned, because he already made a decision: He was going to protect Yoongi. He still wasn’t sure of how to act on it, though… He was going to protect him, even if one of of the greatest crimes was revealing a Reapers' existence. Even if it was probably going to cost him his life... Even if it was going to upset and disappoint Sayoung — which was, by far, the consequence he feared the most.

The light came on and pulled Jungkook out of his thoughts. 

"What kind of burglars turn out the light?" Oh Hyejin asked.

Probably the kind that’s not here to steal, a voice answered in Jungkook's head.

"Yoongi, don’t answer me," Jungkook finally said out loud, knowing only Hyejin and Yoongi could hear him. "But you don’t have to be afraid of the people here, they’re here to help you. Just… Don’t tell them you saw me, okay?"

Because Jungkook figured it out: the stranger had broad shoulders, fluffy brown hair and kind hazel eyes. And the Reaper was sure that, if he spoke, his voice would be deep and velvety.

Like a summer storm.

Doctor Kim Taehyung was indeed beautiful.

Chapter Text

- Part 02 -

Mama

***

Chapter 007 - Hunch

Taehyung was trying to even his breathing but without much success. Crying, heaving really, as silently as he could under the hot stream of the shower, his body felt numb, like it wasn't his own anymore. His heart, though... His heart felt too much, too quickly, too intensively. 

That was probably the reason he was so bad at this job: he never could detach himself enough and keep a distance from his patients. For whatever he did, Taehyung always invested himself entirely, even if there was nothing left of him at the end. 

Some days, he really felt like he wasn't cut for the job and was happy he wasn't allowed to practice every day anymore. 

He loved it, though, with all the fibres of his being. He loved knowing he helped people, gave someone a few more years with their loved ones, helped ease the pain for some, and made life worth living again for others.

Oh Hyejin, though... He couldn’t save. He thought about her corpse lying on the operating table. She had so many scars even though she was so young. They recounted her painful story: a few recent marks from the deadly evening she had, a C-section on her lower abdomen, healed scratches on her left wrist that Taehyung knew were self-inflicted years ago...

Wait... A C-section?

"A C-section!" Taehyung yelled to himself, under the shower. 

Since he exited the Operation Room, he felt like he forgot something but couldn't tell what it was. Was it that Oh Hyejin had a C-section? Then she was probably a mother. So where was her kid? When he had delivered the news of her death to a bored policewoman, he had asked if she had any family. But she had assured him that Oh Hyejin had no-one.

Taehyung finished showering as quickly as he could, put all his clothes but his shoes that he wore like slippers, flattening the heels. Then he took off, his hair still wet and dripping, to the front desk where he knew he would find a few nurses who could help him.

"Nurse Kwon, hi!"

Taehyung sighed in relief because the nurse at the counter was relatively new, so maybe he could pull it off. She blushed and stood up to bow back to Taehyung. 

"Hi! How can I help?"

"I'd like to take a look at one of my patient's belongings if that's okay with you?"

The nurse frowned a bit.

"I'm not sure whether that's allowed, doctor Kim; I'll ask Nurse Do," she said, her hand on the old landline phone already. 

"That won't be necessary; it's not a live patient; it's one that died tonight and... when I informed the police, they told me she had no family left. I just want to make sure that's true, no need to tell anyone... that could be our little secret, okay?"

Okay, maybe Taehyung amped up the charming smile and sultry voice a bit, but he knew that Nurse Kwon nursed a huge crush on him even though she only saw him once a fortnight. He wasn't a resident at that hospital, he only came once a month or when he was called like that night, when there was a need for more doctors because of some disaster. There was no way he would be allowed to go through a patient's file or belongings. If a smile could spare him an administrative headache, so be it.

And it worked because Nurse Kwon went red as a beetroot and smiled at the prospect of sharing anything with him, albeit a secret that could make her lose her job.

"Okay, I trust you, doctor Kim... which patient was it?"

"Oh Hyejin," Taehyung answered, trying to swallow his guilt. He felt like an asshole sometimes but it was what it was.

Nurse Kwon disappeared into the nurses' office that was behind the counter, then resurfaced with a box.

"Here, they’re Oh Hyejin’s things," Nurse Kwon declared, sliding the box towards Taehyung. 

He opened it and only found a ring — it seemed cheap — and a phone. Both were smeared with blood. He tried to unlock the phone but couldn't as it was password-protected. The phone screen wallpaper told him everything he needed, though: it was a picture of Oh Hyejin and a little boy. He looked a lot like her, his skin way fairer than hers but with the same little cat-like eyes.

So he was right. Probably.

Taehyung dropped the phone in the box, thanked Nurse Kwon with a warm smile then headed to the changing room again, after he fished his own phone from his pocket.

Taehyung knew it probably was nothing. She could have put him up for adoption. She could have lost the baby and the boy on her screen might be a distant relative.

Or he could be her son. And he could be alone right now, having lost the last two members of his family.

"Tae—"

"Hyung, I need a favor."

On his way to the changing room, he had called his older brother, Namjoon. It was past 1am but if Taehyung was a workaholic, his condition was child’s play compared to Namjoon. He knew the older would be up and working — because when was he not?

"Hello to you too, Taetaebear!"

Taehyung didn’t even bother telling his brother not to call him like that. He simply rolled his eyes.

"And don’t roll your eyes! Have some respect for your elders, would you?!"

"Hyung, it’s serious, I really need a favour!"

"Shoot!"

Taehyung's words began to elude him. They felt like they were getting jumbled and entangled, right in his throat. It wasn't the time to lose his voice, so he still tried to power through it: "There’s this girl… She— She died on my table, tonight and— I— it’s stupid, but I just want to be sure, you know? There’s nothing on her records but she— I mean—"

"Tae? Breathe!"

"Okay, okay…"

He took a few seconds to even his breath and sort his thoughts.

"She has a C-section scar, but the detectives say she has no family… But her phone screen is a picture of her and a little boy, I just want to make sure, you know?"

Namjoon didn’t say anything at first. He knew why his little brother was freaking out. And Taehyung was grateful because Namjoon would never judge him. Even now, where all he had was a hunch.

"What’s her name?"

Taehyung heard a rumbling, papers being moved around and the sound of someone typing swiftly on a keyboard.

"Oh Hyejin, she’s 24. She’s… was— She was only 24."

He only mumbled the last words but Namjoon still didn’t comment. That was the 12th name on Taehyung’s list. The list of people whose names would always be carved on his memory. The list of people he couldn’t save. The list of the different names of his guilt.

He put Namjoon on speaker so he could wear some socks. It was still early March and the weather was still chilly.

"Okay, I’ve got an Oh Hyejin, 24, living on Dobong-gu with her father… Her mum apparently died a year and some ago… Mmmmhh… Oh?"

Taehyung wasn’t hearing anything anymore from the other side of the line.

"Hyung?"

He was putting on his shoes now... Properly, even though he hated that.

"Oh? Oh! Yeah… Her mum apparently adopted a little boy, but there’s nothing more on him like… His name is Yoongi and he’s… seven. That’s weird— I mean— Usually, the paperwork… Who’s the detective in charge? They didn’t find the boy in the house?"

Taehyung put the phone back on his ear. 

"Hyung, please, give me her address, I’m heading there, right now!"

"Taehyung, I can’t give you her address, just like that!"

"Okay, I’m going to look into her personal file then—"

It probably wasn't going to work on Nurse Kwon this time, but he could try... 

"No," Namjoon interrupted him. "I’ll send you her address, just don’t break into her house, I’m going there right now, wait for me!"

"Hyung, he might be—"

"Tae, no."

Namjoon wasn’t shouting, but Tae would never dare answer back when he used that particular voice. He knew his brother was serious.

"It’s going to take me 45 minutes or an hour, but I’m going to be there! Do not enter the house, is that clear?"

"Okay, understood, Hyung…"

Namjoon hung up and Taehyung put on his long light brown coat and headed to his car. He put the address Namjoon texted him on the car GPS: it would only take him 10 minutes to get to Oh Hyejin’s house. He started the car.

Taehyung hated driving. Every time he could, he took the bus, since the chatter and noise drowned his thoughts. But when the hospital called, they stated that it was an emergency and that he was needed as soon as he could. So he took his car for once. 

Driving left him alone with his thoughts. And more often than not, his thoughts weren't so happy. And it only got worse, the last year and a half.

But at that moment, all he could think about was the little boy. Yoongi. He really hoped there was no boy and that his hunch was only a remnant of his own trauma. Losing his family like this was horrible, Taehyung knew something about it. He also knew about being left alone in a house — no, a crime scene.

Taehyung was five years old when his father died because of him. He still remembered the stench of blood, the muffled screams and his father's eyes, usually empty, filled with terror. 

His memories of his father before that were all jumbled and unclear, but all had something in common: they awakened a deep-rooted fear in Taehyung. He knew he was beaten as a child, he figured out as much. He could remember the constant hunger and the smell of cheap booze, the taste of blood in his mouth. The visceral need to hide, the moment he heard the sound of keys in the lock. The relief he felt when he realized it was over. Really over. The guilt he felt about feeling said relief because it meant that somehow, somewhere deep inside, he was happy his father had died.

And it wasn't a peaceful death. His father had borrowed money from people and gambled it away. One of his creditors killed him in a fit of despair and rage. Taehyung was hiding in the only closet they had, in a corner of the small one-room apartment. The killer knew he was hiding there but still spared him and up until now, Taehyung didn’t understand why. Taehyung definitely wanted him not to, at the time.

After what seemed like hours, Taehyung opened the closet's door a crack and found his father lying on the ground in a pool of blood. He remembered not feeling anything at all and not really understanding what was happening. He knew, of course, that things were bad, that something was wrong, without grasping the horrible nature of what had happened. Not only that, but he just knelt in front of his father's body and hugged him. Tight. For the first and last time in his life.

Shivering at the cold touch of his father’s skin against his.

He was found a day later, in the same position, asleep. When he woke up, when that police officer explained to him that his father would never come back, Taehyung remembered feeling happy at first then very guilty, not really knowing why. 

After years of therapy, Taehyung understood that he felt guilty because he was happy a very threatening situation for him was over. That he thought he could have done something. But he was only five so even if he could somehow call for help, there was no guarantee his father could have been saved. Taehyung knew now it wasn't his fault. Or, at least, his head knew, his heart had a hard time keeping up with the knowledge. 

Because of those events, at the time, he hadn't spoken for more than two years... Until Jin, his big brother, snapped him out of his silence. And, even now, when things got too much or Taehyung was overwhelmed, he lost his words.

Taehyung shook his head, ousting the memories constricting his throat. Taehyung didn't like to remember this whole story, of course. A sense of dread clenched his heart at the thought that someone could be living something similar, and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

He arrived and waited half an hour with his thoughts, fighting the urge to barge into that house — Taehyung didn’t even know which one exactly, but did it matter? Anything was better than sitting idle.