Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12322734.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga/Park_Jimin, Kim_Namjoon
      |_Rap_Monster/Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin/Kim_Taehyung_|_V
  Character:
      Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Park_Jimin_(BTS), Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Jeon_Jungkook, Kim
      Seokjin_|_Jin, Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope
  Additional Tags:
      Inspired_by_Blood_Sweat_&_Tears_(Music_Video), Chaebol_au, Murder
      Mystery, Sexual_Content, duh_-_Freeform, Incest, lots_of_implied_sex_too,
      Abuse, dubcon, Statutory_Rape, Mild_Gore
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-10 Completed: 2017-10-31 Chapters: 8/8 Words: 25536
****** Caught in a Lie ******
by half_rice
Summary
     Taehyung, the illegitimate son of a multimillionaire businessman, is
     called back home from his exile in Paris because his mother’s been
     murdered. When his father calls off the police investigation for fear
     of his other secrets being exposed, Taehyung takes matters into his
     own hands. His mother’s definitely been murdered by someone in the
     family, but when the family includes his father’s ex-wives and their
     power-hungry sons, things get a little complicated.
     AKA
     Rich bastard Taehyung tries to solve his mother’s murder without
     accidentally sleeping with too many suspects. Good luck with that,
     Taehyung.
Notes
     i was just so shookt so snatcht so wreckt by Blood Sweat & Tears last
     year, still not over it...
     PSA: I DO NOT CONDONE INCEST EXCEPT ON THIS ONE RARE OCCASION. THE
     BLOOD SWEATY TEARS STYLING WAS TOO SEXY AND WEIRD, INCEST HAD TO BE
     INVOLVED.
     DON’T BE LIKE A PREY, SMOOTH LIKE A LIKE A SNEK
***** Stigma *****
Taehyung thinks of home as he pours himself his morning coffee. Here most
people treat him like a tourist at best, even though he’s lived in the city for
the past five years. Back home people looked down on him too, but because his
father had been married to another woman when his mother had him. But unlike
the people here, people back home also looked up to him, because his father was
so rich that he could throw his embarrassment away to Paris, and Paris was one
hell of a garbage can.
He’d been, for all intents and purposes, exiled to go “study art” indefinitely.
He never heard from his family again, and vice versa. Only his mother called
him every month to let him know what clothes or bags she wanted sent home, and
asked him when he would be coming home next.
“Maybe next month,” Taehyung would say, every month.
“I miss you,” His mother would say, every single time.
He sits waiting for his coffee to cool, and for his mother to call.
Someone does call that morning, but it’s not his mother. It’s a man speaking in
rapid-fire Korean.
“Hello…mother…Taehyung-ssi?” Is all Taehyung could make out.
“Hello, yes, who’s this I’m speaking to, please?”
“Min Yoongi…mother…work for her.”
“I’m sorry, can I speak to my mother?”
There’s crackling on the other side of the line, and Taehyung’s afraid the
signal’s going bad.
“Your mother’s dead. I’m sorry for your loss.” Min Yoongi says in a very blank
way. He goes back to speaking too quickly for Taehyung to keep up. “She
would…you…come home…soon as possible.”
Taehyung stirs his coffee.
“Okay. Thank you.”
 
Taehyung wakes up as the car rolls into the private road leading up to his
father’s house. Min Yoongi, who’d turned out to have been his mother’s personal
assistant, was on orders to take him home instead of the hotel he’d booked.
“I thought you worked for my mother.” Taehyung had asked, as Min Yoongi shoved
his bags into the back of his car like he didn’t know or care how much they
cost.
“Your mother’s dead. I work for your father now.”
Taehyung hears the familiar crunch of gravel under the tires as Min Yoongi
pulls the car to a stop before the front steps. The mansion is still a low,
sprawling mess of tacky European-copycat architecture that, after having lived
in Paris for some time, looks as fake as an amusement park façade to Taehyung.
Two servants rush out to pick up Taehyung’s things, and Taehyung walks into the
house as Min Yoongi gave them instructions.
“He’ll be staying in the Green Room.” Taehyung overhears his mother’s – no, his
father’s assistant say.
 
The Green Room had been his room when he was a child, and no one had bothered
to clean it up since. When Taehyung drops himself onto the four-poster bed to
take a nap, he finds that only the sheets are new. Dusty wooden toys still sit
in the hardwood shelves against the wall, along with picture and puzzle books
that Taehyung used to know by heart.
He’s about to fall asleep when the door flies open.
“Taehyung?”
“Hello, hyung.”
“When did you arrive?” His half-brother, Namjoon, steps into the room without
waiting for Taehyung to invite him in.
“Just now.” Taehyung replies. Literally.
“How was the flight?”
“Long.” Taehyung stifles back a yawn.
“It’s a good thing you arrived in one piece,” Namjoon chuckles, tucking his
hands into his pockets. “Did you hear that another flight that went missing the
other day?”
“No.”
Namjoon nods, and sweeps one look around the room. “You should let Mother know
you’re here. She’ll be glad to see you.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.” Namjoon closes the door behind him.
 
Taehyung chooses between a blue silk shirt and a white linen one, then decides
that it would be in bad taste for him to wear bright colors, considering his
mother’s just died. He wears a near-black navy dress shirt and heads down to
the first floor for dinner.
Nobody else seems to have thought about that, because the rest of his family
have exhausted every color of the rainbow. His father is wearing a bright
yellow oxford underneath a white cardigan trimmed with green. Namjoon’s mother
is wearing a bright orange pantsuit, and Namjoon’s wearing a leafy kind of
green suit. His father’s ex-wife is also present, wearing a bright blue dress
hugging her belly, and her son Seokjin is wearing pink.
Taehyung can feel their stares on him as he moves his peas back and forth in
the cream sauce on his plate.
“So, when did you arrive?” Namjoon’s mother asks, in the same obligated tone.
She and Namjoon ran the family glass business under his father, and seemed to
be exactly the same person, except that Namjoon was taller and happened to be a
man.
“Just today.” Taehyung replies.
“How was the flight?”
“Good.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you were able to come home, Taehyung,” Namjoon’s mother
says. “Even if the circumstances aren’t ideal. I’m sorry about your mother.”
“Thanks.”
“Hm.” His father grunts from where he’s reading the news on his phone, leaving
his food untouched.
“There are children starving all over the world,” His first wife says to no one
in particular. She’s a squat, round woman with all the grace of a teakettle,
but nobody bothers her for her looks because she’s pumping millions into
various NGOs and charity organizations to keep it that way.
Her ex-husband grunts again, scrolling down on his phone.
“Honey.” His second wife says, devoid of emotion as she saws through a steak.
“Why did you have to invite them?”
The first wife puts a hand to her chest in shock, and her son flushes a deep
pink to match his shirt, looking down at his plate.
“Taehyung’s here,” His father says, chewing loudly as he continues to stare at
his phone. “Might as well have the whole party here too, huh?”
Both Mrs. Kims, past and present, purse their lips, but say nothing more.
 
The next morning, Taehyung is brought to see his mother’s body against his
will. He didn’t really want to see her when she was alive, more so now that
she’s been dead for almost a week, with twenty stab wounds in her chest and
neck. Without her feather false eyelashes and caked-on makeup, she looks like a
much older Taehyung, but with cold gray features and a nose job that’s starting
to sag.
“That’s enough.” Taehyung says, covering his mouth. The stench of the basement
was bad enough without having to see the deep violet slits all over his
mother’s corpse.
Min Yoongi waves a hand at the coroner, who promptly pulls a sheet over
Taehyung’s mother’s face.
“Your father wanted her cremated immediately,” The assistant explains as he
walks Taehyung to the car. “But I feel she would have wanted you to see her.”
See her like that? Taehyung tries to erase the image from his mind, but he
can’t. She probably would’ve wanted him never to forget her, but this was
something else.
“Where are we going now?” Taehyung asks, taking deep breaths to keep himself
from vomiting.
“Home.” Min Yoongi says, making an illegal turn onto a one-way street. “Unless
there’s anywhere else you want to go?”
Taehyung doesn’t want to head home. “Do you know the way to that university my
mother donated to?”
“Of course.”
 
Jimin was a ballet dancer, one of the youngest members of the national ballet
and still a student at the national arts university. He’d come from a small
town in the south, and was discovered by chance when Taehyung’s mother had been
on holiday. She’d promised his parents she would take their son in and sponsor
his education. His parents didn’t agree until she promised them a monthly
allowance as well.
Jimin was sixteen when Taehyung had met him, and in the two years before
Taehyung had been cast off to Europe, he was more of a brother to Taehyung than
the two people he actually shared blood with.
“How long are you staying for?” Jimin asks, pausing to bow quickly at two
passing professors, who nodded back.
“Don’t know. Until mom’s stuff get sorted out, I guess.”
Jimin grimaces. “That’s never gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Taehyung steps aside as Jimin refills his water bottle at a
fountain.
“They can’t find her will.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung with a strange look.
“What do they need it for? I’m her only son.” Taehyung frowns. “Oh, she
probably left something for you and the other scholars.”
“You’re illegitimate,” Jimin says, patting Taehyung on the cheek. “And until
they find that will, I’m not getting anything either.”
“Aren’t there laws for when shit like this happens?” Taehyung asks. He doesn’t
like the gleam in Jimin’s eyes, or the way the other boy’s mouth is pulling at
the sides. “What happens when other people commit suicide and don’t leave a
will?”
Jimin leans in to speak below a whisper. “She didn’t commit suicide, she was
murdered, Tae.”
Taehyung backs away, knocking into the wall. “Where the fuck did you get that
idea?”
“She was stabbed like a hundred times,” Jimin says. “There are faster ways to
kill yourself. Trust me.”
Taehyung wants to ask what had happened to Jimin in the five years that he
hadn’t heard from him, but from the hungry way Jimin’s looking at him, Taehyung
knows that he’d better not change the subject.
“So what are we going to do now?” Taehyung asks, keeping his voice low.
“We’re going to find out who did it.” Jimin grins.
“And then what?”
“And then we’ll get our money.” Jimin says. “Oh, and your mom gets justice and
shit.”
Taehyung knows this is a bad idea. He knows all about bad ideas, like keeping
your mug full of turpentine beside your mug full of coffee.
“Okay, I’m in.” He says, and he doesn’t expect Jimin to hug him. “But where do
we start?”
 
Jimin drags Taehyung up the stairs to his apartment, whispering all the time.
“Lots of people didn’t like your mom. I lived off of her money, so I love her,
naturally, but there are other people who didn’t.”
“Like who?”
“Like your dad’s actual wives?” Jimin says, like it’s a no-brainer. Taehyung’s
ready to blame jetlag, because it is. Namjoon’s mother hated his especially,
because she’d managed to sneak a three-year-long affair right under Namjoon’s
mother’s nose. It wasn’t because the second Mrs. Kim loved his father or
anything, she’d just been under the impression that she was in control and in
the loop on all his secrets. Seokjin’s mother had already been years past that
impression, but the idea that a man who had been married to her had slept with
a D-lister starlet made her feel cheaper somewhat. Taehyung knew all this
because he’d wrung it all out of his mother as a child, back when he wasn’t
afraid to ask questions.
Jimin never outgrew that phase, apparently.
“Which one do you think hated her more?”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung says, trying to weigh the infinite grudges those women
held against his mother. “But I don’t think they’d murder her.”
“Those women are definitely capable of murder, Tae.”
“They’re actually kind of nice, you know.” Taehyung says. “I lived with
Namjoon’s mom almost all my life, and she…well, she…treated me well.”
Jimin sighs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I was her husband’s son with some random woman who was stealing their money,
Jimin, she’s nice but she’s not a saint.” Taehyung says.
“Then she’s definitely capable of-” Jimin cuts himself short as they step onto
his floor, because the guy from the apartment next to his is locking his door.
“Hi, Jungkook.”
He turns, leaving his keys in the door. His body is so big that turning is a
huge production, and Taehyung assumes, Dancer. Definitely. Or he’s a wrestler.
“Oh, hey,” Jungkook says, but he’s not looking at Jimin. He’s staring Taehyung
down like he recognizes him from somewhere but can’t put his finger on it.
Taehyung knows he doesn’t know this guy. He would have remembered.
“This is Mommy’s son, Taehyung.” Jimin says, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s
shoulders. “Her biological son.”
Taehyung flinches. Mom?
“Oh.” Jungkook nods, still staring at Taehyung. Most people are surprised to
his mother’s features on a boy the first time, so Taehyung forgives him, even
though his glare is starting to make Taehyung sweat a little. “Sucks that she
died. She was really nice.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung says. “She was.”
“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.” Jimin says with a smile that tells Jungkook to
fetch his keys and start heading down the stairs.
Jungkook complies, saying a quick, “Sure. Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung says, then frowns at himself, but Jimin’s neighbor is long
gone by the time he remembers what you’re supposed to say.
“Yeah.” Jimin mimics Taehyung, before bursting out in unbridled laughter. “You
should’ve seen your face, you looked so damn scared. Were you that starved in
Paris?”
“Nope.” Taehyung shrugs. “But the food’s better here.”
Jimin laughs.
 
It’s a little past one in the morning when Taehyung’s taxi stops at the gates
to his father’s estate.
“Sorry, sir, but you can’t enter.” The posted security guard informs the taxi
driver, who just points at the drunken, half-asleep mess dumped in his back
seat.
“Ah…” The security guard scratches his head.
Taehyung wakes up to find himself being carried up the front steps of the
house. His head is pounding, and the house is spinning around him like he’s
inside a top. Jimin’s idea of a brainstorming session was an entire crate of
soju split between the two of them. “Alcohol is the lubricant of good ideas,”
He’d said, to which Taehyung had replied, “Where the fuck did you get that?”
Jimin had shrugged and handed Taehyung another open bottle.
“Is anything the matter, Hoseok?” A voice asks as its owner opens the front
door.
Taehyung knows whose voice it is, but he hopes he’s wrong.
“Nothing, sir. He’s a little drunk, sir.” The security guard replies, shifting
Taehyung in his arms.
A hand brushes Taehyung’s hair out of his eyes, which he’d had half-open until
then. He catches a glimpse of the kind face looking down at him and shuts them
quickly.
“I’ll just take him to his room, sir. Do you know which one he’s staying in?”
“You’re not allowed inside the house at this time, Hoseok,” The voice says
softly. “I’ll take him.”
 
Taehyung pretends to be asleep as he’s carried to his room like a little kid.
The man carrying him pulls the covers back, lays Taehyung down so gently he
doesn’t even realize he’s been put down until he feels a weight pushing on the
bed beside him.
The man sits on the bed as he undoes the buttons on Taehyung’s blazer to let
him breathe a little, but Taehyung doesn’t breathe for fear of being
discovered.
He pulls the cover up to Taehyung’s chin, and brushes Taehyung’s hair out of
his eyes again.
“Good night, Taehyungie,” The man whispers into his ear. The breaths get
closer, and warmer. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Taehyung waits for the sound of the door gently fitting into the frame before
he releases his breath. He realizes he’s not drunk anymore, but his face feels
cold without those warm, even breaths blowing on it.
Taehyung sinks into his pillow, trying to think of his dead mother’s cold face
or the cuts in her body, anything to keep him from thinking about his half-
brother, but even that doesn’t work.
He doesn’t fall asleep again.
***** Begin *****
Chapter Notes
     Here comes the smut do doo do doo
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Taehyung’s glad he doesn’t love his mother the way he’s supposed to, because he
feels indifferent as Jimin runs down the facts about her murder. If anything,
he feels like vomiting, but that might just be his hangover.
“She still lived in the hotel, but she’d dropped by your father’s house to get
some important papers from the second Mrs. Kim.” Jimin’s sitting on a bar stool
in his apartment with his knees pushed apart almost 180 degrees. That means
that he means business, and has no time for stupid questions.
“How do you know this?” Taehyung asks.
“I slept with her assistant.” Jimin waves it off. “Anyway, this happened at-”
“That old guy?” Taehyung tries not to make a face. “Min Yoongi?”
“Yes, Taehyung, and he’s not actually that old, and I did it just for the
information, can we move on?” Jimin folds his arms.
“Just for the information. Sure.”
“Okay, fine, I’ve been sleeping with him since your mom started sending him to
give my allowance three years ago!” Jimin shouts, nearly falling off his bar
stool, but catches himself. “Can we move on now?”
Taehyung tries not to cringe, because Jimin’s just added to the growing list of
mental images he wants to bleach from his mind. “Yeah.”
“So she had dinner at the hotel at around 9 pm, then Yoongi-hyung drove her to
the house to pick up some papers at around 9:30 pm. He waited for her in the
car until midnight, which is when one of the night guards told him that she
said she was going to stay the night. He-”
“Didn’t…Yoongi-hyung find that weird?” Taehyung asks.
“He did, but he got a text from your mom’s number telling him to head home and
just pick her up at 9 the next morning. He assumed she was trying to sleep with
your father again for some spare change-”
“That’s not a nice thing to say about your employer.” Taehyung frowns.
Jimin sighs. “Yoongi-hyung never said it to her face, so it never hurt her. Can
I continue or do you want to keep butting in and making this longer than it
needs to be?”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“So he leaves, and comes back at 8:30 am the next morning to find the police
trying to turn the house inside out. A maid had found Mommy dead in the second
Mrs. Kim’s home office, holding the knife that was used to kill her.”
Taehyung raises a finger.
“What?” Jimin snarls.
“Maids aren’t allowed into Mrs. Kim’s office.” Taehyung says, remembering the
time Namjoon’s mother had screamed her lungs out at a new maid for trying to
sweep her office. “Only the head of housekeeping is.”
“Is she a Mrs. Jong or something?” Jimin asks, checking his phone.
“Mrs. Jung, if she’s still the head of housekeeping.” Taehyung says. “Do you
have notes?”
“Are you judging me for caring about our inheritance?” Jimin asks, looking away
from his phone to make a face in Taehyung’s direction.
“You’re such a gold-digger sometimes, Chim.”
“You would be one too, if you’d been born without a gold spoon up your ass.”
Jimin shrugs. “Can you get into that office?”
“Hell no. But I can talk to Mrs. Jung.” Taehyung offers.
“No, you can’t. They retired her and sent her home to her province.”
“That’s kind of them,” Taehyung says, not sure he can believe his family would
do that.
“She hasn’t been heard from since.”
“Oh.”
 
Taehyung bites down on his tongue as Min Yoongi drives him back home. He knows
he shouldn’t ask him about Jimin, because he already knows all he actually
wants to know about their…business, but he’s sorely tempted to say something
anyway.
“How many scholars does Mom have now?” Taehyung asks casually, watching the
buildings whip by the window.
“She’d had to pare them down to two before she died.” Min Yoongi says, as
though he’s afraid Taehyung will forget his mother’s dead. “Park Jimin and Jeon
Jungkook.”
Taehyung can’t stop his eyebrows from lifting. “What does he do?”
“Jeon Jungkook? I think he paints,” Min Yoongi makes another illegal turn. He
seems fond of them. “Sometimes.”
“What does he do the rest of the time?”
The assistant smirks, then bites it back and straightens his face to that
blank, bored expression he always wears. “He’s a student at the same university
as Jimin-ssi.”
“I see.” Taehyung watches the buildings grow larger and farther apart from each
other, until the city disappears altogether and a forest springs up in his
place. A guard salutes Min Yoongi as they enter the private road leading up to
Taehyung’s father’s house. “Was anyone at home when you left?”
“Only Mrs. Kim the second,” Min Yoongi says. “Your father and brother are out
playing golf with some business partners.”
Almost as if nobody had recently been stabbed to death in their own home,
Taehyung sighs. Business as usual, as usual.
“He’s not my brother.”
 
Taehyung knows there’s a mini theatre in the house somewhere, but some of the
rooms on the lower ground floor have been split up or been repurposed, and he
gets lost.
Things have changed in five years, obviously, Taehyung thinks as he decides to
turn around and go back the way he came.
He can’t find his way out of the lower ground floor. Is he desperate enough to
pull out the phone the second Mrs. Kim had lent him to call her for help? How
pitiful would that look?
Taehyung pulls out the phone and opens the contacts. Mrs. Kim had put her
secondary number, of course, the throwaway one she gave to contacts she had no
use for, and Namjoon’s number. It was probably his fourth or fifth throwaway
number.
Taehyung frowns in the dim lights of the lower ground floor hallway. The first
Mrs. Kim’s number is there as well, and her son’s.
Taehyung’s thumb twitches to the call button, but he realizes what he’s about
to do, and pockets the phone. No. He’s not going to do that.
He goes around in circles until he finds a set of stairs, and heads up to the
upper ground floor. The hallway here is much bigger, and has windows with
sunlight streaming in, so Taehyung can find his way back to his room, which is
in the east wing of the house. He passes by a series of boardrooms for
breakfast, lunch, and dinner meetings, and the offices of the estate staff.
Near the end of the hallway, he knows, is the second Mrs. Kim’s home office.
Taehyung walks past it quickly without even glancing at the door, but he stops
right after it. He hears a click-clacking noise from inside the room. It
disappears for a moment, then returns, twice as loud. It’s not possible. She
can’t possibly be in there.
“Mother?” he calls, leaning against the door. “It’s me, Taehyung.”
“Come in,” The second Mrs. Kim says curtly.
Taehyung opens the door, which feels like it’s lined with steel. He heaves a
bit to get it open, wondering how the small, slight Mrs. Kim enters and exits
her office every day.
“Did you want something?” Namjoon’s mother asks, looking up from her laptop.
Her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose, and she’s surrounded by manila
folders in neat stacks. The rest of the room is in similar order, with the dark
wooden floor gleaming from a recent polishing.
Taehyung’s starting to believe Jimin had been bullshitting him. There’s no way
someone had been killed in this room just a few days before. Besides, Mrs. Kim
would have to be insane to use her office after her husband’s ex-lover had been
murdered in it.
“I’m busy, Taehyung. What do you need?” Mrs. Kim asks, lowering her reading
glasses to look at Taehyung.
“Oh, uh,” Taehyung’s mouth has gone dry. “My mom’s assistant said-”
“Mr. Min works for me now.”
“Oh.” Taehyung frowns. He’s so confused he feels hung over. “My, uh, your
assistant said my mom left some of her stuff in the house, I was just wondering
if I could get them?”
Mrs. Kim narrows her eyes. “What for?”
Taehyung scratches behind his ear. “Because…they’re my mother’s things?”
“Speak up, you know I can’t understand it when you kids mumble.” Mrs. Kim
snaps.
Taehyung takes a deep breath, and pulls out just enough tears to collect on his
lower lashes. “I just wanted to keep my mother’s things. To remember her by.”
Mrs. Kim observes him for a second, then puts her glasses back on. “Ask the
head of household staff to help you, your mother’s things should be in the east
wing somewhere.”
“Mrs. Jung?” Taehyung asks, blinking his tears back in. He watches Mrs. Kim
stop reading for a second.
“No, Mrs. Jung is retired. Her daughter runs the staff now. Her office is down
the hall.”
 
Mrs. Jung’s daughter looks like what her mother did when Taehyung first came to
live at the house. She has the same kind, smiling eyes, close cropped black
hair, and steep nose that was always checking on the food in the kitchen. She
has the same straight lips that would tell Taehyung stories at night when he
couldn’t sleep, and promise him pancakes for breakfast when he couldn’t wake up
for school.
Taehyung soon finds that they’re nothing alike.
“That woman left her things all over the place!” The younger Jung, a Mrs.
Hwang, mutters. She’s storming up the stairs in the east wing, and Taehyung’s
leaping every other step to keep up.
“Please don’t speak that way about my mother,” Taehyung says, before he can
stop himself.
“I’m talking about my mother,” Mrs. Hwang says. “She left this place a mess!
And to think she’s out there waking at noon and putting her feet up to watch
afternoon dramas…”
Mrs. Hwang reaches into her pocket for a ring of keys, and opens a room on the
second floor. A cloud of dust floods into the hallway, and Mrs. Hwang grumbles
loudly.
“Here.” She points into the dark room. “Her things should be in there.”
Taehyung looks at her, and realizes that she’s expecting him to dig around in
the cobwebbed darkness for his mother’s personal belongings. Fair enough.
That’s not in her job description anyway.
“Just call me if you need anything. Mrs. Kim gave you my number?” Mrs. Hwang
says.
“I think so.”
Mrs. Hwang leaves him to fumble around for a light switch, only to find that
the light switch doesn’t work. He brings up a flashlight on the phone loaned
from Mrs. Kim, and leaves the door open to let light from the hallway filter
in.
The room isn’t a storage room, just a bedroom with the dresser and desk pushed
up against the door. Taehyung climbs over these, thinking briefly about his
linen pants, before deciding that he’s just going to tip the laundrywoman
generously.
He passes the flashlight around the room to find that whoever had decorated
this room must’ve been the same person who had decorated his. But instead of
everything being a dull mossy green, everything in this room was a deep mauve,
made darker by years of dust.
Dust doesn’t cover everything, because there are large streaks where the dust
had been wiped off by whoever had moved the furniture up against the door, a
man with large feet. Underneath, there were still remnants of footprints left
by a woman’s high heels. The high heels seem to circle around the bed, whose
covers have been thrown off recently. Taehyung looks down to find the sheets in
a lightly stained tangle, and he knows exactly what had happened here.
He just doesn’t want to think about it.
But still, his imagination decides to render the whole scene in high
definition. His mother had probably had to drag his father into this room,
which looks like it hadn’t been used since Taehyung was made. His father had
probably been on his phone, arguing with one of the company’s vice presidents
or checking on his stocks. Mrs. Kim the second had probably been out at a
corporate dinner, because she never seemed to have dinners of any other kind.
Namjoon and everyone else in the house must have known what was happening in
this unused room in the east wing, but ignored it for their own sake.
Taehyung shudders. He throws some light over the rest of the room, and finds a
drawer on the desk hanging open.
Taehyung looks in and sees a square of clean wood surrounded by half an inch of
accumulated dust. There are also streaks in the dust, from where someone had
grabbed the contents of the drawer and left it hanging open.
“What are you doing here?”
Taehyung jumps, dropping the phone on the floor. A tall silhouette in the
doorway is blocking out some of the only light he has.
“I was looking for my mom’s stuff.” Taehyung says, wiping the phone off on his
pant leg.
“Why would she have things in here?” Namjoon coughs, waving some dust out of
his face. “Nobody’s been in here in ages.”
“Well, I didn’t find them.” Taehyung shrugs, climbing over the furniture
barricading the door.
“What kind of things are you looking for?” Namjoon pulls a handkerchief out of
his pocket and rubs his nose with it.
“Uh, her books. Art books. I used to read them when I was a kid.” Taehyung
says, brushing his hands off on his darkened pants. The film of gray sticks
fast to his palms, no matter how much he tries to rub it out.
“You might want to consider a bath.” Namjoon says, taking a step away from
Taehyung.
“Yeah, I guess I should take one.” Taehyung says.
Namjoon pulls out a ring of keys less extensive than Mrs. Hwang’s, and locks
the door to the mauve room. “You should try the library. All of the books in
the house are there as far as I know.”
 
Taehyung doesn’t take a bath. He goes for a swim, even though the sun is
setting and the day’s warmth is seeping out of the pool.
It’s not that he hates the people who clean his clothes and the pool, he
thinks, as he leaves a film of dirt in his wake. He just needs to do something
to take his mind off the idea that his mother’s last act may have been coercing
his father into desperate sex for even just a little money. She wasn’t a very
classy person when she was alive, but that was just depressing.
Taehyung surfaces, resting his arms on the edge of the pool and his chin on top
of them. It’s cold, and his teeth are chattering, but he kind of likes the
feeling. He remembered a bunch of people he saw on TV back in Paris who were
swimming in holes cut in ice, and he was beginning to think they weren’t that
crazy. When the water is this cold, your limbs start to go numb, and as long as
you don’t move, you feel weightless.
“Taehyung?”
Taehyung lets go of the side of the pool and drops himself down the ten feet.
He’d rather drown than have to deal with his half-brother.
A warm pair of hands pull him up onto the side of the pool.
“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks, pushing Taehyung’s hair to the side, like an
unspoken nag for him to have it cut soon.
“Yeah.” Taehyung flinches away from Seokjin. The wind is blowing against his
wet back, and he wants nothing more than to crawl into Seokjin’s warm embrace
again.
Seokjin laughs. “What are you doing out here? It’s October.”
“I wanted to swim.” Taehyung pouts, then pulls his lower lip back self-
consciously.
“You know there’s a heated pool in the house, right?” Seokjin reaches for the
towel Taehyung’s thrown over a lawn chair, and wraps it around Taehyung, who’s
shivering too much to reply.
“Come on, let’s get you inside before you get hypothermia.”
Taehyung knows Seokjin hasn’t put an arm around him just to keep him warm, and
that he’s not leaning into it just for survival, but he doesn’t stop it.
“What room are you staying in?” Seokjin asks, his lips barely touching the top
of Taehyung’s cheek.
“G- G- Green r- room.” Taehyung manages to stutter out. As if you didn’t know.
Taehyung lets Seokjin into his room. He doesn’t know what else he could do, so
he lets Seokjin turn on the tap and test the water in the tub with his hand a
few times as he stands against the wall, wrapped in a towel and Seokjin’s
jacket.
He doesn’t pray often, or at all, but he prays that his half-brother is
satisfied and leaves him to drown himself in the bathtub in peace.
Seokjin’s hands feel so nice as they gently draw the towel away from Taehyung’s
shoulders, letting his jacket drop to the floor. It’s probably worth an entire
semester of Jimin’s tuition, but Seokjin just steps on it as he starts untying
the drawstring of Taehyung’s shorts.
“No.” Taehyung grabs Seokjin’s wrists. He’s too weak to push them away, but his
message is clear.
Seokjin pulls his hands back to himself, lifting his eyebrows innocently.
“You’re going to take a bath with the shorts on?”
Taehyung’s teeth are chattering and he can’t breathe in the steam from the
bath, so he can’t reply.
He unties his shorts, kicking them off as he climbs into the tub.
Seokjin closes the door behind him.
He squats next to the tub, then cups a little water in one hand. Seokjin lets
the warm water trickle into Taehyung’s hair, then runs his hand through.
Seokjin goes back for another handful of water, and combs through Taehyung’s
hair again and again, until he can see his entire face, which is
expressionless.
Seokjin smiles. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”
“No.” Taehyung sinks down into the water until his chin’s just touching the
surface. “I’m not a kid.”
“I know.” Seokjin says, running a hand through Taehyung’s wet hair again.
Taehyung wishes he would never stop. “How about your body?”
Taehyung lowers himself until the water completely covers his nose, and looks
up into Seokjin’s eyes, keeping his face completely blank. He shakes his head.
“Okay.” Seokjin looks down into Taehyung’s lap. “Do you need anything else?”
The water’s up to the bags under his eyes now. Taehyung shakes his head.
 “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”
When Seokjin closes the door to the bathroom, this time with him on the other
side, Taehyung sinks down until his entire face is underwater, letting his feet
slide out and lean on the rim of the tub.
He wants to stay here, with his face warm and his feet cold, for all of
eternity. He never wants to get out, or get dressed, or least of all, go to
dinner.
 
“Hyung!” Namjoon says, all but jumping out of his seat when Seokjin shows up in
the middle of dinner. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d visit my favorite younger brother,” Seokjin says, smiling at
Namjoon, but Taehyung stops picking at his food for a moment, listening to the
gentle scrape of Seokjin taking a seat next to him.
“Don’t be mean, Taehyung’s here too now.” Namjoon laughs.
“You should’ve called ahead.” Namjoon’s mother says, dabbing her mouth gently
with a napkin. “We weren’t prepared for another person.”
“It’s fine, Auntie, I was just dropping by. I need to go check on my new bar in
a while anyway. Just enjoy your dinner.” Seokjin’s able to wring a small half-
smile out of the second Mrs. Kim.
Taehyung arranges a few black beans into a straight line on his plate, then
into a neat chevron.
“So, have you tried any of the bars around here yet, Taehyungie?” Seokjin asks,
resting his chin in his hands.
Taehyung is glad Namjoon cuts in with a, “He’s only been here two days, hyung.”
“Taehyungie’s young, he should take advantage of it while he can,” Seokjin
says. Taehyung stabs a bean.
“Don’t put yourself down, hyung, you’re not that old.” Namjoon chuckles as he
takes a bite of tofu.
“He makes me feel old.”
Taehyung arranges the remaining beans into a flower shape, knowing full well
that Seokjin is boring holes into the side of Taehyung’s head with his eyes.
“You should try one of Seokjin’s restaurants, Taehyung. They’re much better
than the food here.” Namjoon says.
“Don’t be ungrateful.” His mother snaps, as she scrapes every last grain of
rice out of her bowl.
“I could take you to one of my restaurants.” Seokjin says, then lowers his
voice and adds, “My treat.”
“Excuse me,” Taehyung pushes his hardly touched plate forward as he gets up. He
ignores Seokjin asking him if something’s the matter with that sticky sweet
voice of his, and walks straight to his room and locks the door. After a
moment’s consideration, he pushes the desk up against the door before throwing
off his clothes and crawling into bed.
 
“So? Nothing?” Jimin asks, handing Taehyung a bottle of soju the next evening.
Taehyung had locked himself in his room and refused to go out, pushing the desk
up against the door when he heard Seokjin’s Audi roll into the driveway, only
pulling it away when he heard him leave.
“I think my mom did fuck my father before she was killed.” Taehyung takes a
swig, watching Jimin spit out his drink back into the bottle. “I found the
bed.”
“Ew, what the f- You know what, some things are better off unknown.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung says, before proceeding to tell Jimin everything he’d found in
the house down to the drawer in the mauve room, leaving out the part where he
almost let his half-brother give him a bath and other things.
“That’s messed up.”
Taehyung’s drunk enough that his face feels warm, like it did when Seokjin was
running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, it is.”
“Maybe your dad killed her.” Jimin says. “Maybe he didn’t want to give her any
more money.”
“He could’ve just said no, he didn’t need to kill her.”
“Sometimes you can’t just say no.” Jimin shrugs. “My money’s still on the
second Mrs. Kim though.”
“You don’t have any money.” Taehyung says with a grin, evading the bottle that
Jimin throws at him, which crashes against the floor.
“I will when we find your mother’s goddamned will.” Jimin says. “I’m betting
half my inheritance that it was in that drawer.”
“Why would she leave it in my father’s house? And not in a safe?”
“You said nobody’s been in that room in years. Not even the maids. It’s safer
than a safe.” Jimin says, reaching for a bottle to replace the one he’d thrown
at Taehyung.
Someone’s knocking on Jimin’s door.
“Jimin?”
Taehyung looks over the coffee table at Jimin, who waves a hand dismissively.
“It’s just Jungkook,” He whispers. “He always gets worried when there are loud
sounds coming from in here.”
“So every time your allowance comes around?” Taehyung asks, grinning widely.
Jimin snorts. “You know it.”
Jungkook knocks again. “Jimin, are you okay?”
Jimin rolls his eyes. He also tries to stop Taehyung from getting up and
answering the door, but he’s too tipsy and his hands don’t make it.
“Hi…” Jungkook says, staring at Taehyung like that again, his small mouth
slightly ajar.
“Taehyung. It’s Taehyung.”
“Taehyung.” Jungkook shakes his head like a wet dog. “Is Jimin there? Is he
okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t let him come inside.” Jimin hisses from where he’s lying by the coffee
table.
Jungkook blushes a bit. “Sorry for bothering you guys, I just, ever
since…Sorry.”
Taehyung frowns. He looks back at Jimin, who’s casting shadow puppets with his
fingers against the wall, chuckling to himself.
Taehyung closes the door behind him. “Why? What happened to Jimin?”
“Huh?” Jungkook’s eyes go wide. “Oh, he, um, I had to bring him to the hospital
once.”
“Oh.” Taehyung looks at his feet. He realizes that he doesn’t know Jimin that
well enough anymore
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, parting Taehyung’s hair with his fingers to look
at his face.
Taehyung looks up at Jungkook, a complete stranger, and the way that he’s
looking at him is a little familiar.
“I’m fine. Jimin’s fine too…” Taehyung says letting his voice trail off into a
kiss. He’s not sure if he kissed Jungkook or vice versa, but he’s definitely
sure that Jungkook is the one who reaches under his ass and lifts him, ramming
Taehyung’s back against the wall.
Taehyung bites on Jungkook’s lower lip, using his legs to push their bodies
closer together.
Jungkook bows his head and leans into the pressure, knocking Taehyung’s back
into the wall again. He feels the hallway wall give against him slightly.
“House.” Taehyung breathes. “Inside your house.”
“Right.” Jungkook drops Taehyung on his feet and unlocks his door. Once they’re
inside, Taehyung climbs Jungkook again, wrapping his arms around the boy’s neck
to keep himself steady.
He’s laughing inside as Jungkook tears through his designer shirt and throws
his designer jeans onto the damp kitchen floor. If he only knew, he’d be
stealing them from Taehyung to sell them off to a brand-hungry person with deep
pockets.
His train of thought breaks off as he realizes that Jungkook has gone
completely still and is staring up at him with a strange, lost expression.
Taehyung pulls him into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Jungkook staggers
slightly, nipping at Taehyung’s tongue as they both reel for balance. Taehyung
tightens his grip around Jungkook’s waist.
“Lube.” He says.
Jungkook stares at him, before setting him down on the kitchen counter and
opening the drawer closest to them.
“You keep your lube in the kitchen?” Taehyung asks.
Jungkook mutters a response and continues to look through the kitchen drawers.
He pulls out a sachet of lube and looks up at Taehyung expectantly.
“What?” Taehyung asks.
“I...” Jungkook just opens and closes his mouth, then hands the packet to
Taehyung. “Here.”
Taehyung frowns, but he takes the packet anyway. He lifts his hips to pull off
his boxer shorts and tosses them towards the rest of his ruined clothes. He
rips the sachet open with his teeth, and instantly regrets it. It’s horrible,
and cheap, and Taehyung’s mouth feels like it’s been through a plastic factory.
Taehyung’s gone almost completely soft at this point, but Jungkook’s sharp
intake of breath when Taehyung spreads his legs is enough to get him going
again. Taehyung lies back on the counter and starts easing himself open with
his fingers while Jungkook watches with a dazed expression. Taehyung moans at
the familiar stretching sensation and vaguely registers Jungkook’s hands
gingerly land on his thighs.
Jungkook’s might be saying something, but Taehyung doesn’t hear anything as he
pushes another finger into himself. A hand slams onto the counter beside him
and Taehyung lifts his head to see Jungkook trembling and stroking himself.
“Please.” Jungkook chokes out “Please, babe–”
Taehyung grips Jungkook’s waist with his knees and angles his hips off the
counter. To Taehyung’s relief, Jungkook follows his lead and grabs Taehyung’s
ass. He bites back a moan as he feels Jungkook’s dick pushing against, then
into him. Taehyung feels the tip push into him, and looks up to find that
Jungkook has frozen in place.
“Keep going,” Taehyung breathes. Jungkook’s grip on his ass tightens and he
thrusts in so deep that Taehyung can’t help the sound that escapes him.
Taehyung’s back is cold against the kitchen counter, but the rest of him is
warm as Jungkook shoves his dick gracelessly into Taehyung’s ass until it
hurts. This kid has no idea what he’s doing, and Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s
letting him do it. Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed shut, so to the untrained eye
it might look like he can’t think at the moment, but he is thinking of
something, something that he wishes he’d let happen. Jungkook’s screwed-up,
babyish features fade away from Taehyung’s vision, which has gone blurry with
tears. Taehyung can only hear someone’s body slamming against his and feel
someone’s dick stretching him more than he’d been ready for.
The hurt subsides for a moment as Taehyung comes onto his bare stomach.
Jungkook pulls himself out of Taehyung, then collapses between Taehyung’s legs.
Jungkook’s heavy, and the cum between them is warm and sticky, and Taehyung’s
feeling all the regret flood in at once, the way it always does.
“You’ve never been with a guy, have you?”
Taehyung doesn’t mean to be mean, but it’s worth seeing the kid clench his
teeth at him. “I have.”
“Sure.” Taehyung says, drawing circles on Jungkook’s back. His shoulders are
narrower than he thought they were, or maybe he just has high standards. “Do
you wanna go again?”
Jungkook pries himself free of Taehyung, and turns away. “No thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Taehyung laughs, bending over to start putting on his
clothes. He holds up the remains of his shirt. “You owe me a new shirt.”
“Kay. How much does it cost?”
“One million won.” Taehyung says flatly. He’s giving the kid a 500,000 won pity
discount because that was probably the worst sex of his entire life, and he’d
come only because he’d been thinking of someone else.
Chapter End Notes
     HELL-O FRIENDS I know you’re thinking Murder?? What murder??? Where
     did the mystery go???? Why is there dick in my face??? ??? Oh my god
     I can’t believe myself I need to go bathe in holy water but my ass
     would burn to a crisp.
     Special shoutout to this_fellow_thirsty_noona for reminding me about
     the lube...Taehyung's ass would've been 1000x more rekt without her
     input, thank her
     Hit me up on twitter if you think you know who did it or just want to
     scream at me
***** Reflection *****
Chapter Notes
     HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIMIN!!! <3 <3 <3 I love him so much
     This is a very Jimin-heavy chapter #HAPPYJIMINDAYYYYy
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Taehyung stands before the door to the second Mrs. Kim’s office, which still
smells strongly of bleach and floor polish.
He raps his knuckles on the door a few times. “Mother?”
“Come in.”
Taehyung doesn’t know what he had expected to find in Mrs. Kim’s office. All
the papers from the other day are gone, and all that’s left on the table are
her laptop and a half-empty glass of wine.
Taehyung stops at the doorway.
“Don’t leave the door open like that, either come in or stay outside.” Mrs. Kim
asks. “What do you need?”
Taehyung leans on the door to close it behind him. “Can Jimin come over for
dinner?”
Mrs. Kim lowers her reading glasses. “Jimin?”
“He’s my- one of Mother- my mother’s scholars.” Taehyung folds his hands behind
his back, scratching one of his knuckles.
“And why must he have dinner here?” Mrs. Kim narrows her eyes at Taehyung. “Are
we entertaining all of your mother’s charity cases?”
“No,” Taehyung says. “Just Jimin.”
“Hm.”
Taehyung watches Mrs. Kim take a long sip of wine, draining the glass.
“You tell Mrs. Hwang to prepare for another guest.” Mrs. Kim says, placing the
glass down noiselessly onto a coaster. “And ask her to bring me another red.”
“Yes, Mother.” Taehyung says, reaching for the door handle.
 
Taehyung overtakes one of the staff to open the front door.
“Fucking guard at the front gate wouldn’t let the taxi in.” Jimin mutters,
running a hand through his damp hair as he steps into the house.
“Sir-” The staff protests, looking at the muddy footprints left behind by
Jimin’s shoes. His deep blue silk bomber is soaked with rain, and dripping all
over the marble floors as he makes his way to the foyer, leaving the staff to
run off looking for a mop before his boss comes home.
“I thought you’d ask Min Yoongi for a ride.” Taehyung says, jogging to keep up
with Jimin.
Jimin snorts. “It’s not yet allowance time.”
“No, I meant…” Taehyung sighs, watching Jimin throw off his jacket and make
himself comfortable on one of the leather couches. “I told you to wear
sleeves.”
Jimin stretches his bare, pale arms. “Is Namjoon’s mom a prude and a murderer?”
Taehyung jumps to clamp a hand over Jimin’s mouth. “What the hell is wrong with
you?” He hisses.
“Taehyung- Ah.” Namjoon stops in mid-sentence, standing in the archway leading
to the foyer, still wearing the suit he’d worn to the office. He swivels on his
feet like he’s considering leaving Taehyung and Jimin alone.
Taehyung realizes he’s straddling Jimin’s lap and climbs off quickly.
“Dinner is in ten minutes. Mother said to tell you and your guest to get
ready.” Namjoon says, without giving Jimin a single glance.
“Ok. Thanks.” Taehyung says, sitting on the couch half a meter away from Jimin.
Namjoon nods and walks away.
“Get ready for what?” Jimin asks, leaning back on the couch like he has no
intentions of getting up. “How wild do rich people get at dinner?”
“That’s not- Just wear the jacket, okay?” Taehyung picks up Jimin’s jacket,
giving it a good shake. He feels bad about the mess the staff are going to have
to mop up later, but he supposes that they’re used to cleaning up worse messes.
“Don’t worry about me, Im just here to watch your family’s crazy shit.” Jimin
slips into his jacket, zipping it up halfway. “I’ll be a good boy.”
 
“You study dance, right? What kind of dance?”
Taehyung feels Jimin’s legs shift under the table next to him, like he’s
putting his feet up on the brocade seat cushion. Taehyung pulls his chair back
a little to get to his table napkin, and sees Jimin’s shoes lying empty on the
carpet.
“Ballet.” Jimin says, gently placing one foot on Taehyung’s thigh.
Taehyung tries to shake it off, feeling his half-brother’s gaze closing in him.
Why was he here? Why did he have to be here?
“That’s nice. It’s rare to find people still interested in the classical
things.” Seokjin says, sawing through his baked salmon slowly. He’s talking to
Jimin, but Taehyung can feel his stare directed at him.
“There’s a reason why they’re classics,” Jimin says, sliding his foot up to
Taehyung’s crotch. “Right, Taehyung?”
“Sure.” Taehyung keeps his head down as he continues scraping all the cream off
the top of his baked salmon. Jimin’s sliding his foot, which is only dressed in
a thin dress sock, up and down Taehyung’s dick, and Taehyung doesn’t know how
he’s going to get rid of it without anyone noticing. Anyone, that is, other
than Seokjin, who’s eating happily but glancing ever so often at the space on
the table right above Taehyung’s lap.
Namjoon happens to hit his spoon against his rice bowl with a loud clink, just
as Taehyung releases a low moan. The second Mrs. Kim doesn’t seem to notice,
and asks one of the servers for another glass of wine.
“So, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin says, stabbing a pea with his knife. He brings it up
to his mouth, plucking the pea off with his teeth as he licks up the knife.
“Are you staying the night?”
“Maybe,” Jimin says with a shrug, curling his toes around Taehyung’s dick.
Taehyung coughs, reaching down to pick up his napkin to cover his mouth. He
swats Jimin’s foot away.
“We don’t have any guest rooms ready.” Mrs. Kim notes, her diction less crisp
than usual.
“It’s fine. I’ll stay in Taehyung’s room.”
Namjoon chokes on a bite of salmon, then reaches for some wine to wash it down,
his face slightly flushed. Seokjin’s mouth is still pulled into a resting
smile, but his eyes narrow.
“That would be bad of us as hosts, wouldn’t it, Namjoon?” He asks.
Namjoon dabs at his mouth, still trying to swallow. “I guess so.”
“You could use my room.” Seokjin says. “I’ll be staying at my own place
tonight.”
“No thanks, Taehyung’s room is fine. I don’t want to mess up yours,” Jimin
says, sliding his foot back onto Taehyung’s dick under the table. Taehyung
accidentally stabs his dinner in surprise.
“I don’t mind.” Seokjin bites another pea off the tip of his knife. “I wouldn’t
want you or Taehyungie to be uncomfortable.”
“It’s all right hyung.” Jimin says, closing his toes around Taehyung’s dick
again. “Trust me, we’ll be verycomfortable.”
“Excuse me.” Taehyung pushes himself back from the table, letting Jimin’s foot
fall onto the floor with a clear thud.
He hears Jimin and Namjoon and Seokjin and the second Mrs. Kim saying things
behind him, but he slams the door to the dining room behind him and walks away
as fast as he can.
 
Taehyung rests his forehead against the bathroom mirror. The glass is soothing
against his skin, like a cold compress.
Taehyung rests his hands under the running water of the tap, which he’d left on
to mask his groans. He bends over, letting his hair get caught under the
stream.
It had been a mistake to invite Jimin over, no matter whatever reason he’d used
to justify it.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Taehyungie?” Seokjin asks, his voice so close by that he could only be
pressing his lips against the door. “Are you okay?”
Taehyung bends down lower, dunking his entire head under the faucet.
“Taehyungie?”
The water caresses the sides of Taehyung’s face.
“Can I come in?”
Taehyung angles his face to let the water trickle down his neck.
“We’re just having a few drinks in the lounge,” Seokjin’s voice says, below a
whisper. “Join us when you’re ready.”
“I will.”
 
It’s pitch black outside, so much so that Taehyung can watch everything through
the reflections in the windows. Jimin is pouring Namjoon another glass of
single malt whisky, even though the latter had declined as politely as he
could. Seokjin is sitting in a leather armchair, resting his drink on one knee.
He’s looking directly at Taehyung off the dark windows. Taehyung shifts his
eyes away to look at the gardenias arranged on the table next to him.
“Another drink, Seokjin-hyung?” Jimin asks, still giggling at something Namjoon
had said. His cheeks are flushed, and he hasn’t stopped smiling in hours.
“No thank you,” Seokjin smiles back at him, lifting his glass. “I’ve still got
some.”
“Oh, hyung, you’re no fun,” Jimin purrs, crawling across the coffee table to
tip the last of their third bottle of whisky into Seokjin’s glass.
“No-” Seokjin says, watching Jimin slump flat onto the table in a fit of
giggles. He catches the empty bottle as it falls out of Jimin’s hand.
Seokjin places the bottle on the table away from Jimin, who’s rolled over with
his bare arms splayed across the dark wood.
“I think that’s enough for one night.” Seokjin says, putting his glass down.
“Let’s-”
He stumbles as he stands up, then leans on his armrest to steady himself. He
glares at Taehyung briefly before his legs crumple underneath him.
“Hyung.” Taehyung gets up.
Jimin grabs Taehyung by the leg, still facedown on the table.
“I just remembered…” Jimin says, his voice steady and back down an octave.
“Your watch went missing the other day, right, Taehyung?”
Taehyung frowns, but doesn’t say anything.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Namjoon asks, struggling to right himself on the
lounge chair.
“I forgot.” Taehyung says.
“You should tell security.” Seokjin says, from where he’s rubbing his temples.
“Hoseok should be around...here...somewhere…”
 
Taehyung says nothing as Jimin switches back to his giggling, spineless self
when Hoseok arrives.
“What room is he staying in, sir?” Hoseok asks Taehyung, nodding over to Jimin,
who’s splayed across the table again. The head of the nighttime security had
already directed four of the staff to carry Namjoon and Seokjin to their rooms,
and is now scratching his head over Taehyung’s friend. Jimin rolls over,
leaving Hoseok to stare at his backside in utter confusion.
“Mine.” Taehyung says. “I’ll take care of him.”
“But Taehyungieee, what about your waaatch?” Jimin pouts, sitting up on the
table. He turns to Hoseok and grabs him by his suit’s lapels. “Taehyungie lost
his watch yesterday, could you help us find it?”
“Sure, I- uh, of course, I-” Hoseok stammers, turning helplessly to Taehyung.
“W- Where did you last see it?”
“My room? I don’t really remember.” Taehyung says, watching Jimin get up on his
knees, pulling the head of security towards him by the suit jacket.
“Hyuuuuung,” Jimin whines, his face just inches away from Hoseok’s. “Maybe we
should check the CCTV?”
Taehyung looks up at the ceiling. Jimin could’ve warned him about his plan
earlier, assuming that he’d had one.
“We c- can’t just-” A bead of sweat rolls down Hoseok’s forehead. “No one’s
allowed to-”
“That watch was a gift from my mother.” Taehyung says, letting his voice crack.
He looks down at his shoes, forcing just enough tears to gather on his lower
lashes. In the reflection on the windows, he sees Hoseok’s shoulders relax
slightly.
 
Taehyung folds his arms, watching Hoseok log onto the estate’s security system.
In the dim bluish light from the computer, he can see a clear smirk on Jimin’s
lips.
“You overdid it,” Taehyung mouths at him over Hoseok’s back.
“So did you,” Jimin says, drawing an imaginary tear down his cheek with his
index finger.
“Um, what day did you lose your watch?”
Jimin takes that as his cue to bend over Hoseok’s desk.
Hoseok’s eyes dart away from the screen for a split second. Jimin shifts
slightly, his eyes focused on the screen as his jacket sleeve falls off his
shoulder.
“I, uh…” Hoseok’s staring at Jimin’s shoulder as the latter starts exploring
the security system.
“Was it last Tuesday? Two days ago?” Jimin asks, leaning to let the jacket
slide off more.
“Can’t remember.” Taehyung says. “How far back do the videos go, Hoseok-hyung?”
“Huh?” Hoseok blinks, turning back to Taehyung as Jimin checks for himself. He
looks back at the screen to find Jimin looking at footage from the week before.
“Wait, don’t-”
“Oh, I’m sorry hyung, this is just so complicated,” Jimin pouts at Hoseok,
angling himself so his jacket slides off his other shoulder. “Can you do it for
me?”
“You’re not supposed to…” Hoseok’s voice trails off into a gulp. “What do you
want to-?”
“What do you want?” Jimin slides onto the desk, pushing the keyboard aside.
“I- I don’t- W- why?” Hoseok tries to back up, but Taehyung blocks him.
“I’ll give you whatever you want, hyung,” Jimin makes his voice breathy and
soft, spreading his legs the entire length of the desk.
“Y- you- you’re so beautiful?” Hoseok lifts a hand to touch Jimin’s face. “Why
are you so beautiful?”
“Hyung!” Jimin blushes so hard Taehyung can see it even against the light. He
takes Hoseok’s face in his hands and kisses him softly.
Taehyung steps out of the way as Jimin pushes Hoseok out of the room, sucking
on his lips loudly. He rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s breathless compliments and
Jimin’s giggling coming from the hallway.
Taehyung sits in Hoseok’s chair and cracks his knuckles.
The system has footage saved thirty days in the past. He selects the day his
mother had died, and the system informs him, No records available. He’d figured
as much. He looks at the day before, which is still complete until midnight.
Taehyung scans through the footage from the upper ground floor hallway and the
front door. Namjoon had left in the morning for the family business’ main
office, wearing a heavy coat. Their father had left much later, shortly after
noon. Taehyung checks the house’s other rooms and halls, just observing the
staff rush around to clean everything except two floors of the east wing, where
his room is. Taehyung decides not to follow the staff and returns to the front
door, pausing only when Namjoon’s mother leaves, carrying a briefcase.
Taehyung frowns at it for some time, then he hears the sound of skin slapping
against skin in the hallway, and gets distracted. He tries not to listen in to
Jimin’s panting and the head of security’s low moans as he unpauses the video.
Namjoon comes home first, late in the afternoon. He opens the front door, then
holds it open for a woman in a white Chanel coat lined with pearls.  
Taehyung pauses the video. He knows that coat. He’d bought it.
He shifts from one camera to another, following Namjoon and his mother as they
undo the buttons of their coats. They drop their coats off with the staff, then
sit in the foyer as Mrs. Jung pours them tea.
Taehyung’s mother says something that makes Namjoon drop his phone and Mrs.
Jung spill some tea. The head of staff apologizes profusely, then excuses
herself.
Namjoon says something again, his frown visible from the security camera.
Taehyung’s mother puts a hand on Namjoon’s knee.
Taehyung swallows.
Namjoon puts his cup of tea down, his eyes darting momentarily towards the
security camera.
Taehyung’s mother stands up, straightening her pencil skirt out as she turns to
leave.
Namjoon sighs so deeply his shoulders heave, and he says something. One word.
“Stop.” is Taehyung’s best guess.
Taehyung’s mother turns back to Namjoon, taking a few steps towards him. She
steps out of her heels, then settles herself in Namjoon’s lap.
Taehyung feels lightheaded as he watches his mother kiss Namjoon, holding him
in place by the hair. Namjoon’s undoing the buttons of her shirt, which she
allows to fall to reveal her lacy maroon bra, which Taehyung had also bought
for her. She’d asked him for the kind that opens in front, which Taehyung had
assumed was for her own benefit. Apparently it was for Namjoon’s benefit,
because he’s gotten it off and onto the floor in half a second, and has gone
straight to feeling up her (mostly fake) boobs. She stops to whisper something
into his ear and Namjoon nods, his eyes screwed shut.
Taehyung doesn’t know why he does it, but he switches cameras to follow them as
they run up the east wing, his mother holding her blouse to cover her chest.
Taehyung is disgusted to find that there is a security camera inside the mauve
room, and even more disgusted with himself when he finds himself unable to look
away as Namjoon throws the covers back in a cloud of dust. His mother unbuckles
Namjoon’s belt, getting onto her knees.
Taehyung hits the fast forward button. He watches in horror as his mother
closes her mouth around Namjoon’s dick. He thinks of the times she’d kissed
him, always on the nose, with that mouth. His mother pushes Namjoon onto the
bed, tearing his clothes off with more strength than her age would suggest.
Namjoon reaches for something in his pants, saying something, but Taehyung’s
mother grabs him by the wrist. She holds him down as she lowers herself onto
his bare dick, throwing her head back with a satisfied smile that Taehyung
knows he’s seen on his own face a few times.
Taehyung doesn’t hear the door open. He can’t hear anything, or see anything
except his mother riding his half-brother violently, her hands braced against
his bare chest as he paws at hers.
“Shit.”
A small white hand reaches over his shoulder to get to the keyboard, and it
takes a whole second for Taehyung to realize that the video had stopped moving.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, turning Taehyung’s face to look at him. Jimin’s
lips are swollen and red, and his face is still heavily flushed and sweaty, but
he manages to look concerned.
“My mom…” Taehyung says, slowly. “Namjoon…and my mom…”
“Let’s just go.” Jimin says gently, resting a hand on Taehyung’s cheek. “We
should get some sleep. Think about it tomorrow.”
Taehyung sits, staring blankly ahead as Jimin deletes the past few hours from
the security system with ease, zipping his pants up with one hand and typing
with the other.
Jimin shuts the computer off, leaving him and Taehyung in darkness.
“Jimin…” Taehyung says, as Jimin guides him off his seat. “Why would he...why
would they…”
“I’ll figure it out,” Jimin says softly, his nose brushing Taehyung’s ear.
“Don’t think about it.”
Taehyung is thankful for Jimin’s hand pulling him out of the room and past the
sleeping head of security, his clothes thrown over him hastily.
 
“Shh,” Jimin says, rubbing Taehyung’s back as they make their way through the
darkened stairwell. “Don’t think about it, Taehyung.”
“I can’t. Not.” Taehyung stumbles on a step, and Jimin catches him, slinging
Taehyung’s arm around his narrow shoulders.
Taehyung stumbles forward, feeling drunk as the indistinguishable paintings on
the walls seem to whizz by. There isn’t much light to guide themselves by, but
Jimin seems to know his way back to the east wing. Taehyung leans on Jimin,
smelling his sweat and two different colognes. They find the stairs to the east
wing, bathed in a hazy yellow light from the second floor.
At the base of the stairs is a woman in a nightdress with her hands behind her
back.
“Mother.” Taehyung breathes, and he feels Jimin’s body stiffen under his arm.
“Where have you two been?” The second Mrs. Kim asks, her voice low. The light
from the second floor is flickering, making that plinking noise that most
lights do before they die, but Mrs. Kim’s glower is clear despite it.
“Taehyung got hungry,” Jimin tries to explain. “We went to get a sna-”
“I don’t like you wandering the house at night.” Mrs. Kim takes a step towards
them.
Jimin takes a step back, but Taehyung doesn’t.
“We’ve had a lot of break-ins in the area,” Mrs. Kim takes another step towards
them, her hands still tucked behind her back. The second floor light flickers
faster, staying off for longer each time. “The security might mistake you for
intruders.”
Jimin closes his hand around Taehyung’s wrist, taking another step backward.
“Who knows what would happen to you two then?” Mrs. Kim asks, just as the light
on the second floor blinks out with finality.
Jimin whirls around and runs, dragging Taehyung by the wrist.
He hears Mrs. Kim following them in a brisk walk, her slippers padding against
the wooden floor in calm, even steps. Jimin drags Taehyung down the hall,
across the foyer, and into a hall he’s never seen before. He tries one door
after another, but they’re both locked.
“What are you running for, boys?” Mrs. Kim calls.
Jimin shakes the doorknob of the third door frantically. It’s also locked.
“Taehyung, help,” He begs.
Mrs. Kim’s slippers slap on the marble floor of the foyer, then pad on the
wooden floor of the hallway after it.
“Taehyung, please,” Jimin begs, shaking the knob of another locked door. “I
don’t want to die.”
Taehyung snaps to his senses. He takes Jimin by the arm and brings him to a
room at the end of the hall, locking the door behind them.
They’re in a large glass room, bathed in the faint light of the moon, which had
risen late. A fountain trickles murky water at the center of the conservatory,
surrounded by tropical plants swaying in a heavy mist.
Jimin doesn’t notice any of that at first, because he and Taehyung are busy
barricading the door with a wrought iron bench sitting under a nearby palm
tree. He collapses on the floor, panting.
“Hey, Jimin, it’s okay, we’re okay here.” Taehyung says, kneeling on the stone
floor next to him. He picks up Jimin’s head to rest it on his lap, gently
wiping the sweat from his friend’s brow.
“Fuck.” Jimin says, looking up at Taehyung as the tears spill out of his eyes.
“I thought I was going to piss myself back there.”
Something slams against the door, pushing the wrought iron bench an inch. The
second Mrs. Kim is screaming something on the other side, but they can’t
understand it.
Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung, wetting the crook of Taehyung’s neck with
his tears.
Something slams into the door again, and the wrought iron bench moves another
inch.
“I don’t want to die,” Jimin says again. “I don’t want to die.”
“I won’t let her hurt you.” Taehyung says, wrapping his arms around Jimin.
Neither of them can move, or stand, or do anything but sit there and listen to
Mrs. Kim scream as she tries to break through the door.
“I don’t want to die.”
Mrs. Kim stops screaming, and the banging stops. Taehyung looks up to find the
door slightly ajar, and the bench moved almost half a foot towards them.
“Is she gone?” Jimin asks, his voice so soft Taehyung can only feel it against
his skin.
“I don’t know.”
He helps Jimin sit up on his own, then stands up, picking up a metal trowel
from a plant bed as he slowly makes his way towards the door.
“No, Taehyung, don’t…” Jimin pleads, bracing his hands against the floor to
keep him up.
Taehyung takes a few more steps towards the door.
His foot slips on something, and he looks down to find his shoe quickly being
surrounded by a dark liquid oozing out from under the door.
He peers into the crack in the door and finds tousled black hair atop a heap
crumpled at the base of the door.
“Mother.” He says, taking a step backward. The moist air is tainted with a
sharp metallic smell, and he feels himself throw up in his mouth. He stumbles
on the foot of the wrought iron bench, slipping onto the now bloody
conservatory floor.
Taehyung’s vision shudders, then goes black.
Chapter End Notes
     Jimin in this entire chapter is just SO EXTRA
     [http://68.media.tumblr.com/b84c63df36c2cf97d3bc7f3dd6616f78/
     tumblr_oesd5iKw0e1rs2kabo4_400.gif]
but that's why we love him hahahuhuu i hope nobody notices i'm just exhausting
all the rooms in Cluedo
***** First Love *****
Chapter Notes
     Taehyung passed out because he hasn’t eaten properly in days. ALSO
     seeing a dead body is kind of scary, I guess.
     i need to go fix the tags now but special warning there's some
     statutory rape ish,, let me know if there's something i need to tag
     but haven't
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The truth was that Taehyung’s father’s friends and business partners were put
off by the presence of the small, skinny, dark-eyed mistake wandering the house
once it had returned from school. Chairman Kim’s son from a previous marriage
also haunted the house on weekends off from university, but he was kind,
courteous, and pleasing to the eyes. Everyone knew who his mother was, and held
her in high regard. On the other hand, everyone knew who the bastard’s mother
was, and honestly couldn’t understand why Chairman Kim would stoop so low as to
keep that woman as a mistress, or keep her son as his own.
The truth was simple. Chairman Kim enjoyed fine things. He had taken out
trillions, not billons, in loans to build himself the finest European-style
mansion outside of Europe. He had spent thrice, not twice, as much to fill the
castle with only the finest furniture and artwork. It was only natural that
when he met Taehyung’s mother, who looked like she belonged among his paintings
and sculptures, that he should place her among them, and enjoy her. When she’d
returned to beg him for money to raise their son, he had taken one look at the
boy, and decided to add him to his art collection as well.
But Taehyung wasn’t to everyone’s taste, and Chairman Kim had to take him off
the display.
“We’re sending you to Paris.” Taehyung’s father had said over dinner one
evening, looking intently at his stock portfolio on his phone.
“To study?” Taehyung had asked.
“Why else would we send you there?” His father had muttered.
“For how long?” Taehyung had asked.
Nobody had found that question worth answering.
Taehyung closed the bedroom door behind him, his face perfectly blank. He had
just argued with his father for an hour, but it had hardly been an argument.
Taehyung had been attempting to explain why his father gained nothing from
sending him away, but his father hadn’t minded him. He had even threatened to
call his mother, and when he had been forced to play his hand, his mother had
sounded excited about her son being effectively exiled to Europe.
Taehyung heaved a sigh, and slumped onto the floor at the foot of the door,
leaning the back of his head against the dark green wood. He’d just turned
seventeen that day, and was getting too old to pick pointless fights with his
father. They tired him out, got nothing done, and tired him out some more.
Someone knocked on the door, and Taehyung felt each hit reverberate in his
skull.
“Who is it?” Taehyung asked.
“Hyung. Can I come in?”
The voice was so soft, so close against the door that Taehyung could almost
feel the warmth against him.
“Yes.” He answered, opening the door.
“Happy birthday, Taehyungie,” Seokjin said, carrying a small, round white dish
in his hands with a cloud of creamy-looking fluff climbing out of it.
“What’s that?” Taehyung asked, sitting up to poke the cloud.
It popped around his finger, leaving a sticky yellowish ring around his finger
as it deflated. Taehyung licked the ring off his finger. “It’s yummy. What is
it?”
“A soufflé.” Seokjin said, reaching into his back pocket for a silver spoon
wrapped in tissue paper. “We learned how to make them in class today.”
“Is it French?” Taehyung asked, looking at the outstretched dessert spoon as
though he’d never seen one before.
“Yes.” Seokjin lowered his head so he can look directly into Taehyung’s eyes.
The latter’s face was still cold and expressionless, but Seokjin frowned. “I
guess they’ve told you, then.”
“You knew?” Taehyung fought off the tears climbing to his eyelashes.
“I did.”
“You didn’t try to stop them?”
“No.”
Taehyung stuck the spoon into the soufflé bowl and threw himself back onto the
bed face first. “Nobody wants me.”
“Don’t say that.” Taehyung heard Seokjin place the dessert on the bedside table
with a clink. He felt his older brother’s hands on his back, drawing lines down
his spine.
“I want you.” Seokjin said, right into Taehyung’s ear.
Taehyung shut his eyes, leaning back into Seokjin, who pulled him onto his lap
in a tight hug.
“I want you so badly,” Seokjin’s hands clamped on Taehyung’s waist. “I don’t
want you to ever leave me.”
“I don’t want to go,” Taehyung said, tilting his head back to rest on Seokjin’s
collarbone.
“If I could stop them, Taehyungie, I would.” Seokjin kissed the top of
Taehyung’s hair, not minding the sweat and dirt still stuck to it from school.
“Can you try?” Taehyung asked shifting in Seokjin’s lap. Something was pushing
against his butt, and he knew exactly what it was. “Please?”
“There’s nothing I can do.” Seokjin slid his hands under Taehyung’s school
uniform shirt, all the way up to draw circles with his fingers around
Taehyung’s nipples. Taehyung sighed, his back melting against Seokjin’s chest.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
“Yes.” Taehyung felt his nipples hardening under the pads of Seokjin’s fingers,
among other things. “Can you just try to convince Father, I-?”
“I’ll try.” Seokjin dragged his hands down Taehyung’s front to unbuckle his
belt. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“I’ll take whatever you give me right now.”
Seokjin grasped the handle of Taehyung’s zipper, breathing heavily into the
boy’s hair. “Taehyungie, can I?”
“Yes.” Taehyung looked down as Seokjin’s large hands unzipped his slacks and
slid his briefs down, letting his erection out. Taehyung had only ever seen his
penis erect on his own, and blushed knowing that his brother was staring at it
too. He moved a hand to cover it. “I-”
“Don’t.” Seokjin said, pinning Taehyung’s wrist to his side. “You don’t have to
hide anything from me.”
“Hyung, I-”
“If you’re not ready, I’ll stop.”
Taehyung’s face was flushed, and he couldn’t even turn to even look at Seokjin
as he said, “No, don’t stop. I want it.”
Taehyung listened as Seokjin licked his entire palm before wrapping it around
Taehyung’s penis. “I’ll be gentle.”
“Don’t be.” Taehyung’s voice was hoarse, and it made Seokjin so hard that
Taehyung felt his brother’s erection was close to breaking through his pants.
“You’re only a baby, I have to.” Seokjin breathed, dragging his fist up and
down the length of Taehyung’s penis slowly, his fingers tracing every last
vein.
“Fuck that.” Taehyung tried to buck his hips up into Seokjin’s grip, but the
latter let his hands follow, robbing Taehyung of any friction. “Fuck me.
Please.”
“Not yet, baby.” Seokjin took his hand away, and Taehyung whimpered, feeling
cold and betrayed.
Seokjin spit into his hand, and Taehyung watches the glistening strands drip on
his thigh as Seokjin rubbed his saliva all over Taehyung’s penis. Taehyung’s
knees twitched towards each other when Seokjin caressed the tip.
“Hold them open.” Seokjin gently pushed one of Taehyung’s knees down in a sort
of yoga position that stretched his thighs in places he didn’t know he even had
muscles to ache in.
Taehyung held onto his knees until his knuckles were white, pushing them down
as Seokjin wet his penis with some more of his warm, stringy saliva.
“I’m going to start now,” Seokjin said, wrapping one arm around Taehyung to
press their bodies together as his other hand closed around Taehyung’s penis.
“Yes, please, hyung, please…”
Seokjin laughed, and Taehyung couldn’t believe that he laughed and kissed the
top of the boy’s head, just as he started sliding his fist up and down the
length of Taehyung’s penis violently.
“Is it too much?” Seokjin asked, his arm tightening around Taehyung to keep him
from rocking too much as he beat the boy’s dick so hard it sounded like they
were having a fight.
“No, no, no, it’s perfect,” Taehyung growled from the back of his throat. “It’s
perfect, hyung, you’re perfect, you-”
Taehyung let out a loud moan, his entire body trembling as he came all over
Seokjin’s hand.
Seokjin kept his fist around Taehyung’s penis and pumped it one more time,
milking out another squirt of cum. He pumped it again, and again, and again.
“No, hyung…Too much,” Taehyung gasped, tears rolling down his cheeks and
dripping onto Seokjin’s arm, which was still held tight around his heaving
chest.
“Just a little bit more, baby,”
“No, hyung, I can’t, I can’t, I…No, no, no,” Taehyung whimpered in between
sniffles. His tears were streaming out now, dripping all over and mixing with
his cum.
Seokjin pumped Taehyung’s dick a few more times in spite of Taehyung’s
breathless protests, squeezing out every last drop of cum onto his hand and
Taehyung’s school uniform.
“No, please,” Taehyung shuddered against Seokjin. “Hyung, stop,  please …”
“There.” Seokjin said, licking his hand clean before curling his arms around
his little brother in a back bear hug. “Are you okay, Taehyungie? Did I hurt
you?”
“No,” Taehyung panted, his body falling slack against Seokjin’s embrace. “It
was good.”
“Good.” Seokjin kissed the top of Taehyung’s head. “Now let’s get you cleaned
up.”
Taehyung sat in the bathtub, his legs wide open to let Seokjin’s hands lather
soap into his skin, wiping off every last streak of cum on his body. He curves
his back to let Seokjin rub his chest, the pads of his brother’s fingers
flicking his erect nipples again and again. Taehyung tilted his head back in a
satisfied grin.
“Can you do it again, hyung?”
Seokjin looked up at Taehyung with the most innocent glance. “Do what?”
“Make me cum.”
“But I just cleaned you up,” Seokjin said, turning on the shower to full cold
water. Steam came off Taehyung’s body where the icy water touched his skin.
“It’d be a waste to get you dirty again.”
Taehyung wakes up to the feeling of warm water running down his body, and
warmer hands caressing him all over.
He’s sitting in the same bathtub, his legs splayed out the same way, with
Seokjin leaning over him, rinsing away the… blood.
Taehyung slips as he scrambled to get away from the pool of blood and water
gathering at the bottom of the tub.
“Relax,” Seokjin says, dropping the showerhead to put his hands on Taehyung’s
shoulders. “I’m here, you’re safe, don’t worry.”
Taehyung looks around the bathroom, trying to get out of the tub, but Seokjin’s
hands keep him firmly seated. Taehyung is confused to find sunlight streaming
in through the window, and the floor suddenly tilting left and right.
“Hey, take it easy, you might pass out again,” Seokjin gently washes the side
of Taehyung’s face. “You really scared me back there.”
Taehyung’s heart is racing. “Where’s Jimin?”
Seokjin’s mouth twitches. “Don’t worry about him, just relax.”
Taehyung slips again, because the floor keeps tilting on him. Seokjin catches
him behind the head before he knocks it onto the edge of the tub.
“W- where. Is. Jimin?” Taehyung asks.
“I’ll tell you later, just relax first, take deep breaths,” Seokjin cups his
hand to keep Taehyung’s face dry as he washes blood out of Taehyung’s hair.
Taehyung watches the pinkish water trickle down his arm and between his legs
before sliding down towards the drain.
“Have you been eating well? I know you’re probably having a hard time sleeping-
”
“Where is Jimin?” Taehyung manages to say, staring Seokjin down.
Seokjin sighs. “Just, don’t freak out, okay? Try to stay calm.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s been arrested.” Seokjin says, avoiding Taehyung’s eyes. “The police think
he killed Namjoon’s mother last night.”
Taehyung stops breathing. “He didn’t. I was there. He didn’t do it.”
“I believe you,” Seokjin cups a hand around Taehyung’s face. “But you have to
stay out of this. They might take you away, too, and I…”
Taehyung looks into his half-brother’s watery, puffy eyes, and resists the urge
to kiss him.
“Please tell me you’ll stay away.” Seokjin says. “Please, I don’t want them to
take you away.”
“I promise.” Taehyung lifts a hand to pull Seokjin’s face closer to kiss him,
then pulls away at the last second, because he’s starting to hyperventilate.
Taehyung strolls aimlessly around the house, happy that Seokjin had left the
minute he made sure Taehyung would not and could not leave the house. He slides
his feet along the polished wooden floors, skating about the upper ground
floor, until he’s winded and has to lie down in the foyer.
Nobody comes to help him, because the staff are busy scrubbing the hallway to
the conservatory clean, or keeping the police off the premises.
Taehyung holds his chest, feeling his heart ram against his ribcage like it’s
trying to escape. Jimin is in jail, cold and alone, and here he is lounging
around his father’s house, still in his pajamas after half the day. He’s also
cold and alone, but at least he has this sofa to keep him company.
He worries for Jimin as he rolls over, until he catches a glimpse of the small
camera erupting from the roses painted onto the ceiling.
Taehyung knows what he must look like from the other side, if anyone should be
interested in seeing him lie around in his pajamas.
This is the sofa, he realizes, getting up and brushing himself off. Every time
he blinks he sees his mother and Namjoon on that same sofa, all but making love
in this big, open room in broad daylight.
He throws up in his mouth, but he hasn’t eaten all day and it’s just clear
acid.
Taehyung’s making his way up the east wing stairwell, determined to sleep his
hunger off, when he hears something fall over on the second floor.
Taehyung stops at the landing, looking down the hallway. The curtains are all
drawn, but a warm, dust-filtered glow is flooding out of a crack in one of the
doorways. Taehyung, like a moth drawn to light, walks towards the source.
He stops before the mauve room, finding the door left open halfway.
Namjoon is seated at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped in a dark lace
garment as he slides his hand up and down his own dick desperately. One hand
had been holding onto one of the four posters of the bed, but the post now lay
on the floor, still rolling back and forth.
Taehyung hopes that Namjoon’s eyes were shut all the way as he turns to run,
but a large hand grabs his wrist and drags him back into the mauve room.
“You little pervert,” Namjoon says, his teeth clenched. His pants are still
dangling from his ankles, and a few beads of pre-cum are rolling down his legs
as he grabs Taehyung’s other wrist and pins him against the wall.
Taehyung tries to pulls himself free, feeling like throwing up at the chafe of
his mother’s maroon underwear against his wrist. “You’re the one who’s still
got my dead mom’s panties.”
“But you know what her panties look like.” Namjoon takes both of Taehyung’s
wrists into one hand, holding them above Taehyung’s head. He stretches the lace
underwear with his free hand, then pulls it over Taehyung’s head, gagging his
mouth with the cum-stained part. “I wasn’t  that  close with my own mother.”
Taehyung tastes the dried cum on the lace and throws up in his mouth again. He
struggles to break free, but he’s hungry and weak and his knees are buckling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Namjoon snarls, pushing his erection against
Taehyung, staining his silk pajama leg. “Are you jealous? Don’t be. I don’t
care about your mom, it was just sex with my dad’s favorite whore.”
Taehyung didn’t like his mother, but she’s still his mother. He growls against
the lace in his mouth, swinging to knee Namjoon in the dick.
Namjoon buckles over, screaming.
Taehyung tries to pry the underwear off his face, but Namjoon’s already
recovered and pins Taehyung back against the wall, his hands closed around
Taehyung’s throat.
“I  hated  your mother. Dad was so obsessed with her, throwing away his family
just to sleep with that fucking whore and waste all our fucking money…So I
fucked her. The one person I thought our dad actually cared about. I came in
her face, her tits, I even came inside her, Taehyung, maybe if she were younger
we’d have another brother…” Namjoon grunts, tightening his grip around
Taehyung’s throat. “I showed Dad the video of me fucking your mom, and he
wasn’t even mad. He didn’t. Even. Flinch. Would you believe,” Namjoon chuckles.
“He said, ‘I didn’t know you liked loose pussy, son.’ Our dad is an asshole.”
Taehyung’s hearing goes, thankfully, along with his sense of taste. His
vision’s starting to darken the longer Namjoon has his hands around his neck
and his erection against Taehyung’s thigh, and Taehyung feels his own dick
start to get hard.
“You freaky piece of shit.”   
Taehyung’s released, but he can barely breathe or see or feel anything until
his knees knock into something, then something tugs against his hair. He thinks
he’s being dragged across the floor, then something hits him in the stomach.
Taehyung gasps for air, feeling something hard against his cheek. He coughs,
after gasping in a cloud of dust. He’s bent over the desk with his face against
the wood, Namjoon holding him down using a hand at the back of Taehyung’s neck.
“H- hyung,” Taehyung gasps as his pants are ripped clean off his body, leaving
his ass hanging out in the chilly air.
“Shut up.” Namjoon says, with a low chuckle. “Let’s see if you’re as loose as
your mommy, huh?”
“P- please,” Taehyung says, reaching down to spread his ass cheeks. “Take a
video.”
“What?” Namjoon’s grip on Taehyung’s neck falters, and Taehyung turns around,
dropping onto his knees.
“Take a video, and send it to our dad.” Taehyung says, looking up at his half-
brother withs his lips a single breth away from Namjoon’s dick.
“You’re a fucking genius.” Namjoon groans, reaching for his phone on the table.
Taehyung takes the time to take Namjoon’s whole dick in his mouth, letting the
tip scrape his throat as he covers it in his spit. He reaches down and sticks a
finger into his own asshole, tugging around quickly before sticking in a
second.
“Smile for the camera, Taehyung,” Namjoon says, watching through his screen as
Taehyung slides his head back, a string of saliva dangling between the tip of
Namjoon’s dick and Taehyung’s lips.
Namjoon groans, trying to keep the camera steady.
Taehyung gets back up and sheds his pajama top before bending over the table
again. He reaches back and spreads his ass cheeks, purring for Namjoon to, “Put
your fat dick inside me, hyung.”
Namjoon groans as he slides his dick into Taehyung’s ass, watching through his
phone.
“Oh hyung, you feel so good,” Taehyung lies, dropping his body onto the desk in
mock pleasure. “Shove your cock into me, hyung.”
Namjoon obeys, resting the phone against Taehyung’s back as he rams himself
into Taehyung repeatedly. Taehyung’s pelvis is banging against the desk, and
it’s already starting to bruise, but Namjoon keeps going until Taehyung is
screaming, and he doesn’t even have to act.
“Cum inside me, hyung,” Taehyung wails, grabbing at his own hair.
Namjoon drops the phone on the floor as he releases. When he watches the video
again later, he finds that the phone had landed upside down, and filmed Namjoon
pulling his dick out of Taehyung, dripping cum onto the camera. Taehyung’s
knees give way, leaving him depending on the desk to keep him up.
Namjoon grabs him by the hair again. “Not a word of this to anyone else, you
hear me?”
“My only friend is in jail,” Taehyung pants, unable to stop Namjoon from
throwing him onto the bed.
“Good boy.” Namjoon says, giving Taehyung’s dick a long lick.
“Are you really going to suck me off, hyung?” Taehyung laughs, too weak to sit
up and see what Namjoon is doing.
“Were you really conceived on this bed?” Namjoon laughs, but Taehyung feels his
stomach acid rising again.
Namjoon’s just taken the tip of Taehyung’s dick into his mouth when the door
swings open. “Sir?”
Hoseok is standing in the doorway, frozen in mid-frown because he’s not
entirely sure what he’s seeing.
“What the hell do you want?” Namjoon asks, taking a step towards the head of
security.
“I, uh, I’m sorry, sir.” Hoseok darts out of the room.
Taehyung’s waiting for Namjoon’s entire mouth to close around his dick, but it
goes away, leaving Taehyung’s dick cold and hard.
“That useless fucking…” Namjoon mutters, zipping his pants up.
“Hey,” Taehyung protests.
“Suck your own dick, Taehyung.” Namjoon grabs his phone off the floor and slams
the door behind him.
Taehyung doesn’t even try to deal with his erection. He’s naked, covered in
dust and drying cum, and lying in the bed that his parents had likely made him
on, but he’s exhausted on top of all that. Taehyung shuts his eyes for only a
moment, then falls asleep.
Taehyung wakes up to the sound of someone screaming.
He frowns as he looks around, because there’s something wrong with his eyes.
His room is the wrong color altogether. Taehyung hears footsteps outside the
door, small ones, heavy ones, and then he hears a man shouting. Namjoon.
Taehyung realizes where he is, and what he’s done. He gets off the bed, dried
cum flaking off his back and out of his asshole. His hips have a thick,
greenish-yellow bruise forming in a straight line, and his throat feels like a
cat had clawed at it.
More people are in the hall outside the mauve room now, talking loudly but not
so that he could understand them.
Taehyung hugs himself, shivering.
The door opens.
“Oh, thank god.”
Taehyung doesn’t complain as Seokjin pulls him into a tight, warm hug. He rests
his head against Seokjin’s dressing gown, nuzzling his nose into the fabric.
Seokjin strokes Taehyung’s matted hair. “What are you doing here?”
Taehyung tries to reply, but his throat only releases a broken, croaking noise.
“You’re so cold,” Seokjin slides his dressing gown off his shoulders and wraps
it around Taehyung, then encloses his little brother in his embrace again.
“Where are your clothes?”
Taehyung points at the pile of discarded pajamas from the day before, sitting
in a stained heap in the middle of the floor.
“I was so worried,” Seokjin breathes, his lips against Taehyung’s forehead.
“When I went to your room and didn’t find you.”
“I was just here,” Taehyung croaks out. “What’s going on outside?”
Seokjin kisses Taehyung between the eyebrows as the Namjoon shouts something
outside. “Let the adults figure this out. Just stay here with me until they’re
gone.”
“What’s happening?”
The door opens a crack. “Hyung!” Namjoon shouts. “Get out here!”
“Stay here, Taehyungie.” Seokjin kisses Taehyung again before leaving the mauve
room, closing the door behind him so quickly that Taehyung only catches a
glimpse of Namjoon and several of the staff standing around the hallway.
Taehyung pulls Seokjin’s robe closer around him, tying it closed.
He walks up to the door, and pulls it open.
A figure is slumped on the floor across the hall, his face frozen in fear. His
eyes are open, glassy, and unseeing. His shirt, which had been white, is now a
deep brown, and slashed open at the abdomen. His organs have fallen out,
sliding onto the floor in a gentle slope of graying flesh that ends at the rich
brown puddle dried around his body like a dark halo.
“…call his family and let them know,” Namjoon’s dictating to his assistant.
“We’ll pay them ten million to shut up about it.”
“This is their  son , Namjoon.” Seokjin says. “At least pay for the wake.”
“We’re already paying for my mother’s wake.” Namjoon says, and his assistant
records it dutifully. “We can’t be spending so much money on the dead when
there are so many living people to feed.”
“Namjoon, please…” Seokjin notices Taehyung leaning against the door to the
mauve room with all the blood drained from his face.
“Taehyungie,” He says, pushing gently past Namjoon and his assistant to take
Taehyung into his arms. He puts up a hand to cover his little brother’s eyes.
“Don’t look.”
Taehyung pants, his shallow breaths not making it past his throat. It smells
like his mother had, but a thousand times worse. He wants to stop breathing
altogether, if that means he can stop choking on the stench from Hoseok’s
corpse. He’s starting to feel nauseous, and drops his entire body against
Seokjin’s.
“Don’t look, Taehyungie,” Seokjin says again, his hand firmly clamped over
Taehyung’s eyes. “Don’t look.”
Taehyung isn’t looking, but even with his eyes shut he can see the slashed skin
and the organs, arranged in a heap like they’re on display at the market. He
isn’t looking anymore, and he’s desperately burying his nose into Seokjin’s
sweet-smelling collar, but the air is thick with the smell of blood and rot,
and Taehyung fears it will follow him for the rest of his life.
“Did you get me a lawyer?” Jimin asks, tugging against his handcuffs. His
wrists are too small for them, but he still can’t slide his hands out. “Or are
you suddenly a lawyer now?”
“I’m not a lawyer.” Yoongi pockets his phone, taking a seat across the table
from him. “And you’re not getting one.”
“Mommy would have gotten me a lawyer.” Jimin grumbles, leaning back into his
chair. He spreads his legs, letting his shoes scuff loudly against the floor so
Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Ms. Kim is dead,” Yoongi says, blinking at Jimin blankly.
“As much as I know you like seeing me in handcuffs,” Jimin leans forward,
resting his chest on the edge of the table as he stares the older man down.
“You can’t leave me here.”
“I don’t really have a say in the matter.”
“You work for the richest assholes in this country, Daddy, can’t you get me out
of here?” Jimin whines.
“Maybe if you hadn’t gone and killed my new employer-”
Jimin pushes the table with his chest, ramming it into Yoongi’s, knocking the
breath out of them both.
“You know I didn’t do that.” Jimin says, leaning back into his chair as he
slides both his feet up onto it.
Yoongi gives him a smile that pulls past his gums. “I was just messing with
you.”
“Come on, Daddy,” Jimin stretches a leg out to place one foot on Yoongi’s
crotch. “You don’t wanna leave me here. Another guy might… hurt  me.”
Yoongi’s smile widens as Jimin starts stroking his foot against the older man’s
dick. “Trust me, you’re way safer in here.”
Jimin stops stroking and presses his foot into Yoongi’s crotch. “What do you
mean? What happened?”
Yoongi shoves Jimin’s foot away. “Someone else’s been killed in that
godforsaken house.”
“Who?” Jimin asks, his eyes widening. “...Taehyung?”
“No, it was the head of security.”
“What?  Hoseok ?” Jimin’s hands cover his mouth, the handcuffs tinkling against
each other like bells.
“Is that his name? I don’t know, I’ve never slept with him.” Yoongi says,
folding his arms as he looks at a bad paint job on the wall.
Jimin huffs, then quickly rubs Yoongi’s dick with his foot again.
“I just needed to get into the security system, Daddy, I’m just trying to get
m-  our  money,” Jimin pouts, keeping his voice a low purr. “I don’t love him.
I love you.”
Yoongi sighs, moving his legs slightly to give Jimin better access. He glances
at the security camera observing them, before looking back at Jimin.
“You know we’re not in her will, right?” Yoongi says. “Only Taehyung and
Jungkook are.”
Jimin slows his foot down. “You’ve seen it?”
“I was there when she had it notarized.” Yoongi says, pushing himself against
Jimin’s foot impatiently. “And when she hid it in Chairman Kim’s house.”
“Bullshit.” Jimin breathes, moving his foot faster.
“She did, in the room where- Ugh,” Yoongi grunts, bucking his hips against
Jimin’s foot. “Where she and Chairman Kim made Taehyung.”
“Shit.”
Yoongi watches Jimin, lost in thought as he rubs his foot against Yoongi’s dick
in an almost savage manner. Jimin’s little pink lips are parted, muttering to
himself, and his eyebrows furrowed. Yoongi loves to see him like this, and
throws whatever part of his pride Jimin hasn’t destroyed out the window.
“Oh,  fuck ,” Yoongi moans, cumming in his pants like a kid.
Chapter End Notes
     i feel like shit today feel free to hit me up in the comments or on
     the_twitter if u wanna scream about kpop with me
***** Awake *****
Chapter Notes
     There’s a lot of vomiting in this chapter… just a heads up…
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seokjin places a plate of scrambled eggs onto the table in front of Taehyung.
Taehyung stares at it, seeing the gentle way the scrambled eggs are piled on
each other, like they had spilled out of something or someone. He feels the
bile rise to his mouth, and can still smell that deep rotting stench that had
penetrated every room in the east wing the night before.
“Do I need to feed you?” Seokjin asks, pulling up the chair next to Taehyung’s.
Taehyung shakes his head.
“You need to eat.” Seokjin insists, picking up a silver spoon.
Taehyung shakes his head.
Seokjin looks around to check that the maid mopping the floor has left the tea
room. He turns back to Taehyung, caressing his little brother’s face gently.
“Come on, baby, just eat a little.”
Taehyung shakes Seokjin’s hand off.
“Baby,” Seokjin grabs Taehyung’s chair, turning it to face him. Seokjin slides
his hands around Taehyung’s back and down to his ass, pulling him up into his
lap. “Baby, please do it for me.”
Their faces are so close together that Taehyung is sure Seokjin can smell the
vomit in his mouth.
“Please,” Seokjin says, licking a line up the side of Taehyung’s neck. “Please,
baby, I’ll give you a prize if you’re a good boy.”
Taehyung freezes. “What kind of prize?”
“Anything you want.”
Taehyung considers asking Seokjin to leave him alone for good. He’s about to
say so when someone knocks on the door.
“What is it?” Seokjin asks.
“Mr. Kim? There’s someone here for Taehyung,” A young maid calls through the
door.  
Seokjin looks at Taehyung, who’s starting outside the window at the slightly
overgrown shrubbery.
“Let them in.” Seokjin calls out, gently placing Taehyung back on the chair
next to him.
 
Jungkook taps his fingers on the table as he gazes lazily at a portrait of
Taehyung’s father hanging on the wall. He isn’t rubbernecking to look at all
the artwork covering every inch of the tearoom walls, like most first-time
visitors to Chairman Kim’s house would. Taehyung watches the boy’s fingers as
he drums a dull beat into the mahogany table. He has blue paint under his short
nails, which are starting to scratch the varnish on the wood slightly, leaving
very faint blue marks.
 “Why are you here?” Taehyung asks, watching the ripples in the untouched cups
of tea on the table between them.
“I came to get you out of here.” Jungkook says, still looking at Chairman Kim’s
likeness.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” Jungkook turns to Taehyung. “You don’t wanna leave?
Three people have been murdered here in the past two weeks, Taehyung-”
“How do you know that?” Taehyung frowns, looking into Jungkook’s eyes. “The
third one happened just this morning.”
“Mr. Min told me.” Jungkook says, glaring right back at Taehyung. “I’ll give
you a couple minutes to get all your stuff, the taxi I took is waiting outside,
we’ll go to my place, I’ll let you have the bed and I’ll crash on the couch-”
“I’m not going.” Taehyung leans back into his chair.
“Do you seriously want to stay in this house? Are you insane?” Jungkook starts
tapping on the table more aggressively, taking a few breaths to calm himself.
“Look, I… I know I’m practically a stranger to you, but I promise I’m not… I
don’t want anything from you like that. I’m just trying to get you out of here
before- I don’t know, okay, I just don’t want anything bad happening to you.”
“Why?
“Your mother was…” Jungkook sighs. “She was really nice to me, it’s the least I
can do for her son.”
Taehyung finds himself staring into Jungkook’s eyes. His gaze is honest, and
kind, and full of love - but not for Taehyung.
“I… I don’t want to bother you, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, looking down at the
table. “But thanks for worrying about me, I guess.”
“You can’t stay here.” Jungkook says.
Taehyung can’t disagree.
He holds the door open as Jungkook collects his jacket and walks out.
“Wait,” Taehyung says, seeing a figure shift down the hallway, in the archway
to the kitchen.
Jungkook turns to him. “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to say thanks again,” Taehyung says, tiptoeing ever so slightly
to leave a soft kiss on Jungkook’s lips.
Jungkook kisses him back, gingerly cupping Taehyung’s chin in one hand.
Taehyung kisses him again, sucking in the taste of black coffee from Jungkook’s
mouth. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the figure slinks back into
the kitchen.
“Please stay with me,” Jungkook whispers into Taehyung’s open mouth.
“I can’t.” Taehyung inhales as much of Jungkook’s bitter breath as he can
before adding, “I’m sorry.”
Jungkook replies with a sigh as Taehyung weaves his fingers into his hair.
Jungkook’s hands slide down, his fingers brushing Taehyung’s neck and
collarbone as he reaches to grab Taehyung’s chest.
Jungkook stops kissing him back.
Taehyung pulls away, watching Jungkook stuff his hands into his pockets self-
consciously.
“I really look like my mother, don’t I?” Taehyung asks, swiping his own spit
off the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.
“I- I- I don’t- I didn’t-” Jungkook’s face flushes. “Yes.”
“But not enough.” Taehyung says with a sad smile.
“No.” Jungkook says, looking at his shoes. “Not enough.”
Taehyung hears the sound of plates clinking against the sink in the kitchen.
“Take care, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, pressing a quick kiss into the boy’s
cheek.
“You take care of yourself too.” Jungkook frowns at him. “You can always come
to me, but if you don’t want to, just… Get out of here.”
“I will.” Taehyung says.
 
Taehyung rushes down the hallway, away from the kitchen and away from the west
wing. He climbs up the stairs to the east wing, skipping two steps at a time,
and doesn’t stop at the second-floor landing. Even so, he can smell the acrid
substance the staff had used to scrub the second floor clean, and gags as he
dashes to his room, locking the door behind him.
He pushes the desk up against the door, and reaches for his phone.
He opens up a new tab and looks up the next direct flight to Paris.
You are not connected to the internet, the tab informs him.
Taehyung frowns as he opens up the wifi settings. He’s connected to the home
network, but nothing else. He tries to call Min Yoongi, but his phone appears
to have been cut off from calls and texts as well.
Someone knocks on his door.
Taehyung holds his breath, standing still so as not to let the floor creak
under him.
The person knocks on his door again, regardless. “Taehyung, are you there?”
“Hang on, I’m in the bathroom.” Taehyung calls as he drags the desk away from
the door as quietly as he can.
He opens the door. “Why?”
“Have you seen Seokjin-hyung?” Namjoon asks, reading something off his phone in
one hand, while his other hand adjusts his suit jacket.
“No.”
“Why the hell would he leave without saying so?” Namjoon grumbles. “I needed
him to sign something.”
“Oh.” Taehyung says, trying to mask the relief in his voice. “Oh, and hyung?”
“What is it?” Namjoon looks up from his phone, his lips pursed in irritation.
“There’s no wifi.” Taehyung says, waving his phone.
Namjoon frowns at him for some time, until the realization dawns on him like
sunrise in the winter. “Fuck. My mom’s usually the one who pays the bills for
that sort of thing. She probably didn’t pay them before… I’ll do it later.”
“Okay. Thanks, hyung.” Taehyung says.
“Sure.” Namjoon mutters, as something on his phone grabs his interest. He picks
up a dark briefcase he’d rested against the wall, then walks off.
 
Taehyung charms the maid mopping the hallways outside into lending him her
phone, then frantically searches for the flight schedule to Paris.
“Do you mind if I use some of your mobile data?” Taehyung asks, looking her
directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, I really don’t have anything right now. I’ll
pay you back for it if you want…”
She blushes and looks away. “No, it’s okay, sir.”
“I told you, there’s no need to call me ‘sir.’” Taehyung smiles at her.
“Save it for Namjoon.” He says with a wink.
The maid covers her face and turns to face the wall, her ears a bright pink.
Taehyung finds a flight set to leave at 9 in the evening, and tries to book it.
When he types in his credit card details, the site rejects it.
He tries again, on his second credit card, which is also rejected. He tries the
first one again, thinking he’d mistyped something on the maid’s tiny phone.
It’s also rejected, and the site politely lets him know that he will no longer
be allowed any attempts to add credit card details.
“Shit.” Taehyung breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. He knew that his
entire life was a waiting game for when his father would finally cut him off,
but he had never thought it would actually happen. And not at a time like this.
“Is anything wrong, sir?” The maid asks.
“Can I make a call?” Taehyung asks, fishing into his pocket for his phone.
“Yes, of course, sir.”
Taehyung copies Min Yoongi’s number onto the maid’s phone and hits the call
button. He taps his foot as he listens to the fake ringing noise. The maid
wrings her hands.
“You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Taehyung reminds her.
“Of course not, sir.” The maid assures him, nodding forcefully.
Taehyung reaches out and tucks her hair back behind her ear. “Thanks.”
The maid covers her red face again.
Taehyung listens as the service tells him that Min Yoongi is currently
unavailable and he ought to try calling again later. Taehyung wants to smash
the phone on the floor, but the floor is carpet and it looks like the maid had
saved up for a year or two to afford this model.
“If it’s an emergency, sir, I could ask Mrs. Hwang-”
“No.” Taehyung cuts her off, glaring in her direction. “I said don’t tell
anybody.”
“I won’t.” The maid says, backing up against the locked door. “I promise.”
“Good.” Taehyung heaves a fake sigh of relief, and shoots her a fake smile.
“I’m sorry for raising my voice, I’m just really stressed right now.”
“It’s okay, I understand, sir.”
“Thanks,” Taehyung tucks the other side of her hair behind her other ear,
letting his fingertips linger on the side of her face.
The maid looks up at him, panting like she’d just run a quarter mile.
Taehyung pulls her into a kiss, then feels himself vomit in their mouths as he
gets a whiff of her uniform. It smells like detergent, bleach, and a little bit
of floor polish, but underneath is that cloying, throat-closing stench that
Taehyung couldn’t seem to escape.
The maid backs up into the door, wiping her mouth on her sleeve in disgust.
“I’m sorry.” Taehyung says, trying to lick the taste of vomit off the back of
his teeth.
“I should go…sir.” The maid says, her fingers scraping against the door as they
hunt for the doorknob. She’s still wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“I’m sorry.” Taehyung says again.
 
Taehyung can’t help but fidget under the table as he watches his father and
Namjoon chew their food in the same slow, disinterested manner.
“Father,” Taehyung says.
His father and Namjoon keep chewing, reading something or the other on their
respective phones.
“Father.” Taehyung says, raising his voice a little bit.
Namjoon looks up momentarily, like a fly had buzzed in front of his face.
“Father!” Taehyung says, just a step below a shout.
“There’s no need to yell, Taehyung. What is it?” Namjoon asks.
“I was wondering if Father wanted to go out for a few drinks.” Taehyung says,
ignoring his brother as he looks desperately in his father’s direction.
“Your mother just died.”
“That was my mother, Father.” Namjoon corrects him.
“No.” Their father looks up. “I was talking about Taehyung’s mother.”
Namjoon purses his lips and stares at the broccoli sitting on his plate.
“Well,” Taehyung says. “Would you like to go out for a few drinks, Father?”
“I don’t think it would be appropriate, considering…” The chairman makes an
insensitive gesture that involves his neck and death.
“Mother wouldn’t have minded.” Taehyung says, and he knows with the look his
father’s giving him that he’s absolutely right.
 
Taehyung attempts to pour his father another shot like a dutiful son, but the
liquor spills over the rim of the glass and onto the table. He bows lightly as
he passes the shot over, the clear liquid sloshing over the edges as his hands
wobble.
There is only one dim light in the private room his father had rented in the
hotel bar, and Taehyung is grateful that the low lighting is masking how sober
he actually is.
“Just put it down. There.” Chairman Kim says, his eyebrows furrowed in dazed
concentration.
Taehyung lowers the glass onto the table hard, like he can’t control his hands.
“It’s nice to…” Taehyung pauses, taking a few breaths like he’s trying to keep
his dinner down. “Spend time with you before I leave.”
His father slams the empty glass back onto the table, sliding it over to
Taehyung. “Leave?”
“Go back…” Taehyung shoots a glance in his father’s general direction. “To
Paris?”
“Paris?”
He sees a shift in his father’s expression, from confusion to utter
bewilderment.
“I live there? I’m going back? After this?” Taehyung says slowly, easing a
drawl into his words as he sloshes some soju into the vicinity of the shot
glass.
“I heard you the first time.” His father says, taking the mostly full shot.
“You’re not going back there. You’re staying here for good.”
Taehyung pours himself a shot, then lets it dribble down his chin and onto the
front of his shirt. “In the house?”
“No, no, no…” His father shakes his deep plum-colored face, which is gaunt and
droopy and unlike any of his sons’. “You have to find your own. Get a job, the
works.”
Taehyung doesn’t stop pouring even when the shot glass is full, but entirely on
accident.
“Your mother kept trying to convince me…that you were a child, and you still
needed my help,” His father laughs. “I believed her…”
“I’ll still have to go back to Paris to get my stuff.”
“…You’re older than she was when I first met her…” His father says, his eyes no
longer able to make contact with Taehyung’s. He laughs to himself. “…You look
the same… But she was smarter…”
“Father.” Taehyung says, trying to dial down on the desperation in his voice.
“I just need to get back to Paris.”
“No, no, no… I fell for that once; do you think I’d fall for it again?” His
father asks, laughing so hard he has to swipe a tear from the corner of one
eye. “You crazy witch.”
Taehyung pours his father another shot, then drinks the rest of the bottle
straight for himself.
“You don’t know how difficult you’ve made things…Honey.” His father’s eyes are
completely glazed over, and the effect on top of his white-streaked irises
makes the hairs on the nape of Taehyung’s neck stand up. “If only you didn’t
have to die…”
Taehyung freezes in the middle of pouring a shot for his father, and empties
the rest of the bottle onto the table.
“If only you could still be here with me, honey…If only you could’ve played
well with the others…” His father’s hands slap uselessly onto the table,
splashing onto the puddle of spilled soju. He starts caressing the table
gently, lowering his face onto it and leaving open-mouthed kisses, breathing,
“I miss you, honey” over and over again.
Taehyung opens another bottle and swallows its entire contents in one go, then
opens his next bottle.
 
Probably a few hours later, Taehyung stumbles into the foyer, letting his coat
slide off his shoulders and onto the marble floor. The world had started
spinning wildly when he’d been on his fifth bottle, and after that he had lost
count. He didn’t even know how he had gotten home from the hotel, but he’s not
complaining. He can vaguely hear the staff helping his father with his coat,
and his father shouting at them to leave him be, he’s a grown man they ought to
leave him be.
Taehyung drops his body onto the sofa. He watches a shadow pass over the light
from the hallway.
“Honey!” His father shouts from the hallway, followed by a fit of wheezing
chuckles. “I’ll be in the room! Hurry up!”
Taehyung vomits onto his shirt and a throw pillow. For several reasons.
He’s not entirely sure if he’s dreaming, but he can still smell the vomit as he
drags his body up the east wing stairs. His dreams don’t usually hurt this
much, or smell this bad.
Taehyung’s knees buckle slightly on the second-floor landing. He grabs onto the
balustrade to steady himself. It’s dark and his eyes are unfocused, and all he
can distinguish is a thin line of warm light from the mauve room.
Something passes over the line, and he assumes it’s his drunk father.
“Is that you, Honey?” His father calls from inside the room.
The figure pauses, one of his long legs blocking almost all the light from the
mauve room. He turns to Taehyung, and the light glints momentarily off a large
blade.
Run. Taehyung tries to pull his body up to let him scramble away.
The figure, cloaked in the almost pitch darkness of the hallway, storms towards
him.
“No, please,” Taehyung begs, his legs completely giving way. He feels warm
liquid gush down his pant legs and into his shoes as he falls in a heap on the
landing. “Please, don’t hurt me, please please please-”
“Please please don’t hurt me, I’m not anything…” Taehyung sits in a puddle of
his own urine, his eyes and nose starting to run because he can’t. “I won’t get
in your way, please don’t hurt me…”
The door to the mauve room swings open, casting a sheet of light onto the
hallway.
Taehyung still can’t see the man’s face, but he can pick out the entire knife
held in his hand.
“Please don’t hurt me.” Taehyung begs, screwing his eyes shut. “Please.”
Taehyung doesn’t know how long he stays there like that, but the next thing he
hears is a dry, strangled cry from his father.
Taehyung opens his eyes a crack to see his father pull the knife out of his
bloodied chest, then make a jab at the silhouetted man.
The man hisses in pain as the knife connects with his left hand, then tears the
blade out of his hand and shoves it deep into the Chairman’s face.
The lights go out.
Or, at least, they do for Taehyung.
Chapter End Notes
     This is a very short chapter, and I’m sorry about that, but a lot of
     things happened,.. in their own way
     (@ Alu are u happy)
***** Mama *****
Chapter Notes
     Thanks to everyone who left kudos & comments! I'm glad you guys
     enjoyed this shit, but it's ending soon :(
     Don't worry, there's still a lot more crazy shit to come ;) ;) ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Chairman Kim is survived by his sons Seokjin and Namjoon,”  A reporter blares
on.
Jimin squirms in his seat, trying to hear more from the guard’s radio. The
guard suddenly switches it off, checking a text on his phone.
“Park Jimin?” He calls into the cell.
“That’s him.” Jimin says, pointing at an unsuspecting, tattoo-covered ape
sitting across the cell from him.
The guard turns to the confused thug, saying, “You’re being released. Your
lawyer’s waiting outside.”
“Oh.” Jimin says, standing up with a catlike stretch. “In that case, I’m Park
Jimin.”
Jimin finds Min Yoongi waiting for him, causally smoking a cigarette in front
of a No Smoking sign outside the precinct. He’s still wearing the same black
suit he usually wears, but his jacket is more crumpled than usual.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Jimin says, wrapping one arm around the personal assistant
to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. “I thought you weren’t a lawyer.”
“I’m not.” Min Yoongi grunts and holds out a plastic bag full of fresh clothes.
“Chairman Kim’s been murdered.”
“Oh, finally.” Jimin sighs as they walk towards the lone black Range Rover
parked on the street.
“Don’t say things like that, or they’re going to throw you back in.” Yoongi
holds the door open for Jimin to climb into the back seat.  
“You’ll just bail me out again.” Jimin says, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Won’t you, Daddy?”
“Hurry up.” Min Yoongi starts the car, adjusting the mirrors like a responsible
driver. He smirks, watching Jimin get dressed through the mirror.
Jimin snakes his hands out to wrap around Min Yoongi’s neck, pulling him in a
tight hold against his backrest. He licks up the older man’s neck, stopping to
nibble on his earlobe. “What’s gonna happen to you now? All your employers are
dead.”
“I’ll be fine.” Yoongi throws Jimin’s hands off his neck. Jimin leans forward
and bites Yoongi’s neck, sucking on his skin until he sees blood rush up right
below the surface. Yoongi swats him away. “Can’t you wait till we get back to
your place?”
“We have to go get Taehyung first.”
Min Yoongi frowns. “Taehyung?”
Jimin rolls his eyes, climbing into the front seat. “We’re not gonna fuck him,
we just have to get him out of that goddamned house.”
“Jungkook already tried.” Min Yoongi mutters. “He doesn’t want to go.”
“Of course he wouldn’t go with Jungkook, he doesn’t trust anyone who’s slept
with his mother. Which is reasonable.” Jimin clicks his seatbelt on. “He’ll
listen to me.”
Min Yoongi seriously doubts it, but swerves the car in the direction of the Kim
estate anyway.
_
Taehyung had been six years old when he’d first walked in on his mother having
sex with someone. It’s among his first and most vivid memories, along with
being pushed off a slide for being the son of a single mother.
He’d been having trouble sleeping, so his mother had left all the doors to
their rooms in the entire hotel suite unlocked so he could climb into bed with
her.
She must have forgotten about that, because Taehyung had been able to slip into
her room to find her splayed on her bed, with her manager kneeling at the foot
of the bed, face buried between Taehyung’s mother’s legs. His mother was
moaning softly, in the voice she used to sing him lullabies.
“Taehyung,” She’d said, reaching for her silk dressing robe thrown onto the
floor. The manager, unable to think of what else to do, had stood to one side
with a dazed expression.
“Mama?” Taehyung had frowned, standing frozen in the doorway. “Why is Ms. Bae
here?”
“She’s comforting me.” Taehyung’s mother had said, tying her dressing gown
calmly. It was the same every time he had walked in on her afterwards – her
lover scrambling to get dressed and get out, while his mother took her time, as
though Taehyung had just woken her up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Kim.” The manager said quickly, scrambling past
Taehyung. Taehyung’s mother had given her a regal nod in reply, before patting
the sheets next to her.
Taehyung sat beside his mother as she draped an arm around his shoulders.
“Can’t sleep?” His mother asked.
“Nope.” Taehyung leaned into his mother’s warmth. She was extra warm, the deep
floral scent of her perfume coming off her like steam. “What was Ms. Bae
doing?”
“We were having sex.” Taehyung mother had said, brushing her fingers through
his hair. She’d let it grow past his shoulders in soft waves, like hers. “It’s
a way that adults play with each other to feel good.”
“Why were you doing it?”
“Because I’m sad, and Ms. Bae wanted me to feel better.”
“Why are you sad?”
“Because,” Taehyung’s mother stopped brushing his hair. “Your father is going
to take you away from me.”
“I don’t have a father.”
“The Chairman is your father, Taehyung, remember?”
Taehyung frowned. “He’s too old to be my father.”
Taehyung’s mother laughed. “You’re going to live with him and his wife and his
son…I suppose they’re your mother and brother now.”
“I don’t want a brother.” Taehyung’s frown deepened. “And you’re my only
mother. I’m supposed to live with you.”
“I wish you could, but it’s not my choice, Taehyung.”
“Why not?”
“Because the Chairman has all the money, so he makes all the decisions.”
Taehyung’s mother had kissed him on the top of his soft, dark brown hair. “If
you’re a good boy and he likes you, then you’ll have some of that money when he
dies, and then you’ll be able to decide things for yourself.”
“I don’t care about the Chairman.” Taehyung blinked his tears into his mother’s
silk robe. “I don’t want his money.”
“You don’t want it now, but you’ll need it when you’re older, Taehyung, trust
me,” Taehyung’s mother held him tight, speaking gently into the top of his
head. “Promise me you’ll be good and make the Chairman like you, okay?”
Taehyung sniffled into her robe. “Yes, Mama.”
He hoped the Chairman would die soon.
_
Taehyung wakes up to green.
The sunlight is bouncing off the walls, painting everything a dull emerald,
including his pale, numb hands. He throws the covers back and gets up to find
himself in a fresh set of pajamas a size too large for him. He’s hungry, and
even though every time he closes his eyes he sees the blood gushing out of his
father’s in a dark, lazy fountain, he’s still hungry.
Taehyung pulls a letter opener out of the desk drawer and tucks it into his
pocket before he leaves the Green Room. His stomach growls as he pads his way
gently down the acrid hallway, and even though he can smell rot and bleach and
the sharp metallic sting of blood, he’s still hungry.
The house is cold and collecting dust as he walks through, without running into
a single maid or seeing a single gardener tending to the topiaries out the
window. The chef and her staff are also absent from the kitchen, where there’s
an abandoned cutting board covered in rotting vegetables.
Taehyung opens the refrigerator to find it empty save for a moldy piece of
cheese and a single egg.
He takes the egg from the tray, then shuts the refrigerator door.
A dark silhouette reflects off the door from behind him.
Taehyung’s hand slips down into his pocket.
“What are you doing here?” Namjoon asks.
“I’m making breakfast.” Taehyung says. He turns to face Namjoon, his hand
curling in a fist around the letter opener handle.
“Just eat out. I don’t want you burning the house down.” Namjoon frowns at him,
his hands buried deep into the pockets of his suit.
There’s a low buzz, and Namjoon pulls his phone out of his pocket with one
hand. “Hello?”
Taehyung watches him walk out of the kitchen, his eyes trained on the hand
Namjoon was keeping tucked away in his pocket as he spoke.
“Yes, I’ll be handling the business until all of Father’s affairs are in
order.” Namjoon turns to exit the kitchen, his hand still in his pocket. “No,
we’re having a private funeral. Family only.”
Taehyung lays the egg gently on the kitchen counter and follows his half-
brother, tiptoeing over the tiled floor.
“Father’s ex-wife and Seokjin-hyung will be attending.” Namjoon’s toe stubs on
the edge of a carpet, causing him to stumble. “…No, he isn’t.”
Namjoon extends his right hand, grabbing on a nearby table to steady himself.
Taehyung stops dead in his tracks.
“I hope you understand why we won’t be letting people into the house for a few
days,” Namjoon says, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he
massages his bandaged hand. “We’ll be keeping the house on lockdown until we
find out where the security breach-”
Taehyung drops the letter opener onto the marble floor with a resounding clang
that echoes through the hall as he starts running in the opposite direction.
_
Jimin kicks the metal gate, but it doesn’t budge. “Ow. Fuck.”
Min Yoongi pockets his phone. “They’re not letting anyone in or out for a few
days.”
“We don’t have a few days.” Jimin says, trying to see even a little bit of the
white mansion down the tree-lined drive. “Taehyung could be dead in a few
days.”
“Would that really be so bad?”
“Are you serious? He’s one of my best friends.” Jimin grabs Yoongi by the
collar. “And he’s about to come into a shit-ton of inheritance.”
“Is the money really worth it?”
“You’re unemployed now, so you don’t have the right to say shit like that.”
Jimin says, turning back to the gate. He looks it up and down, sizing it up
like he’s either about to beat it to a pulp or jump it. “Give me a boost.”
“No.”
Jimin grabs Yoongi by the collar again. “If you want your cock sucked ever
again, give me a fucking boost.”
“Jimin, think about it. Whoever killed the Chairman might still be in there-”
“Okay, I’m done thinking.” Jimin cuts in. “We need to get Taehyung out of
there. Give me a boost.”
Yoongi sighs, then shuts his eyes and groans loudly. “I  am  a lawyer.”
“Okay…congrats? Now give me a boost, attorney.”
“Listen to me.” Yoongi takes Jimin’s hands in his own. Their palms are cold and
sweaty, but he holds fast to Jimin’s hands anyway.
“I’ll work at some fucking law firm for you. I’ll never make as much money as
you would get from these crazy-ass people, but we’ll be fine.” Yoongi looks
Jimin right in the eyes. “We’ll be alive, and we won’t have anything to do with
this fucking family and their bullshit.”
Jimin blinks. “I don’t do commitment.”
“Neither do I – Forget what I just said. I’m just asking you to do the smart
thing, and stay away from this shit. It’s not worth it.”
Jimin breathes, his face so close to Yoongi’s that his breath fans back into
his face. “But Taehyung-”
“He had his chance to leave, but he didn’t want to. That’s his fucking problem.
We tried.” Yoongi says, his lips just an inch away from Jimin’s. “Let’s just
walk away.”
“Would you be able to live with yourself if something happened to Taehyung?”
“Yes.”
“What about if something happened to me?”
“No.”
Jimin lips curl into a smile. That’s all he needs to hear. Jimin leans forward
to kiss Yoongi on the lips – no tongue, no teeth, just one long, soft kiss in
front of the property where four people had died in the past couple of weeks.
“This is a weird place for a first kiss.” Yoongi mutters.
“That wasn’t our first kiss.” Jimin frowns.
“It’s the first one with my dick outside of your ass.”
“Really?” Jimin smiles, and wraps his arms around Yoongi. “But I like those
kinds of kisses more.”
Yoongi grins, pulling Jimin towards the parked Range Rover. “Me too.”
_
Taehyung watches the door, panting. He’d already shoved the desk and the
dresser up against it hours ago, but his heart is still hammering away against
his ribcage.
He backs against the window, feeling his legs start to tremble underneath him.
His phone is dead, but it can’t call for help anyway. He could scream, but it
doesn’t seem like anyone’s around to help him.
Taehyung crumples against the wall, his knees having given way. It was simple
enough. Namjoon wanted the company, but his parents weren’t the type to retire.
Taehyung didn’t think that his half-brother would resort to this, but then
again, he had hardly known his half-brother before he left, what more after 5
years away?
But why did he have to kill Taehyung’s mother? He could have just refused her
the money, refused her advances.
Taehyung is cold, and too tired to stand as the tears start running down his
cheeks. He wanted someone to hold him, to run their fingers through his hair
and tell him that things would be all right, even if they had to lie to his
face.
Taehyung wants everything to just disappear. The money that took his mother
away from him before he could truly love her, and took her away from him before
he could see her again. He wants everything gone.
He wants everything gone.
It takes a few minutes for the room to fill up with smoke around him, the fire
only warming up is skin, leaving his bones cold and-
“Taehyung! Open the door!” The voice sounds distant, along with whatever’s
pounding against the door.
Taehyung’s eyes sting, blurred with tears and unable to tell the top of the
blazing room from the bottom. The dusty green has given way to a bright orange,
gray, and black.
He hears something like a crash, and feels something rain down on him, but he’s
already half gone.
_
Taehyung feels the air damp with rain, but the house behind them is still
engulfed in fire, with the rain coming off it in a thick steam.
It’s so bright and warm that Taehyung thinks it must be daytime, but as they
move away from the house, the cold night air cuts against his skin.
“What’s happening?” Someone says, out of Taehyung’s mouth.
“The house is on fire.”
“I didn’t do it.” Someone replies, out of Taehyung’s mouth again.
“I know.”
Taehyung’s drenched by the time he’s lowered gently under a tree. The house
appears another story taller than usual, with the flames climbing higher and
higher. He’s soaked with rain and half a kilometer away, but Taehyung still
feels the fire’s warmth, and it’s welcome.
“Stay here. I’m going to look for Namjoon.”
Taehyung can’t reply as he leans against the tree, watching the flames burst
out of the fake French windows in succession, like a string of firecrackers.
The fire has illuminated the skeleton of the house, each window serving as
another eye socket staring blankly back at Taehyung. The flames rip through the
house in a roar, but Taehyung can hardly hear it. He’s warm, cozy, and almost
at peace.
A figure stumbles through the mist, towards him.
“What the fuck have you done?”
Taehyung blinks away soot to see Namjoon, bleeding out of a large wound on his
forehead and with one badly burned leg, staggering towards him.
“What the  fuck  have you  done ?”
Taehyung is jolted out of his reverie by two large hands closing around his
neck.
“…should’ve killed you…had the chance…” Namjoon pants, tightening his grip
around Taehyung’s throat. “…fucking nuisance…”
“H-hyung-” Taehyung gasps, the corners of his eyesight going dark in a very
definite, final way.
“…this was mine…it was  mine …” Namjoon wrings Taehyung’s throat harder. The
bandage from his hand is slipping, so he holds Taehyung’s throat in one hand
and tears it off with his teeth.
“Help-” Taehyung gasps, frowning at way the palms closing around his throat
feel. Unbroken. “Please-”
“You shouldn’t have even existed in the first place- !” Namjoon screams
suddenly, dropping Taehyung onto the ground.
Taehyung scrambles against the fallen leaves, trying to help himself up or turn
himself over to gasp for more air.
He feels something warm splatter onto him.
Taehyung knows this smell. He knows it better than anyone should.
A large hand reaches under him and help him sit up. It’s wet with blood,
leaving dark prints in Taehyung’s shirt.
“Taehyungie,” Seokjin says, his voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”
Taehyung looks up at Seokjin, sweat gluing his hair to his face and washing
away the flecks of blood splattered across it. In the shadow of the burning
house’s harsh glow, his eyes look as kind as they always have, but with an edge
of exhaustion and tears brimming on his lower lashes.
“Yes.” Taehyung manages to say in a whisper, leaning his head against his half-
brother’s chest.
Seokjin presses a kiss into Taehyung’s sooty forehead. “Everything’s going to
be all right.”
He reaches up and starts brushing Taehyung’s hair with one hand.
“I’m here,” Seokjin says, placing his other hand over Taehyung’s. “Everything
is going to be all right.”
Taehyung looks down at the bandage around Seokjin’s left hand, through which a
rectangle of blood is seeping.
Chapter End Notes
     I didn't intend for the Yoonmin to be this soft but,,, there it is.
***** Lost *****
The morning light is bright and warm and scares Taehyung for a moment, before
he realizes it’s only the sun streaming in through the window. He’s naked, but
wrapped in a thick duvet and resting against a down pillow that smells faintly
of jasmine. He doesn’t think he can move, but he has no intention to.
The night before seems to be caught in a haze of distinct details.
 
He had carried Taehyung into the apartment, straight to the bathroom.
Taehyung watched as Seokjin peeled away his charred clothes before gently
lowering him into a tub full of warm water.
He shut his eyes and smiled as Seokjin washed his hair, running his fingers
down Taehyung’s scalp over and over again the way he liked it. Seokjin scrubbed
the dirt and soot and blood off every inch of his skin, the pads of his fingers
rubbing circles all over Taehyung’s body.
“Hyung,” Taehyung moaned, guiding his half-brother’s hand down to his erect
cock.
“No, baby,” Seokjin left a kiss on Taehyung’s clean forehead, pulling his hand
back to reach for the towel. “Not yet.”
Taehyung felt the tears trickle out the corners of his eyes from desperation as
Seokjin patted the towel against him so softly that he felt close to coming
apart then and there.
“Hyung,” He begged.
“Baby,” Seokjin kissed him on the lips, his breath warm and reassuring in
Taehyung’s mouth. “Not yet.”
Taehyung lay naked on the bed, water from his damp hair mixing with his tears
to soak the sheets. “Hyung,” He called out, his voice cracking. “Please.”
The door to the bathroom opened, bathing Seokjin’s naked body is a lukewarm,
lazy light. He was busy wrapping a fresh bandage around his left hand, watching
Taehyung desperately pump his own dick.
“Shh, baby, let me,” Seokjin said, getting onto the bed on all fours to lick
away Taehyung’s tears. “I’ll make you feel good, baby.”
“Please,” Taehyung begged.
His half-brother kissed him briefly on the lips, before kneeling at the foot of
the bed to suck the pre-cum off Taehyung’s dick. Bracing his hands against
Taehyung’s thighs, Seokjin lowered himself until his lips closed around the
base of Taehyung’s cock. He moved his head up and down slowly, just to let
Taehyung get a feel of his dick sliding against the smooth inside of his mouth
and throat.
Taehyung’s knees shuddered, but Seokjin held his legs open.
Seokjin quickened his pace, letting Taehyung enjoy every time the tip of his
cock hit the back of Seokjin’s throat, making it tighten around it. Taehyung’s
nails scraped against the sheets for something to hold as Seokjin sucked his
cheeks in to rub them against the sides of Taehyung’s cock. When he felt
Taehyung was close, he pulled back a little to get the tip back onto his tongue
so he could massage it.
Taehyung moaned, tears blurring his vision as he came into Seokjin’s mouth.
Seokjin sucked on the tip a few more times, his hands wrapping around the base
to pump out every last drop into his mouth before pulling back slowly, and
leaving a small kiss on the tip of Taehyung’s softened dick.
“More,” Taehyung moaned, as Seokjin pressed sticky kisses all the way up his
torso, painting him with his own cum.
“What do you want, baby?”
Taehyung grabbed Seokjin’s face to bring it up to him, kissing him so hard he
could taste himself.
“I want you inside me.” Taehyung said, raising and spreading his legs to expose
his ass. “Like before.”
“Okay, baby,” Seokjin reached for his bedside table to pull out a bottle of
lube. He squirted some onto his right hand, then eased some around, then into
Taehyung’s hole with one finger. “Another?”
“Two more.” Taehyung whined.
Seokjin eased in another finger carefully.
“More. Your cock’s bigger than that.”
Seokjin eased in another finger, watching Taehyung closely. The latter’s eyes
were screwed tightly shut, with tears rolling freely out of their corners. “Is
it too much, baby?”
“You’re always too much.”
Seokjin pressed a kiss against Taehyung’s raised knee. “I don’t want to hurt
you.”
“You’d never hurt me.” Taehyung says, moving his hips to slide himself over his
half-brother’s fingers.
“No, I’d never.” Seokjin said, shoving his fingers down to the knuckle.
Taehyung moaned, feeling himself getting hard again. He was like a teenager
around Seokjin, always like it was his first time.
“Are you ready for me?” Seokjin asked, his lips against Taehyung’s knee.
“Yes. Go.”
Seokjin pulled his fingers out, rubbing the excess lube around his dick.
Taehyung spread his ass until the stretch burned, but even then he wasn’t ready
for half of Seokjin’s cock.
“Stop, stop,” Taehyung begged, crying so hard he couldn’t see Seokjin, but he
felt him stop sliding into Taehyung.
“No, go, please go,” Taehyung begged, trying to push Seokjin’s dick in further.
“All the way.”
Seokjin drew reassuring circles into Taehyung’s stomach as he pushed in slowly,
but without stopping until his hips hit Taehyung’s ass.
“Too much, it’s too much,” Taehyung cried, hardly able to breathe between sobs.
“Tell me when I can move,” Seokjin said, holding Taehyung firmly by the waist.
“I’ll be gentle.”
“No,” Taehyung gasped. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”
Seokjin slid himself out until only the tip was left, then rammed himself back
into Taehyung until their bones knocked into each other. Taehyung screamed,
gasping for air between sobs. Seokjin pulled out and pushed himself back in
again and again, listening closely to Taehyung’s desperate gasps in between.
“Faster.” Taehyung whined.
Seokjin reached around Taehyung’s thighs to lift his ass up, his hands holding
his younger half-brother firmly in place before he started bucking into him at
a pace so fast it left Taehyung caught between screaming, crying, and choking
on his tears.
Taehyung had already come onto his own stomach, and was a shivering mess
begging Seokjin to stop, but Seokjin kept ramming their bodies against each
other until he felt himself release deep inside of Taehyung.
“Oh,” Taehyung sighed, his eyelids fluttering.
Seokjin watched his half-brother pass out, his cock still squirting cum, wedged
deep inside of Taehyung.
 
Taehyung manages to get out of bed by the time the sun is well overhead, and
stagger towards the lovely smell wafting from the apartment’s kitchen.
He finds Seokjin, fully dressed in a light blue shirt and jeans, with a fresh
bandage around his left hand as he flips something in a pan. It smells warm and
sweet, and Taehyung sinks into one of the bar stools at the island, smiling.
Naturally, the first thing he asks is, “Did you kill my mother?”
Seokjin slides a perfectly browned crepe onto a plate, and places it in front
of Taehyung. “Yes.”
Taehyung watches his half-brother pour out a glass of milk for him. “Why?”
“Father asked me to.” Seokjin places a fork and knife next to Taehyung’s plate.
“But why?” Taehyung asks, picking up the fork.
Seokjin looks at him sadly. “I don’t know. I guess we never will.”
Taehyung frowns as he cuts into his crepe, watching the strawberry juice ooze
out. “But he loved her.”
“He did,” Seokjin reaches over for a plate of crisped bacon, which he also
places in front of Taehyung. “But she didn’t love him back. She just wanted
money.”
“I know.”
Seokjin holds out a piece of bacon to Taehyung, who bites into it obediently.
Taehyung frowns. “But then why did you kill Mrs. Kim?”
“Father wanted her gone.”
“And what about Father?”
“Namjoon wanted him gone.”
“And what about Namjoon?”
Seokjin pours a cup of coffee. “Why do you think?”
“Because the company’s yours now?” Taehyung asks, taking a bite of strawberry.
“No, I killed him because he was hurting you.” Seokjin smiles at him before
taking a sip of his scalding hot coffee. “But the company is mine now.”
Taehyung looks into his half-brother’s eyes, past the veneer of kindness and
obedience. “How long have you wanted it?”
“About as long as I’ve wanted you.”
Taehyung takes a deep breath, and pushes his plate away. “I’m going to the
police.”
Seokjin lowers his mug onto the granite countertop, never breaking eye contact
with Taehyung. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Taehyung gets off the bar stool and goes into the room to find some
clothes.
He doesn’t get far, because Seokjin pins him against a painting on the wall.
It’s abstract, yellowish peach, and rough against Taehyung’s body.
“Don’t make me hurt you, baby,” Seokjin growls into Taehyung’s ear.
Taehyung is aware of his dick pressing against the rough paint. “You wouldn’t.”
“I could.” Seokjin pushes Taehyung harder into the painting. “Don’t try me.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, hyung. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“You’re still my baby.”
“When you’re in jail I’m gonna sell the fucking company, and go back to Paris
and never have to see you ever again.” Taehyung says, through gritted teeth.
Seokjin chuckles, rubbing his clothed erection against Taehyung’s ass. “You
don’t really want that.”
“I’d love it.” Taehyung says, grinding up against the dick pressing against
him. “I never want to see you ever again.”
“You’d never feel me cum in your ass again.”
“I can live without it.”
“Really?” Seokjin asks, unzipping his jeans.
“Really.” Taehyung says, reaching backward to yank Seokjin’s underwear down.
“What do you really want, baby?” Seokjin asks, his hands already holding
Taehyung’s hips.
“I want you to cum in my ass.” Taehyung says flatly, bending forward until his
forehead is against the painting.
Seokjin, with the kindest, most obedient expression on his face, shoves his
dick into Taehyung. They don’t hear the apartment door click open, but they do
hear the mortified scream.
“Kim Seokjin!”
The first Mrs. Kim is standing in the doorway, her hands up against her mouth
like she’s about to vomit. “They told me you were dead!”
“M- Mother, I-” Seokjin stutters, slipping out of Taehyung and zipping his
pants up painfully around his erection.
“I wish you were dead!” His mother screams, hurling her purse at him. “It’d be
better than having a son like you!”
She claws at Seokjin with her manicured nails, still screaming as she scratches
him in the face. “You have never done anything right in your entire life!”
“He should be dead!” She screeches, one claw digging into Seokjin’s neck while
she points another at Taehyung’s naked form. “I worked so hard-! You don’t
deserve anything!”
Taehyung watches as Seokjin takes her scratches and insults, cowering slightly,
like this happened often.
“When the shareholders learn of this, you will lose everything!”
“Mother-”
“Don’t call me that, you don’t deserve to call me that after the disgusting-”
“M- Mother, I can’t- can’t breathe-” Seokjin gasps, blood trickling down his
neck as his mother tightens her grip on it. The blood seems to be draining from
his face and out of the holes in his neck, as he looks hopelessly in Taehyung’s
direction.
Taehyung watches his father’s first wife squeeze the life out of her son. He’s
willing to let her, if it means that Seokjin will be out of his life, forever.
“Help-” Seokjin begs, his face turned up at the ceiling in a desperate attempt
to breathe. Taehyung wonders if he had looked that way too, the night before,
and knows why Seokjin couldn’t just leave him to die. “Please-”
Taehyung pulls on the first Mrs. Kim’s scarf, causing her to choke and release
her hold of her son.
He calmly avoids her hands, ignoring the line her nail had cut into his cheek,
as he backs into the kitchen.
Taehyung feels as though he’s watching a silent movie, only seeing his hand
reach for the knife and sink it deep into the base of the first Mrs. Kim’s
neck, all the way to the handle. Blood spurts and gushes out onto her deep
peacock blue dress, and all over Taehyung’s naked body and the floor. She
scratches at his face, drawing blood, but Taehyung sees his hands remove the
blade, and stab it into her chest. He sees his hands move, as though they were
carrying out some mundane routine, to drive the knife in and out of the first
Mrs. Kim’s chest and face until she falls in a heap on the floor.
Taehyung hears the knife clatter onto the floor.
The rest of his senses come rushing in at once, first his sense of smell
assaulted by the metallic sharpness of blood, then his sense of touch covered
in the thick substance also pooling around his feet, then his common sense,
which had been largely inactive of late.
“Oh god.” Taehyung says, stumbling backward.
His shin knocks into Seokjin, who’s sitting against the wall, gasping for
breath. Taehyung’s knees give way, and he lets himself collapse onto the floor
next to Seokjin.
“I just killed your mother.” Taehyung’s hands start shaking. He feels like the
walls leaning in on him and weighing down on his shoulders. “I just killed your
mother.”
“Th- Thank you.” Seokjin says quietly, curling into Taehyung’s shoulder.
Taehyung feels something surge through him, like electricity, straightening out
whatever had him shaking in the first place. He leans his head against
Seokjin’s as they watch the blood drain out of his mother’s corpse.
“W- What do we do now?” Seokjin asks, panic and urgency creeping into his
voice.
Taehyung is silent.
“Taehyungie, what do we do now?” Seokjin asks again. It becomes clear to
Taehyung that his half-brother only killed and never dealt with the aftermath.
Taehyung looks into the eyes that once sent chills down his spine, and finds
himself able to stare into them without feeling anything but a mild sense of
pity. Without the people who’d told him how to live his entire life, Seokjin
was desperate enough to look to Taehyung for any semblance of direction.
Taehyung smiles as he slings an arm around Seokjin’s shoulders, letting the
older man cry into his bare, blood-splattered chest.
“Namjoon was keeping the police off my case, but what’s going to happen now?”
Seokjin asks between sobs. “I shouldn’t have killed him, I shouldn’t have- And
without Mother we’ll never get anything-”
“Shh, hyung,” Taehyung says, pressing his lips against his half-brother’s
forehead. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Wh- What are we going to do?”
Taehyung lifts Seokjin by the chin to force a kiss out of him. “The easiest way
out.”
“What?” Seokjin asks, frowning. Taehyung only smiles, a warm feeling of victory
spreading across his chest.
“We’ll die.”
 
Jimin wakes up to find himself staring at Yoongi’s white back. He can’t help
but press a kiss into it before wrapping his arms around it, tucking his face
into the curve of Yoongi’s neck.
“What’re you reading, Daddy?” Jimin purrs into Yoongi’s skin.
Yoongi scrolls down his phone, ignoring the younger man grinding into his back.
“Hey. Notice me,” Jimin whines, biting Yoongi’s shoulder.
Yoongi places his phone face down on the bedside table and turns back to Jimin,
his brow furrowed.
“All of them are dead.” Yoongi says.
“What?”
“All of them are dead.” Yoongi says, frowning into Jimin’s eyes. “The house
burned down last night. They were all there.”
“Even the first Mrs. Kim?” Jimin blinks. “And Taehyung?”
“Yeah.”
They lie there facing each other in complete silence for a few minutes.
“It’s all for the best,” Yoongi says finally. “It turns out they stood to
inherit nothing but debt.”
“You mean…Chairman Kim didn’t have any money?”
“Not anymore, apparently.”
***** Epilogue: Serendipity *****
Chapter Notes
     HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!! HAVE A FUN SP00KY TIME!!!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Taehyung thinks of home as he pours himself his morning coffee. This apartment
in Paris was his house, but home was a large white mansion just outside of
Seoul that no longer existed. His life had begun and ended in its east wing, as
far as anyone was concerned. He had lived far too much of his life in it to
feel anything short of passionate love or hate towards it. He wonders if anyone
still has photos of the house, on the off chance that he should forget what it
looked like.
Taehyung watches the figure in his bed stir, wrapping the white sheets around
itself.
“Baby,” Seokjin moans. “Baby, I need you.”
Taehyung lowers his coffee onto the countertop. “It’s only six in the morning…”
“Baby, please, I need you now.”
“Beg harder, maybe I might-”
“Baby!” Seokjin moans, so loud that the neighbors are definitely awake.
“Please!”
Taehyung smiles as he reaches into his pants to pull out his semi-hard cock.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to cum in my ass.”
“But I just did a little while ago. See?” Taehyung reaches down and swipes his
finger over Seokjin’s asshole, making him cry out.
“I want – I need it again.” Seokjin says, tears in his eyes.
“Are you ready for me again?” Taehyung asks, grinning as he brushes the tip of
his dick against Seokjin’s entrance.
“Yes, just- Please, now. Please.” Seokjin begs, his breath hardly catching up
with him.
Taehyung rubs the tip of his dick a little rougher against Seokjin’s asshole,
his grin widening as his half-brother squirms, tears streaming down his face.
“Hmm, maybe I’ll just fuck you again later, I’m tired.”
“No, please, just…Please.” Seokjin’s already spreading his asshole, which is
still slightly damp from the lube and cum Taehyung had filled it with just a
short while before.
Taehyung sees his own cum drying on the edges of his older half-brother’s
loosened pink hole, and feels a bead of pre-cum collect on the tip of his dick.
“Lick it.” Taehyung orders, kneeling over Seokjin to let the latter wet his
dick all over with spit.
Taehyung shuffles back to align his dick with Seokjin’s asshole, then push
himself mercilessly until he bottoms out, his bones knocking against his half-
brother’s.
Seokjin screams, the tears rolling down his cheeks in steady streams. Taehyung
begins pulling out slowly, drawing out a low whine from Seokjin. He pushes
himself back in, even deeper this time, making Seokjin scream again, and cry
harder. He thrusts into Seokjin until the latter’s legs are shaking.
“Stop, stop, it’s too much,” Seokjin breathes, the shudders travelling
throughout his entire body as he comes onto his stomach.
“No.” Taehyung says, thrusting harder.
“Stop, please,”
“No.” Taehyung holds Seokjin’s legs apart, his fingers digging into his half-
brother’s soft flesh as he rams his dick into Seokjin again and again.
“No more,” Seokjin begs, biting his lip until it bleeds. “Please, I can’t, I
can’t it’s too much, please, stop…”
“No.” Taehyung feels himself getting close just listening to Seokjin’s pained
cries.
Seokjin cries out again, his eyes screwed shut as tears flow out of them. His
body’s past shaking, and has gone slack in Taehyung’s grip.
Taehyung drives himself in three more times, listening to the knock of his hips
against Seokjin’s battered body. He lets himself go deep inside Seokjin, and
pumps himself a few more times as he pulls out, to mark his half-brother as
his, and no one else’s.
Taehyung collapses next to Seokjin, licking the tears off the latter’s face.
“Hyung,” Taehyung says softly, stretching an arm out for Seokjin to rest his
head on. “Did I hurt you?”
Seokjin nods weakly, leaning into Taehyung’s frame.
“Good.” Taehyung says, kissing Seokjin’s forehead.
Chapter End Notes
     whew this has been a trip, thanks to everyone who liked this
     i worked so hard on it, i don't even know why. feel free to holler @
     me in the comments or on the_twitter if you have questions, but i
     left this kind of an open mess on purpose.
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