jangmi (장미) ● taejoon

t h r e e .

the fifth time.

  "No, no you're too young for this life, kid." Namjoon shook his head, rolling out a map on the jagged table. His fists bruised and trembling in exhaustion, though his eyes were fierce and hooded like a lion's. "Run on home now."

"C'mon I can do this," The teenage boy huffed, a bat dragged against the floor with his hand. "Lemme be apart of this. My brother's gettin' all the money, I'ma man-"

Namjoon slammed his aching fists angrily, turning to the short and younger boy beside him. "Speak properly, pull up your pants, and go home little boy," he growls, spit accidentally leaving his lips as he grit his teeth and hissed. "You're seventeen years old. You should be at home studying till your fingers are covered in paper cuts then maybe you might be proud of who the fuck you are. You want to kill yourself, huh? Is that it? You want your mama crying at a funeral, on her knees by your casket because her baby boy died at the age of seventeen — not because of sickness — no, no because you died cause baby boy decided to hold a gun and aim it somewhere he wasn't suppose to. What you're brother got into, it doesn't mean you have to follow too. Little boy, this world isn't meant for you if you don't even know how to handle a fucking gun."

Namjoon leaned closer, glaring right into those adolescent eyes. Inches apart, "This doesn't make you a man. You're just a kid shooting a bullet blindly in the dark, Jungkook."

Jungkook stepped back a little, silent. Gripping his bat tightly till his knuckles were ghostly. Namjoon continues to barricade him, building a thick wall with those soft brown eyes, suffocating him.

Every step, a breath staggers. "You want this life? You think getting your hands dirty, bleed till you fill a bathtub, starve cause you're pouring your life into this shit makes you a man? What the fuck do you think this?"

"I-I get it, re-relax," Jungkook stuttered, his back hitting the wall. His cheeks were drained of color, fearful — scared.

"So you get it now? Your mama loves you, Jungkook," Namjoon crosses his arms, "Ever think about holding a gun or doing this bullshit again just think about her. Think about how much she of a mess she'd be if she knew what you're doing. Now, go."

The younger ran, ran out the house — front door wide open. A faint light shining out from the crooked and creaky wooden door Namjoon always hated. He stopped for a moment, recollecting his thoughts, breath, body.

Walking over to slam the creaky door shut.

"No kid is going to live a life like this under my lead," He huffed, running his fingers through his hands frustratingly.

The radio on the table crackled, murmuring till the man got closer. " 'Bout the pickup. The dealers want to be posted at midnight, just to be sure nothing fishy is going on."

Namjoon snatched the radio off the table, taking a second to reply back. "... That's fine, make sure they get enough supplies at the warehouse. Also, make sure their kids wake up early for school, Jin. I'll make their lunches and you can pick them up at my place, I don't want them being hungry at school. I know they hate school food."

"Will do, boss."

[unedited]