No Harm List | BTS Mafia AU

The Beginning

Let's start from the beginning. Which was the night you saved the gangster's life.

You were leaving your late-night shift at 929 the convenience store you worked at. The job, like the rest of your college experience, wasn't in any way glamorous. But the owners were nice, and since it was a 24-hour store, it was easy to get hours despite your demanding schedule; you just had to be willing to sacrifice sleep.

A chill lingered in the air the way it always does after a big rainstorm, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. By the look of the sidewalks, you were going to get your socks wet on the walk home, thanks to the weakening seems on your boots.

It was a heavy stock day, so you were getting out later than you planned, but you live less than a mile from your apartment, so you didn't mind the walk back. Something was comforting about walking the 7th ward at 3 a.m. when the streets are the quietest. The late-night crowd from the gambling halls and bars always seem to turn in around 2, and the more motivated hustlers tend to wake up at 4 to get a head start on their day. The hour of 3 a.m. was the 60min breath of fresh air where few people roamed the streets. It was a common hour where criminals and businessmen alike hugged their pillows.

You kept your pepper spray in one hand and your phone in your pocket as you made your way down the street. Just because 3 a.m. was a quieter hour did not mean it was safe, especially in the 7th ward. Staying aware of your surroundings gave people less of a chance to sneak up on you, so you didn't check your phone or listen to music. You walked confidently, seeming like more trouble than you or your wallet is worth is one of your primary forms of self-defense on nights like these.

When you moved out of the campus dorms after your freshman year, you told your family of your plans to share a house with a few friendly classmates in the quiet suburbs outside the city where it was safer, and that seemed to quell their worries. And as long as they weren't worried about you, you were okay with lying to them.

Because you didn't live in the suburbs with friendly classmates, you lived alone in a shitty apartment on the edge of the 7th ward where you were fairly certain all your neighbors were drug dealers. But your landlord Mrs.Rita doesn't seem to mind at all, and to your knowledge, the location was in a gang-neutral territory, so you didn't need to worry about any raids or shootings that you hear whispered of so often on the bus.

The west side of the city was also the cheapest place to live and only a 20-minute commute from your university by public transport.

When you first got accepted into Alcor university, your parents were as happy for you as they were worried. The school had one of the top medical programs in the world, and to be accepted on scholarship was an honor even they couldn't overlook, but living across the ocean in a different country meant they lived with no peace of mind.

So you always kept your letters and phone calls short and pleasant. You never complained or let them know of any struggles you were having because the moment they got word of your hardships, they would latch onto that and convince you to come home.

You hadn't made it eight blocks from the store when you heard someone cry out.

It was a strangled sound that made you freeze in your tracks before it was quickly cut short. The silence was accompanied by a low thud that made your stomach drop. Your heart pounded in your ears as possibilities raced through your mind. You tried to reassure yourself. It could be some restless teens goofing off late at night, it could be something you can just stroll pass without a problem, but it was equally likely that it wasn't. And you didn't know what to do about that risk.

You debated turning around and going back to the store and hiding out for an hour or two until whatever happened settled down.

It was the sound of another cry that broke you from the worrying debate as your instincts sent you flying in the direction of the sound. Because apparently, your instincts aren't here to keep you alive.