Chapter Text
cover by my bestie: @Jiminssiquacks
moodboard by: @pjpants00
TW / CW:
Jimin being the funniest narcissist ever
Jungkook being unhinged
Joonhyung meets his end
Vomit on the floor
Blood
References to the odyssey and Latin proverbs
Jimin almost drowning himself in the bathtub
Both Jimin and Jungkook having no morals
Questionable thoughts about murder
Jungkook calling Jimin dove because it's a dead dove fic and I thought that's lowkey funny, yeah don't question me pls
🌪️
Part I: Wicked Games
" You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I can't use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope."
–Jack the Ripper
🌪️
When you kill a man, what is the first thing you feel?
Jimin has wondered all his life what it would feel like.
In theory, he has a general idea of what someone will go through after killing a person–or if a person died because of them. You would think that there's a big difference, but there probably isn't. If you aren't someone that kills on a regular basis, then every murder will affect you much more than someone that has already become desensitized to it.
A drug dealer; what will a little murder do to him? If it's his first, well, then it might be a shock. An event that will change the trajectory of his life. It will happen because he lashed out, because he has been in a position of inferiority and unfairness all of his life. A murder is not a big step for him. Fuck, that's what everyone expected of him anyway, right? If we go by prejudices and social beliefs then we will end up with the notion that everyone who is presented with danger all their lives long will have an easier time killing than the ones that aren't. It's basic psychology. It's almost common sense.
But Jimin doesn't care much for that. He doesn't care who kills, or how they made the decision to kill. His main focus lies on the feeling of killing.
How does it feel to take another person's life?
Jimin has read that in war the enemy gets dehumanized. The enemy gets portrayed as something so far from humanity that killing them becomes easier. It's how armies massacre entire villages, towns, let bombs drop and destroy everything and anything. Once you know how to switch off your guilt, you can do basically anything.
No guilt means no remorse.
And no remorse makes you basically unstoppable.
Is that why serial killers can't stop killing? Psychopaths without the ability to feel anxiety or regret, unable to feel empathy or sympathy, they don't think about the consequences when they kill someone and they don't do it because they have no other choice. Jimin likes to think that they do it out of boredom (he identified a bit too much with that idea). Essentially, all things we do, we do out of the urge to be less bored. To be entertained. To feel a sense of uniqueness.
Killers that kill because they can't resist their urges–they are different in Jimin's worldview. They might actually feel like they are succumbing to their inner deepest urges and impulses. It's sort of pathetic–makes them more animal than human. That's who the real psychos are, if you ask Jimin. It's not the ones who have been stripped from the shackles of empathy and deep emotions since birth or through early childhood. These people are just a result of nature. Of nature and humanity.
(He has to mention humanity in this context because humans ruin other humans and they destroy the good and instill the bad in the good. Humans kill each other, but how is the interesting aspect here, the why only comes in second.)
Now, when it comes to Jimin–he thinks he feels remorse. He feels guilt, he feels regret. He feels all of the things that hold us humans back from acting on our fantasies or intrusive thoughts. Jimin will assure you that, yes, every single one of us has thought of killing someone else before, even if it was just a random, innocent thought born out of coincidence. What does it feel like? or, What if I do it by accident? A car crash is enough to be confronted with indirect murder–or just murder, depends on how much attention you pay to casualties.
Regret. Remorse. Revenge. Jimin understands the purpose and the origin of these emotions, the shame that comes with them.
He wants to free himself of them.
He wanted to.
Perhaps that is why he fell into the clutches of Jeon Jungkook.
🌪️
Let's start with the fact that Jimin always felt painfully average. In a humiliating and enervating way.
He didn't really stand out from the mass, not in any shape or form.
There are usually two ways people stand out from others; beauty or charisma. As superficial as this sounds, it is still true. The first people that you notice in a crowd are the exceptionally beautiful. Human eyes are drawn to beauty, we need it to be reminded of the transience of life. Then there are the people you notice based on their personality; eccentric, outspoken, charismatic and confident.
Then there are people–rare and precious like gemstones–that have both.
Beauty and charisma.
Jimin did not fit into either category. He didn't have the necessary beauty nor the awe-inspiring charisma to be considered anything but average.
But Jimin was always exceptionally good at finding people that are miles away from ever being considered average.
It was always that type of people–beautiful and charismatic–that Jimin found particularly interesting. He found them intriguing, compelling, alluring, seductive…and Jimin always gave himself to them willingly.
It started with a boy in his elementary school that no one particularly liked. Jimin didn't realize that no one liked him because they were scared of him–and rightfully so–he just couldn't comprehend why everyone avoided him. Fear was an emotion Jimin only learned later on in his life. As a child, he was oblivious.
And so Jimin innocently befriended the boy.
One day, Jimin went back to a playground and he saw the boy there. Jimin asked if he wanted to play with him, and the boy agreed shyly. They played hide and seek; Jimin being the one that was searching. Apparently, he had underestimated the boy because even after one hour of searching he still couldn't find him. At some point, the boy suddenly stood behind Jimin, a bored look on his face, and when Jimin's eyes traveled south, he gasped. The boy had a dead bird in his hand, crushed between his palm, with the white feathers sticking out left and right between his hands. Still, Jimin wasn't scared of him like the other kids were.
He was fascinated.
The boy was so different. Jimin wanted to understand him.
"Why did you kill it?" Jimin had asked him, with genuine curiosity in his face and voice.
The boy had tilted his head to the side. "Why not? It was there and I wanted to, so I did it."
Jimin and the boy met at the playground everyday after school and sometimes on the weekends too if Jimin was home. And every time Jimin would watch him kill birds, insects, and small animals. They would inspect them, would gut them like Jimin saw his father gut a fish once, the boy would play with the dead bodies and Jimin, yeah, Jimin would watch and learn.
The next one was a girl he met in his ballet class. She had those eyes–unmoving, cold and indifferent. Jimin noticed it right away. And she noticed Jimin's interest in her. They fucked, both of them teenagers that were still experimenting with their sexuality and the layers of the human body. Jimin didn't like her for her body–breasts and soft curves weren't to his liking at all he realized later on–the only thing that kept him interested was that look in her eyes when she was on top of him and would wrap her slender hands around his neck. Her slim ballerina body, hard muscles and soft curves melting into a force of violence–it made him ecstatic.
Then, his high school teacher. Jimin was his favorite. And he would bring Jimin books about history, mostly Greek and Roman–since that is considered more sophisticated and romantic in a way–and he would leave notes for Jimin in ancient Greek that Jimin would translate at home, secretly under his blanket at night with a flashlight, giggling to himself the entire time. And every time Jimin entered the classroom, he felt his teacher's eyes on his body, felt the heat simmering in his stomach. During the entire meaningless and shameful relationship, Jimin knew that he was better than his pedophile teacher, that he was just using him for a kick of something satisfying in his blood. Adrenaline. Dopamine. The Greek Gods would call it Ambrosia. Jimin knew that the day he graduated high school, he would never waste another thought on his teacher, but his teacher would never stop thinking about him.
He felt like a freaking main character in a Melanie Martinez song, Teacher's pet . Jimin played that shit on repeat.
After his high school teacher, naturally came his college professor.
And this time Jimin was old enough to be a bit more reckless. He fucked his professor; an attractive man in his early forties with no family and an apartment with dark, abstract paintings on every wall. Jimin knew how he fantasized about slicing Jimin open, how he wanted to choke Jimin until his face turned blue and how he would trace the lines of Jimin's soft body when he thought Jimin was asleep. His fingers weren't gentle and loving, instead they felt calculating as they would trace over the expanse of muscle and flesh, as though the professor wanted to follow the way of Jimin's veins underneath his skin.
Jimin knew because he found the diary the man kept under his bed (a silly place to hide a diary) and he read all of it. Then he stole it. It has been months since then, and he's still fucking him out of boredom. The knowledge of his fantasies makes it less boring.
In hindsight, some might think that Jimin has some weird kink or fetish, that the thought of being murdered during sex turns him on, or that being sliced open by a serial killer is one of his weird fantasies.
It's not. Not even in the slightest, Jimin values his life. He has no desire for death--his own at least. But it's the danger that he finds himself in every time, that adrenaline kick, that makes him go back. He's addicted to it. All the high and lows of his life have created an addiction to intense moments.
He chose art history to study at university. He could have chosen anything, he had stellar grades all throughout high-school and he could have gotten scholarships and full rides to college. Jimin chose art history because it felt right. He's good at art, he's passionate about it and through art he can express himself.
He met his professor in one of his classes. It was one of the standard classes everyone had to take. Psychology 101. It seemed humorous to him that he attached himself to a wreck of a professor that was already on the road to madness prior to meeting him. Jimin was just pushing him further and further down the line.
Jimin knew no one at college during that time, because he moved to Seoul from Busan and left everything behind. A fresh start, so he can become who he always wanted to be. And he made no efforts to befriend anyone. He likes his privacy, he likes to be alone without coming across as someone that is lonely. That, in itself, is hard to pull off. People usually sniff it on you as if they are hungry dogs, if you don't have a respectable social circle. Humans are like pack animals, the ones without one get filtered out and are seen as the weak ones. Or, and this is Jimin's case, as unfit.
His father calls him once a month, more to keep Jimin in check than to express actual love and concern. There's no real affection between Jimin and his father, a family of two doesn't really feel like a family anyway. It's always like there's something missing. Jimin can't tell what it is.
Jimin can't even remember how he got his professor to fall for him so fast. It's likely that he didn't even do anything, people always seem to be attracted to him without Jimin asking for it, even though he is not beautiful or charismatic. A curse and a blessing. The contrast felt almost poetic. Melodramatic. Jimin had a special weakness for it.
Joonhyung was a man that portrayed everything Jimin found disturbingly bewitching. He had a brain, not comparable to Jimin's, but he was certainly able to keep Jimin entertained for some time. His cock was acceptable, too.
Jimin always thought that killing men was more entertaining than fucking them anyway (in theory only, of course).
He wasn't particularly attracted to him, he just saw him as a good waste of time. Getting fucked for good grades. Lucrative.
And so we come to the fun part of everything.
One day, a gloomy day in March, Jimin found himself in his professor's office. Good things always start inside an office, don't they?
"I'm bored," he said, with a sweet tone and even sweeter eyes. Jimin was aware that his eyes and lips were his strongest features.
Joonhyung, his professor, looked up at him from his stack of papers and he pretended to be annoyed with Jimin, but Jimin knew better.
"You're always bored," he said and fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose because they slid down too far. It gave Jimin the ick.
"Then make me less bored," Jimin demanded.
"I don't have time, class starts in thirty minutes."
"You always finish in five."
That made him look up, anger flashing through his eyes. "Get on the desk," he ordered.
Jimin had come prepared, stretched himself in the bathroom before he had come here. He should have felt ashamed, but who cares. He was craving adrenaline, a rush, something exciting and if that meant he had to let his forty-something year old professor fuck him on his desk in his office, then Jimin would willingly do that.
Jimin smiled to himself, stepped out of his jeans and laid himself down on the desk, legs spread wide.
Joonhyung stepped between them, his already graying hair falling onto his forehead, and he had that look on his face that he gets every time he contemplates killing Jimin. Jimin recognized it because he read his diary and internalized every detail of it. He treated it like a paper he had to read for one of his classes. He used tabs and a highlighting pen and went through everything strategically.
There's a certain edge to the knowledge you have over a person. It gives you the feeling of superiority, but for what price?
The price–higher than Jimin could have ever expected–is something Jimin would have never bargained for.
He knew that Joonhyung was thinking about killing Jimin while he's still inside of him, finishing right when the light leaves Jimin's eyes. For a psychology professor he definitely wasn't good at analyzing his own behavior, or he simply over-analyzes anyone else's to avoid being faced with his own. That's what Jimin does and it usually works wonders for him.
"Fucking slut," Joonhyung cursed as he thrusted inside of Jimin. "You should see yourself. You make me so. Fucking. Mad."
Jimin wasn't really listening, he was enjoying the pressure building up inside him. His one hand was stroking himself and he tried to solely focus on the pleasure, not on the lunatic above him.
Right when Jimin was about to climax, a knock on the door interrupted everything. Joonhyung pulled out immediately, looked at Jimin with panic and told him to be quiet. Jimin's mood dropped, he was just robbed of his well-deserved orgasm, and now he had to stay quiet, half naked with lube dripping down his ass cheeks while Joonhyung told whoever was at the door to go away? Nah.
"Stay here," Joonhyung said.
"I'll just go," Jimin dismissed.
"What– but–"
Jimin silenced him with a glare, tucked himself back in his jeans and grabbed his tote bag. His skin was still tingling from the robbed orgasm. "You can fuck me tomorrow."
Joonhyung gulped. "Are you not coming to class later?"
Jimin smiled sardonically. He walked to the door, opened it and then he said into Joonhyung's direction, "Thank you for your help, professor. I'm sorry for bothering you at this time."
Outside, Jimin's first instinct was to quickly walk away.
But that plan changed when he saw the student waiting in front of Joonhyung's office.
Something in his stomach twisted at the sight, some kind of foreshadowing he would come to know later.
Jimin lives by the principle that his gut feeling is his only real friend. He should have trusted his gut feeling with this one.
Jimin always thought that there were some combinations on earth that exceeded the normal expectations of civilization. One, the mix of religion and government. Two, religion and art. Three–and this one might have seemed random, but Jimin swears on this–the narcissist and the victim.
You see that shit everywhere, okay? Narcissistic mothers with a victim complex, and their children that turn out to have extreme mental health issues. Often they develop borderline personality disorder, or depression and anxiety.
(Jimin wouldn't know, he never had a mother.)
Friendships between the popular girls at school that could much better be described as the most primal form of domination and submission. There always has to be a Queen that rules over her worker bees. Jimin was, without fail, the Queen every time he was caught in the middle of a social circle. He might not be exceptional, but he certainly doesn't like losing. And how could he have not been the Queen when everyone else lacks a certain awareness?
He stopped in front of the student, almost ran into him when he barged out of Joonhyung's door, and his first thought was that the boy looked like the typical I have no personality type of guy.
Boy was the wrong word. Jimin didn't want to call him a man, though. That word didn't give him justice. He was– was different.
"Hello," he said to Jimin, an elegant lilt of his voice taking Jimin by surprise.
Jimin had only stared. God, his obnoxious personality was already on the cusp of a new obsession after a simple "hello". It was a pretty hello, though. Jimin couldn't blame himself. He could blame himself for the other things that happened months after this first encounter. Yet, at the beginning, everything always seemed inherently innocent. Even he seemed innocent.
Innocence is a lie. There's no one who's really innocent, is there? Even children are not innocent, they're just not adjusted to the world yet, their primal urges and intrusive thoughts not suppressed by social conditioning yet.
Some never learn to hide them.
What really use is there for innocence anyway? What about it is alluring?
Jimin smiled faintly. "If you excuse me," he said to him and tried to slip away.
A head tilted to the side was the answer. Jimin wasn't sure what he wanted. Did he hear them fucking? Is that what it was? Did he want some sort of explanation?
"What?" Jimin asked, irritation and, simultaneously, boredom were the most prominent emotions inside of him. Most of the time he only felt bored. All the damn time he was just bored out of his mind. That's why he did reckless things like hanging out with serial killers in the making.
(You could almost say that he was the one who made them, handed them the wine that would transform them into a perfect, detached machine. He likes to call himself an artist.)
"I didn't say anything," the man said in a delicious tenor.
Jimin nodded. "Right," he scoffed. He felt stupid then. Did he not interpret the head tilt correctly?
Unsure of himself, Jimin had looked up at him then. The twinge of anticipation, perhaps overexcitement, hit him full force, and his fingers twitched at the indescribable beauty in front of him.
Blonde hair, the first thing Jimin noticed. Obviously dyed, but it made him look like Adonis. Jimin had a weird obsession with Greek mythology in high school (courtesy of his pedophilic teacher that took a liking to him), he was familiar with every blonde ancient character. He loved the Odyssey.
Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man…
Black eyes, the next thing Jimin noticed. It stood in such a constant to everything else about him that Jimin couldn't help but wonder if he dyed his hair to make his eyes pop out. That's certainly what Jimin would have done. Well, did. His hair is a similar shade of blonde, something lighter though. A silvery touch ghosts over his own hair. He chose the color with the goal to seem like a cannibalistic fairy. That's exactly what he told Taehyung back when they dyed his hair. But that was in Busan. A long time ago. Now Taehyung is no longer (s-)talking to him, but that's a different story.
The dark, gloomy eyes seemed not fit for someone alive. Jimin imagined him in a portrait, displaying a dead man alive. Portraits always kept people more lively than they ever were during their lifetime. Jimin loved portraits, he often painted ones of himself. And, yes, he knew he had narcissistic traits, but he strongly believed that you can't live long with more than just self-love. You need to obsess over yourself to truly live forever.
Though, his skin was what caught Jimin's eyes the most. He was slightly tanned, like he regularly went outside. It was a poetic occurrence, that shade of his skin. Champagne. Jimin wanted to lick at it, perhaps sprinkle a bit of fairy dust as an appetizer. Cannibalistic fairy that he is, he'd just bite into his champagne skin and leave a bite mark there to claim his territory. He'd take a picture of the bite, for future references.
Did he notice Jimin's trance?
Jimin cleared his throat, a friendly smile was slipping onto his face. He nodded at him, head held high because he was taller, and there was a short moment of eye contact that Jimin wished had lasted longer.
The man didn't even seem to blink when he reciprocated Jimin's stare. He was simply waiting for Jimin to leave. Which Jimin did, because Joonhyung came out of his office and destroyed their moment.
"I'm– oh." A dumb stare adorned his face, Jimin felt disgusted.
He was really so stupid, Jimin thought, but smiled anyway. He already lingered too long; now and in general. Jimin wasn't the type of person that stayed behind for anyone or anything. And why would he?
"I was just about to leave," Jimin continued to smile. "Again, thank you for your help."
He really walked away then; tote bag thrown over his shoulder, hips swinging slightly as he walked. He made sure not to walk too fast, always keeping the same pace. He's good at drawing strangers in. Although, he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to make the stranger in front of Joonhyung's office interested in him.
Beautiful, but was he also charismatic?
The nausea inside of him was a clear sign that Jimin couldn't wait to find out.
He heard Joonhyung and the man talking as he turned around the corner and a last wave of annoyance came over him.
🌪️
The game had begun, unbeknownst to Jimin.
🌪️
Jungkook looks after the white dove that just stormed out of Professor Lee's office. A general disinterest for everything and everyone is common for Jungkook, and this time it would be no different, if it wasn't for the noises he heard while he was waiting. Sex, a primal thing. Jungkook doesn't have a real desire for it.
However, something inside of him stirred when he saw the man. He can't tell what it is that is creeping its way up his spine, but it makes him uncomfortable in ways Jungkook can't quite grasp.
Professor Lee eyes him suspiciously, as if he wants to see if Jungkook heard anything.
"Professor Kang?" Jungkook asks innocently.
"This isn't professora Kang's office," Lee answers curtly. "That's over there. You got the wrong door, boy."
"My mistake, I apologize," Jungkook replies politely. He bows slightly, turns around and leaves.
🌪️
After you see a person one time, you start seeing them everywhere.
This isn't because they suddenly start to appear at places where you frequent, too, but rather because you've once acknowledged their existence and after that it is easier for your brain to recognize them.
And Jungkook sees Jimin everywhere.
Which, admittedly, doesn't bother him much.
However, it does make him curious. Begrudgingly so.
Jungkook's general attention span for things that aren't important to him (which are little anyway) is short.
The second time they see each other is completely random again. Although Jungkook would argue that everything in life is random–an arbitrary coincidence– until one decides to take matters into one's own hands.
Jungkook sees him outside of one of the university buildings. He's sitting on one of the benches with a book open on his lap. An art book, if Jungkook is seeing it correctly. He's a bit too far away to make out any details. The discovery that he's reading an art book makes Jungkook's lips curve upwards.
He quietly observes him. He's not sure why, but questioning things feels too mundane, so Jungkook typically doesn't do so. He's not one to question himself, but he's also not one to absolutely trust his instincts. They're the manifestation of his impulsive self, just like they are for every human. He doesn't dream much, but if he does, then it's usually something that stems from his darkest desires, something that Jungkook would never bring to the surface of his thoughts. His primal desires, the ugly, untamable urges he somehow has to live with, only manifest inside his dreams. Naturally, he doesn't sleep much, never had any need for it. Yet, when he sleeps, he's usually a calm sleeper.
Though, just as it should be, that night, he dreams of the blonde haired man and his pretty neck. Afterwards, he wonders how he fixated so much on that neck.
The dream starts just like memory itself.
He's sitting on the bench. Jungkook notices him out of coincidence. An art book is resting on his lap, he's reading fully concentrated. He flips the page, licks over the tip of his finger to make it stick to the page and then he flips another one. He's searching for something.
Jungkook comes closer, he didn't actually do this, but the dream is not reality. In this dream he's not limited. He doesn't just watch from afar.
He stops in front of the bench, watches him from up close.
He doesn't seem to notice Jungkook, he's rapidly reading out of the book, lips mumbling something incoherent, and his fingers are tracing over the page to be sure he isn't missing anything.
Jungkook is watching, entranced. His mouth goes dry from excitement.
He dreams about stapling his mouth shut, about shutting up those pretty lips and then breaking that delicate neck like a twig. He thinks about licking each and every inch of skin on that porcelain body and then devouring it as dinner. His dream grants him his wishes, portals him to another scene.
Jungkook is leaning over a body, no face, no identity. He stares for a second, takes in the naked, unblemished skin. It could be anyone. A face appears in mere seconds, it settles over the place where a face should be like a fog.
The fantasy is complete, Jungkook is ready to destroy it.
He grabs a knife out of nowhere–it's a skinning knife, as if he's about to skin a wild animal not a human.
Normally, he starts at the top and works his way down. Get rid of evidence: teeth, fingertips, toes, all have to go. But this time he starts at the bottom. He wants to save the face for last. Best comes at the end, as his father would always say.
Jungkook awakes from his dream with a jolt.
He sits up in his bed, feels the blood rushing south, all the way down to his cock.
How annoying , he thinks.
He rarely gets aroused, and if he does it usually doesn't phase him much. A simple human reaction, even if it feels bothersome. He decides to not take care of it. He simply lies back down, closes his eyes and forces himself to sleep.
🌪️
In the next two weeks, Jungkook becomes obsessed.
It turns into his own little waiting game.
All the time he has to spare, and even a little more, which he should actually spend with something else, is occupied by his new obsession.
He learns his name, his age, his major, his address, his dirty little affair with the psychology professor (okay, he already knew about this one, but seeing it with his own eyes over and over again kind of makes it even more real), his life; in and out of university…simply put: Jungkook stalks him.
He enjoys it, too. Admittedly, he's a good stalker, although he prefers the word hunter. Stalkers are the weak human bastards that get off on stalking the under inferior parts of society and paint out their fantasies with them.
Jungkook isn't like that.
He stalks to analyze. He takes his time to find the perfect prey. And he's found it.
Jimin, his name, is like a ghost. He goes to university, goes to the professor's home, goes to his apartment, occasionally he goes to the convenience store to buy an ungodly amount of ice cream and other sweet stuff that makes Jungkook gag, sometimes he even goes to the gym. Whenever he goes, it is only to take mirror pictures that he later posts on Instagram where he adds captions like I need a sugar daddy or why do I have no one to worship an ass like mine? Jungkook scoffed when he saw that. Doesn't the professor worship your ass enough? He thought to himself as he pressed the heart button on the picture. His account was anonymous, only created to stalk Jimin on social media.
Jungkook had no social media prior to his rather impulsive decision to dedicate his precious time to a promiscuous little dove that fucks his own professor for reasons Jungkook can't fathom. Good grades? It's definitely not something simple like good grades. Jungkook knows that someone like Jimin doesn't always think things through, but he definitely isn't stupid enough to hold onto a sex relationship with his professor only for good grades.
There's things Jungkook doesn't understand about the little dove.
He has no friends, at least Jungkook never sees him talking to someone for longer than a few minutes. Most people approach him with a friendly demeanor, they definitely are drawn to his beauty and innocent appearance. But he doesn't talk to anyone for more than a few minutes. He keeps to himself mostly.
A lone wolf, just like Jungkook, hiding in the middle of sheep.
They don't see the things Jungkook sees.
Obsession grows like a flower.
It doesn't take long, it sprouts out of the ground with so much ambition and dedication, and the roots grow deeper and stronger everyday.
The flower starts to bloom, starts to absorb sun, water and the stares of hungry people that want to rip its roots from the ground to plant them in their own garden.
The petals start to fall off one by one.
And sooner or later, obsession is just a different name for addiction. A prettier name, a beautiful description of something indelible.
🌪️
Jimin isn't dumb. He knows the blonde fucker is stalking him.
He's not even trying to hide it.
Jimin gives him that; for someone that is violating the law and Jimin's right to privacy, he's brave. Or just dumb. Probably both.
His eyes are on Jimin 24/7, Jimin even saw him outside of his apartment. If he wasn't such a slut for attention, he'd probably be concerned. But, fuck, his brain can only come up with, at least he's attractive.
The next thing he realizes is that it's the guy he ran into in front of Joonhyung's office. The gorgeous, blonde haired man who had regarded Jimin with a simple hello and sent him on his way without seemingly wasting a single thought on Jimin.
After that, he sees him in class as well. He's sitting pretty far away from Jimin and in class he never even spares Jimin one glance. It's funny to Jimin. As soon as he leaves class and goes to his next class (where the guy never follows him to) he doesn't even watch Jimin walk away.
But when Jimin goes grocery shopping, or when he goes to the gym in his neighborhood that he pays way too much money for, he suddenly shows up and watches Jimin from the darkness.
What a freak , Jimin thinks.
You see, this isn't Jimin's first stalker. He's had two so far. There definitely has to be something about him that makes people drawn to him like moths to light or bees to flowers. The only difference is that Jimin is a poisonous flower and that stalkers are like toys to him. Jimin baits them like they're weak prey and lets them take a bite from his poisonous blossoms and waits until they crumple.
One of his stalkers is in jail; one call to his father and three SUVs with homicide detectives (his father's teammates) showed up to arrest Jimin's stalker. The story even made it to the newspaper. Jimin's name was censored, of course. Honestly, not really one of his proudest moments. He wished he could have treated the problem differently. Resentment makes you think that way. And if he could have just…
It's no secret that Jimin thinks about it.
Killing, he means.
But a thought doesn't make him guilty. It's just a thought, right?
For his first kill, if it ever comes to that, Jimin wants someone special. A stalker didn't seem worthy enough to be killed by Jimin's hands. So, yeah, no first kill for him yet.
He definitely thinks about it though. All the time. Especially when he's with Joonhyung. Even more so after he found Joonhyung's journal with thoughts of gutting Jimin like a pig. After reading that Jimin surely felt very homicidal.
He's also feeling very homicidal when he sees the blonde guy lurking in the shadows between the trees on the other side of the street again on a random Wednesday night.
Jimin's tired. He wants to sleep. He has to finish this fucking painting, but he can't do that when a delusional psycho is staring at him while he attempts to focus. Even if the psycho can't see him right now (Jimin isn't sitting near the window), he still feels watched.
So he decides to take matters into his own hands, slips on his Gucci slides and throws on a fluffy bathrobe because it's cold as fuck outside. It rained earlier and the streets are foggy. The atmosphere feels melancholic.
He flies down the stairs of the hallway of his apartment complex. Outside, Jimin walks across the street without even taking a look at any passing cars. His eyes are fixated on the figure standing between the trees. He sees Jimin coming, but he's not even moving an inch.
Jimin finds it irritating. He's being loud on purpose, his slides make loud clapping sounds on the asphalt and he scoffs and huffs like a Karen complaining about something unnecessary.
"You," Jimin says loudly, stopping only a few inches away from the blonde haired man. "Can't you fucking go and stalk someone else? I'm trying to get work done and your presence distracts me. I understand that I'm probably very interesting and attractive, blah blah, but I'm trying to get shit done, okay? Leave me alone before I call the police and they'll drag you to jail."
A simple eyebrow raise is all Jimin gets for his outburst.
"Understood?" Jimin asks.
Another eyebrow raise, this time it's the other eyebrow.
"God, you're one of the completely stupid ones, huh? Pretty face but there's nothing going on inside your head," Jimin says.
That finally gets him a reaction. "You find me attractive? How flattering."
"I–" Jimin closes his mouth again. "Just fucking leave, okay?"
"Sure," he says. "What's your name?"
Jimin laughs. He probably knows more than just Jimin's name. "You already know my name."
"Does it matter?"
"Find someone else to obsess over. I will never return the attention, got it?"
A smile lingers on the man's mouth. "You're returning it right now."
Great. He's one of the completely crazy ones. Jimin is getting flashbacks from his time in Busan where he would find little presents with notes every day in front of his window. God, what a time. A little boy that killed birds for enjoyment turned into Jimin's best friend turned into Jimin's first experience with real madness.
Jimin sighs. He's just going to pretend this person doesn't exist, just like he pretends the rest of the world doesn't exist either. Jimin is a master at pretending.
"If I see you one more time, I'm gonna call the police," Jimin warns.
"We're in the same class. It's inevitable that we see each other."
"Then drop the class," Jimin demands. His feet are getting cold in these slippers. He wants to go back upstairs, but first he needs to make sure that this fucker understands that Jimin wants him gone.
"Hmm," he seems to contemplate. "No."
Jimin scoffs, incredulous. "You really want to have the police on your ass, huh?"
"There's no evidence, is there? What will they do? Arrest me just because you have a mental disorder that makes you paranoid?"
"I– what?!" Jimin has been to the psychiatrist before. Countless times. And never did they tell him he was paranoid, he was able to keep that part of him hidden. They told him other things though. But that's a different story.
"Don't look so surprised. You know how it is."
Jimin might have been wrong. This guy isn't one Jimin should play with. "What do you want from me? There has to be a reason you're doing all of this."
"I want nothing," he chuckles. "Not everyone wants something from you."
"Right," Jimin huffs. "You don't want anything. You just like to watch?"
"Don't worry, I've seen enough." He sounds dismissive. Almost…bored.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jimin questions with furrowed brows. He doesn't trust anything this man says. He clearly has a problem and Jimin is not the type of person that knows how to deal with things like this without creating an even bigger problem.
"Nothing," he says again. "Simply nothing."
And with that he walks away. He walks down the street and Jimin watches him until he disappears in the darkness.
🌪️
A few days later, Jungkook decides to give in to his curiosity that has been making his mouth taste sour for the past few weeks.
Obsession is one thing, but acting on it is another.
He has given in to his desires before, given that they're all ill-natured and bring him quite a lot of troubles to take care of. Everything always ends in a mess if Jungkook isn't careful. He learned that the hard way. But now, he is older, more mature, more careful and definitely more meticulous.
He already has his next project in sight and if he gets distracted by a pair of pretty eyes then he should make it worthwhile at least.
Breaking into Jimin's apartment turns out to be even easier than Jungkook imagined.
Downstairs, he just waits until one of Jimin's neighbors comes outside and catches the door before it falls shut again. He knows Jimin's apartment has to be somewhere on the second floor on the left side, so he walks up the stairs and instantly finds it. The apartment complex isn't one of the new, extremely modern ones that have door codes instead of a simple lock and key. Thankfully.
As a child, Jungkook loved picking locks. He was freaking good at it. First, he picked the locks of doors, closets, boxes–just everything that was within his reach. When he turned eight, he began to amuse himself with vaults hidden behind pretentious paintings and he started to steal watches, rings, earrings. No one ever suspected him.
He takes out a small needle and starts breaking into Jimin's apartment. After less than a minute, he's in.
Jungkook takes his shoes off, he doesn't want to make Jimin's apartment dirty. He walks around, slowly, to be assured that he doesn't miss a single detail that could tell him more about Jimin. The apartment is definitely not the cleanest. It's full of unnecessary things like too many cups, too many candles, too many dead plants, too many clothes. All of this isn't surprising, he expected Jimin to be a bit messy. He sees one of the beige tote bags that Jimin always carries over his shoulder. Jungkook wants to tell him that it isn't good for his posture to be carrying things on one side only, but he's only exchanged a few words with Jimin so far and there hasn't been a right moment yet.
He finds Jimin's bedroom and his throat tightens. It smells so lively inside. This is where Jimin is the most alive. It shouldn't excite Jungkook this much. He inhales deeply, breathes in until his lungs are about to burst.
The bed is unmade, a fluffy blanket is tangled with a thick duvet. It seems like he likes it warm. Maybe he freezes easily. Jungkook should remember that.
There are some books on the nightstand, stacked on top of each other as if Jimin regularly reads them. Jungkook snorts when he sees Lolita. He snorts even harder when he sees the Art of Seduction.
So Jimin's a learner. Good to know.
The by far most exciting thing in the room is the easel with the unfinished painting Jimin talked about the other night.
Jungkook can't take his eyes off.
The painting is pure chaos. It shows a battle scene, two armies at war. It seems like the centuries are molding together inside this painting, the people have guns, swords, daggers, every weapon you can imagine. Some are fighting with armor, some with only a bulletproof vest, and others completely naked.
Jungkook wonders if this is what goes on inside Jimin's head: war, blood, violence.
How fascinating.
His gaze moves back to the nightstand. Something about the books that Jimin keeps close, lets Jungkook look a bit closer. He sees a highlighter pen, colorful tabs, a few other pens, a candle and a notebook. It's leather. It looks expensive.
Jungkook picks it up. It feels considerably heavy in his hand. He opens a random page.
What he finds, sets his insides on fire.
He doesn't stop reading for an entire hour.
🌪️
It's late afternoon and Jungkook has places to be.
He knocks on Professor Lee's office door and sets on a polite smile.
"Hello?" Professor Lee has a scowl on his face as he opens the door.
Jungkook deepens the smile. "Can I come in for a second?"
Professor Lee looks him up and down. "Are you one of my students or what?"
"Well, I am, but that's not why I am here," Jungkook says. "This is about one of your other students. Park Jimin? Do you happen to know his name?"
Professor Lee visibly blanches. He seems to swallow. He's a bad actor. "Park Jimin? No, that name doesn't ring any bells. The class is big, you can't expect me to remember two hundred names."
"Of course. Remembering all those names should not be expected from a simple university professor."
"Simple?" Professor Lee repeats, offended. Jungkook continues to smile, doesn't say anything else and waits until Professor Lee gains his composure back, clears his throat and asks, "So, uh, you're here because of Ji– regarding another student?"
"Exactly," Jungkook says. "So I–" he stops, takes something out of his bag, "I think Jimin dropped this the other day. I wanted to give it back to him, but I couldn't seem to find him and then I thought that maybe you could help me?"
Professor Lee's eyes go wide because he recognizes the journal. He starts panicking.
"This– did you–"
Jungkook smiles even brighter. "Don't worry, I didn't read it."
"That's– that's not what I was trying to say–"
Jungkook puts it down on Professor Lee's desk. He claps Professor Lee on the shoulder, which causes the other to flinch. Jungkook has to suppress his smirk.
"I'll get going then. Thank you for your help, professor."
He leaves with a feeling of anticipation and absolute sadistic amusement. He can't wait until the professor confronts Jimin about it. He can't wait to see what he will do to him. He can't wait to see who will win between them.
He simply can't wait to see what will happen.
🌪️
The day everything turns to shit–quite literally–Jimin is wearing his favorite Chelsea boots and skin tight black jeans.
Mentioning the outfit is unnecessary, but Jimin looks good and mentioning that he looks good is always important, so it cancels each other out.
Jimin's about to reach another level of human scum, and it's definitely worth mentioning that he at least looks hot while doing so.
He's just finished with university for the day and wants to go home and draw himself a nice warm bath, maybe light a candle for the atmosphere, and rest.
But it doesn't happen like that.
He gets a call from Joonhyung at around 7pm as he's walking out of the library to the bus stop.
Joonhyung asks Jimin to come to his office. It's not a weird request, they fuck in his office regularly, but Jimin isn't really in the mood for it today. He agrees to come anyway because there's something in Joonhyung's voice that makes an unsettling feeling linger in his chest.
Jimin isn't that prone to anxiety anymore–it used to be way worse–but once it hits him it doesn't go away until the situation is resolved.
And so Jimin goes to his office.
"Jimin, hello," Joonhyung greets him, voice even more tense than it was on the phone.
"What is it?" Jimin asks. Music is playing in the background, something old that Jimin doesn't recognize. Joonhyung's music taste was never to Jimin's liking.
Joonhyung looks like he hasn't slept well last night. His hair is a mess, his cheeks look sullen. Jimin sees how his hands are shaking.
"Are you on drugs or what?"
Joonhyung takes drugs sometimes. To experience a different reality or whatever, but every time he does, it scares Jimin. There's something unnervingly unhinged about him in those moments. He looks like he's on drugs again and if that's true, then Jimin will leave immediately and run.
Joonhyung's eyes snap up, and the bad feeling in Jimin's chest spreads throughout his whole body.
"You knew," Joonhyung spits at him.
Jimin frowns. "I knew what?"
Joonhyung tugs on his own hair. He looks frantic. Jimin instinctively takes a step back. His gaze quickly jumps to the closed door and he wonders how fast he would have to be to escape now.
"The– my fantasies! I never told you! They were mine! But you stole it!"
"I stole what?" Jimin shoots back. He's confused, has absolutely no clue what Joonhyung is talking about.
"My diary!" Joonhyung screams. "You stole it! Because you are a cunning creature that was sent to torment me!"
It finally clicks. Jimin indeed stole the diary, but that was months ago. How did Joonhyung notice it now? Jimin's definitely not going to admit anything. "I don't know what you mean," he says. "And you're the one that calls me every day and begs for me to come to you. I listen to your monologues almost every day without complaining and now you order me here just to scream at me?"
Joonhyung's face softens for a second. There's that look in his eyes Jimin was searching for. His soft spot for Jimin. He might have fantasies of an atrocious nature, but he's also a person with intense and strict morals–those two sides of him are at war. He would never do something to Jimin… right? His rational side will win, right?
Joonhyung's face changes drastically in only a split second.
Jimin isn't sure what he's doing.
His mind is in a haze, his insides are floating inside his body, and his focus lies solely on Joonhyung in front of him.
Jimin hasn't felt rage like this in forever. Rage feels inadequate at the moment, there's no actual reason for him to be mad at Joonhyung, but Jimin has a hard time controlling his temper.
"You're a stupid slut," Joonhyung barks at him. Jimin literally feels how spit hits his face. "We have to stop seeing each other like this. I'm not risking my career for some bitch with a daddy complex."
Jimin's eye twitches. If anything, he has a mother complex. How ridiculous, it's not like he's ever called Joonhyung daddy during sex. He's never called Joonhyung anything out loud. Joonhyung was the one that gave him excessive pet names, the one who peppered Jimin with reluctant affection as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to kill or keep Jimin.
"So what?" Jimin scoffs. "What do you want to do now? I stole your stupid diary! I admit it! Took you long enough to notice it. I've had it for months. I read every word, every sentence."
"You–" Joonhyung stops mid-sentence. He whirls around, eyes flickering uncontrollably, and then he points at Jimin with one of his long fingers. He screams, "You need to– to disappear! You devil's spawn! You bewitched me and now I want to–"
Jimin can't help the laugh that escapes his mouth. He tries to hold it in, but the sight of Joonhyung losing his mind because he screwed a student and has ugly, embarrassing thoughts of killing him and cutting him open is incredibly difficult to find anything but funny. Really, it's so funny to Jimin that he's only realizing now, after Jimin revealed to him that he knows about his diary, how morally wrong this is.
"You are laughing in my face, you bitch?!" Joonhyung roars.
Jimin holds a hand over his mouth, tries to press his lips together to stop his giggles. "You can't expect me not to laugh. This is so fucking funny."
Joonhyung blinks. Repeatedly. It makes him look even more stupid.
"Does my torment amuse you?" Joonhyung asks, almost hysterical.
Jimin looks at him. "Yes. It's extremely amusing to me how unapologetically stupid and disgusting you are."
"Is that why you're here? To see my disgusting self and get off on my suffering? Are you here to see my end?"
Joonhyung talks like Jimin is some kind of death angel that is here to slice his throat and take him to hell. Jimin is just here because he was bored. There's a difference. At least so he assumes. How is he supposed to know why death angels do things? Life isn't real, so who knows if death angels really exist or not? Perhaps they just do things out of chronic boredom as well.
"If this is your end, then that's too bad," Jimin shrugs, genuinely not caring. "Go ahead, kill yourself if you can't endure another person knowing about your filthy desires. I enjoyed reading about them, every single line is engraved into my memory."
Joonhyung's eyes are bulging out of their sockets. They're big and brown and remind Jimin of little bugs, cockroaches, that he wants to step on and crush beneath the heels of his Chelsea boots. His whole body is pulsating, Jimin assumes he's angry and hysterical. He can relate to the anger, although his emotions feel more like blind rage. Jimin can't fathom how it must feel like to see himself leaning against the desk, an amused smile on his face and the posture of someone who doesn't care.
"Tell me, Joonhyung," Jimin taunts. "What do you feel when you look at me? Is it like you described in your little journal? He's gorgeous, but his eyes always seem unfocused. I wonder what he's thinking inside that brain, what does it look like? I want to crack his skull open and take a look inside. I want to cut his heart out and keep it next to my bed."
Joonhyung doesn't say anything for a second. He goes completely still, and the moment he looks up and his eyes meet Jimin's eyes again, Jimin realizes he underestimated Joonhyung. He wouldn't–
"You need to die," Joonhyung says, eerily calm, as if Jimin's calmness moved onto him.
The next moment, his hands are already wrapped around Jimin's neck and he starts squeezing the life out of Jimin.
"Die, die, die!" Joonhyung chants, and Jimin loses control over his legs and arms. They feel like they're no longer attached to his body. All he registers is the burning in his throat, that need for oxygen. Jimin falls to the floor with Joonhyung on top of him. Countless things fall from Joonhyung's desk. The noise is just as loud as Jimin's body falling to the floor and letting out a rattled groan. He can't breathe, he can only wheeze because Joonhyung's hands are pressing down on his windpipe.
Joonhyung crushes him with his body weight, pounds Jimin's head against the floor a couple of times and he squeezes, squeezes, squeezes until Jimin sees white spots in his vision and not a sound comes out of his throat anymore.
" Dieeeee !"
Joonhyung seems to have lost it. Jimin unleashed his inner desires, he made him. Jimin's work is done here, and it was his foolish mistake to think he could just watch while Joonhyung becomes more than a fucked up psychology professor. Jimin likes to think that Joonhyung sees something in him. Beauty, maybe. Jimin isn't beautiful per se, he just knows how to charm people. How to mirror what they want and need, how to be exactly what they desire. How to have them tell him what he is.
Jimin's consciousness is fading, he's probably dying, isn't he?
That thought is ridiculous, just as this entire situation is ridiculous. Is that how he's supposed to die? At the hands of a man with no self control? It seems a bit underwhelming to Jimin.
He's not someone that should die like this. He deserves a better death. Something exciting, theatrical.
He isn't sure why he isn't fighting Joonhyung. He could try to kick him or he could scratch him, poke his eyes out with his fingernails, just do anything to stop his impending death. But he can't seem to move, much less act. He's really dying? Just like this, on a random Friday in March?
This can't be right.
In his peripheral vision he sees the things that fell from Joonhyung's desk. His fountain pen, papers, an empty cup, scissors–
Scissors.
Jimin's eyes are glued to Joonhyung's face, but his arm finally comes to life again and he blindly tries to find the scissors. Joonhyung doesn't seem to notice, he's staring at his hands and how they squeeze around Jimin's neck with so much force, Jimin doesn't think he'll come out of this without an armada of bruises that are shaped like Joonhyung's fingers.
Finally, his hands are able to get a hold of the scissors. Jimin doesn't think long, he just rams the scissors as hard as he can into Joonhyung's ribs.
It surprises Joonhyung long enough to stop choking Jimin and that exact moment is all Jimin needs to gather the last strength he has and kick Joonhyung off of him.
Joonhyung rolls to the side and holds his ribs where Jimin stabbed him with the scissors.
Jimin holds his neck, chokes and gags and tries to catch his breath. There are still white spots in his vision and he can't really hear anything except his own heartbeat, but his rage is making him act without thinking. Survival instincts? More like Jimin's homicidal tendencies finally having the chance to blossom.
With a cry, Jimin throws himself at Joonhyung, traps his body between his thighs and applies all of his body weight onto his chest to keep him on the ground.
"You fucking piece of shit, you really think you can kill me?" Jimin spits out, voice hoarse and sounding like he smokes two packs of Marlboro every day.
Joonhyung still has that insane look in his eyes, but there are tears now as well.
"Get off me! Get off me and let me kill you! I'll cut you open!" he screams hysterically. "Let me kill–"
Jimin shuts him up by pressing a hand over his mouth.
A second later he takes a hold of the scissors that are still stuck between Joonhyung's ribs and he pulls them out at once. Joonhyung tries to scream, but Jimin's hand is still effectively shutting him up.
Then he lifts the scissors to Joonhyung's neck and tries to plunge them in. It's not as easy as it sounds, the damn scissors aren't sharp at all and they don't do a good job of cutting through skin.
Jimin really tries his best, but breathing is still hard and he feels like his neck is swollen and is cutting his airflow. He's getting dizzy, the adrenaline is only doing so much to help him stay conscious.
Joonhyung thrashes underneath him and tries to get the scissors out of Jimin's hands. Jimin's knees dig harder into Joonhyung's chest, he groans and tries to bite into Jimin's hand.
Fuck Joonhyung, fuck him and his mediocre dick and his fucked up and ahhhhh –
Jimin is impatient, the scissors aren't killing him quick enough.
That's when Jimin sees the silver statue of a woman holding a pair of scales. A Themis statue. The Greek goddess of law.
He acts–he can do the thinking later–and jumps up from Joonhyung as quickly as he can.
Joonhyung stands up right after him, his hands brush Jimin's back and he's about to pull on Jimin's hair, but Jimin is quicker than him and his hand wraps around the statue.
He whirls around and hits Joonhyung square in the face with the statue.
Blood sprays directly at Jimin and some of it even lands on his tongue.
Joonhyung drops to the floor.
Everything goes very quiet.
"Fuck," Jimin says breathlessly. His throat hurts like shit as he breathes out that one word.
Dizziness hits him–if it's due to the lack of oxygen Jimin had to endure or because of what he just did, Jimin can't tell. The world just starts spinning like a freaking cartwheel on crack and Jimin thinks he's going to pass out.
He lets out a hysterical laugh.
He's always been the type of person to laugh in unfortunate situations. Someone died? You can expect Jimin to laugh.
But this is different.
Because for once, he's the one in the unfortunate situation.
There's no sadistic satisfaction coursing through his veins at this misfortune. He's simply freaking out.
And just like that, Jimin starts to panic.
He's never killed anyone before and this certainly isn't how he imagined it would go.
He blinks, glances at Joonhyung's deformed face and feels a sour taste shoot into his mouth. Quickly, he slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. Jimin's stomach turns itself over, his swollen windpipe fills with acid.
Panic takes over completely.
The adrenaline inside his veins amplifies it even more.
His hands start to shake, his mind starts to race as if he's a fucking mouse in a cage.
He can confirm now, that there's definitely a feeling that comes with your first kill. It's not what he expected, though.
It feels like a combination of extreme disgust and numbness. It's a kind of numbness that starts spreading from your chest and then moves to every part of your body. It feels like he could walk through fire and not feel a thing. He could fall into an icy lake and the extreme cold would feel nothing but refreshing.
Jimin looks around, not sure what he's looking for, and his eyes can't even seem to focus on anything in particular. He sees his own bag on the chair in the corner, he sees Joonhyung's book on the shelves, he sees the countless things scattered all over the blood sunken floor, but his mind can't comprehend any of it.
There's a song playing on the record player in the corner.
My eyes grew heavy and my lips they could not speak
I tried to get up but I couldn't find my feet
She reassured me with an unfamiliar line
And then she gave to me more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
Jimin just stands there, almost hypnotized by the voice echoing through the room. The time passes and Jimin can't do anything but blink at his hands and feet as if to reassure himself that he's still there. He needs to know that he hasn't vanished into thin air yet– that he's not just a speck of dust in the universe.
The song is slowly coming to an end, the last chords are playing, the last words are sung, and when it finally stops and the record player makes a few weird sounds, Jimin lets out a sob.
He spirals.
FUCK, fuck, fuck. I need to do something .
He wanted to free himself of regrets, but is this really what he wanted? Is this how he wanted to meet his end?
Jimin sinks to the floor and lets his tears roll down his cheeks freely, when, suddenly, the door to the office swings open.
He reacts quickly, aware that he has to conceal his true acts. He makes himself small and fragile, arms wrapped around his legs and a disoriented expression covering his face.
What Jimin didn't expect is to see his fucking stalker walk inside. Oh fuck no , he thinks. Wait– fuck, yes ? He's Jimin's stalker, so… he's probably on Jimin's side no matter what, right? That's how it works, right?
Jimin doesn't even know the guy's name and that guy knows almost everything superficial about Jimin.
Jimin starts his act. "He– he tried to– I didn't want it. I said no so many times! But he didn't stop touching and he– I screamed but no one heard me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't want to– but he didn't stop and then I–"
The man sighs loudly.
Jimin stops talking.
He looks around. His eyes are slowly sweeping over the mess, he's analyzing everything calmly. Jimin has no idea what is going on, he's just focused on getting out of here and running away. He's never coming back to this godforsaken university, that much is clear. He's going back home, and is gonna tell his father that he can't work, he'll have to be a housewife. Yeah. Fuck it. He'll marry some annoying ass corporate son and play the perfect, pretty, little toy all life long.
"Please help me," Jimin whispers. "We need to call the police. It was self defense. I had no choice."
The man's– stalker , he reminds himself–gaze snaps up.
"Please," Jimin tries again.
The blonde hair of the man seems to be shining in the dim lighting. It almost looks white like this, as though he's some otherworldly being that is stranded on earth. Jimin shakes his head, his mind is trying to make sense of everything and in consequence he's romanticizing a man's hair. Great. Just peachy.
Jimin is fucked. Literally.
Because in mere seconds the blonde guy pulls a knife–a very big and shiny one–out of his back pocket and has it pressed against Jimin's neck.
None of this feels like a coincidence.
"You talk too much. One more word and I'll let you bleed out like a pig."
🌪️
Jungkook brings the knife to Jimin's throat, and all of his composure fades as the knife grazes Jimin's perfect, soft and pearly neck and one drop of the most vibrant blood Jungkook has ever seen drops down the edge of the knife. A smile, or maybe a grimace, spreads on Jungkook's face; something ugly and appalling. His teeth are visible and he feels more like a hellhound than human, but it doesn't surprise him much because he's always been more than a mere human. Something of a different species, more evolved than the average human who walks on earth together with him.
He allows them to. Some of them he doesn't.
Yet, killing them is not a task for him. Killing should come from his deepest desires, and sometimes it's stronger and sometimes less. Jungkook knows the laws of this world, the laws of nature and the universe.
One is one's own God.
And one makes one's own rules.
So if he cuts Jimin's throat, it will be because he follows a rule that he made. He's his own God, if he deems Jimin unworthy of walking this earth then so be it.
He really didn't expect this day to go like this. When he followed Jimin to the university he thought he would just have to watch him get fucked again. That usually bores him like hell. But this was a pleasant surprise. Kind of. Now he might have to kill Jimin. No one like Jimin should be alive. Jungkook doesn't like sinners. Of course, he instigated this scene–he was so curious about finding out what would happen, who between Joonhyung and Jimin is worse–but he finds himself quite disappointed with the result.
A part of him wanted Jimin to be innocent. Jungkook likes him. He is…amusing. But he can't go against his agenda, and he can't let Jimin live.
"Are you going to kill me?" Jimin asks, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Jungkook can hear the forced shakiness, the forced fear and the forced desperation in his tone. And he wonders where Jimin learned to run his mouth like that, why he thinks he could deceive anyone that he crosses paths with.
The crying, the tears, the excuse of "almost getting raped"–it could have gotten him out of this unscathed. Jungkook is certain that everyone would believe Jimin, instead of a professor with a bad reputation that now also allegedly tried to assault a student. But did he really think that would work on Jungkook? He's watched Jimin long enough to be sure that he's not dumb. He looks through people easily, Jungkook expected him to see through himself as well. He's a good judge of character, that's what murdering people and observing them like a hunter observing his prey does to you after quite some time. Jungkook could tell you all of Jimin's habits that he's picked up on in the days he spent analyzing him.
Did he train his skills with the help of TV shows and movies? Or does he read books? Or is it perhaps a talent he acquired over the years through actual experience?
Jungkook has seen him with a book before, something old and pretentious. He wanted to understand the motive behind the dove's actions. A little dove in the hands of a man that fantasizes about killing something so innocent?
It is rare that Jungkook is curious about something, but he has to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Jimin has made him curious.
Obsession. Is that what mortals would call this? Since that day in the office Jungkook has been watching him, growing more and more curious. A weird feeling, something foreign to him that he has not once felt in his life, has settled and spread inside him. What is it?
"Maybe," Jungkook answers. "Should I?"
Yes, he should.
Jimin's lips wobble, he looks ridiculous. The act would convince anyone, it's been perfected a century ago it seems like. The body language, the expression on his face, the sound of his voice–even the air smells like fear. Jungkook doesn't think anyone else but him would be able to pick up the small missing aspect in Jimin's demonstration.
It's the eyes.
It's always the damn eyes.
"Eyes are the mirror to our souls," Jungkook comments, the knife still resting at Jimin's neck. The position is straining Jungkook's arm muscles, but he doesn't even register it. "Do you know why?"
Jimin's eyes flicker, his eyelids flutter open and shut. The confusion is so, so convincing- but it's not enough. "I– I dunno. I– please! Don't–"
"Well," Jungkook cuts in. "Aren't you an interesting little thing? Do you want me to tell you?"
Jimin's gaze flickers to the dead man in the corner. Jungkook wants to chuckle–the little dove really killed him. An impulsive decision, but Jungkook has been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"Shouldn't you know this? He just said it last week," Jungkook points at the professor. "Vultus est Index animi."
Jimin blinks, confused. "But that's– that's Latin."
"He mentioned this last week when we were talking about the ancient Greeks' obsession with eyes. He only added it because he liked it, I think. It's a Latin proverb, but it serves its purpose, doesn't it?" Jungkook looks at Jimin's eyes before he continues, "Ut imago est animi voltes sic indices oculi."
"I don't know what that means." He's smart enough not to say anything else.
"Mh, 'course you don't," Jungkook says. "Your attention was elsewhere. Probably were thinking about the man's dick inside your ass instead of the words in his mouth."
Jimin gasps. He plays the role of the shocked victim so well.
"You–"
"You can let go of your facade, dove."
Dove. That word wasn't ever supposed to leave his mouth. But that's what Jimin is. He's a white dove, sent to disrupt the peace instead of bringing it. An euphemism.
"Why are you here?" Jimin asks now, expression twisting into something malicious. "Got enough of stalking me and now you want to kill me?"
Jimin seems to recognize Jungkook, in a way that individuals like Jungkook and Jimin always recognize each other. They're made from the same clay, and instead of a missing rib they just have a missing soul.
Jungkook breathes in, wasting time he could spend with taking Jimin apart like a beautiful flower, petal by petal, but something is stopping him. Jimin's a sinner now. Before, he was just a saint with an affection for sinners, but with this murder he has finally crossed the line.
"I'm thinking–debating–if I should kill you or not."
"You don't want to kill me," Jimin protests, but his voice is weak. Everything about him seems to be weak. Everything but the fire in his eyes. "There's no reason for you to kill me. You're obsessed with me."
Jungkook finds that amusing. "People with obsessions are destructive. You should know." He shakes his head once. "I have my reasons for wanting to take you off this planet. I've been watching you, which you are aware of. You should know why I want to kill you."
Jimin's expression hardens, gone is the scared little dove. "I know people like you. You think you have the right to decide about my life or death? Do you think it's your duty? Well, news flash, it's not. If you want to kill me, you should give me a better reason. And don't come at me with religion, we both know that it's a coping mechanism for the weak."
Jungkook laughs. "You believe me to be religious?"
Big, round eyes look at him with hesitation. This time, Jungkook believes it's real.
"Little precious dove," Jungkook sing-songs. "You know nothing." And with that Jungkook takes a hold of the dove's hair and he slams his head back against the wall.
Jimin doesn't even get to scream.
🌪️
Jimin wakes up chained to a bed with rope around his wrists at both ends.
Oh no.
His first instinct is to scream very loudly for help, but he immediately throws that idea away because he's fairly sure the blonde creep will just kill him if he screams now.
He already said he would kill you , a voice in Jimin's mind says.
Jimin looks around in the room. There's literally nothing. What the fuck? The walls are blank, the floor is blank, the window is– there's no window. The light in the room comes from a lamp hanging from the ceiling. That's the only piece of furniture besides the bed that Jimin is lying on.
The sheets are soft and cold underneath his touch. His captor didn't even make the effort to tuck Jimin in.
Jimin shudders because it's cold as fuck and he's not wearing socks– where are his socks?
Oh my God. He's so gonna die.
With perfect timing, the door swings open and the blonde creep comes walking in.
"You're awake," he says.
"Obviously," Jimin scoffs, feeling sarcastic. "You probably have cameras at some spot in this room and saw me waking up like the little voyeur that you are!"
"When will you learn to refrain from talking so bluntly?"
Jimin pulls on the ropes as hard as he can. "I'm stressed, okay?! I'm about to die at the hands of some blonde narcissist and I'm tied to a bed and I'm not wearing socks! Where are my socks?! I should die with my goddamn socks on!"
"The only narcissist in this room is you, dove."
Jimin throws his head back. "What do you want from me? I just got assaulted by some old man but instead of being compassionate, you kidnap me?"
"You killed him," the man remarks.
Jimin gnaws on his bottom lip. "Out of self defense. He was trying to kill me. Also, what is your name?"
"I've told you my name before."
Jimin thinks really hard. He really does, but his brain is not really working anymore. "No, you didn't," he smiles. "I remember everyone's name."
"I was just kidding." His lips curve upwards, mocking Jimin. "You can call me Jungkook."
"Okay, Jungkook," Jimin says, hoping that he will somehow get to him if he addresses him with his name. "How about you let me go and then we'll go on a date, hm? That's what you want, right?"
The corners of Jungkook's mouth go up. "As I said, the only narcissist in this room is you."
"Two dates, then?" Jimin tries again.
"I told you I don't want anything from you," Jungkook's head tilts to the side. "Actually, I just want to kill you."
Jimin swallows. "No, you don't."
"In fact, I very much do."
Jimin sighs. Is this what he gets for having a dead mother? Is this what he gets for even being born?
"Or," Jungkook says now. "You tell me why you killed him."
Jimin's head snaps back into his direction. "You want me to tell you why I killed that old man?"
"He's middle aged, not old," Jungkook corrects. "And, yes. I want to know why you did it. It was a messy kill, but I saw the determination in your gaze. And you laughed afterwards."
Jimin narrows his eyes. What is this guy trying to do? "I already told you it was out of self defense. He was strangling me. And I laughed because I was freaking out! I laugh when I am nervous!"
The head stays tilted to the side. He's like a hawk that perceives Jimin as the fish he will catch right out of the water and will feed to his fetchlings. "Now without the lie."
"I'm not lying," Jimin insists. His throat really hurts. It's probably bruised. But at least breathing doesn't hurt that much anymore.
"Well, then I'll just kill you now," Jungkook shrugs. He's already on his way to the bed, strong hands stretched out into Jimin's direction and Jimin can already feel them wrapped around his swollen throat.
"Wait!" Jimin feels dizzy. "I'll tell you!"
Jungkook stops at the edge of the bed.
"If I tell you, then you'll let me free?"
Jungkook seems to consider this. "Depends on your answer."
Jimin's choices are die now or give Jungkook an honest answer that could potentially save him?
"This is bullshit!" Jimin screams. "People like you don't kill people like me!"
"Make your choice, dove," Jungkook says. He lifts his hand and starts counting down. "Five. Four. Three–"
"OKAY! I'LL TELL YOU!"
Jungkook backs away, obviously satisfied.
"Talk," he orders emotionlessly.
Jimin has to blink several times and take deep breaths to get his shit back together. "I wanted it! It was an accident but I wanted it! I– I killed him because he started choking me to death and then I just grabbed the scissors, but that didn't work and–"
"You tried to kill him with the scissors," Jungkook repeats tonelessly.
"Yeahh, as I just said," Jimin says.
"Why would you try to kill someone with dull scissors?"
"Because there was nothing else there? Was I supposed to whip a scalpel out of nowhere or what?"
"So you didn't plan the murder?"
Jimin looks around searching for anything that could help him escape. "No, it wasn't. But it seems like this is a planned murder, you motherfucker! You fucking creep! If you want to kill me then you should let me out and earn that fucking kill! Only a coward kills someone while they can't even fight back!"
"You're so entertaining," Jungkook smiles at him, not even remotely phased by Jimin's screams. "And you understand that you are beneath me on the hierarchy. Which is good. That means I wasn't wrong about you."
"What stupid hierarchy are you talking about?"
"Of people like us, like you already said," Jungkook continues to smile. It looks so wrong. His teeth are showing. He has perfect, white and pearly teeth that probably shimmer in the sun or some shit. He bets Jungkook would love to ram those perfect teeth into Jimin's skin. Jimin wants to punch them out of his mouth. He'd keep them as souvenirs on a necklace around his neck.
"I'm not a stalker, so that means I'm above you," Jimin says petulantly.
Jungkook remains completely still. Jimin doesn't understand why things like this leave him completely unphased. Also, is he trying to provoke a fucking creep? What is he doing? Where's his survival instinct?
Jungkook chuckles now. "Oh, little dove, I'll show what you really are. I've just now decided to keep you and I'll take the opportunity to show how real redemption works. You didn't want to kill your professor? Well, but you did. You committed a sin and I'm your punishment."
Without another word he stands up and closes the door behind himself again.
With him, the light disappears, and all that remains is Jimin's ragged breathing, his desperately beating heart and his empty mind.
🌪️
How long it takes for Jungkook to come back is impossible to tell.
Jimin has no idea what time or day it is.
He's been biting his lips and the inside of his cheeks bloody to stay awake. He's so damn tired, so full of adrenaline, and fear is making breathing difficult. The only noise he hears is the sound of his own breathing, huffed and rushed, and his heart that is pumping the adrenaline loaded blood faster and faster through his body. There's no way he can keep this up for long. Sooner or later he'll fall asleep from pure exhaustion. He hasn't eaten in God knows how long. He hasn't had a drop of water either. His throat is dry, his lips are even drier, and his eyes can't seem to stop shedding tears. His lips wobble out of desperation and he hates it.
His mind is fighting with his body. His body is hurting, screaming for relief and nutrients, but Jimin's mind is in a prison of stone-cold stubbornness. He can't wait to get out of here and kill Jungkook for daring to put his hands on him. He wasted his first kill on Joonhyung, which is quite unfortunate, but now Jimin has nothing to lose anymore. Killing didn't feel as good as he imagined, but that feeling of fighting for your life… that was incredible.
He didn't want to kill Joonhyung. He really didn't. And he's not feeling good about it.
What happened to Joonhyung? How did Jungkook even get him to this place without anyone noticing? Did he just leave Joonhyung's body in the office?
Jimin isn't sure if he wants to know the answer.
He just hopes that someone will search for him. He's been missing for God knows how long now.
The problem is that Jimin doubts anyone will miss him. He's basically completely anonymous in Seoul, he hasn’t talked to anyone in his classes for longer than the duration of said class. Most of the time he doesn't even know the name of the other students.
He regrets not making an effort to be social now. Back in his hometown everyone was friends with him and, yeah, that maybe wasn't the best situation either, but at least people immediately noticed his absence then.
Right when Jimin is starting to fall asleep with his head lolling to the side and drool dripping from his mouth like a starved animal, the door opens and Jungkook strides in.
Jimin flinches, his arms burn and pain shoots through them.
Jungkook is wearing something different. Still black clothes, but they're different. Black jeans, a black shirt with some dark red spots– is that blood?! Did he just come back from killing someone else and now he's here to kill him, too? What is this man capable of? Jimin can't even fathom–
"Eyes up here," comes the dry command.
Reluctantly, Jimin tears his eyes from the obvious dark red spots of dried blood on Jungkook's shirt. As soon as he looks in his face, he notices the stark contrast between his eyes and hair again. They stand out even more with this blonde hair.
Jungkook has a knife in his hand.
"Oh, fuck you–"
Jungkook leans forward, and Jimin whimpers when he sees the knife reflecting the light. Knives are obviously Jungkook's choice of weapon.
"Calm down," he orders.
Jimin can't calm down. He tries to thrash around and screams, "No! No, don't kill me! You fucking psycho, you bastard you motherfucker– noooo! Don't, don't, don't-"
Jungkook growls and just presses a cold hand down on Jimin's mouth. It's rough and big. Jimin tries to bite him, but Jungkook just grips his jaw instead. So hard that Jimin wails in pain.
"Stop. Wiggling. Around."
Jungkook's free arm reaches out to the end of the headboard. Jimin tries to scream through Jungkook's hand.
"Ahhhhhhhmmmmmhh–"
"Do you want me to accidentally cut your arm, or why are you moving this much?"
Jimin is pretty sure Jungkook wouldn't cut anything just by accident. He seems like the type of person to not leave things in control of coincidence. He would probably cut Jimin just for the fun of it.
Jungkook cuts through the rope around Jimin's wrist.
Jimin would sigh out of relief, but Jungkook's hand over his mouth is making that impossible. He tries to look at his hand, but turning his head is difficult and through his peripheral vision he can only see a bright red bruise along his wrist. There's a bit of blood as well. All the friction against his skin from ripping and pulling at the rope tore his skin open.
Jimin's arm falls down onto the bed like the arm of a marionette that no longer has a string that controls it attached to it.
Jungkook moves to his other arm, repeats the same procedure and seconds later Jimin's second arm drops down as well.
Jimin feels dizzy. His head is spinning.
He feels a hand slap his cheek slightly.
"So fragile."
It sounds like an insult.
"Did you–" he heaves out, short on air. "Did you dehydrate me on purpose? Do you want to kill me now?"
Jungkook tsks. "I had to take care of some things. I'll bring you food and water now."
"Water?" Jimin beams, like a dog that is about to get a treat.
Jungkook smiles, almost gently. "Water. And pizza. I didn't have time to cook. Pizza is okay with you?"
Jimin can't really think. The only words in his brain are water! and food! He feels like he's about to pass out again if he doesn't get something in his stomach right the fuck now.
He wants to move, wants to sit up and find the food and water Jungkook was talking about. But he's weakened, delirious, and he slumps forward, mind spinning endlessly.
Jungkook catches him. And for a moment Jimin forgets that he should plot his escape and Jungkook's murder simultaneously, all he is able to manage is sigh into Jungkook's arms. He smells good. He smells like summer. Sweet, fresh, addicting. Jimin inhales greedily, mind wiped empty. He feels drunk. As if he had a whole bottle of wine. No other alcohol affects Jimin, he doesn't get drunk easily, but one glass of wine makes his head spin like a phenomenal orgasm.
Jungkook tsks. "How silly. But it's okay, I got you." Then he scoots Jimin up, carries him like he's the groom and Jimin's the bride and they're walking into their honeymoon suite. Jimin doesn't know where they're going, he doesn't care either, he simply snuggles closer to Jungkook's chest and blends out the rest of the world.
His eyelids are heavy again, it's hard to keep them open. He's reduced to a babbling mess in Jungkook's arms, begging for water and food.
Jungkook shushes him, tells him to be calm.
Jimin loses consciousness again, and the fact that his life is in the hands of Jungkook doesn't seem to matter now.
🌪️
He comes to when Jungkook slaps him across the face.
His first sensation is that his cheek stings. The next thing is a hand that is soothing over the reddened skin.
"You're awake," Jungkook says and it feels like a bad déjà vu because Jungkook said exactly the same line the last time too. But he didn't slap Jimin to wake him up then.
Jimin opens his eyes slowly. It feels like he has to force them open, as if his eyelids were glued to his waterline.
"Don't fall asleep again," Jungkook scolds him. "We've got things to discuss."
What things? Jimin wants to say.
"Shit, you're the most fragile thing I've ever seen. One day without food and water and this is how you are?"
"I thought you're my stalker," Jimin croaks out. "Then you should know that I didn't eat anything for like two days."
Jimin's behavior can be defined as destructive. All over. He's destructive towards everything and everyone in his life, especially towards himself. Irregular eating is just one thing. A bad sleep schedule, self harm, taking showers so hot that his skin burns…
"I'm not your stalker."
Jimin finally manages to open his eyes. His throat feels like it's sandpaper, that's how dry it is. His skin feels like it's about to fall off his bones.
He's lying down somewhere. His right cheek is squished against a soft underground. Jimin tries to sit up as his eyes finally focus on his surroundings again.
It's weird, Jimin doesn't feel an ounce of panic. He's just exhausted. That exhaustion seems to be so big, it's taking up too much space, Jimin doesn't even have the strength to be panicked right now.
He doesn't come far.
A low rumble comes from the left, and then Jimin is pulled onto a person's lap. He tries to kick and punch, but he's literally so weak he can't even move a muscle.
"Open your mouth," he hears Jungkook command him.
Jimin obliges, and opens his mouth. Water fills his mouth. Jimin has never felt anything better in his whole life. It runs down his throat, and he can feel how it seems to spread in his body. It's like slowly coming back to life, as if he was a plant close to death and now after it was watered its leaves stop hanging.
"More," Jimin begs. "More–"
The bottle is back on his mouth and this time Jimin fetches it out of Jungkook's hands and grabs it so hard he can feel the plastic crumple. He drinks and drinks until nothing is left and even then he still doesn't feel satisfied.
"That's enough for now," Jungkook's voice says from above.
Jimin is gasping for air on his lap, his eyes looking into nowhere. Jungkook shifts a bit, Jimin's head lolls to the side and he just wants to go back to sleep.
He thinks he hears a chuckle, or something close to it, and then the smell of food hits Jimin. He scrunches his nose, inhales a big whiff and all the energy he thought wasn't there comes back rushing into him and makes Jimin jolt up.
He almost hits Jungkook's chin, but Jungkook moves back quickly and lets Jimin snatch away the slice of pizza he has in his hands.
For a while, Jimin just eats. He's aware that Jungkook is watching him, but the pizza tastes too good to think about it.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Jungkook asks after some time.
Jimin looks up, and as if he suddenly woke up from a trance, he suddenly remembers the last few days very clearly.
He stops chewing.
I killed a man, he thinks. I killed someone and now I'm being killed, too. Is that the natural course of life?
"Did you lose the ability to speak while I was away?"
Jimin continues to look at his hands. Nausea is building in his chest, throat, stomach.
"I cleaned up after you," Jungkook tells him matter-of-factly. "I got rid of the body, got rid of the scissors and the Themis statue. The scissors–"
"What?" Jimin interrupts. His mind isn't able to comprehend the words Jungkook just uttered.
Jungkook looks at him as though Jimin is a toddler that doesn't understand human concepts yet. "I cut the body into small pieces and I spread them all over the city," Jungkook tells him tonelessly. "I burned the fingertips off and ripped his teeth out and cut his toes off. Then I started with his legs and then his arms and then–"
The mental image of Joonhyung being nothing more than a dismembered body without a head is too much.
Jimin gags, throws himself forward and he lands on all fours where he promptly vomits all over the floor.
The surreality of this situation only becomes obvious to him now. Jimin was almost killed by Joonhyung, but then Jimin killed him instead, and as the coincidence wanted it, Jungkook found him and decided to kidnap Jimin and cover up his murder. How ironic is this?
He feels a hand on his back. It's warm. Jimin focuses on that.
"They think he disappeared. It happens sometimes. Adults disappearing without a trace and never coming back. Nobody will ever suspect you," Jungkook whispers to him.
"Why are you telling me this?" Jimin says weakly. He's still hovering over his own vomit, he can see the undigested pizza together with lots of water and bile.
"Because I thought you wanted to know."
Jimin feels pathetic for crying, but it's all he can do right now. "I want to go home."
Jungkook snorts. "I'm afraid that's not possible."
"People will search for me," Jimin says. "They will notice that I'm gone!"
Jungkook only replies, "Will they?"
"I have assignments to hand in! I have to pay my fucking rent! I have– I have friends who will notice!"
"Okay."
"The police will find me and then you're going to jail for the rest of your miserable life!"
Jungkook's hand keeps stroking Jimin's back, but it doesn't feel comforting at all. "Unlikely."
Jimin breaks down. "Why are you doing this? What are you getting out of this?!"
"I told you. I want to kill you."
"But– but you said–"
Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Okay, I wanted to kill you. Now I don't know what I want to do with you. It just so happened that you fell into my hands. Might be fate, don't you agree?"
"You do realize that you're actually insane?" Jimin looks at him through his oily hair. He stinks. Like vomit and sweat and like death. He feels disgusting.
"I'm not insane," Jungkook replies, still amused.
"You're talking about fate right now," Jimin emphasizes. He's talking about fate, about committing sins, and Jimin just knows that he's talking to a man that thinks himself to be God.
"And?"
"And you're crazy! Literally insane! I'm not discussing my life with a man that probably snorted a bit too much coke–"
Jungkook clicks his tongue. "You can't go anywhere, Jimin. I have your phone, I have every password to every account you have. I have emailed the university, they think you want to drop out. One signature and it will be done. I can call your landlord and pretend to be you and tell them you're moving out. I've already texted your father–he seems like a very doting man–and told him that you're busy and won't be able to call him next week. I can go and do a whole background check on you to find out every single thing. I can make you disappear and no one will ever know. Maybe in a few years when you're nothing more but dust they will realize that you've been missing all along."
Jimin is nauseous again. He can't even breathe. His head is spinning, his blood is boiling.
His life got wiped out, his entire existence stolen. Just like that.
"You should clean that up," Jungkook nods at the pile of vomit. "It smells."
It's funny how easy a life can be stolen. It's even funnier how easy it is to play with someone else's life.
Jungkook snorts again. "Oh please, don't give me that look. You're mine now, little dove. No one will ever take you away from me. Just wait, we'll have so much fun together."
Jungkook stands up, and the warm hand disappears from Jimin's back.
"There's clothes and food here," Jungkook comments. "I'll come back tomorrow."
Jimin hears how a door falls shut, he hears how Jungkook's footsteps disappear down the hallway, another door closes, and then it's silent all of a sudden.
It's so silent that Jimin can finally hear his own sobs.
He looks down at his vomit and his lips start to wobble, his hands start to shake and he cries out of anger. He cries so hard the tears mix with the fluid on the floor. He sits back on his legs, his body leans against the end of the couch and he just sobs.
It's been a while since he last cried over anything. Usually, Jimin doesn't cry. He can count the times he has actually had a full blown mental breakdown with tears on his hands. Tears aren't the norm for Jimin, and even now he isn't crying because he's sad, he's crying because he's so angry and there's no other way to use that anger right now. He isn't in possession of enough energy to guide the anger into a different direction and so it just happens that he's letting it out through ugly sobs and snot coming out of his nose.
After his tears ebb away, Jimin calms down a little. Enough to stand up and look around. He's alone, that much he knows. Jungkook has locked him inside of this– this apartment?
Jimin has no idea where he is. There's a window he sees now. He scrambles himself up from the floor, almost stumbles when he's standing, and once he finally feels secure on both of his feet, he slowly walks to the window.
He's at least on the tenth floor. He can't even see the ground. He's stuck in a fucking skyscraper. Where in hell's name is he?
Jimin wants to open the window, but he can't. He sees a small lock, but no key. The fucking window is locked. Jimin couldn't even throw himself out of the window if he wanted. Not that he wants to kill himself, that isn't really an option for Jimin, but the realization that he can't even do that still feels horrible. It's the first indication of loss of control when you can't even take your own life.
Jimin checks every other room, every other window, every door, every drawer. Almost everything is locked. The things that aren't locked are, for instance, the door to the kitchen that is bigger than the one Jimin has in his apartment.
There are even knives in the kitchen, but when Jimin touches them he realizes why Jungkook left them here. They're dull. It would be hard to kill someone with this knife, Jimin supposes he could try to use a butter knife and it would work better.
It strikes him as ironic that he's constantly thinking about murder and death now. Is this what happens to you when you kill a man and want revenge on another?
But the thought of Joonhyung–Jimin's heart clenches in his chest.
He always wanted to feel life slip away between his fingertips, and now that he felt it…it's not at all how he imagined.
He finds another bedroom, different from the one he was locked in when he woke up. This second one isn't empty at all. There's a huge bed in the middle, three blankets are lying neatly folded at the foot of the bed. There are big pillows, small pillows. Next to the bed is a small dresser, Jimin pulls open every drawer. He finds clothes in there. They're all his size. They all look like things Jimin would buy and wear.
With a lump in his throat, Jimin quickly steps away from the drawer. It is then that his eyes land on the nightstand where a pile of books is lying on top.
Jimin squints his eyes a bit. Over the last year his eyesight has gotten worse, he should have gone to a doctor to check his eyesight, but what does it matter now? He doesn't need to be able to see to be killed by Jungkook. It bums him that he's nearsighted and not farsighted. If he was farsighted then he wouldn't have to see Jungkook's eyes when he eventually kills him.
The books on the nightstand are his own.
His favorite ones. And they're lying in the same exact order as Jimin left them at home.
He takes a look around his prison.
It's pretty. It looks perfect. As if no one has touched it before. As if it was created for one purpose and one purpose only. Or, even better, for one person.
Jimin's breath stays away when he recognizes his own art hanging on the walls. On every single one. His own paintings are what he sees when he looks ahead, when he looks to the side, when he turns around. One on each wall.
Everything in this room is his.
A thought creeps into his mind.
Fate, Jungkook said. He was lying.
For the second time, Jimin realizes that none of this is a coincidence.
🌪️
Jimin adjusts to his prison way quicker than one might think.
A thing to know about him is that he's quick to adjust, he's quick to mold himself into what is needed from him at a certain moment. Jimin is good at being something–or someone–he's not, and he's even better at fooling everyone in his environment to believe it.
Perhaps even himself.
A lie is only a good lie if the liar believes it, too.
After he takes a shower in Jungkook's pristine bathroom that was cleaner than it would be in a hotel, he dressed himself in the clothes Jungkook bought for him. He checks his bruised wrists and he inspects the finger-shaped bruises on his throat and touches them carefully. They remind him of the times Joonhyung wrapped his hands around his delicate throat without squeezing them. Jimin never thought he would ever do it, but there's a first time for everything, right?
It's his first time getting kidnapped, too, but Jimin is trying to make the best of it.
After his episode in the bathroom he walks through his new bedroom with a lump in his throat and strictly stares at his feet, before he arrives in the living room that is just as sparsely filled as the rest of the apartment. There's a TV, but Jimin can't find a remote and it's not even plugged in either. It's just fucking decoration, like the knives in the kitchen. The couch is gray and quite comfy, and Jimin wants to curl himself into a ball and die right then and there. In the living room, the walls are empty. It looks like they've never been touched.
This apartment is as lively as a fucking graveyard.
With a sigh, he starts to collect cleaning utensils from the kitchen and makes his way to the spot where he vomited his soul out earlier.
His stomach still feels uneasy and Jimin can taste the sour substance in his mouth even after brushing his teeth and flossing.
Nevertheless, he applauds himself for not throwing up again as he's cleaning the mess he made in the living room.
The humiliation of having to clean his own vomit from the floor is making his cheeks burn, and he is glad that no one (more like: Jungkook) is there to see the tear that is rolling down his cheek and dropping to the floor into the already existing mess.
Jimin tries not to think while he waits and waits for something to happen. But it is too silent inside this apartment, and his thoughts are too loud. One good thing that happened is that he found his socks. They were inside the washing machine. Jimin almost laughed when he saw them. Jungkook didn't even wash them, he just threw them in there, as if he wanted to wait for more laundry.
He's obviously obsessed with things being clean, Jimin realizes. And he's organized. Almost compulsively so.
He thinks back to the last weeks, hoping to find a clue in his memory. What did he miss? What if Jungkook stalked only to kidnap him? Jimin doesn't believe anything he said.
The first time he noticed Jungkook following him was on a Thursday. Jimin was walking home from the gym where he did some exercises for his legs and ass (he has to maintain his good physique, especially with the amount of salted caramel ice cream he consumes) and Jungkook was looming behind a freaking tree on the other side of the street. Jimin thought he was just a weirdo at first, someone that hides behind trees in public because he's socially awkward, and, as it turns out, Jungkook is still a weirdo, but definitely not one that is socially awkward. Far from that. He's socially advanced, as it seems. In every aspect.
Jimin can smell wealth when he sees it. And he sees it in every fucking corner in this hellhole of an apartment. The very little amount of items that are in his apartment are definitely high quality.
Jungkook obviously has a raging god complex, one that could probably rival Jimin's own if he would ever admit to having one. Jimin's in a constant state of denial. About everything in his life. He has a hard time accepting reality, although it certainly is easy for him to adjust to it every time it changes. It is a weird contradiction, but perhaps that is what makes Jimin so unhinged.
That, and his slightly concerning obsession with murderous individuals.
Actually, Jungkook fits right in that category, doesn't he?
Jimin still doesn't really believe him, he hasn't seen Jungkook murder someone and as long as he hasn't seen it, he doesn't believe it. At least not fully. But, then again, Jimin never really believed Taehyung too, until he saw it. He should probably learn from his mistakes. It's problematic that Jimin is the type of person that only believes things he has seen with his own two eyes.
He's flawed, yes, but Jimin is also perfectly aware of his own intelligence. And, this might be, potentially, just hypothetically, his god complex speaking, but he somehow believes that he can manipulate his way out of here.
There has to be something he can use against Jungkook. All Jimin needs is a weakness, something that makes Jungkook vulnerable, easy to attack.
And Jimin has a faint idea of what he will start with.
Give it one week, and Jimin will walk out of this bitch unscathed and with a severed head in his hands.
Okay, that might be a stretch, but Jimin's confident.
Confident enough to think he will outsmart Jungkook.
🌪️
Spoiler alert: he's not.
Jungkook, that deranged piece of shit, is as cunning as Jimin's dead mother.
Jimin only knows that she was cunning because his father rants about it when he has had one too many glasses of wine.
And Jimin read her diary, which was– it was eye-opening to say the least. A true masterpiece of motherly love. He seems to have a thing for diaries. What a pity that he doesn't write his own.
As the days pass by and Jimin spends more time with Jungkook, he starts comparing Jungkook to the things he hates the most. Jimin hates bitter things, bitter coffee and bitter tea, and Jungkook obviously drinks both without sugar or milk. He's bitter. A bitter person that has destroyed Jimin's sweet life. Jimin also hates that he can't compare Jungkook to a dolphin. Dolphin's are the most disrespectful animals you will ever meet. Jimin once had to hold a presentation on them in third grade. He's hated them ever since. In second place are seagulls. But Jungkook isn't a seagull either. He's not small, he's fast, yeah, but too big to be a seagull and too dry to be a dolphin. Dolphin's are disrespectful, but at least they're fun.
Jimin can't say that about Jungkook.
But Jimin's a chameleon and as a chameleon he will adjust to every thing that comes his way, even if it's a big, bad wolf that looks at Jimin with his big, bad eyes and talks to him with his big, bad teeth.
Jungkook is not really talkative. That's why he's a wolf in Jimin's head. He only growls, bares his teeth and commands Jimin around as if Jimin was some slave he picked up from the streets.
As he promised, he comes back the next day and he brings nothing but terror with him.
Jimin is sitting on the couch, wrapped up in two blankets and his own book on his lap when he hears the front door opening up.
The fear that has faded and stayed dormant since Jungkook left, comes back with full force and hits Jimin square in the face. The entire day and night, he was occupied with convincing himself that this isn't really happening and that it's all just a joke. Jungkook coming back is the reality check Jimin didn't ask for.
He panics. He throws the book away (it lands somewhere on the floor with the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled), he detangles himself from the two blankets he had wrapped around himself because it's cold as fuck, and he looks around frantically.
He escapes to the bathroom, locks himself inside because it's the only room that has a key (Jungkook seems to support the idea of having privacy in the bathroom, thank the lord) and hides in the bathtub. He curls himself into a ball and hopes Jungkook will just go away.
To Jimin's delight, Jungkook doesn't actually find him right away.
He hears him walking around, the walls are surprisingly thin inside this apartment, or maybe it's just because the bathroom is located almost in the middle of the apartment when you would take a look at the layout. There's no windows in here, Jimin hates that, but the bathtub is enormous and Jimin could probably fit two or three times his size inside. Perfect for drowning people, his mind provides.
Jungkook's footsteps are extremely loud, you could almost believe that he's being loud on purpose.
He walks through every room, seems to remain there for a while, judging by the silence that occurs every time Jimin hears a door opening, and then he leaves again. He walks slowly, calculatedly, and Jimin comes to the realization that Jungkook is messing with him.
The theory that he has cameras installed somewhere in the five rooms (namely kitchen, living room, bedroom 1 which is the scary, empty one, and bedroom 2 with the bathroom attached to it and Jimin's belongings) to oversee Jimin's every move is starting to become more and more logical.
Jimin's heartbeat is ramming in his ears, it's pushing the blood through his body at an alarming rate. He's biting on his fingernails, a bad habit he actually lost in his teenage years, but there's nothing a psychopath like Jungkook can't bring back to life, right?
Ironically, the song Mary had a little lamb starts playing in Jimin's head.
Mary had a little lamb
Little lamb, little lamb
Mary had a little lamb
It's fleece was white as snow
Everywhere that Mary went
Mary went, Mary went
Everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go…
A fucking nursery rhyme. Jimin always felt like there was something creepy about those rhymes the adults told you as a child. He didn't have a mother growing up though, and his father was busy with catching murderers instead of raising his child, so baby Jimin's mother figures were the nanny, the kindergarten teacher, the elementary teacher… and so on. Children sing a lot of songs in preschool, elementary school, not so much in high school, but school in general should count as enough. It's a lot of bullshit, just some childish rhymes Jimin never found joy in as a child.
And, yet, as an adult, he finds himself humming the tune under his breath as he's hiding in a bathtub from some deranged guy that kidnapped him after he caught him murdering his (also deranged) college professor that he used as a fucktoy to waste some time.
It's poetic, really.
The sheer irony of this situation has Jimin suppressing a hysterical laugh in his throat. It pushes its way out when he hears Jungkook entering the bedroom, slowly walking to the bathroom door, footsteps muffled because of the white rug that covers the entire floor. Jimin briefly wonders if Jungkook chose white because you can see blood the best on a white underground. The laugh bubbles in his throat and it echoes in the bathroom. In his delirious state, Jimin imagines how it jumps from wall to wall and slips through the small space between door and floor and gets to Jungkook that way.
The poetry of the situation passes rather quickly, when Jungkook knocks on the door and it makes Jimin flinch like a little bunny.
Jimin's brain must be on Playlist mode because the only thought that comes to his mind is that one song by Melanie Martinez he was obsessed with in high school. Teacher's pet? Was that the name?
Stop calling me your bunny
I won't hop and you don't own me…
"Jiminnnnnn," Jungkook sing-songs. "Come out and play with me."
"I'm taking a bath, you fucker!" Jimin yells back. And pure rage causes him to turn on the water. It starts filling the bathtub slowly, it's a big bathtub, after all. Jimin feels his clothes getting drenched and they cling uncomfortably to his skin. It's not a nice feeling, it definitely does not tickle the right part of Jimin's brain (although not many things do anyway).
Jungkook seems to believe his answer. "Fine," he says and it's scary how clear his voice sounds even through the wood.
His footsteps tell Jimin that he's gone. How far is questionable, this time he doesn't make a show of stomping around in the entire apartment to scare Jimin.
Jimin starts shivering five minutes in. From fear, or from the cold water, is debatable. He was stupid enough to just turn on the water and not look if it was hot or cold. So now he's sitting in a half-full/half-empty (depends on how you see it) bathtub and his teeth are clattering.
This is not how his mother would have raised him.
She would have raised him to be smarter than this.
But right now there's not really any room for Jimin to play smart narcissist against scary blonde stalker.
Right now, Jimin's the prey, he's the little lamb, he's a fucking bunny.
And he's hiding from a wolf that will probably do unimaginable things with him once he gets him between his claws.
Jimin looks at the ceiling and prays to his dead mother.
Five minutes turn into some more minutes, perhaps even a whole hour, but how would Jimin know without a clock? He tries to count the seconds in his head.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven–
But his mind trails off at some point every time and he has to start again. He gives up after the fifth try.
His whole body is shaking. He pulls his legs to his chest and rests his head on his knees.
Jimin hates waiting, and waiting for Jungkook to come back is probably the worst thing he has ever had to wait for.
Jungkook is patient, his general urge for tidiness and cleanliness usually tells the opposite, but a man like Jungkook, someone that obviously hunts his prey (the prey being Jimin, the little lamb), has to be patient. You can't catch prey without patience. That's probably a hunter's number one virtue–not that Jimin would know. His father probably knows, but Jimin doesn't talk to him about things like that. They don't talk a lot. Like…ever.
Jimin sighs, definitely a sigh that is pure self pity, and starts counting the seconds again.
This time he counts until twenty-four, he doesn't get further because Jungkook is back and hammers against the door.
"Time is up, dove," he says coldly.
"Only a bit longer," Jimin begs. "Just a few more minutes–"
Apparently, Jungkook's patience has disappeared into thin air, because one second later Jimin sees the key turning inside the lock and another second later Jungkook is standing in the door frame with a blank expression on his face.
Jimin gulps.
"I said bathtime is over."
Jimin fucking hates being the little lamb. He should be the big bad wolf. How unfair.
"I don't want to get out," he mumbles.
Jungkook cocks his head to the side. A habit maybe. "You'll die before I can kill you if you stay in the water longer. You're already shaking like a skeleton."
"Then I'll stay here until I die of hyperthermia or whatever!" Jimin screams at him.
"It's hypothermia," Jungkook corrects.
"I don't fucking care!"
Jungkook sighs, he puts both hands on his hips and stares at Jimin like a parent stares at his toddler that is going through the terrible twos.
"Don't be stubborn," Jungkook says emotionlessly. "Come out or I will get you."
Jimin blames his stubbornness and his occasional stupidity for the thing that happens next. "Then you need to get me because I'm not ever coming out of this fucking bathtub for the rest of my fucking life! I hope I die here!"
"Wrong choice," Jungkook whispers.
And then he's suddenly advancing on Jimin.
It's impressive how blank his expression stays the entire time he's pulling Jimin out of the bathtub by his legs.
It must look like Jimin is a fish that is getting pulled out of a lake and Jungkook is the fisher that will eat him for supper that day.
Jimin's a not so big fish.
It only takes Jungkook ten seconds to pull him out and drop him on the tiles.
Jimin's knees are definitely bruised now. A nice addition to his bruised wrists and neck.
"A bath," Jungkook scoffs as if the bathtub has personally wronged him.
Jimin stays down, head between his arms and legs pulled to his chest. Jungkook lets the water out of the tub and the entire time he makes sounds of frustration.
Jungkook fetches a towel and pulls Jimin up from the floor. He starts drying Jimin off with the towel, but he soon realizes that it's pointless this way, Jimin's clothes won't suddenly go dry from some rubbing.
"These need to get off," Jungkook says. He tugs on Jimin's clothes.
Jimin immediately starts trashing like an animal with rabies. He kicks Jungkook in the knee (the kick was meant for his balls but Jimin's aim was a bit off) and Jungkook grunts and stumbles a bit. Jimin takes the opportunity and surges forward, his escape route already in sight.
Again, he doesn't get far.
His fingertips already brush the frame of the door, but Jungkook yanks him back by his hair.
"Ahhh," Jimin shrieks, pain exploding on his scalp.
Jungkook clicks his tongue and wraps one arm around Jimin's throat, pressing Jimin against his chest. Jimin's chokes on air, or the lack of it, and he tries to get out of Jungkook's hold, but he's weak, he's a weak little lamb, and Jungkook is too strong.
"Stop wiggling like a freaking fish in a tank," Jungkook hisses. "Your lips are already turning blue."
His touch is almost gentle, his fingertips graze over Jimin's lips and the contours of his face. Jungkook starts breathing down Jimin's neck. It sends shivers down Jimin's spine, disgust and something utterly shameful swells in Jimin's chest.
"Be quiet," Jungkook commands in a low voice. "You can't go anywhere. Logical thinking, my dove."
My dove is new, Jimin registers faintly.
"Let's get this off before you freeze to death," Jungkook murmurs.
Jimin stops fighting at this point. He lets Jungkook take his clothes off one by one. Soon enough, he's standing there naked, completely exposed to Jungkook. He's never felt so vulnerable before.
Jungkook's gaze is unmoved. He takes the towel and dries Jimin's body, unphased by the nudity. Jimin is stiff, he stares straight ahead, trying to dissociate and forget where he is.
Jungkook makes a sound of disapproval after a while. He takes Jimin's arm and twists it to get a better look at the white scars that almost cover the entire expanse of Jimin's forearm.
"I didn't know that you hurt yourself," he remarks.
Jimin pulls his arm back. "This was in the past."
Jungkook is still looking at his arm. "You hide them," he realizes. "You don't show them to people."
"As if you'd know."
"Are you self conscious about them?"
Jimin hates how curious he sounds. Is he actually showing interest in Jimin right now? There’s something innocent about the way he’s talking to Jimin. His expression is blank, but not evil.
It reminds Jimin of the expression angels have on paintings where they are portrayed with an indifference only immortals could have.
But there's also the saying that immortals are never alien to one another.
“And if I was?”
Jungkook cocks his head to the side. “Then I would tell you that scars look good on you.”
Jimin blinks. “Do you plan to add more or why are you saying that?”
“Do you want me to add more?” Jungkook smiles. It’s messing with Jimin's head. What is going inside that man's brain to touch Jimin so gently, when he was slapping him and starving him just yesterday. He’s a contradiction Jimin isn't able to understand–yet. He’s a quick learner, but Jungkook is difficult to understand, more difficult than any other person Jimin has ever met.
He has to take the circumstances into consideration as well. Jungkook lacks common sense, or more specifically he lacks morals. A whole ton of them. Jimin doubts that he has any regard for them.
It scares him.
And the way he talks to Jimin scares him, too.
For a moment, he forgets that he’s naked and exposed.
“You made me curious,” Jungkook admits. “And until you stop making me curious you will stay here.”
Jimin has already accepted his fate. At least for now. He’s definitely not going to stay here for the rest of his life, but for now he has to do what Jungkook wants. He needs to understand Jungkook before he can think of a way to escape from him. It's going to be a slow process, Jungkook is as unpredictable as one can be. He strikes Jimin as impulsive, but compulsively so. He’s controlled, almost a bit too much, but there are moments, just like right now, where Jimin can see something in his gaze changing.
“Let’s get you dressed,” Jungkook orders. “And you should eat something. You're too skinny.”
🌪️
One hour later, Jimin is sitting in the kitchen and Jungkook is cooking something for him.
He’s been in this weird dissociative state ever since he hid in the bathtub. It’s hard to pull himself out of it. He gets like this sometimes, when the emotions become too much. It's a defense mechanism, at least that is what Jimin's therapist told him when he was sixteen.
He was a mess from age sixteen to nineteen. It wasn’t his fault, though. Not at all. Those three years are a blur in his memory, like a black hole that has sucked everything in and will never let it go.
“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook questions. “Can I know?”
Jimin doesn’t want to tell Jungkook anything important about himself. He has to be careful what he tells Jungkook, because he has a feeling that Jungkook stores away every little information he learns about him to use it against Jimin at some point. He’s a wicked man. He’s evil, and even if Stockholm Syndrome is already kicking him after just one day, Jimin still has enough sanity left to have rational thoughts.
“Why did you steal my books and paintings?” Jimin asks tonelessly.
Jungkook takes something out of the fridge. “I wanted you to be comfortable. You'll be staying here for a while, after all.”
“Yeah, until you decide to kill me, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Jungkook answers flatly.
“Just how psychotic are you? I've had my fair share of psychos already, and I've never met one that prepares an entire apartment just to keep one person in it for an undetermined amount of time.”
“So I'm not your first one?” Jungkook chuckles. “You pretend to be innocent, but you really aren't. It amuses me how hard you try to be something you’re not.”
“And you just accepted that you have the urge to stalk people and kidnap them? You don’t feel remorse?”
If Jimin is smart, if he asks the right questions, he will be able to learn something about Jungkook. But that way he also risks exposing things about himself as well.
“I don't know what remorse feels like and I am certain I never will,” Jungkook answers.
“And your family? Do they know? You can’t hide this– this side forever. I bet someone knows. Do you have friends? Do you really go to university or was that just because you wanted to stalk me?”
“So many questions,” Jungkook muses. “What makes you think I will tell you everything you want to know?”
A muscle in Jimin's jaw twitches. “You said that you are curious about me. I am curious about you, too. I want to know what you see in me, I want to understand it. Do I not deserve to know why you are doing all of this?”
Jungkook takes another thing out of the fridge. Jimin can smell garlic, he hears how something is frying in the pan. It smells like meat. Jimin’s stomach churns. He’s not hungry, he hasn’t had an appetite since yesterday. But he knows that he has to eat, or he will die from starvation before he can escape.
Jungkook doesn't even look at him. He keeps on cooking. “You weren't my target. I wanted to kill that professor of yours. But you beat me to it. I was mad and decided to take you instead.”
“But my books–”
“I added everything while you were unconscious. I didn’t plan this.” Then he looks over his shoulder. A wicked grin spreads on his face.
They're playing a wicked game.
Jungkook hasn't explained the rules to Jimin yet.
“You’re the first person that has survived me this long, Jimin. Perhaps there is something about you that makes me hesitate. Tell me, is it your destructive nature or is it the fact that you enjoy killing as much as I do?”
Jimin shudders. Goosebumps spread over his entire body. He feels frozen in space. “I don’t kill people,” he whispers.
Jungkook's grin deepens. It doesn't reach his eyes. “You don't? Why do I think that's a lie?”
“It’s the truth. I said the truth when you asked me about Joonhyung as well. I didn't do it on purpose. I wanted to kill him at that moment, yes, but I didn’t plan it. I didn’t want it–"
“It doesn't matter.”
“Do you kill people?” Jimin asks in a small voice. “You said that you took care of Joonhyung’s corpse. If he really was your target then…”
“I took care of him for you,” Jungkook says, and his voice sounds urgent. As if he wants to tell Jimin something without actually saying it. Jimin stores the information away. Jungkook isn’t the type to speak directly, his words are vague.
“What if people find out it was us?” Jimin says. The word us comes over his lips easier than he expected. He didn't think it would be this easy to combine him and Jungkook. It almost sounds like they are a team.
“Us?” Jungkook repeats, catching Jimin's little manipulation.
“I mean– we were both there. I killed him. I still have bruises on my neck because he strangled me. And if you really took care of his body and cut him into small pieces–" he has to stop himself. The image of Joonhyung’s fingers rotting away somewhere makes nausea crawl up his throat. “Someone could find him and they could make the connection. Isn't it suspicious that I am no longer attending university? What if they start investigating?”
“You seem to doubt me,” Jungkook concludes. “Do you think I make stupid mistakes that would lead the police to me?”
“This wasn't the first time you chopped someone into small pieces and spread them all over the city? Do you do this for fun or what?”
Jungkook snorts. Jimin isn't sure if his amusement is genuine. He still doesn't understand the capacity of emotions Jungkook feels.
“I sometimes do an autopsy on them before I cut them apart.”
Jimin's pupils dilate. “You disgust me."
“I am not the one that shared the bed with their professor.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “I bet you're a virgin.” The statement is random, but it seems to make Jungkook snap.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just an observation I made,” Jimin shrugs.
Jungkook lets out an incredulous huff. He turns back to the food that is cooking on the stove. “You're feisty. Has no one taught you manners?”
“I don't think I have to be polite to a serial killer.” Jimin clicks his tongue. “Since we're already talking, how many people have you killed?”
Jungkook throws him a quick glance as if to say, oh now you're getting bold? “Do you think I keep track?”
Everything he says is somehow a question. Jimin thinks it excites him that Jimin knows nothing about him but he knows alot about Jimin. A rush goes through Jimin. He isn't sure just how much Jungkook knows, but there are things he definitely doesn't know. That is, if he didn't dig into Jimin's past like he threatened yesterday.
“Don’t all serial killers keep track? I would keep track of it. Where's the fun in it otherwise?”
Jungkook seems to consider it. “Maybe I'll tell you one day. I would have to think about it. I am not sure if I can remember every life I took.”
“You talk about it as if it's nothing to you,” Jimin remarks. He doesn't buy it. Nothing of it. Jungkook is too compulsive to forget anything.
“Because it is nothing to me. What is a life worth if the person living it uses it for unspeakable atrocities?”
Jimin starts to frown. “Then that would mean that your life isn't worth anything either.”
Jungkook places a pot on the table. It's steaming hot. He looks at Jimin. “Because it isn’t,” Jungkook says, completely unphased.