danger

52: roadtrip

"I think you deserve to know more about us," Namjoon started, "and I have the boys' permission for what I'm about to do."

"O-oh, what are you about to do?" Minjun apprehensively covered his mouth with the empty milk carton, gnawing on the plastic straw.

"When I was eighteen, I had felt unexpected strength and confidence in myself. I felt restless and defiant, so I thought I would come out to my parents. They had never given me much reason to make me anxious about doing so, so I told them a week after my birthday.

My dad was supportive, patting my back, hugging me, telling me he was proud of me for telling them. I was crying with happiness, I was so happy. But when we turned to my mum, she had left the room. She was one of those mothers that bragged about her kid's achievements and such and had high expectations of me.

Supposedly, my being gay made her lose all hope. She became negligent, depressed, a shut-in. In the end, about a month later, she killed herself. I know it wasn't because of me, but more of the devastating grief she fell into, her destruction because of her own expectations. My father changed, and I was kicked out."

Namjoon spared Minjun a quick look to see that the boy was paying attention with wide, inquiring eyes.

He continued, "I didn't have money, nothing. So I slept on park benches, building doorways when it rained, got my nutrition from bakery bins, water from public toilets. I was a mess. I was considering suicide but the confidence I once felt had fizzled, and I was just lonely and terrified.

One night, around Christmastime, I remember two lovely women walking towards me with their holiday shopping clinging to each of their arms. One of them gave me a container of tteokbokki. They had bought it from a street stall for me. Our own Jessi, along with Hyuna.

They talked with me for a while and at some point in the evening, they invited me back to their home. I went with them, to P Nation, and I met PSY. He showed me trust, friendship, and a parental figure. Soon enough, he trained me, and make an exception for me. Since he only managed solo workers, he allowed me to branch off and produce my own gang.

He was so pleased with the outcome that, as you already know, he founded more gangs."

"Which of the others did you find first?"

"Yoongi," smiled the elder, "he was weak-minded and broken back then. You see, he was born into a very unlucky family, they weren't prepared for another child but still did their best for Yoongi. His mother and his older brother were killed one day, while Yoongi was hidden in a wardrobe, by thieves. The Min's didn't have anything worth looting, and his family paid the price of poverty.

Yoongi became a public disturbance. He was enraged at himself for being so helpless and wanted to punish the world for what had happened to his mother and brother. He got into fights in bars, threw fireworks into open windows at night, keyed cars, spray-painted homes, setting fire to trash cans, and the worst of it would have been if I hadn't gone to collect him when I had.

He was on the news at that point, his face posted every day in the strengths that someone would recognise and catch this deceitful, anger-driven boy. I saw the anger in him and I saw the youth behind his rage, the panic of his own actions, and I wanted to meet him.

I found him in a park. A children's play park, I should add. He looked like a teenager; hood up, earbuds in, ignorant to the world. When I succeeded to talk him into sitting with me, he revealed the knife and lighter in his hoodie pocket. I saw the defeat in his face when I told him I wanted to take him home, the naive feeling he must have felt to be wanted by someone again.

I designated him as arsonist and torturer so that he could continue taking his frustrations out when he needed to."

"He was going to kill someone?"