By Any Other Name || Kim Seokjin ||

III.

Despite the commotion and surreality of it all, in that moment when the force brushed my hair forward and the silver bell rang dimly in the background, my stomach grumbled. It's strange that even at a time of complete confusion and shock, we're attuned to our most primal instinct of hunger and are forced to take note of it. The world twisted and the smell of ground coffee and fresh pastries reminded me of home. When I did finally come to my sense, I was very aware of the hand gripping the back of my collar. In a moment of complete panic I forced my heel into the oak flooring and lurched forward; despite my efforts, however, the force never changed and the only difference was an annoyed "Tch."

"Let go of me!" I nearly screamed, and the usual social anxiety I was accustomed to was thrown out the window. "Rape! Someone h-" Before I could say a single word more, a shadowy hand slapped itself over my mouth and I was forced into silence, as well as receiving a red stinging sensation on my lips. Dilated pupils pleaded desperately for the tall handsome man to rush in and save me, but the deep pitted and familiar gnaw of betrayal and disappointment pooled in my stomach as I watched the faint sight of the umbrella (my only beacon of hope at the time) through the green-paned window spin and pan from view. The leathered glove that flogged my words and forced them down my throat lessened slightly, but it was only so that the fingers could pry my teeth open and force a slippery object onto my tongue.

So many thoughts were going on in my head at the time, I faintly remember the feel of wetness on cheeks and the warble of tears in my eyes. My throat was so sore from trying to scream- but the moment the slimy, putrid object was shoved into my mouth and the vile hand forced my jaw closed, my sense swarmed in mist and the world blackened.

• • •

I don't know how long I was out, and I didn't know what was going to (or already did) happen to me. I do remember when I woke up, though. I remember because my body seemed to have a weight, an internal weight, and when I opened my eyes I was expecting to be home in my room. Oh my sweet room, with its mellow white walls and lopsided closed doors- you really learn to love what you have when you don't have it. I digress, though, when I woke up my throat burned something fierce, and although I couldn't move I could vaguely feel something sinking under my weight, ergo I must've been on something soft. When I did finally open my eyes, it didn't quite sink in that I was in an unfamiliar environment. I was staring upwards at the interstitial beams that separated the floor I was on to the one above. I noted the cobwebs that snuck into the shadows and how generally neglected it all seemed. All was normal.

That is, until the events of all that had happened earlier (however long ago that was) came amalgamating into my immediate memory. I could feel the blood flush from my cheeks and the only sound was my own heartbeat echoing in my ears; my mouth opened but no sound came out except a gurgled, airy gasp. When the sound of a loose door handle twisting open interrupted my own moments of adrenaline filled fear, I immediately snapped my teeth shut and did everything I could to move-- flee, anything. The sound of shoes thumping on the floor only increased my anxiety and I swore I was going to die.

However, that wasn't the case, at least not right now. A throat was cleared and a figure walked towards the edge of wherever the hell I was laying. It was a male, about 5'10" I'd say, and he was dressed in a traditional barista outfit: a finely pressed black button up shirt, a dark green apron with a tiny leaf insignia on the pocket, and a tiny green bowtie to match it. Once more I could feel tears prick at my eyes, and I begged him silently not to do anything to me. The figure turned towards me and smoothed down the tawny fringe that brushed against his eyebrows, while the other hand rested against his narrow hips.

"Geez, you really are a troublemaker. You're lucky, you know," He huffed, his voice was airy and soft and if I hadn't in a state of frozen bunny terror, I might've thought it cute. He watched me with a certain gentle intensity and the silence between us thickened before he jolted upright, "Oh! I completely forgot that you're stuck, sorry about that. Um, listen-" The man seemed to adjust his posture and feet with nervousness and I was almost offended, considering my own position. He really had no right to be nervous, he was in a position of power. "I'll take the spell off of you if you promise not to scream or anything. I mean it, if you scream we might both get in trouble," He continued.

I totally blanked at that. Spell? Are you kidding? It was like a bad dream and I wondered what drugs this dude was on. Nevertheless I gave him a slow, amiable blink and hoped he'd get the memo. I didn't have a choice but comply, really. I mentally calculated the amount of effort it would take to suplex him- he seemed rather frail from my position and I was confident that if push came to shove I could at least bite him, or poke his eyes.

The delicate man then smiled and reached his hand towards my forehead, which I responded to with the closest to a flinch I could muster. His hand paused for a moment before slowly extending and I (with caution) complied. His skin was cool and soft, and after a few moment of resting on my head, a heat began to gather at the point of contact between my eyebrows. The weight that had previously sat on my chest began to lift, and the feeling of restraint around my limbs began to release. After a few following seconds, he relinquished the invasion of personal space and took a step back. With a wobbly and rather sore arm, I lifted myself into a sitting position and rubbed my eyes. I was right about being somewhere soft, under me was an outdated floral patterned couch, which seemed to be the focal point of the small room.

The room was squarish with a dark wooden desk in one of the corners, under an equally squarish window. Papers and pens scattered over the work space and it looked recently left. In the corner opposite, the curve of a hallway indicated the presence of further areas,

"Feel better?" The tall man asked, and I nodded my head weakly. I knew if I tried to speak my voice was crack and wane, so I stuck to simple gestures.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook, sorry about earlier," He cited sheepishly and waved a hand towards an unoccupied section of the couch, "Mind if I sit? I can probably guess you're really overwhelmed and probably scared- o-or angry, even." Jungkook worded this carefully, and when I once again nodded he was equally careful in the distance he placed between us. His hands gripped the knees of his black pants and he refused to make eye contact with me for a solid amount of time.

"Where... Where am I?" I managed to croak after a minute of awkward, damp silence.

Jungkook seemed surprised when you spoke and physically jerked. The warm brown of his eyes studied me for a moment before a guilty smile pulled at one of the corners of his lips, "This is the house office. It's sort of boring but I figured it was the quietest and I guess the safest place to put you."

My mind swirled with questions and a sharp pain radiated from the side of my head, pulling a teeth-gritted hiss from my throat.

"Do you want some water? You've been out for almost an entire day, you must be dehydrated and-"

I cut him off with a raise of a hand, "Why am I here?" You demanded.

"Well," He started while tugging at the collar of his bowtie, "I guess the best way to put this is..."

I waited with expectance.

"You're supposed to die."

• • •

// A/N

I hope you guys enjoy! Sorry for the lack of updates but I promise to make up for it ~

Dia / Bambi