Warning: For those who are not comfortable reading M/M content please scroll to the BOLD at the end of the flashback for a quick summary of this chapters' content to continue reading.
╟──∞──╥──∞──╢
1926
I understand ambition. I didn't get to where I am without it, but what I can't stand are cheats.
And this particular cheat was going to make me late.
And he was tainting the leather interior of Kit's new rolls royce.
The slimy cheat cowers in the hollow of the car as I stand by the door. I puff on my cigar, biting down slightly on the end to speak "Get out."
The cheat does as he is told.
I shrug off my jacket and Petey takes it as another of the boys graciously seats my former bookie in the seat we kindly provide him.
I meander over. Hopefully he'll make this easy and I won't have to change my shirt.
His eyes skitter around the warehouse.
With a hand in my pocket, the other on my cigar I say, "I hear you were planning on going on a trip."
The cheat shifts forward in the chair, shaking his head. "Nah Jack."
Kit kicks the chair.
The cheat stutters. "No Mr Bishop. I wasn't going anywhere."
I take a puff of my cigar. "What's the word Bugs, you finished school didn't you. What was it that Mr Green was planning on doing with that 50k of my money?"
Bugs, the tallest of my boys pushes his spectacles up his nose, before running a hand though his hair. He wasn't much one for hair wax. All natural was his method. "Abscond Jack. Mr Green was planning on absconding with that 50k."
My attention hadn't left the cheat, who appeared quite ready to shit himself. "50k. Quite the feat. And in only 6 months. I knew I liked you Mr Green, I just didn't realize that you were this greedy. Was I not paying you enough?"
"What?" Panic settles in his voice. "N..no Mr Bishop. You paid me plenty."
I take a step forward. "So why then did you steal from me?"
A scared smile creeps on his face, his head shacking profusely. "I didn't steal from you, Mr Bishop. I would never."
"I don't like liars Mr Green. And I don't abide by cheats. You have enough ambition that you could be running any one of my businesses in a few years. Why steal from me?"
Everyone knows I don't like to repeat myself.
I watch his throat bob as he swallows. His eyes move to my boys, calculating which one would strike at him first if he made a run for it. Kit, cleaning his nails with his knife looks up over his hand at the quivering sack of shit. Said shit thinks better of his situation. "Donatelli. He made me an offer." I didn't have to ask him to elaborate. "For a 50k buy in I would have a seat at the table so long as I brought all the books with me."
The boys shifted and swore.
I blew a smoke ring into the air. "And the books?" Green pointed to the car.
Jasper fetched a suitcase from the back seat of Kit's royce.
"Are they all up to date?" I ask as Bugs starts skimming through the notebooks he finds inside the case.
I unbutton my vest.
He nods in confirmation of the bookie's yes.
"Good." My fist collides with Green's jaw.
Several times in fact. A few times with his ribs, and when that piece of shit was near unconsciousness on the floor of the wear house I had to change my shirt.
"What do you wanna do about Donatelli, Jack?" Kit asked as he helped me into my dinner jacket.
"He's making a move against me. He has bigger balls then I gave him credit."
"Boss." I turn towards the boys at the sound of ripping fabric. Malcolm has a book in his hand. I walk over and find they've pulled it from under the fabric of the suitcase, concealed under the liner. The raven haired rake hands it over. I recognize the names and numbers inside the notebook.
It's a copy of my ledger.
"Donatelli has massive balls." Claimed Kit.
"Indeed." I say looking over at the my now former bookie. "He wants monopoly over the bridge."
"You think Donatelli gave Phili a better offer?"
I contemplate the consequences of if my ledger had gotten into the Donatelli family's hands. The deals I'd made, badges that had been bribed, which mayor was on the payroll allowing my boys to ship our product across the Benjamin Franklin Bridge now that it was finished. Donatelli would have controlled it all if Green's mistress hadn't also been susceptible to Malcolm's devilish charm.
"I think this was his offer." I tuck the ledger inside my coat, looking over at the sack of shit staining the floor I add, "Send Green to Fleet, and send a care package to Donatelli. Make sure Sargent Cain is aware of it's delivery. He's been wanting a promotion."
🎷🎶🎺
When the Tailor shop had been suggested as the club venue I'd laughed, surely it would be the first place suspected as my club, but in the last 6 years, in the countless times the street had been raided, they never once thought to look beneath Wilton's Tailors.
The Hades Club remains the pinnacle of New Jersey Prohibition society, and in the last 6 months, that has all been thanks to the godly creature that claimed the stage three nights a week.
Hades manager had hired the kid on the spot after hearing him sing for 30 seconds. He'd had a spot one night a week for a month before the manager was forced to give him more days on account of the crowd he brought in.
The customers had started calling him "Ophelia" after some dame in those plays my Gran used to read from back home. Bugs gave him the name, said that he was so beautiful that he'd been driving the women in the club mad, some of the men too were not immune to him. When I finally saw him, his back had been towards the entrance when I walked in. Back then I hadn't been to the club in nearly three weeks, two of which since he'd been working there. There had been a crowd of customers around him, blushing customers.
I'd actually chalked the guy up to a new customer that the locals were trying to cosy up to. Then I'd heard laughter and as though some tether had pulled my eyes in that direction.
At first I tried to ignore it. This pull I'd felt whenever I was near him. He showed no sign of being like me so I'd sit in the back of the club and listen to him sing, behave with him like be was just an employee, controlled myself around him, refused to treat him like I was attracted to him but then I'd have to look up, like someone had whispered in my ear, I'd catch a glimpse of him and I'd find my stomach squeezing tightly because he too was looking back at me.
Time proved fruitful, and I discovered we were...alike. So I flirted, I bought him drinks. I did everything in my power to attract him. But no matter what I did. He remained out of my reach.
But I'm a patient man. And O... O was... I wanted him unlike any man I'd ever met. I want to know what his lips tasted like, what his skin felt like against my own, how he'd feel inside me. And I realized all too quickly. I wanted him to want me back.
The club was full. Several bigwigs in the house tonight. And O was performing.
I sat in my booth all night, song after song like a stupid school boy watching him on that stage. And when the night came to an end I waited.
"You don't give up do you."
The moment I felt his presence beside me at the bar I felt my body relax, as though I had been holding my breath this entire time. I turn and find the most beautiful man I'd ever seen standing in his pressed suit, his lips slightly cocked in a smile.
"You don't make it easy O."
He leans on the bar, his hand stretched out on the surface, inches from my elbow where it leans on the bar. "What is it you want Jack?"
My eyes glance down at the distance between us. I look back up at him, at those lips, those eyes that haunt my every waking moment. Does he really not see what he does to me? "Don't tease me O. I have made it perfectly clear what I want." My eyes trail back to were his hand is, and as though he finally noticed our proximity, he removes it, turning his body toward the bar, his arms on the surface close to his body.
"It ain't safe . You now that."
I know I shouldn't, I know it might push him away more but all I want is to be close with him. In any way I can. I slide long the bar, my arm close to his own -I'm so close I can taste his scent on my tongue.
Tobacco. Gin and something almost sweet...wheat?
He remains were he is, his expression stilling as I lean closer, so close my face grazes his suit jacket. I feel the shudder of his body as my breath caress his throat. "Jack," he breathes.
"Don't say my name like that. Please don't. I'm trying here O." I tell him, nearly breathless. I have to pull away slightly to see his face - to make sure he hears me. "Life is short O. The likes of us are probably going to suffer for another century. Waiting until it is safe - it's like asking the moon not to shine. Even if the clouds cover it, even if there is a thunderstorm forbidding it from being seen, we all still know its there."
His voice quivers as he speaks. "Are you comparing yourself to the moon Jack Bishop?" his eyes wash over my face, they linger on my lips.
"No O. The moon doesn't compare to what I'm looking at." His throat bobs and I'm tempted to forgo any restraint I've built this evening and just kiss him right here. But I don't. I promised him. I won't touch him like that until he wants me to.
I remove myself from the bar stool. "Shall we go, my car is waiting."
"Your car?"
"Come now O. You can't possible think I would let you walk home in this neighbourhood, this time of night, in these trying time. There are nefarious people roaming about."
I see his reflection in the mirror above the bar when I move to retrieve my coat from the next stool.
In the car, there is silence. But it feels anything but empty. From the corner of my eye I see O remove his bow tie.
He fiddles with it in his lap the three blocks to his rented accommodations.
How I long to touch those hands, to feel those hands touch me, to caress a cheek, to run my finger through his hair.
He must know what he does to me? He must.
He refuses to let me walk him to his door. So I insist on waiting until he's closed the door behind him. I will also wait until the light in his room turns on. But I don't tell him that. So I wait until he's unlocked the front door, but he doesn't enter.
He lingers on the threshold.
Three seconds and I'm winding down the window as he waits to speak with me.
"I've never been to the beach."
My eyes move from the pink of his lips to his eyes. Brown like the bark of a thousand year old pine tree, gold flecks peaking through as though the bark harbours a sun burning beneath, the black wells at their centres so deep I doubt I'd ever find my way out.
Not entirely sure I want to.
"The beach." I find myself repeating his words as he scuffs the underside of his shoe on the sidewalk.
"My mother told me it is like standing at the edge of the world."
And you can remove that goofy grin off your face Jack Bishop.
🌊🌊🌊
"You write poetry?"
His voice cut through the noise in my head, pulling my focus from the pen in my hand to him. I look up at the man who twists my stomach in knots I never want undone as he towels at his hair. Water drips down the curve of his neck.
How absurd... I'm jealous of the ocean. "Does that surprise you, a poetic gangster?"
"I'm a cowboy at the beach. Not much surprises me after this." He drops the towel by his feet and sits down beside me, the towel moulding into the sand beneath us. "Will you read it to me?" he says.
"You would like to hear it?"
"I would not have asked otherwise. Read me some. Please." He indicates to the note book on my knee before leaning back beside me, his gaze lifting skyward, eyes closing as he baths his face in the afternoon sun.
I shift against the rocks we had situated ourselves by, partly due to to his closeness to me, partly to get more comfortable.
The day hadn't been too hot, the sun just hot enough to dry him whenever he deigned to leave the water.
I shouldn't have been surprised he knew how to swim, he was a country boy after all. Playing in that water like some young pup. Myself, I was the cat, seeking the shade of the rocks as a barricade when the sun got to hot and began to bake me in my clothes and when the cool breeze that had followed us from the city got too cold for my liking, seeking the part heated by the sun.
I begin reading. "Do you know the sun shone for you this day?"
My breath catches in my throat as he lies down halfway through my recitation. I calm my breathing and continue reading acutely aware that my hand is a hair breath away from his head where he chose to rest it against my thigh.
Is this another invitation?
I take another breath as my fingers caress the strands.
He shifts his head closer to my hand.
I've no doubt now.
My fingers continue to twine with the auburn tresses.
He remains that way even when I have finished reading. Even when I have read two more pages and have grown silent, my eyes caressing the sight of his face, the calm that has settle over his usually worried face, the princely sereneness that he exhibits lying peacefully.
Is this what it would be like when I wake to him beside me. I am so caught up in my thoughts, the possibilities, the hope I feel with him this close, my hand in his hair that I miss what he asks that he has to repeat himself.
"What are satellites?" his eyes are open, staring up at my from below, so earnest, old eyes, eyes that seem to speak of ancient stories lost, memories forgotten or hidden, eyes that speak of silent wishes and quite desires that for a moment they makes me forget I am the older one.
"A celestial body that orbits a planet." I watch his lips repeat move over the word celestial as though it were something to treasure.
"A planet. Like the earth. So does that make the sun or the moon the celestial body." He asks his gaze shifting to darkening sky.
"Technically everything we see in the sky is a celestial body. The sun is a celestial body of this solar system, Earth is a celestial body of the sun, as are the nine planets, and the moon is a celestial body of Earth. Its a universal thing."
O returned his gaze to my face. " I thought Bugs was the one who went to school. When'd you become so learned?"
"My gran was an educated woman. She taught me everything she knew, said schools were only good for two things - the first she was quite capable, the second she forbid from entering the house.
When he continued staring, I gathered he wanted the answers so I replied. "Discipline and bias."
"Bias."
I nod as my fingers run through the strands of hair by his ear. "If not the school the the teachers. She was of the opinion that all knowledge regardless of viewpoint was worth learning if one was to make a an educated opinion on any topic."
"And understanding celestial bodies is a benefit to ....being a businessman how?"
"People have the same gravitational pull as planets and stars, and knowing the type of celestial bodies that will get caught in their orbit just allows me to make logical business choices."
My hand stills when I realize O has leaned into my palm. "And just like people, some stars have such a strong pull that they draw more then one celestial body into their orbit. They are so rare simply on account of the billions of miracles that have to occur just so they can co exist in the same space at the same time that even as the universe continues to expand they remain together."
"Can you show me one - one of these rare occurrences?"
His eyes held that same earnestness. "We'd have to wait until dark- are you alright with that?"
He only moved to allow me to lay beside him, the skin of our arms touching as the red sky overheard gave way to a blanket of dark blue. I felt more heat lying beside him then I did from the fire I'd lit to keep us warm.
"You know if this current occupation of yours falls through you should continue writing." He says, his voice cutting through the silence as the tiny pinpricks of light that had been steadily filling the sky since sunset brighten in the darkness of night.
"I'll take your mocking as a compliment. But you should know if my occupation falls through so does yours."
"Which is when I will take up my new vocation."
I roll onto my side and found the moon had decided to share it's light and illuminate the creature beside me. "Really. And what vocation is that?" I ask my eyes traveling the course of his face, the lines of his nose, the curve of his lips, trying not to count his lashes as they brushed his cheek.
"World traveller. I've always thought I would like to see the east. When I was a kid my mother surprised me on my 13th birthday with a record, she couldn't read so she didn't know the record wasn't in English when she bought it, but I fell in love with the sound, like I knew it somehow. It wasn't until moving here that I found out where it came from. A woman in Korea Town said it was likely smuggled out with an immigrant and they sold it out of desperation. I paid her a months wages to transcribe the record for me."
He licks his lip as he takes a moment to breath, the sight as mesmerising to me as the sound of his voice when he sings.
"She said due to Japans occupation of their country Pansori -that's what they call it. They have this thing they do with their voices, they hold the notes far longer then we would, almost speaking the story instead of singing it. She said the Japanese censored Pansori when it referred to the Korean monarchy but this record was uncensored. A three hour recording of a love story between a queen and the king who had to chose between each other and their kingdom and the general that stood between them. She asked to buy it from me, when I refused she offered to sleep with me for it."
I couldn't help but laugh. "How'd that go?"
"About as well as you expect. Now I visit her den once a month just so she can play it for the locals."
"So that's were you go the first Sunday of every month."
He turns his head to look up at me. "Keeping tabs on me Jack."
"Something like that." His eyes flicker to my lips as I speak, the knot in my stomach tightening.
All I'd have to do is lean in.
"So how about that rare occurrence?"
So I showed him the Orion constellation, then pointed to the star on the right that signified Orions skirt, and how it was said to have three bright blue stars nearby that are four times bigger then out sun and only visible with a very powerful telescope but that these four stars orbit the same center of gravity every 24000 years, and both inside and outside that system, more stars orbit them.
I don't know how long we remained that way. Night blue had turned to black when O suddenly sat up.
He stood and turned towards me. The light of the moon turning one half of him a luminous blue whilst the fire, a golden amber. I see a look settle on that face of his. A moment later he is removing his singlet letting it fall from his hand onto the sand by his feet. He then takes a step forward and holds out his hand.
"O what are you doing?"
"Swimming," he says his expression serious .
I swallow, feeling the need to look away but unable to do so. "That can't be safe. Not this time of night." The thought of drowning was not a pleasant one. Even if the ocean seemed as calm as a puddle after the rain.
"It appears though that the universe has stilled it for this very reason, and your not one to ignore the patterns of the universe are you Jack Bishop." The moon shone brightly on that rare cocky smile of his.
Who was I to reject a much desired invitation.
I stood, hesitant to take his hand until he instead moved his own into mine. He squeezed my hand and drew me close. He began to unclasp my braces. I let him, pulling myself from my shirt when I was free to do so, my trousers touching down on the sand a minute later.
I was half expecting him to walk straight into the water. Instead O took my hand again and lead me in, slowly letting me get used to the sensation.
Perhaps he was right and the universe really did want this. The water was calm, so calm that even beneath the ripples my moving body produced, I could see see my pink flesh illuminated by the moon light beneath the water.
He never lets go of my hand as we bounce in the water, our toes pushing off the sand below ever so slightly. And as he slowly gets closer I can feel a nervous excitement settle over me.
I slide my hand up his arm making a promise to myself in that moment that if at any moment he shows he is uncomfortable, that he say no, he flinches, moves away, I will make no further advances.
I feel his body quiver under my touch. My stomach drops and in an instant I release my hold on him. But i suddenly find myself rushed back toward him. But the sensation of one of hands on my hip tells me it wasn't the waves pushing us back together.
I swallow as I take in the look on his face, the intensity to which he stares at me. My stomach flips. "If you don't want me to kiss you, Let go of me now O. I can swim."
But he does nothing of the sort. Instead his hand on my hip pulls me closer until I can feel our legs threatening to entangle themselves with one another.
My hand slides up his neck and I cup his face and now it's my turn for my body to quiver. It just makes him cling to me more.
I run a thumb across his cheek.
A final question for permission. His eyes flicker to my lips as he finally pulls me close. And in this moment he is all I want. The moon could fall from the sky, the sun blink out and I wouldn't care. I don't think I'd even notice.
Am I even breathing?
The moon is somehow brighter then when his lips first touched mine, the expression on O's face was one of awe.
"Satellites!" he says , all astonishment.
Goofy grin be damned.
"Come here," and this time as I pull him close, I've no intention of ever letting him go.
🚉🌅
Henry was right. The air does smell like oatmeal here. I smile.
It smells like him.
Half asleep, eyes still closed, I roll over in bed, arms sliding across the covers intent on bringing him into my embrace but find his side empty, and mumble a grown. Why does he have to be such an early riser.
"Mama always said a man should always wear a pressed shirt, even if all he's going to do is wrangle cattle." I hear his voice in my head as I spy the pressed shirt he'd set out for me hanging from the closet. I change and head out to find him.
He should be by the rink.
When I get there it's empty, but the horses have been put in the paddock. That speckled grey one Henry calls King is meandering along the grass by the fence line.
Just like Henry had shown me I approach him. At first the creature is on alert but as I get closer, present myself as no threat to him, King allows me to extend my hand.
Curiosity gets the better of the animal and sniffs my hand. Taking the invitation I slide my hand up his face.
"You know," I tell him as I rub along his fur, extending the petting to the side of his face. "I've never been this close to the likes of your kind. Your striped cousin at the zoo doesn't count does he?" King makes a noise that seems to agree with my statement. I laugh and continue petting him.
"You don't know where my better half happens to be do you?" I ask looking across the paddock and seeing a figure at the next fence line.
Henry.
I speak once again to King, my hand brushing down his neck, "Excuse now while I go scold your master for leaving me alone in bed."
He doesn't notice my presence at first, then he stills, a quick glance over his shoulder and I grow envious once again. The sun saw you first this day.
I hear a crack in the distance, like the sound of a ring masters whip on the sand of a circus tent floor.
🌉🏠
The vinyl continue to play, the sultry tones of the Voice of Hades filling the rooms in that cosy suburban house as the blood is wiped from the knife, the handkerchief turning scarlet.
A speck of red has seeped into the fabric of the white collar the intruder wears. The only spot on his person where the blood splattered. The rest is in a pool at the feet of the homeowner, his lifeless body slack in the chair, his insides now out.
The lights remain off as the intruder exists out the house through the kitchen door. No one the wiser.
The police will find the body of Antonio Donatelli in a day or two when his wife returns from that trip to New York he sent her on.
The papers will call it a Mob Hit on the Manzoni Crime Family.
The Intruder is ok with that.
♥♠🎷🎶🎺♠♦
"Sorry boys." Kit shows his cards. 8♠ 8♦ 8♥ 7♦ 7♣
"Full hand, eights over sevens" says the dealer.
"Shit!"
"Damn."
"Oh, Come on!"
He stares at the cards I still hold in my hands. Q♥J♥10♥9♥8♥.
Sighing , I place my cards down on the table. "I fold."
Kit smiles, all cocksure and collects his winnings as the dealer shuffles the cards for the next hand.
I squeeze my cigar between my teeth as I take the cards from the table. Tess puts the next round of drinks on the table as Petey looks over his shoulder at the stage as the band rips a riff as the girl on stage grinds out a high note. "The new girl has some chops Boss Lady, but she ain't got nothing on our Oph-"
I catch the look Tess gives him, cutting his sentence short. The tension at the table is as thick as the cigar smoke. I pay him no mind. I don't rely on him for his mouth anyway. He's far better with a bean shooter .
"Henry hired her so she should be good. Right Tess?" I ask her without looking, instead choosing to concentrate on my card hand.
The Manager of Hades replies with a yes before returning to the bar, the material of her dress glinting in the spotlights of the stage as she passes it.
I fan my cards out. 8♠8♣A♠A♣Q♥
Petey coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. "Why'd you take that stuff up again boss? Deb keeps nagging me for my clothes coming home smelling like cigars. She ain't given me any peace."
"He took it up again so he wasn't inclined to hit you upside the head every time to talk of your missus nagging you." Jasper replies, his expression faltering as he gazes at his own card hand.
I smile through the cigar pressed between my teeth,
He coughs again, turning his attention to his cards, shuffling the cards around in his hand as she speaks. "Why can't they make them smell like something nice, they do it with ladies scents all the time. Can't someone schooled change the stink, like - why can't they smell like oatmeal. Kentucky smells like Oatmeal, right boss, Newark always smells like cigars and pigs. Someone should definitely think about doing that." Petey continues to consider his cards, not noticing my attention is no longer on him.
Kit's expression has gone still. Slowly he looks up from his hand locking eyes with mine.
In silence, my eyes speaking for me I say,
I only told you I went to Kentucky.
Kit's throat bobs.
What did you do brother?
I stand and throw myself at him, my fist colliding with his jaw as a panicked and desperate, "I can explain" comes from his lips. It splits on the second hit.
I feel arms trying to pry me off of him were he's landed on the club floor, startled cries and shouts replace underscore the new singers voice as the band continues to play.
House rules. The Band doesn't stop till closing. Even if a fight breaks out. The boss in no exception. Henry's Rules. The thought rips through me and I strike at Kit again only to be held back by Bugs and his long arms.
"It was the only way to get you back." Kit says as Jasper helps him to his feet, a look on his face that asked if he should tempt getting between us or knock us out.
"You sent Petey." It wasn't so much an accusation as it was a statement of surprise. "Couldn't pull the trigger yourself?"
Kit spat. Spit mixed with blood hitting the floor like a dart. "O made you weak." Confusion covered all the boys faces. All bar two.
"You were never going to go after Donatelli," he says, voice rippling with exhaustion, bitterness driving his words. " He took the Phili ports from us. Just walked right in and claimed them as his. I couldn't let that stand. Coudln't let him think he could take what was ours without consequences."
My voice grates in my throat as I yell at my brother, confounded by his reasoning. "He gave us the bridge. Complete control of the bridge and all I had to do was hand over the names in phili on the ledger."
Kit's startled expression turned to one of confusion. "You what?"
"I did it for you. The bridge gave us complete control of what comes in an out of Phili. It was a win win." I felt my body give way to disappointment. "Damn it Kit, I gave you Newark on a platter, gave you the kingdom with a ribbon tied around it."
Kit's nostrils flared. "Its not worth anything without you."
And I laugh. I find the nearest chair, sit in it and and laugh.
I look up at my brother.
I am so exhausted.
"He died in my arms Kit. My life's not worth anything without him."
You took my soul brother.
Kit opens his mouth to say something. "Hey, Bishop?"
Kit and I both look to the bar were the shout came from.
Reggie Donatelli?
I lose my balance, unable to hold myself up.
My chest is on fire.
Fuck!
I cough. The edge of my vision turns red, my face red.
I touch were it burns, my hand appearing before my face covered in blood.
Shit! Fucker hit me.
Someone is lying next to me.
Shit! Jasper?
"Fuck! Hey, hey Jacks, stay with me." Kit's face hovers over me.
My ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton. Muffled screaming and gun shots going off under the stuffing.
Kit's arms are warm.
Which means you're losing blood fast.
I'm struggling to take in a breath, I feel like I'm chocking on a drink of scotch, the liquid caught in my throat, burning as it tries to go down.
Kit growls as he presses down on my chest, but I can't feel it. "You'll be fine" he says.
In silence I reply,
No I won't.
"Common Jacks, fight," he whimpers, shaking me in his arms, his eyes begging me.
I think I'm done fighting, Little Brother.
╟──∞──╨──∞──╢
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For those who are uncomfortable reading M/M romantic content, but would like to continue with BTS's side of the story read here:
Yoongi dreamt of his past life as Jack Bishop, an American Gangster and of the man the loved whom is referred to as O, former singer and manager of Hades, Jack's nightclub. Of how O finally initiated their relationship in 1926 New Jersey during prohibition. O is subsequently shot - time line not specified. There is an after murder sequence that follows where Jack plays a vinyl recording of O singing before Jack leaves the crime scene. Followed by a scene were it is revealed that Jack's brother orchestrated a hit on Jack, but for O to be the one killed in an effort for Jack to take out Antonio Donatelli, rival mob boss, the victim from the previous scene and the man whom Jack thought responsible for O's death. Jack is gunned down in his own club as a result of the above.
─────────────────────
Yoongi woke to a pink skyline, a chill morning air and a great sorrow, dropping on him like a grand piano.
A thick heaviness, the unmistakable feeling that something was missing, settling so far down he found it hard to catch his breath. A part of him seemed to pull at the universe, and when he pulled, the universe tugged back.
He looked down and the weight fell away at the sight.
Jane was still asleep on his lap.
It had all only happened in a split second, but that was all he needed.
The ear bud to his phone was lying in the space between his legs. It must have fallen from her ear as she shifted in her sleep, the distant sound of music was still playing from the small speakers.
Yoongi moved to retrieve it, careful not to wake her.
Jane suddenly whimpered in her sleep and he stills. Not because of the sudden bout of fear he felt that wasn't his, something bad enough to cause Jane to stir in her sleep, but because of the sensation of his hand being squeezed. He looked down and found several fingers in her grip.
Jane faced away from him, her hair draped over his lap, hood no longer covering her head. And yet in her sleep, the hand - his hand, the one that had found a need to fiddle with the cord of her hoodie had wound up in Jane's, as though she had taken a hold of it before rolling in the opposite direction. His hand rested just above the dip in her hip were she squeezed those fingers again as another whimper escaped her.
His other hand still rested by the top of her head, her hair having fallen across her forehead. By some instinct he didn't know he possessed, Yoongi gently moved those stray hairs from her brow.
He felt it a second later, a calmness settling over Jane at that contact, the whimpering and tight grip on his fingers ceasing, replaced with a warm tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach.
It was a different kind of tingling to the one that was his own, the one he felt building just below his sternum as he looked at her, an icy numbness in his abdomen brought on by the inability to shake the images of his dream from his head.
He manoeuvred himself to retrieve his phone where it had fallen just in front of Jane, careful not to wake her. He doubted she'd had much sleep since the flight. Jane seemed to just snuggle further into his lap.
With his phone in hand, Yoongi turned off the music and started a search, his fingers almost shaking as he typed in the letters.
The page loaded, the subject of the images both strange and familiar all at once, like how he knew he'd like the taste of whiskey without ever having tried it before, or why he liked the smell of Cuban Cigars but refused to smoke them. Maybe this was the why.
He read through the page, the area near his sternum going slightly numb as he did. There was a twinge in his gut at the sight of the name at the bottom of the page. Yoongi pressed a finger to the screen selecting it. A new page loaded and with it came an ache. It settled deep behind his ribs.
Yoongi quickly wipes at his eyes as the sound of voices pulled him from his phone.
"Hyung?" came a hushed voice.
Jungkook had peaked his head around the giant chair's canopy, his eyes instantly falling to Jane. A look Yoongi hadn't ever seen on his maknae's face seemed to disappear at the sight her, an odd expression of relief replacing it.
Jimin, hands in his coat pockets slid out from behind Jungkook, his own eyes flickering to Jane's sleeping figure before he took a seat at the bar - there was a view into the chair from his position there. Jungkook squatted down where he stood, pulling his giant jacket over his bent knees.
"Did you two make the connection?" Jimin asked, his eyes lingering for a moment where they touched, skin to skin by her waist. There was no jealousy in the question.
Yoongi hummed a yes. "Did you two feel it?"
Jungkook nodded in silence, " Feels different then making the connection yourself though. Right Hyung?" He looked over at Jimin who continued to watch Jane in her sleep but avert his eyes when she saw Yoongi looking at him.
Jimin nodded in response. "A little like riding a rollercoaster backwards."
"I was showering when I suddenly felt really excited and a little breathless," Jungkook added, before scowling. "I got shampoo in my eyes, " he stated with a whip of his head, his hair flying from his eyes to land perfectly across his brow.
Yoongi smiled at the youngest. Didn't matter if he was an adult now, Jungkook still managed to remind Yoongi on a daily basis of the 15 year old who used to shower when they'd all gone to bed.
"Something happened before that though, didn't it." Yoongi looked to Jimin. Not a question. It was an observation. Jimin had been connected the longest, even if it was only a week. How fast did a person become accustomed to deciphering between their own feelings and that of their soulmate?
A lot had happened, but nothing that needed repeating. At least not by him. "Jane was concerned about something, a misunderstanding between us."
Jungkook shifted in his position on the floor, but he didn't rise. "Should we be worried?"
Yoongi shook his head. "It's not about us. Jane was just worried I took something she said the wrong way and she wanted to clear the air."
"Is that how you two ended up connecting?" Jimin inquired, a napkin being carefully folded over and over again in his hands.
Yoongi's brows knitted. "It built to that yes - Hey does this bother you? I know you haven't been very verbal about Jane and your relationship Jimin, and it's your business but... are you ok with this," he looked to include Jungkook in his question. "Does this bother either of you, seeing me and her this close, touching?"
Jungkook is the first to answer. "I thought it might, but even just sitting here, I can feel how comfortable she feels, how safe. I even feel a little of what I feel around her - coming from her towards you. You know.... feelings.... developing feelings."
I don't know how to take that.
"Isn't that a little weird?" Yoongi asked, glancing over at Jimin to ascertain if he felt the same. He'd since ceased folding the napkin and had settled to twisting it instead.
Yoongi thought perhaps he might ask Taehyung to talk with Jimin, he was always better at getting Jimin to divulge his feelings. Being the same age helped to that extent at least. Then Jimin answered. "Its actually the least weird feeling of them all."
"Totally." Jungkook agreed, slowly nodding his head. "Today I felt so queasy after like five run throughs and at first I thought it was because I hadn't eaten, but then I remembered I'd had all those pancakes and bacon and sausage but after all that stuff this morning with Jane on her knees I'd completely forgotten. And that's when I realised it was her I was feeling."
"She was feeling your exhaustion." Yoongi realised.
"All of our exhaustion." Jimin corrected them. "Yours and mine the most, " he said indicating to Jungkook. "More so then the other members."
"Why would she feel us more?" the maknae tilted his head in question.
"Established Connections in a Multi-tether are much more intense because the feelings are transparent for both soulmates, so Jane feels them constantly. Especially if other members aren't Connected yet. The established connections amplify the unconnected ones, and normally its the most heightened emotion that she experiences."
Jungkook looked at Jane with a sigh, "Jane's like the bowl beneath the sieve."
"Odd analogy Kook." Yoongi noted.
"I'm serious. We're like seven bags of flour all pouring into her at once, and our tethers are this tiny sieve trying not to cause her to overload." He rested his head on the top of his knees as he looked over to Jane on the chair. "Taehyung said she drank six bottles of water in two hours yesterday morning."
A look passed between the three men and a knowing expression was mirrored on each. "He counted," they mumbled in unison.
"When did you become so knowledgeable?" Yoongi asked Jimin, who shifted uncomfortably on the bar stool under his gaze. Free time on the plane was his abrupt response.
Jungkook hunched further into his position, turning into this round ball. " I wish she'd have said something. Eunjin Noona spent all day helping her hide it."
"That wouldn't have accomplished anything, except annoying her. If you haven't gathered by now, Jane doesn't like being a burden. " Jimin's words were in jest. But they were also fact. In the short time they'd known Jane, she had already established herself as resolutely independent, stubborn, and extremely self aware. But it was also why, at least he himself believed, Jane wouldn't say anything, right up to the moment she'd likely faint from fatigue.
"I just don't like being this powerless. I thought finding your soulmates was supposed to make things easier, not harder." Jungkook's voice a little harder then a moment ago.
"We have it easy Jungkook." The images from his dream still lingered in the back of Yoongi's mind. "50 years ago we all had to do the leg work. And there was no guarantee it would work out even if you did find the one you believed was your soul mate."
"But aren't we making it worse by not all connecting with her, won't our feelings grow more intense the more of us that establish a connection?"
The maknae had a point, but Jimin quickly quashed those thoughts. "From what I read it should actually decrease when more connections are established. With less soulmates not connected, their isn't so much amplification. And once all of our connections with Jane are established, the involuntary sharing should quieten down. The stuff I read said that it should feel like static, for all of us, like when the tv looses signal but you can still feel it on in the other room."
"Wait." Jungkook looked distinctly unhappy in that moment, like a turtle forced out of it's shell, his head popping up out of his jacket. "So knowing Jane's feelings all the time, that will go away?"
"Do you really want her to know your feelings all the time?" Yoongi said looking the maknae dead in the eyes as if to say, even you don't like you when you're cross.
Jimin had twisted the napkin into a knot and quickly discarded it on the bar top. "It will be easier to control once we are all connected. If Jane feels one of our emotions, it shouldn't transfer through the tethers to any of us." Jimin frowned, his eyes shifting in thought. "At least I don't think so. I couldn't really understand all the stuff they said after that about Peak Emotions. I was reading a translation. I don't think it was correct." He returned his attention to Jungkook. "You just have to be patient, Kookie. Jane isn't rushing this for a reason. There are Seven of us, and we aren't exactly the ideal soulmates."
With a cocky grin Jungkook retorted with a, "Speak for yourself."
Yoongi glanced down at the woman on his lap. "We just have to take better care of ourselves then. If we feel good, Jane should feel good. Right?" Yoongi said looking between the only other two established connections in the group. "If we intend to have a functional soulmate by the end of promotions then we need to take better care of ourselves. All of us."
He didn't doubt this new rule would be passed amongst the other members before the end of the day.
Jimin's coat pocket buzzed.
"Hobi hyung. Hyungdeuls are looking for us; breakfast in 10," he told them as he returned his phone to his coat.
Another buzz. This one from Jungkook's jacket. "Taehyungie-Hyung. Same."
Just when Yoongi was about to move his phone, in case one of the other members thought the necessity to do the same for him, it buzzed. Right by Jane's head.
She shifted on his lap, her arm flailing about until she clasped the object which had abruptly awoken her and lifted it. Rolling onto her back Jane held the phone aloft, her eyes squinting at the screen.
"That's not my phone." And she dropped it on her stomach, groaning.
"You are not a morning person, are you?" Yoongi asked as she finally noticed him gazing down at her.
Her eyes widen, blinking several times in the process. "Give me a minute. You still look like an alien blob."
A small giggle carried up from the floor.
Jane turned her head to see who found her comment so amusing and at the sight of Jungkook she swiftly turned back around, burying her head in Yoongi's sweater. He tried not to think about the fact she had a hand placed against his abdomen.
"Not cool," she cried from over her shoulder. "I have a terrible morning face."
"I like your morning face," Jungkook replied finally standing, a coy smile at his lips. Jane looked up at Yoongi, her eyes narrowing. Was she going to say something to him? Instead she tilted her head in the direction of the bar.
"Jimin, you here too?"
He didn't answer.
Her eyes only narrowed further. Jane pursed her lips. "Hyung!"
Hyung!
"Hyung?" Jungkook voiced Yoongi's confusion for him.
There was a clomp of boots on timber and Jimin paraded past, that smile he gets when he knows he's being a shit is plastered on his face. It's a stark contrast to the look of concentration he'd exhibited earlier. "Morning."
"Damn it." Then in a most dramatic fashion, Jane smacked her hands over her mouth and sat up, her eyes wide at Yoongi.
"Wait," Jimin took a step forward, his finger bouncing between them. "Did you two...?"
Did we...Oh!
"NO!"
"No!"
Jane's hands remained over her mouth.
"If you didn't just remember Not kissing him, then why are you covering your mouth?" A single brow of Jimin's raised in curiosity
"If you must know Park Jimin, I'm afraid I have morning breath."
Jimin didn't even try to hide his amusement. "Everyone's headed to breakfast. We have the photo-shoot this morning if you remember." Then he took Jungkook's elbow and started to lead the smiling maknae from the rooftop. "We'll wait for you at the elevator."
Jane continued to sit in that awkward position, hands still over her mouth as Yoongi stood and straitened his clothes. "I take it you won't be letting me walk you back to your door."
She shook her head.
Slowly Yoongi leaned forward, so close even with her hands covering her mouth he could feel the heat of her exhale. Jane's body froze as he brushed up against her, their faces a mere inch from one another.
With his hand clasped on what he wanted, Yoongi turned to remove himself from the canopy.
He stilled.
His was caught by the sight of her eyes, by the gold flecks amongst the brown.
Slowly Yoongi pulled himself away.
And held aloft his phone.
Jane stared up at him wide eyed.
Nonchalantly, he replied "It fell off you when you sat up." But nonchalant was the furthest from what he felt as he left that rooftop.
Golden satellites orbiting a black star.
Yoongi rubbed at his chest.
She has his eyes.
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IMAGES BY ME: 9 -12, 14
PS. please tell me if the phone image is blurry on your devices. It may not have loaded right.
EDIT. Never mind. I Uploaded three separate Images. All Good Now.
Term: bean shooter is 1920s slang for gun.
Author's Note: for anyone curious about Jacks hand, 8♠8♣A♠A♣Q♥. It's called dead mans hand. It was the hand cowboy Wild Bill Hickok was said to be holding when he was murdered in Deadwood in 1876. Shot in the back of the head whilst playing cards. I used it as a bad omen. Did anyone pick up on that?
For inquiring minds: 1. First service on this rooftop bar is lunch, so the staff didn't be turning up until at least 9 to prep for lunch service. Its my world. I make the rules. 2. I am well aware that Rob has Blue eyes, but brown is just easier to work with for the media.
EDIT: Thanks to a reader i was able to correct a mistake I missed and have since changed O's eye colour. I hadn't noticed I had done that so thank you.
Next Chapter will be the second half of this dream, sort of O's pov, followed by a surprise celebrity guest in the next chapter, and followed by a quite dramatic connection...
I am not evil cackling.😈
Any who, thoughts? What did you think of this somewhat -possibly -kinda - Gangster short story? Never written something like this before. I really enjoyed it.
Who thought this was going to be Yoongi's past life?
Comment if you get a chance.