Lost Boys - Until our dying breath ( Jikook )

Chapter 2

With a hint of pity in his voice, Hoseok decides to help them out.
“For a tattoo?”
The blond guy in the front claps his hands, his face lighting up like a candle in the dark.
“Right! I'd like to have a tattoo!”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead and sit over there. I will be with you shortly.”

They waddle like ducklings in a row, to the chairs in the very back of the studio. Heaving a heavy sigh, Hoseok rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 
Seeing him like this, Jimin can't help but chuckle.
“Aren't you happy? Your business is booming.”
“Yes.” Hoseok replies dryly. “It would be great if they were actually here for business.”
He throws Jimin a begrudging look.
“We both know, they won't be back after today. Well, unless you're here, that is.”

True, but Jimin can't fault them for it. They really do look like kids. Fourteen, maybe even younger. It's likely they simply don't have the means to buy an omega of their own, or the entrance fee for pheromone clubs like Yoongi's.
They have no choice but to creep around random omegas out on the street, of which there aren't many to begin with.
Those kids don't hurt anyone. They just want to live.

Then again. While they might be harmless, many of the older and more desperate alphas are not. News of abductions and killings spread like wildfire in this area. Alphas themselves aren't exactly safe, either, but at least they can put up a fight while most omegas can't.
They purposely aren't taught how to.
“Oh.” Hoseok pats his shoulder, pointing his chin towards the sparkling glass front door. “That's him. The guy who drew the picture. Hey, JK!”

Jimin looks at the figure stepping into the yellow light of the studio. A million needles prick his spine. Tension coils in the back of his throat.
With Hoseok being a beta, he expected his student to be one, as well. But oh, he couldn't have been more wrong.
Tall, wide shouldered, muscle packed. A perfect alpha specimen if he ever saw one, and a very different breed from the boys in the back of the room who duck their heads, abandon their chairs, and flee the studio as if running from death itself.
It might be because of their young age or the weakness of their bloodline but whatever faint hints of their scents they might've spread to mark their territory is now completely buried beneath the sweetness of marshmallows and the smokiness of firewood.

The young man trots closer. Jimin cranes his neck to observe him further while Hoseok explains the situation.
Alpha boy has beautiful eyes. Dark, almost black, but sparkling like clusters of stars whenever the light hits them just right. Well, it's one eye, to be precise. The other one hides behind a thick curtain of charcoal hair. A round-tipped nose gives him a somewhat boyish look but it's immediately contrasted by sharp collar bones peeking out from beneath a black tank top.
Simple gray sweatpants and mud splattered sneakers complete the neighborhood wannabe thug look. It might as well be his work uniform considering Hoseok sports a very similar style. Though, the older man's cherry red hair gives him at least a small splash of color and an illusion of effort.

“Sure. I'll do it.”
For the first time, JK’s eyes zero in on Jimin who tilts his head and returns the empty stare with rapt curiosity. Seems like he and Hoseok came to a favorable conclusion.
“I didn't think you'd agree.” Jimin goes for a sweet and pleasant smile, the one reserved for strangers he has yet to figure out. “Sorry for the sudden request.”
“It's fine,” JK replies. “You're doing me a favor, actually. I need the money. The sooner, the better.”

Jimin hums. A lack of money certainly explains the darkness of his starshine eyes. Bottom of the ocean black. It means he hasn't been around any omegas for a very long time. Too long, most likely. Jimin saw alphas with eyes like these before and they already tethered on the brink of bloodthirsty insanity.
But then, if he has any symptoms, he's not letting them show. JK seems calm as a lake on a windless summer day. Or maybe calm isn't the right word. It's like he's not reacting to anything at all. A dead man walking. Nothing but a shell.
Still, there must be something in there. Something that keeps him from ending it all. A reason. A goal. Or maybe just hatred or revenge. That's just how humans are.