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when jungkook finally fell asleep, he was expecting to wake up to the sound of his alarm at seven o’clock, screaming for him to get up and head to work. he was expecting to wake up to the same world he fell asleep to. he was expecting to wake up after a full night's rest.

 

but you don’t always get what you wish for.

 

instead he’s awoken in the middle of the night because his phone just won’t stop buzzing . thanks to the hard wood surface of his bedside table, the noise rattles loudly throughout the room and cuts right into his dream of ripping his boss a new one.

 

his eyes slide open lazily, the dull grey of the room in the low moonlight greeting him. he lays there to wait out the buzzing, all while his eyes droop. it’s probably his mom, calling from a different time zone to say good morning. she always calls him, even though she knows he’s sleeping at that time, and leaves a voicemail that he can wake up to. just like clockwork.

 

so he waits. and waits. and waits.

 

finally, he cant take it anymore.

 

he lets a curse slip and then he flips in his bed angrily, clenching tight fingers around his phone in anger. the force yanks it from the charger and he lets blazing tired eyes focus on the bright screen inches from his face.

 

wait, what?

 

it’s not his mom, nor is it anyone else calling him at three in the morning. in fact, it’s an alert. and it’s a bright, pulsing red.

 

ALERT

 

Please be advised. Due to an unknown source, all are encouraged to not   stare at the moon on this night. Side effects of staring at the moon include: memory loss, personality change, violence, anger, and possible suicide tendencies.

Repeat: do not stare at the moon. Thank you.

 

the moon?

 

his eyes shift briefly to the side, where his curtains are still shut tightly. he always closes them before he slips into his covers. and he begins to wonder what would’ve happened if he didn’t.

 

he can see the moon's glow shining through the thick black fabric he’d chosen as his curtains. it’s faint, barely visible, but it begins to feel like a taunt.

 

but he can’t. right? he received an entire emergency alert warning him to not look outside and stare at it. so he shouldn’t. in fact, he should put his phone back on the charger and go to sleep again. yeah, that’s what he’ll do. he just needs to—

 

his phone buzzes in his hand—even lets out a little chirp to let him know he received a message.

 

he squints, his eyes still sensitive to the light, but he hasn’t even read the first word before there’s another message. and another. and another.

 

before he knows it, his phone is chirping like a flock of birds and buzzing against his hand without a break in between. his screen is flooded with messages, all from different unknown numbers, but all with a similar message he manages to catch.

 

“look at the moon.”

 

instantly a wash of goosebumps cascade down his body. he shrinks up under his covers, his mind snapping to full consciousness and allowing him to think properly.

 

a government issued alert telling him to not look at the moon. and an onslaught of messages—that seemed to have no end—urging him to do the opposite.

 

obviously one would listen to the former. it’s from the government and their main motto is to keep everyone safe, right?

 

but what jungkook doesn’t understand is what the hell is up with the moon ? why does everyone care? every night he goes to bed and every night it’s there. it’s appeared every night of his entire life, the same moon that’s appeared for eons.

 

sure it’s turned blue a couple times—maybe some red. even covered the sun for a split second multiple times because it was in the mood.

 

but no one ever bombarded every cell number in existence to glance at it, all the while the government is screaming not to. no one's ever felt the need to send out an emergency alert, even going to far to say that looking at the floating piece of rock could induce violence or suicidal tendencies .

 

honestly, jungkook just wants to know what made the world go crazy.

 

he’s insanely tempted. he kind of wants to slip out of bed, pad over to the window, and look at the moon for a few seconds. just to see if it does anything. a bunch of people messaged him to do it anyways, so it must not be that bad.

 

damn. for an emergency alert not a lot of people listened.

 

he tosses his ever-buzzing phone beside him and throws his covers off, shivering in the wash of cold air that envelops him like an ice blanket. jungkook’s toes tap the wood floor, instantly curling, but he plants his entire foot down anyway and stands.

 

his arms wrap his shoulders and he walks to the windows on his far left, running his eyes up and down the silhouetted frames in curiosity.

 

he’s desperate to know what’s so special about the moon. and again, if so many people looked at it, even after the alert, and they’re still managing to text jungkook, then nothing must’ve happened. maybe the government screwed up this time, or maybe whatever happened passed and his alarm had been buzzing for ages. or possibly—

 

jungkook’s outreached hand freezes as a thought enters his mind. his fingers are almost there—just one centimeter and he can yank the curtain away—but his thought is just too loud that he has to stop and really think about it.

 

why are all those different numbers messaging him about the same thing anyway?

 

suddenly it goes quiet. the phone has stopped buzzing and the chirping ceases, leaving jungkook in such rushed silence that he feels the need suck in a sharp breath just to stabilize his hearing.

 

chirp .

 

jungkook ogles the small lit screen, contemplating if he should abandon the window for the device. there was a pause, only for it to chirp a single time—did that mean something?

 

god why couldn’t he have a normal night? if he’d known he’d be up at three in the morning pacing around his room torn between glancing at the moon or not, he would’ve stayed with his brother so he’d at least have a drinking buddy. but now he’s alone. and a bit nervous.

 

he quickly decides screw it and makes a beeline back to his bed. his fingers scoop up his phone and he holds it gingerly, as if afraid it would begin it endless tirade of buzzes and chirps.

 

instead it sits in his hand like an obedient pet and he taps the screen, bringing it to life.

 

other than the countless messages informing him that the moon looks beautiful and he should look outside as soon as possible , the only other notification on the screen is from his motion sensors.

 

jungkook sighs loudly, his eyes already rolling upwards. it’s not unusual for his cameras to catch movement. in fact, he usually wakes up to about ten every day, thanks to the skulk of foxes that love to traverse his front yard.

 

he taps the notification and allows the app to open, the recorded motion already loading up in front of him. he begins to mumble under his breath about the stupidity of foxes and their sleeping schedule, but the words quickly die in his throat once he sees what caused the motion sensors to start up.

 

there’s a face. and it’s incredibly close to the camera.

 

“—ello? anyone home?”

 

jungkook chokes on a breath, eyes widening to their full extent. he begins a panicked search around the screen to see what exact time it was recorded, all while the video continues.

 

the face pulls back, revealing it to be a man probably around jungkook’s age. plump lips curl downwards into a frown and dark, heavy eyes focus on the camera. his hair is bleached blonde, tousled onto his forehead, and a heavy bruise paints a cheekbone. jungkook has never seen him before in his life.

 

“hello?” he drawls, lips thinning in annoyance and highlighting dimples on either of his cheeks. “knockity-knock-knock! open up!”

 

“hyung!” a voice calls from off camera.

 

“what is it?”

 

jungkook’s heart stutters as another face leans in—two quick to see who it is—and buries himself into the man’s hair to whisper in his ear. he listens intently, eyes flickering to the camera every few seconds but the annoyance ever-growing in his expression.

 

he brushes off his companion and leans towards the camera again. “guess you’re not here then. too bad. my friends and i were looking forward to having a good time together.”

 

rambunctious laughter erupts off camera and the man joins in, white gleaming teeth making their appearance. jungkook has no idea what to make of the whole video, but his hands are shaking hard now and he’s beginning to think he forgot how to breathe.

 

“have you looked at the moon yet?” the man questions in the recording, dropping his voice to a whisper. “it’s beautiful this time of night.”

 

with a wink, he steps back and grins. five other men run into view, all making different expressions towards the camera and leaving jungkook in disarray. but what gets him the most is what they have in their hands.

 

actual weapons. a couple have knives tight in their grip, hanging lazily at their sides like it’s a natural thing to do. two more carry tasers, one of them drawing it close enough to the camera to show off its sparks. and once even has a baton, thick and black. but the man in the middle—he holds a bat wrapped in barbwire.

 

and it’s tinted red .

 

the men waste no time. they’re turning on their heels and the camera catches them running to the edge of the lawn. it stops there, holding the six men still, their weapons gleaming in the bright light coming from the moon—that jungkook can’t see through the camera.

 

after all he’s seen, does he want to see the moon? honestly he simply wants to sleep. screw the moon and screw the strange group of men that came to his door and left him an overly creepy message that his cameras recorded. screw all of that.

 

but he can’t. he can’t even breathe, let alone move his limbs. not to mention that his hands haven’t stopped shaking, and all he can hear is his own teeth grinding themselves to dust. he’s absolutely terrified.

 

“calm down,” he mutters to himself, his voice still raspy from sleep. “what are you, a child?”

 

scared of men. of men. men he doesn’t know and can’t enter his house unless he lets them. so what if they were carrying knives and a red stained bat? they must’ve come from a costume party and decided to milk the gag a bit longer with some neighbors.

 

yeah. that must be it.

 

jungkook releases a long breath of air, letting his eyes close and forcing his limbs to slacken. with a spin of his heel, he chucks his phone back at his bed and watches it soar.

 

he needs a snack, something to calm him down. a cookie perhaps. with some milk. he nods to himself, enjoying the idea more as seconds go by. a nice quick snack and he’ll be ready for bed again. then he can go to work and forget any of this happened.

 

for the first time that night, he steps away from his bed and his windows, instead padding over to the white wooden door across from him. the doorknob is cool to the touch, eliciting goosebumps to track up his arm. he rubs at them in annoyance and passes the threshold.

 

the upstairs hallway is dark. he can barely see the outlines of the other doors, two leading to his guest rooms and the other a bathroom. he’s reminded of how lonely he is in his parents old house and it’s enough to make him rush for the stairs, a sudden sour taste lingering on his tongue.

 

jungkook takes a second to fasten the bolt on the front door before slipping into the kitchen adjacent to the entrance. the floor tile is cold here, the reason being the air conditioning vent blowing towards it, and it forces him to traverse on his toes to the fridge.

 

moments later he’s flicking on the lights, a glass of warm milk in one hand and a napkin stuffed with a couple cookies in the other. he settles at the kitchen island, tucking his legs against his chest and sighing quietly.

 

he raises his glass. “to the moon i guess.”

 

the tired man munches slowly on his cookies and sips gingerly on his milk, letting himself relax. the past twenty minutes have confused him past all common sense and all he wants is a moment to sit and relax without—

 

ding. dong.

 

his muscles tighten immediately. someone’s at the door. and like the idiot he is, he left his phone upstairs.

 

jungkook almost falls in his endeavour to reach back and flick off the lights, the darkness blanketing over him as quickly as the silence does. he listens, neck craning to give his ears better access, but not a single peep reaches him.

 

ding. dong.

 

a chirp sounds from upstairs. jungkook wants to end it all right there, convinced the people outside must’ve heard it. why did he leave his volume on? what the hell does he need his volume on for while he’s sleeping—

 

jungkook stifles a scream as a body slams into the nearest window, face pressed against the glass and wide marble eyes peering inside shamelessly. he shrinks further into his chair, watching the eyes scour through the darkness for something—no, someone.

 

please don’t see me please don’t see me please don’t see me

 

the face pulls back, a mop of red hair falling into his eyes. and jungkook recognizes him. it’s one of the men from the recording, the one who held his taser too close to the camera.

 

his eyes are small, calculating, but there’s a certain level of mischief that he bleeds. his lips quirk up as he presses his hands harder against the glass. and then jungkook hears him sing.

 

“we know you’re in there.”

 

no no no no no no

 

what do these men want from him? what did he do? what do they want him to do? there’s so many questions buzzing through his head and it takes every ounce of his being to not book it towards the stairs and give away his position.

 

but god, his legs are beginning to ache against the seat and his heart is beating a mile a minute. it’s hitting him hard, like the bang of a drum, and he’s glad there’s at least a wall between him and the men or else they’d hear it.

 

and he’s scared. terrified out of his wits. what kind of sick mind had the gaul to do all of this, especially in the middle of the night?

 

jungkook’s still watching the red-haired man when he frowns deeply and steps away from the glass, disappearing past the edge. jungkook wastes no time and bounces from his seat, sprinting straight for the abandoned tablet he knows he left by the door before he locked up the house.

 

he lowers the brightness and tucks himself up against the front door as he unlocks it. silent notifications spam the top edge of the screen but jungkook ignores them on his way to his camera app, this time selecting the live view.

 

after a second, it loads.

 

the same man from before is there, his dimples in full view with a cheeky smile curled on his lips. he looks pleased with a classic “i-told-you-so” expression and jungkook feels his heartbeat stutter.

 

“i knew it,” the man whispers close. “you’re home. we saw your lights on, so that means you’re not sleeping either. are you looking at me right now?”

 

the man raises his fist and drums the door, just as the thud slams from behind jungkook. he jumps at the sound, shutting his eyes tight and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, begging for it to be over.

 

the man chuckles but jungkook isn’t looking at him anymore. “come on,” he muttered. “come with me. i want to look at the moon with you. it’s beautiful tonight.”

 

the moon. he’d said it earlier, but only now did it click in jungkook’s head. the moon? all those texts he received to look at it— the moon the moon the moon —and now this man is telling him the same thing. what is it about that giant floating rock that has everyone crazed?

 

“it’s so pretty,” the man sings to him. “open the door and look! please?”

 

he sounds so nice and sincere. but all jungkook can recall is that his bat was red . is it simply a design to entice fear for their gag? or is it real... blood that colored it that way?

 

jungkooks head is spinning. he wants to go back upstairs and pretend none of this is happening, keeping the men barred outside and forbidden to pass his door. but this time they know he’s here, still awake, and he dreads the thought of sleeping while they could break in at any moment.

 

wait, the police! why didn't he think of it earlier? the police would come immediately and solve all of this. no need to cower behind his door in the dark. just one simple call—

 

ah, the phone. it’s still upstairs.

 

“what’s your name?” the man breaks through jungkook’s thoughts. he’s tilting his head at the camera, a smile curling one side of his mouth. “your last name’s on your mailbox, but what’s your first name? i’d like to be friends with you.”

 

jungkook ignores him. he pushes himself up and off his feet, glancing for a moment towards the windows to check before dashing for the staircase. the tablet is still clutched against his chest as he lightly makes his way up.

 

“my name’s namjoon,” he added. “and these are all my friends. we can all be friends if you’d like. but…” he goes quiet and jungkook’s risks a glance downwards, pausing before he dives into his bed to find his phone. “first, you have to look at the moon. open the door, won’t you?”

 

“no,” jungkook mumbles in return, fully aware this man— namjoon —can’t hear him. he sets the tablet aside and begins his search.

 

a light humming starts from the device and he shudders. he can’t see the video, but he knows namjoon is still staring, still smiling, and always ready.

 

the humming then grows louder and jungkook bunches his shoulders up to lessen the noise. where’s the phone? didn’t he simply throw it on the bed? how could his phone have disappeared so—

 

was that… the door opening ?

 

laughter suddenly spills into the house and jungkook goes tense. he hears footsteps clomping around his house, loud voices bouncing off the walls to reach him in his bedroom. there’s a creak—the first step of the stairs.

 

where are you ?”

 

his reaction is immediate. he abandons the lost phone and rushes into his closet just as more creaks float up the hallway.

 

his heartbeat is flooding his ears, almost masking the footsteps drawing closer. calm down jungkook—you’re okay  they haven’t found you. it’s all he can do to reassure himself, right until a door bangs open in the hallway.

 

he jumps in his skin, peering out of the closet door slits to see where they are and catching the light filtering in from the left. the bathroom. they’re in the bathroom.

 

“are you hiding?” namjoon’s soft voice does nothing to ease his heart. “why are you hiding? don’t you want to look at the moon with me?”

 

the moon! what the hell is so important about the moon?!

 

“it’s really bright tonight,” he continues. the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back roughly reaches jungkook’s ears and he shuts his eyes. “let’s go look at it together.”

 

jungkook doesn’t want to. in fact, he wants all of them to leave. this is obvious, but it’s the one thought that’s shaking throughout his entire core and if it doesn’t happen soon, he’s fearful of what his fear might force him to do.

 

he eyes his bedroom through the closet slit, all while namjoon romps around through the hallway. he takes notice of his beds position to the large windows, still covered by his curtains. the moon is shining brightly through the thick material, and he begins to wonder if he can escape that way…

 

wait, no. the moon. as soon as he draws the shade, all he’ll see is the moon. and isn’t that what he’s advised not to look at? and if these strange men who broke into his house keep repeating look at the moon, that’s surely the last thing jungkook wants to do.

 

there has to be another way out.

 

“jeon,” namjoon clicks his tongue, sounding much closer than before. “is there a point to all this wasted time? i love games as much as the next guy but…”

 

jungkook watches as namjoon takes a step into the room, his head twisting to glance around. it’s utterly dark inside the bedroom, other than the light from the windows, and namjoon simply stands there, most likely letting his eyes adjust.

 

“are you in here?” he whispers. “i hope so. come out, my friend. don’t be scared.”

 

jungkook is still absolutely frightened, but he’s not about to let namjoon know this information.

 

the other man takes another step in, drifting towards the bed in the center. he bends slightly to let his fingers grasp the duvet, rubbing the material between his fingers. he sniffs, hard, before pausing and then reaching for a specific part of the mattress. when he stands again, he’s holding a small box that shines in the reflected light.

 

jungkook’s phone.

 

“someone who leaves their phone behind?” namjoon questions, as if someone is there to respond. “now who would possibly do that?”

 

he taps on the screen and the small device lights his face up briefly, catching his dark eyes and shining grin. if he wasn’t a complete stranger and carrying a red-stained, barb-wire-wrapped bat, he’d possibly look charming. but he is all those things, and jungkook wants him gone.

 

suddenly jungkook is blinded and he reaches out a hand to steady himself, his fingers bumping into the closet door. it rattles gently against the frame, a small stifled noise echoing around it.

 

he can’t see, but he’s sure namjoon heard that.

 

“this is a very nice flashlight you have on your phone,” namjoon commends, the light waving behind jungkook’s closed eyelids. “i’m guessing it surprised you. you’re in the closet, right?”

 

crap crap crap crap crap

 

jungkook’s lunges for the secluded side of the closet, just as the door rips open and the lights floods unbarred. he lets his eyes open briefly, watching namjoon from mere feet away shove his head inside, porcelain eyes surveying the contents.

 

he hums to himself, shining the flashlight the opposite way. jungkook knows he has mere seconds to formulate a plan, any plan, before the flashlight swings to his side. he has his tablet—maybe used as a bludgeon to the head? or maybe he can—

 

a peal of laughter floats up the stairs and namjoons eyes go lidded with annoyance. he straightens, the light running briefly over jungkook’s toes before he mumbles, “these imbeciles!”

 

the light disappears and darkness surrounds jungkook once more as namjoon stomps into the hallway and descends to the first floor.

 

finally somewhat alone, jungkook releases a sigh of relief. he doesn’t know what namjoon would have done once he found him, but he’s reluctant to find out and grateful he hasn’t yet. still, one task yet remains.

 

he has to escape from his own house.

 

the window remains an option, though he’s troubled with the fact that it could expose him to the moon. although he has no idea what the moon could do to him, the alert on his phone still haunts the back of his mind.

 

there’s his front door, but it’s also where the six men remain in waiting for him. their goal is jungkook, no matter what thing they may be excited about downstairs. and if jungkook somehow got caught—

 

he shuts his eyes tightly for a moment, his racing heart becoming too much to fight. if he lets his thoughts race any longer, he might just as soon pass out where he sits. no, he has to stay calm and think about it logically. he only has one shot.

 

the window provides a fast escape, but it’s a two story jump. the front door takes longer and it’s also risky, but it’s safer.

 

jungkook inhales deeply. he might regret his decision, but he knows that no matter what, he will escape. he has to. there’s no other way.

 

he reaches up and sneaks out of the closet, his knees sliding across the wood floor. he’s convinced namjoon took his phone, so he doesn’t bother searching for it and instead creeps to the bedroom door.

 

jungkook realizes he might be an idiot for wanting to escape via front door, but if he times it right by whatever they must be distracted by, he can escape scot free—and call the police from whatever safe hole he finds himself in outside and safe from the moon…

 

he’s careful on where he steps, all the while keeping a trained ear on the noise below. from all his time in the house, he quickly realizes they’re in the kitchen, the complete opposite from the front door. the newfound information lifts his heart a bit and it only encourages him to scurry down the steps as quickly and silently as he can.

 

jungkook dodges to the left of the stairs, pressing up into a crevice there and allowing himself to breathe. the men are louder now, laughing maniacally about something in his kitchen, and the noise has never brought him more fear. but he’s so close. the door is only steps away, and once he—

 

bright eyes catch him in the dark. jungkook freezes where he is, hands empty and heart pumping, but the eyes stay on him. he’s been, without a doubt, caught.

 

he pushes himself off the wall in an instant, toes fighting the tile as he propels himself for the front door. a cry rips from the hidden figures mouth and arms whip out from the darkness, slim fingers grasping his shirt collar and yanking him back. the skin around his throat burns at the force and he steps back with it, all while screaming his voice hoarse.

 

the laughter had stopped as soon as the one in the darkness cried out and now the rest of them are flooding the hallway, the light suddenly flicking on above them and exposing the room.

 

jungkook is being held tight against one of them, a sharp object held tightly where the shirt had dug deep into his throat. he’s spun around the face the others, only to come face to face with namjoon.

 

he’s smiling.

 

“hello, jeon,” he greets. “i thought you’d be here, but i didn’t except for you to come to us all by yourself.”

 

“i d—“

 

“yoongi here,” he cuts jungkook off, “my friend who currently has his knife to your throat, thought you’d try to leave before introducing yourself.”

 

a chuckle erupts in jungkook’s ear and the knife tightens. he feels his skin burst at the pressure cries out when a very obvious line of blood bubbles out.

 

“now look what’s happened,” namjoon pouts. “taehyung, could you get our friend here a napkin?”

 

one of the men steps forward. his eyes are hooded and dark, but his brown hair stands out with its neon green tips. jungkook remembers him as one of the men with a knife and he solidifies that thought with a quick glance to the full sheath at his waist.

 

taehyung pulls a napkin from his pocket and dabs at jungkook’s neck, all while keeping total eye contact with him. jungkook isn’t able to speak and his heart is beating erratically in his chest, but with the close presence of yet another man, he’s starting to feel extremely claustrophobic.

 

“can’t we just kill him already?” a voice whines. a red-haired head bobs from namjoon’s side—the one from the window. “we’ve been here too long already. i’m bored.”

 

kill? as in, kill jungkook ?

 

his reaction is immediate. he begins to squirm in yoongi’s grasp, further slicing the cut already in his skin. he winces at the pain but struggles further, up until yoongi has no other choice but to let him drop to the floor.

 

jungkook scrambles to his feet but a sharp push on his head brings him right back to his knees.

 

“jimin, now !”

 

the pain is sharp. once it makes contact, it laces across jungkook’s back and it takes his body a moment to register how hard he was hit. but once it does it seizes his body, his arms stiffening and his legs collapsing, screams ripping against his throat and leaving him a blubbering mess.

 

he can barely register the giggles coming from the blonde man towering over him, the black stun baton in his grip still flashing with small currents of electricity.

 

“damn jimin,” yoongi whistles. “how high was the voltage?”

 

jungkook is still coming to terms with the pain ( why can’t he move yet? what’s going on? ) all while the men chatter above him like they’re at a social gathering and they didn’t just electrocute a man in his own house.

 

“alright, that’s enough!” namjoon belittles them. “seokjin, check if he can move.”

 

another man comes towards him ( is that purple hair? why are there so many hair colors? ) and pokes at his arm. or was it his leg? maybe his stomach?

 

dammit all, jungkook can't feel it.

 

“uh, i don’t think so,” seokjin says, centimeters away from his face and his hot breath flooding into jungkook’s eyes. “hey, buddy, you alright?”

 

alright? alright ? they just electrocuted him, these absolute—

 

“oh, i think he’s passing out. hey joon do you have…“

 

and everything goes black.

 

-———-

 

“...think he’ll wake up soon? i’m bored!”

 

“hoseok, enough !”

 

a slap rings out and a growl follows closely after, but not another word is said. the silence is enough to announce that jungkook is rising to consciousness, provided by the multitude of uncomfortable groans slipping from his lips.

 

“boss?” comes seokjin's voice. “your friends awake.”

 

jungkook immediately feels hands on him, grabbing at his wrists and ankles tightly. he’s being lifted up, the sound of a door swinging open reaching his ears and cool air rushing to meet his exposed skin.

 

still rousing, jungkook’s confused. who’s hoseok? and seokjin? why does he know that name? wait, who’s boss?

 

he’s being thrown to the floor before he can ponder his questions more and he realizes how much his body hurts. he groans again, louder this time, and a voice sighs, “god, he’s annoying. can we finish this quicker?”

 

“yoongi, calm down. give him a moment.” it’s namjoons voice ( why does he know that name? ) and it’s coming from right above him. a foot prods into his side and then, “jeon? open your eyes for me. i want to show you something.”

 

jungkook smacks his lips, eyes still closed and mumbles, “what is it?”

 

“only the most beautiful sight mankind has ever been graced with,” he replies, sounding like he couldn’t be happier. “the moon has graced us with her presence tonight. won’t you marvel at her beauty with us?”

 

the moon…

 

why does that sound so familiar? and why does it cause such fear in jungkook’s heart?

 

“the moon?” he asks quietly. “but… i see the moon every night. what’s so special—“

 

“open your fucking eyes!”

 

suddenly a fight breaks out around jungkook and he blearily opens his eyes. a blurry light is in his peripheral vision but he’s more interested in what the strange men are doing all around him.

 

jimin and taehyung are holding back the man jungkook recognizes as hoseok, red hair plastered against his forehead as if he was sweating. namjoon is in his face, practically spewing steam from his ears. seokjin is above jungkook, staring down at him, which means the mint-haired man beside him must be yoongi.

 

“boss,” seokjin announces. namjoon pays him no mind, two preoccupied in calming hoseok to hear him. “boss,” he repeats, glancing over at the scene with knitted eyebrows. “boss, are you listening?”

 

namjoon spins at the third call, face overcome with absolute rage. “ what ?”

 

seokjin seems unfazed. “jeon’s up.”

 

he calms immediately at news, eyes flitting to the drowsy confused man sitting up in the grass. his expression softens and he crouched down, a smile already curling on his lips.

 

“jeon, nice to see your eyes open. this is the perfect moment to look at the moon.”

 

don’t do it.

 

“i…” he frowns, hesitant. “i don’t want to.”

 

a tick forms on namjoon’s forehead. “why is that?”

 

it’s dangerous .

 

“it doesn’t feel right to me.”

 

“really?” he’s trying his best to seem shocked, but jungkook can see right through it. he’s getting pissed. “but you must look at it. then we can be friends.”

 

he’s a bad man .

 

“i don’t think i want to be friends with you.”

 

in a split second, his entire expression changes. his eyebrows suddenly dip and his lips curl back, a look of absolute anger taking over his entire body. his hands are clenched at his sides and his shoulders are tensed, just as wound as a pitchers arm.

 

“i won't repeat myself again, jeon,” he hisses. “look at the moon. or you won’t like the consequences.”

 

whatever you do, don’t look at the moon.

 

jungkook isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. he recognizes these men, small details appear in his mind every few seconds, but every part of him is telling him they’re bad. even if namjoon stopped hoseok from attacking him, and even though seokjin watched over him while he slept, every cell in his body was screaming not to trust them. especially namjoon.

 

“i won’t,” jungkook tells him, straightening his shoulders. “i don’t know you. i don’t like you. i don’t like your friends. and i won't look at the moon with you.”

 

he feels confident saying it. he feels confident a moment after. but then namjoon gets to his feet and he knows it’s all over.

 

“grab him,” he growls.

 

seokjin is quick, big sturdy hands grasping one arm. yoongi darts for the other and they hoist him to his feet, toes barely dusting the grass he was just sitting on. hoseok slips around him and reaches up to take hold of his head, locking it in place with a firm grip.

 

namjoon steps up in front of him. “i told you to listen, jeon. it could’ve been easy. we could’ve been friends.” he shakes his head, as if saddened. “but you disappointed me. so i’m afraid we have to force you.”

 

jimin and taehyung circle in front of jungkook, the both of them reaching for his face simultaneously. he struggles in his hold immediately but thanks to the three different grips holding on tightly, its fruitless. because of that, it gives both taehyung and jimin ample opportunity to grab at his eyes.

 

“you’ll thank me in a moment,” namjoon sings. “and we’ll be such good friends.”

 

jungkook feels the men pull on his eyelids, opening his eyes wide, and then the five of them work together to turn him towards the bright light in the sky.

 

“no,” jungkook shouts. “no! stop it! i don’t want to!”

 

“take a deep breath,” namjoon advises. “you’ll feel better—“

 

the world spins and suddenly jungkook’s on the floor again, the pain beating him into submission once more. he writhes in the grass, all while a chorus of confused voices erupt around him.

 

“what the hell?”

 

“where the fuck am i?”

 

“uh, who are you?”

 

“jimin?”

 

“taehyung?”

 

“hey… that’s my neighbor.”

 

there’s a lot of shuffling above him and then hands grip at his body again. this time, jungkook can’t fight against it. the pain is still in his system and he doesn’t even have the strength to speak, let alone struggle once more. so he lets whoever’s holding him tuck him against their chest and—

 

“this guy lives here, so i’ll take him up. all of you should… probably get home.”

 

there’s another chorus of voices, this time all of agreement of the first voice. the voices drift further away, all with their own version of a farewell, before they’re gone completely.

 

and as the one carrying jungkook starts to walk, jungkook passes out for the second time.

 

-———-

 

it’s a week after jungkook had that strange dream.

 

whenever he thinks back on it, he can’t help but be completely embarrassed. once he woke up that morning, he scoured the internet for any sort of information but never found anything. because of that, he hasn't told anyone about it, simply in fear of being mocked.

 

what jungkook remains confused on is the people he dreamed of. he’s never seen them before, yet they appeared so easily with their own separate personalities and hair colors. they were so real.

 

jungkook shakes his head for the millionth time in a week, pushing his shopping cart down the cereal aisle in defeat. it’s all that’s clouded his mind and he can’t shake it. for a dream, it sure felt genuine.

 

he stops by a certain section, perusing the boxes with squinted eyes as another person slips into the aisle. he sees them in the corner of his eye but pays them no mind. at least, until they walk right up to him.

 

“hey jeon! how are you feeling?”

 

why does he recognize that voice?

 

“are you feeling better after last week? i’m not sure how we all ended up on your lawn, but you looked pretty exhausted when i brought you up to your room. you feeling better now?”

 

jungkook turns. once he catches sight of who’s speaking, his entire body stiffens. it’s him. it’s the man who sang to him through the camera, the man who hummed his little tune to distract jungkook from the noise, the man who smiled at him to show off his identical dimples. the man with the red-tinted, bar-wire-wrapped bat. it’s namjoon.

 

jungkook sucks in a large breath. and screams.