Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9705050.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Min_Yoongi_|_Suga
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Prostitution, low_key_redneck_au, Jungkook_is_a_country
      boy, descriptions_of_violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-14 Completed: 2017-02-19 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 5770
****** pool boys ******
by purpleho
Summary
     Yoongi makes a bad decision.
***** Chapter 1 *****
There’s something about the way the hot summer breeze is blowing through his
open car window that chills Yoongi to the very core.
 
He’d never driven through a small town, where everything could be seen in mere
minutes. Never smelled a summer stench so chocked full of the scent of the
goddamn sun itself. He feels hot, but he’s breaking out into a cold, nervous
sweat as he drives up to the town’s only public pool and parks on the grass
next to a bunch of huge trucks. It’s almost like everyone in this little
country town drives a truck and it makes his black cavalier stand out like a
sore thumb.
 
He gets out of his car and stands for a minute, eyes scanning  over the
concrete area wrapped around the pool. The smell of chlorine and sunscreen
makes him momentarily nauseous. The sound of children playing is almost
unsettling to him because of what he’s about to do.
 
And then he sees them.
 
A few boys standing on the far end of the concrete platform. Boys who couldn’t
be much older than 15, wearing tight little speedos that clung to their little,
underdeveloped asses. They all had a similar air to them. Tanned skin from
standing out in the sun all day, black hair, with a few unnatural blondes and
honey browns here and there. And they were all muscular, as muscular as a teen
could be that is, with their thin boy skin pulled tight over the little bumps
of muscle they had.
 
And Yoongi knew immediately that it was them. The rumored “pool boys”.
 
“They’re these kid hookers that hang out by the pool in that one town, the one
that’s second closest to here? Yeah. It’s the most debaucherous sex trade one
could imagine, but it’s all you’ll find out here,” Hoseok had told him a week
ago when Yoongi asked the best place to go for sex in a place like this.
 
He’d transferred universities after flunking out last semester and this was the
only school that would accept a GPA like his. This tiny little unacclaimed
university in the middle of nowhere, where the closest towns were about 50
miles away in each direction.
 
There were no clubs here. And Yoongi couldn’t stand those dimly lit bars filled
with sad old men that small country towns like this usually had. He also
couldn’t risk trying to pick up someone at the university, since the school was
so damn small that there’s no way he wouldn’t run into them again.
 
So here Min Yoongi was, tight ripped jeans, black fitted tee and all walking
towards the pool.
 
He’d never really thought about young boys before. It was gross really. Yet
now, with the sex drive of a fucking animal, he could care less about what it
meant to sleep with an underaged hooker.
 
All he could see was tan skin and perky little asses hugged tight by speedos.
And if he were honest some of the boys could have passed as 18 if they wanted
to. It must have been the country breeding that made them so tall and built for
field work.
 
He spotted one he liked almost immediately as he approached the concrete island
sitting in the middle of a grass field. There was a locker room on one side of
the pool and a food shack on the other, but besides that, there was hardly
anything else around. It was almost like a mirage in the grass, induced by the
pure heat.
 
Yoongi’s brain got all fuzzy as he approached a boy that looked to be the
oldest of them all. His skin was perfectly sunkissed and his boyish frizzy
curls and huge eyes made Yoongi’s heart skip just a bit.
 
“Need some money, kid?” Yoongi said as casually as possibly when he was in
earshot of the boy.
 
That was, like, the code word Hoseok had told him about.
 
The kid turned his head and his eyes widened a bit, looking Yoongi up and down.
He nodded quickly.
 
Yoongi turned on his heels and walked towards his car hands twitching nervously
at his sides until he shoves them into his jean pockets.
 
Yoongi spots a bald old man with a beer belly approaching the pool as he walks
away and realizes that the kid was probably surprised by how young he is. He
must not of have ever had anyone but middle aged men and older pick him up and
that makes Yoongi so sick that he wants to cry, or throw up, or both, and hug
the kid. Drive away with the kid and never bring him back.
 
But Yoongi holds it in and huffs out a shaky breath as he unlocks his car and
opens up the passenger side for the kid, who hops in without needing to be
told.



They’re silent for a bit as Yoongi dives away. Doesn’t know how far he should
go but knows he should drive for at least 15 minutes into the uninhabited
countryside before pulling over and finding a spot for them in the woods.
 
Yoongi stares at the boy through his right side view mirror for a good 5
minutes. He can’t help but think he’s absolutely gorgeous. He’s got this face,
littered with teenage acne, but still so boyishly perfect. Yoongi glances down
at the boy’s legs, his tight thighs splayed wide in the passenger's seat, and
feels himself growing hard.  Yoongi knows these thoughts alone are a crime. Are
wrong on so many levels. Knows how disgusting he is for this, but he can’t
control it. Wants to, but can’t.
 
“How old are you anyway, mister?” The boy finally speaks.
 
His voice is damn near the cutest thing Yoongi’s ever heard. Smooth and soft
with a twinge of teenage brattiness, like honey drizzled over a fresh piece of
toast. He’s got the most stereotypical country drawl too.
 
“Twenty,” Yoongi replies, trying to control his breathing.
 
Yoongi can tell the boy is staring at him. Stares at him for a good minute
before he laughs.
 
“Damn, I ain’t never known a twenty year old pedophile,” the kid giggles out.
 
Yoongi wants to laugh at that, but he can’t bring himself to. To think a kid
could laugh about knowing pedophiles. It makes Yoongi cringe because now he’s
one too.
 
“Name’s Jungkook, by the way. I’m sixteen and I got a school ID to prove it if
you want. I know some guys don’t like screwing around with the kids younger
than fifteen. Guess it makes them feel better ‘bout themselves knowing they got
some kind of standards.”
 
Yoongi looks at the boy for a second and feels sick again.
 
“How can you talk about all this stuff so plainly,” is all Yoongi can muster in
reply.
 
There’s this overwhelming sadness in his voice, he feels his heart breaking for
this boy.
 
He sees the boy, Jungkook, shrug from the corner of his eye.
 
“Because that’s jus how it is. Us pool boys? We were all buttfucked by our dads
before we were even old enough to know what it meant to have a weeny in your
anus. They made us gay, you know. By fucking us like that before we even had a
chance to grow.”
 
Yoongi can’t say anything.
 
“This old lady told me they’re like that because we’re all fucking inbreds. The
dads got this mental disability called pedophillia because of all the
inbreeding that goes on in towns like this. You know, relatives fucking and
making babies. We’re probably all cousins if I’m honest.”
 
Yoongi stops the car and he really can’t even breath. Everything feels sticky
and gross and absolutely disgusting. What’s going on here is absolutely
disgusting.
 
He opens the driver’s side door and throws up on the barely paved country road.
Throws up everything he ate in the past 24 hours right there on the side of the
road.
 
“You okay, mister?” Jungkook asks when Yoongi is done, wiping the corner of his
mouth on the back of his hand before slamming the car door. He takes a swig
from a half empty water bottle sitting in his cup holder.  
 
“W-why don’t you go to the police?”
 
Jungkook laughs and it’s a laugh that makes the bile in Yoongi’s stomach rise
again. All he smells and tastes is acid.
 
“The whole town’s in on it, mister. Even two of the sheriffs have sons that are
pool boys. Ain’t no getting out of it. I don’t mind it though, mister. I was
raised like this, ain’t never known anything different so it’s not like I know
what I’m missing.”
 
They sit in silence for a while. Jungkook scratches at his bare thighs and
Yoongi tries his hardest not to break down in tears. Tries his damndest.
 
“You still gonna fuck me?” Jungkook asks after what seems like an eternity.
 
Yoongi just looks at the boy. This boy who still manages to look so untainted
even though he’s been through more vile shit in sixteen years than Yoongi will
ever have to go through in his entire life.
 
“Mister, I can tell you’re on some sort of guilt trip right now, but really,
it’s okay. I like having sex. And the longer I’m out here, the less time I have
to spend at home with my fucked dad.”
 
Yoongi almost wants to laugh. The fact that Jungkook is the one comforting him
despite everything is laughable in a sad, depressing way. But Yoongi makes a
decision in that moment. He’ll show Jungkook what it’s liked to be cared for
and treated right. Not just used and abused like he’s worth nothing.
 
The country air has Yoongi’s head all kinds of fucked up.    



Yoongi kind of hates himself.
 
Jungkook’s laying there on a ratty blue blanket in the middle of the goddamn
woods. He’s naked, speedo discarded somewhere to the right. And he’s already
holding his legs up by the back of his thighs, showing off his little hole in
all it’s glory, like he was trained to do it.
 
He’s smaller than Yoongi expected, tiny three inch chub rolling around on his
toned stomach with each breath he intakes.
 
Yoongi reaches out to touch Jungkook’s leg, but he hesitates, a sudden spurt of
guilt clouding his thoughts.
 
Jungkook huffs.
 
“Mister, you’re not even that much older than me, it’s hardly even that wrong
if you think about it.”
 
Yoongi lets his eyes rake across Jungkook’s  impatient face, his hand is still
hovering in the air and finally, against his better judgement, he moves closer,
kneeling down between Jungkook’s legs and touches the underside of his left
thigh.
 
It’s a soft fluttering touch and Jungkook gasps at the contact like he’s been
shocked by static electricity.
 
Yoongi peels Jungkook’s hands away from their position holding up his legs, and
in one movement leans over Jungkook while moving the boy’s arms to wrap around
his back.
 
Jungkook’s eyes widen momentarily.
 
“W-wha-” Jungkook blurts out before Yoongi’s lips crash into his extremely
ungracefully.
 
It’s a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. All teeth until Jungkook finally remembers
he has a tongue. And for a second Yoongi feels like he’s in high school again,
kissing Kim Namjoon under the bleachers in the gym. It’s the type of
inexperienced, pure kiss that your only experience maybe twice in you life,
before teenage sexuality completely corrupts you.
 
Jungkook’s fingers grip the back of Yoongi’s shirt tightly, pulling him closer,
trying his hardest to deepen a kiss that can’t possible get any deeper, but
Yoongi lets him do it.
 
Yoongi pulls away for a breath not too long after, just far enough to get a
clear look at Jungkook’s face. The younger is completely flushed and he’s got
this toothy grin on his face.
 
“I ain’t never been kissed like that before,” He giggles out, hand slipping up
to play with the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck.
 
Jungkook sounds giddy and looks adorable and Yoongi notices that of his side
teeth is missing, maybe from lack of dental care or from an accident, but it’s
oddly endearing. Jungkook is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen.
 
Yoongi leans back in and mouths open kisses down Jungkook’s neck, bites at his
collar bones, pecks across his  chest. And Jungkook giggles through it like a
ticklish little girl, fingers grasping at Yoongi’s hair.
 
“Mister, take your shirt off.” Jungkook says, using the hand that isn’t tangled
in Yoongi’s hair to pull up Yoongi’s shirt from the back while Yoongi tongues
at his navel.
 
Yoongi obliges and slides out of Jungook’s grip so he can yank is shirt off and
toss it somewhere to the left.
 
He pauses for a second and Jungkook’s eyes graze over his torso, taking in his
milky skin and flat stomach. Jungook bites his lower lip and Yoongi can’t help
but smile at him.
 
Yoongi leans back in and this time aims much lower than Jungkook’s navel.
 
He takes Jungkook’s full length into his mouth  and nuzzles his nose against
Jungkook’s smooth skin.
 
“M-mister,” Jungkook squeals out as Yoongi suckles him.
 
Jungook’s legs jerk and he wriggles under Yoongi at each slurp. He’s so
sensitive and Yoongi takes advantage of it. Traces circles on Jungkook’s inner
thigh with his fingernails, licks around Jungkook’s cock head slowly.
 
Jungkook comes quick and hard down Yoongi’s throat, his legs spasming and his
hips jerking upwards, bucking into Yoongi’s mouth as he rides out the seemingly
intense orgasm.
 
Yoongi pulls off of Jungkook’s softening length with the lewdest wet pop that
almost echoes in the silence engulfing them. Yoongi’s mind is cloudy, hazy, he
feels like he’s in a trance.
 
Jungkook’s panting and he’s watching Yoongi, almost as if waiting for
instructions.
 
Yoongi just stares back as he pulls his jeans and underwear down , just enough
to expose his crotch and and butt. His fully erect cock hard and heavy between
his legs and he watches as Jungkook’s eyes scan over the newly exposed
territory.
 
Jungkook starts to sit up, but Yoongi pushes him back down on his back.
 
“You don’t want me to suck you?” Jungkook croaks, voice strangely distorted as
it enters Yoongi’s ears.
 
“It’s hardly necessary,” Yoongi replies smugly shimmying his hips just enough
to make his length swing back and forth.
 
Jungkook giggles and it’s the purest thing, the sweetest music to Yoongi’s
ears.
 
Yoongi slips out a packet of lube a condom and tears the lube open with his
teeth, setting the condom to the side.
 
“Damn, city folks think of everything!” Jungkook says, eyes wider than they
should be, more surprised than he should be.
 
“What, you’ve never seen this?” Yoongi asks curiously, nodding his head towards
the open packet in his hand.
 
Jungkook shakes his head.
 
“I mean, most of the guys ‘round here don’t use nothing but spit for lube.
Almost like they don’t know a damn thing about butt sex.”
 
Yoongi freezes at that, any color he had dusting his cheeks and chest
immediately drains.
 
Jungkook, noticing his change in demeanor, whines, “Mister, don’t freeze up on
me now.”
 
Yoongi clears his throat ungracefully and takes a deep breath before gathering
himself and pushing Jungkook’s legs open farther.
 
And suddenly he notices the way the skin of Jungkook’s asshole is red and
scared over, like it’s been stretched too much and torn in some places. Yoongi
feels sick again, wants to throw up again but his resolve to give Jungkook
something better, something he deserves, overtakes him.
 
He preps Jungkook slow and good. Jungkook squirms and squeeks, moans breathily
when Yoongi’s fingers hit the right spot.
 
His moans are so pretty.
 
The rest is a blur for Yoongi. Maybe because he knows deep down that this is
wrong on so many levels. Jungkook has him whipped beyond belief and it’s wrong.
It’s disgusting. Jungkook has been raped and prostituted all his life. It’s
wrong. It’s disgusting. And who’s Yoongi kidding, he isn’t doing any of this
for Jungkook, a kid who’s mind and youth have been corrupted by a fucked up
situation he was thrown into at birth. Yoongi is doing this for his own sick
pleasure.
 
Jungkook has this look in his eyes as Yoongi’s fucking him, hard and slow. His
eyes are all glassy and wide, like tears will start streaming down his face any
moment. It’s the look of someone who had never “made love” before. The look of
someone who was finally feeling what it was like to have sex properly, with
someone who cared about your comfort even a little.
 
Yoongi wants to stop when Jungkook does start sobbing, he wants to pull out
right then and there and apologize to Jungkook, but he can’t bring himself to.
Yoongi keeps fucking him even when Jungkook comes untouched all over their
stomach. He shoots quite the load for someone who looks like he’s still in the
middle of puberty, hot spunk coating his own stomach prettily.
 
Jungkook sobs out garbled sentences into Yoongi’s shoulder and Yoongi finishes
moments later.
 
Then, it’s over.


It’s hard to describe the feeling of self-hatred that comes with doing
something you know is morally wrong.
 
Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever find the right words.
 
He drives Jungkook home in the dark. The electricity in the air has fizzled out
and the sound of crickets chirping is almost jarring.  
 
Yoongi had tossed a spare jacket from his trunk over Jungkook’s legs as the
other boy sniffled, still calming down from his breakdown.
 
They don’t speak, can’t speak, except for mumbled directions from Jungkook
telling Yoongi how to find his home.
 
The drive to Jungkook’s little one floor country house is short. If there was
nothing else that small towns were good for it was their short travel time to
get from place to place.
 
When Yoongi pulls up in front of the house, Jungkook doesn’t move. They sit in
silence for a few minutes before Jungkook holds the jacket out to Yoongi.
 
“Keep it, kid,” Yoongi mumbles, not even sparing a glance in Jungkook’s
direction.
 
Yoongi pulls $500 out of his wallet and places it in the jacket’s pocket.
 
“Thank you,” Jungkook whispers
 
“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi says back, voice wavering, “don’t you dare ever feel
thankful towards someone who’s taken advantage of you.”
 
Jungkook doesn’t reply. More minutes pass.
 
Yoongi makes the mistake of looking at Jungkook, catching his wide eyes staring
back at him.
 
It’s weird how quickly his brain shuts off, how quickly the facade crumbles,
how quickly and desperately he swoops in to kiss Jungkook on the lips, hard,
rough.
 
Jungkook shivers against him and then Yoongi tears himself away, facing forward
immediately.
 
“Please, kid, please get out. Please.”
 
Jungkook is motionless for a moment before he complies. And as soon as the car
door is shut behind him, Yoongi drives off.
 
Yoongi cries all the way back to his college campus. Cries in the shower as he
scrubs himself raw, skin red and tender and yet he still doesn’t feel clean.
 
He cries into his pillow. He doesn’t sleep.
 
The next day he doesn’t eat.
 
The day after he punches Hoseok in the face.
 
The day after that he locks himself in his room and cries some more.






***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The heat makes Yoongi’s skin itch.
 
He’s sweating his balls off, bangs damp and flat against his forehead, pit
stains getting more and more prominent at each passing second.
 
He’s thirsty. Lips chapped to hell and throat scratchy and irritated.
 
His car’s AC is broken, has been for weeks, so it feels like he’s being cooked
alive in the metal contraption, even with all the windows rolled down.
 
The air is humid, no breeze, nothing, and Yoongi thinks he’ll have a heatstroke
if he doesn’t pull over and find an air conditioned restaurant or something
soon.
 
But he won’t pull over. Not until he makes it to the pool. Not until he finds
Jungkook.



It’s been a year.
 
And Yoongi’s hated himself every second of every day for those past 365 days.
 
He’s thought of Jungkook more times than he should have, thought of the sex he
had with Jungkook  way  more times than he should have. But then again,
thinking about it even once was already too much.



The town looks exactly the same as Yoongi remembers it. Looks far more perfect
than it is, looks like a little utopia in the middle of nowhere, but Yoongi
knows now that it’s all a guise. It’s all fake.
 
 He can almost see the heat waves in the sky. Though it could just be an
illusion of the eye.
 
He passes the town center, passes the neat little row of houses that signify
where the more well off people in the town live, he passes the high school, and
then he’s there.
 
The pool.
 
Yoongi pulls over on the grass next to a white van with no back windows and
that’s when his stomach turns.
 
He hadn’t eaten anything much in the past 24 hours so he doesn’t hurl, even as
the bile hits the back of his throat. Just seeing something so stereotypically
“dangerous” like a white van like that brings back all the memories full force.
It brings him back to the fact that Jungkook has been stuck here for a year
since Yoongi last saw him. Jungkook has been stuck in a world that Yoongi spent
months trying to erase, failing miserably to do so.
 
He stumbles out of his car, light headedness catching up to him as he stands on
his feet. He leans on his car for support, hand gliding over the burning hot
metal as he walks around the front.
 
It’s not surprising to see the pool packed. Kids everywhere, so many kids. In
the pool, running around on the concrete, running through the grass the pool
sits smack dab in the middle of.
 
And Yoongi loses himself for a minute. He’s not in the right state of mind and
he slips into a state of subconsciousness, lets the sound of happy children
playing pull him out of reality and into a happier place. If only everything
had happened differently.
 
If only he had met an 18 year old Jungkook, a member of his university's swim
team, on an outing with friends. If only they could have talked and laughed and
fell in love in the middle of a hot summer day with the sun beaming down and
illuminating Jungkook’s bronze skin. If only they could have shared a first
kiss on the grass, hands tangled in each others hair, not a care in the fucking
world.
 
But it didn’t happen like that. God was too cruel to let it happen like that.
 
Yoongi’s snapped back into reality by the sound of a car door slamming. He
flinches hard, shaking. He leans completely against his car, would have fallen
over if it wasn’t there to support him.
 
A boy is running across the grass towards the pool, wad of cash in hand, oddly
innocent smile playing on his pretty pink lips.
 
It’s almost like things are moving in slow motion as Yoongi watches him from
behind now, that god forsaken speedo pulled tight into his asscrack. Yoongi’s
eye’s follow him all the way to the pool, where he falls right back into line
with the others like him, shoving his money into a gym bag.
 
Tears prick Yoogi’s eyes as he gazes at the pool boys.
 
He scans back and forth, looking for those frizzy brown curls, looking for
those slightly buck front teeth. Looking for any sign of Jungkook.
 
But Yoongi doesn’t see him. He’s not there.
 
Yoongi’s stomach drops, hard. It’s the feeling you get when you’re riding the
drop on a roller coaster. Stomach lifting up, and falling back down, feeling
lower than it was previously. He tries not to panic, tries his hardest. Doesn’t
want to break down here, refuses to. But he’s worried.
 
Though it would be logical to think that Jungkook was simply out with a
‘customer’, Yoongi’s got this irrational fear creeping up the back of his skull
and it can’t be good.


He stumbles towards the pool and suddenly he feels like he’s seeing everything
through a different set of eyes, He feels like he’s hearing everything through
a funnel.
 
So much blood has rushed to his head that he can hear his pulse pounding in his
ears as he approaches the small group who stand there on the edge of the
concrete platform as if they’re just normal boys. No one who didn’t know about
the pool boy system would have ever guessed that they were hookers. The whole
thing was so inconspicuous that it made Yoongi mad. Legitimately angry.
 
Their parents had done this to them. Their own flesh and blood had done this to
them. Yoongi sees red, maybe from the anger, maybe from the blood sloshing
around in his head.



When Yoongi’s close enough to the group he stands there for a second, breathing
heavily, wiping sweat off of his forehead and he catches the glances of a few
of them, some shifting close to him nonchalantly, clearly thinking he was there
to request services from one of them.
 
He loses his breath again and it almost feels like he’s having an asthma attack
for a second. He braces his hands on his knees bending over slightly and
gulping in as much air as he can.
 
It takes him a minute to regain his composure. And when he finally straightens
up he sees the round eyes of a black haired boy staring at him. Yoongi feels
the want to cry again and his eyes sting. The boy can’t be older than 12. He
can’t be. But just like the rest of them, he’s got on the speedo. That fucking
speedo.
 
The boy keeps staring at him and Yoongi stares back until he finally snaps out
of it.
 
“J-Jungkook,” Yoongi says lowly, “where is he?”
 
The boy’s face says it all. Yoongi’s stomach turns yet again.
 
No. No.  No .
 
The boy looks white as a sheet, face like he’s seen a ghost. His eyes dart
around like he’s making sure no one has heard, that no one has noticed them.
All the other boys that had been inching closer to Yoongi had now moved away
after seeing him speaking with another one, so the two of them are alone now on
the far corner of the concrete platform.
 
“Sir,” the boys starts, eyes shifting to the ground. His voice wavering, tears
glassing over those doe eyes of his.




“Sir, he died.”


The world suddenly feels tilted. Everything feels unreal but Yoongi knows very
well that it is. The tears spill, running down his cheeks but he somehow keeps
himself from sobbing. The boy clearly isn’t supposed to be telling him this. He
doesn’t want to draw attention to them.
 
Yoongi wants to throw up but he physically can’t. Bile makes the back of his
throat scratchy, but he’s got nothing in his stomach to release.
 
Yoongi realizes how cruel God really is as he silently cries, and the boy
across from him is crying too. Yoongi wants to hug him. But he doesn’t.
 
“What happened?” Yoongi hisses out, grabbing at his chest as if he’s trying to
hold himself together, trying to keep himself from splitting down the middle.
 
The boy sniffles, eyes shifting again before he steps a little closer.
 
“He just went off with some weirdo one day and never came back,” the boy
mumbles through his tears.
 
Yoongi’s blood begins to boil. He thinks he’ll combust at any moment. He almost
wants to run away, almost doesn’t want to hear it. But he needs to hear it.
Needs to send off Jungkook properly. Needs to make himself aware of how fucking
stupid he was to leave Jungkook behind. Jungkook.
 
Jungkook’s dead.
 
It hits him harder this time. He can’t see straight but he wills himself not to
faint. Wills himself to stay planted.
 
“He was missing for days,” The boy sobs out lowly, “we all thought he’d run
off, us other pool boys were happy for him, thought he’d finally escaped. But
then they found his body.”
 
The boy covers his mouth, sobs hard into his hand and all Yoongi can do is
stare on blankly, tears drying on his cheeks.
 
“He was strangled to death and dumped by the river. For the first time it was
real to us how sick the guys who come ‘round here are. Kook didn’t deserve
that. He didn’t.”
 
For a long moment Yoongi can’t bring himself to say anything. Won’t say
anything.
 
But then he finds his voice.
 
“Did they catch the bastard?” Yoongi says, like a growl, and it startles the
boy a bit.
 
The boy looks to the side, biting his bottom lip hard before he shakes his head
no. And Yoongi wants to punch something. Wants to hurt someone. Wants to get
mad, furious. But he’s helpless.
 
“He was long gone by the time they’d even found Jungkook. And the sherifs… we
all know they won’t request outside help on investigations, ‘specially
involving us, ‘cause they don’t want this whole pool boy thing to get busted.
It’s sad, ain’t it?”
 
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He just turns around and walks away, back to his
car. And then he breaks down.



Yoongi keeps replaying in his head how it should have happened. He should have
found Jungkook standing by the edge of the pool twiddling his thumbs. He should
have grabbed Jungkook’s arm and pulled the boy to his car. He should have
kissed him. He should have driven as fast as he could through the lush
countryside, windows down, wind whipping through Jungkook’s soft locks.
 
But it didn’t happen that way. God was too cruel to let it happen that way.
 
Yoongi doesn’t know how long he sits there crying for. But next thing he knows
the sun is setting and his car is the only one still parked there on the grass.
 
His head feels so heavy, he can barely hold it up. He gasps for breath as
Jungkook’s smile flashes into his mind, Jungkook’s imaginary giggle plays in
his ears. Yoongi wishes he’s taken Jungkook with him back then. Wishes he
wasn’t such a damn coward. Wishes that this whole town would burn down in
flames.
 
Yoongi makes two decisions in that instant. He takes a deep breath. And then he
drives off.






“Thanks to an anonymous tip, a scandalous prostitution ring involving boys
under the age of 18 has been exposed and shut down. 30 men involved have been
arrested and will be tried in federal court next month while over 40 victims of
the sex trafficking, all below legal age, have been taken into protective
custody.”
 
“Also, due to this discovery of the ring, a serial child murder has been
apprehended because of eyewitnesses among the prostituted boys. If found guilty
of his current 20 charges of first degree murder, he could face the death
penalty. In other news-”


Yoongi turns off the tv. He can’t even bring himself to smile. He can’t even
feel happy. What had he even done?  Made an anonymous phone call into the
police station of another town from a payphone hoping they would act on it?
That was nothing to be proud of. It was just the morally right thing to do. He
should have done it the first time. Then maybe Jungkook would still be alive.
 
It was lucky really, if he could even call anything pertaining to the whole
fucked up situation lucky. The town housing the police station Yoongi called
had been hit by that same murderer, he’d killed a pair of 5 year old twin
sisters in such a horribly brutal way, so it was in the police force’s best
interest to investigate a new tip that set the soon to be cold case ablaze.
 
Yoongi gets up from his spot on the motel room bed and sets the remote control
on top of the television. Then he make his way to the bathroom, slowly,
solemnly.
 
He closes the bathroom door behind him as if it makes a difference.
 
He stares at himself in the mirror for a second. His eye bags are so prominent
and his dark circle’s even more so. His skin looks grey almost. Lost of all
liveliness. His cheeks are all sunken in now too because he hasn’t been able to
keep down anything but  jello for days.
 
He remembers how he used to look. Not the most handsome guy, but he was
charming. He had seen the good in himself, had weighed his positive features
over the negatives. But now he can’t. The old him is gone.
 
Yoongi runs a bath and as he waits for the dingy tub to fill, he thinks of his
parents. Thinks of how happy they were when he got accepted into his first
choice university. How supportive they were when he flunked out and had to move
schools. He thinks of the last voicemail his mother left him a day ago saying
she knows he must be busy and that he should call her back when he has time. He
cries.
 
He pulls out his phone and texts a quick “I’m sorry. Thank you for everything.
Bye.” and sends the message to his mother and father before turning off the
bath water. He sets his phone down on the toilet seat.


There’s a second where it seems like time is stopped. It’s so quiet and Yoongi
almost feel like he’s frozen as he stares at the yellowish water in the dirty
motel room bathtub.
 
Yoongi wonders what Jungkook was thinking when he died. What his last thought
was as his life ended, so simply and plainly, like it was nothing. He wants to
feel those things too.
 
He gets into the tub fully clothed and sits there. Minutes pass, though he’s
not sure how long.
 
He says a prayer to whatever god there may or may not be out there that whether
it’s heaven or hell, he’ll end up in the same place as Jungkook.
 
He submerges his head in the water, holds his breath for as long as he can .
Vaguely in the background he hears his phone ringing. It’s the ringtone he has
set for his mom. He momentarily wonders, as his consciousness begins to fade,
if he should answer and say one last goodbye. But then his lungs give out.
Water fills his open mouth.
 
And he dies.









Chapter End Notes
     it was physically impossible for me to write a happy ending for this.
     sorry.
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