Chapter Text
The handler drags Jeongguk from the dressing room out into the hallway by the elbow. He staggers alongside as compliantly as he can, the brightness and the sudden movement bothering him more than the painfully tight grip. Through his dizzy vision, he can make out the line of similarly dressed subs already kneeling along the wall.
It's still jarring when he's shoved down to kneel himself, and he feels the force of the impact not just in his bruised knees but also in his ribcage and his teeth. He recovers enough to follow where the same hands are pushing him, shuffling backwards and to the right right until he's last in line.
Next to him is another, larger male — enviably healthy. As his eyes clear he sees the other sub is also alert, though looking at the ground.
"Listen to me," the handler, of course a dom, commands; the force behind it is nauseating, and the other sub's gaze tilts upwards, immediately. "I need you to go down, and stay."
A shiver runs from Jeongguk's scalp through his spine. Down, down; he watches in fascination as the sub's beautiful eyes glaze in eerie farawayness.
Jeongguk doesn't understand how the other subs manage it. This amount of verbal instruction isn't enough to go down like that, but they are able to pretend so perfectly — well enough to protect themselves, at least. He's even seen — he wishes he hadn't, but he has seen — young teenagers fake it on command. It's not fair that it comes to everyone else so easily, but he's only succeeded at faking it a handful of times, when he was actually on the brink...
An impact against his forehead sends him abruptly backwards, the back of his head knocking against the wall. Then a hand squeezing his cheeks pulls him forward again. "Are we going to have a problem?" the handler, squatting down to his level, whispers — the well-behaved subs aren't supposed to hear. "What did I just say to you?"
That hand moves down to his throat. He has never met this dom before, but the bruises around Jeongguk's neck are like an instruction manual. It's not fair. It hurts and it does the job. With an additional pinch to his scruff, he really feels it. He doesn't resist the thick fog of unawareness.
There's an unusual beeping. Shrill and repetitive, it demands his attention. Jeongguk feels he's drifting up a little, and although it could get him in trouble, he pulls on that feeling to come up even more, because it sounds like an is alarm going off. He's not sure what he could do about it, but maybe he should be worried.
Of course, after that spacing, he feels worse all over, aching, nauseous. The noise hurts his head. It doesn't stop. He watches one of the handlers rush by, then return in the other direction carrying a small sub in their arms.
Another handler follows.
Thankfully, no one gives Jeongguk a second look.
"Hurry up!"
"We're going as fast as-"
"Leave them!"
Some people are arguing and it's too loud, all of it. Loud and confusing. Jeongguk covers his ears with his palms.
Multiple fuzzy minutes pass. No more handlers come.
The sub on Jeongguk's right side leans forward and peeks down the hallway, left and right. Then, he stands up. Jeongguk mirrors him, a second later, without thinking.
This time, unawareness comes without him expecting it. The dark spots in his vision don't clear. His hearing is the next to go. The rest, he does not observe.
Jimin can't take his eyes off of the crime scene photos. The two dozen identically dressed submissives crouched on the floor, some of them — it feels invasive to zoom in, but he wants to know — staring with fear or hope at the forward rescue team, others gazing blankly ahead.
It's so disturbing to see Taehyung disguised among them. In the picture, the dom is caught mid-sentence, and he supports an unconscious sub, pitifully thin and bruised, in his arms. That is the sub who Hoseok and Taehyung visited at the hospital.
He knows what Seokjin must be thinking as he unwraps one arm from Jimin's waist and makes to grab for Hoseok's phone: you've been looking at that for too long. Not healthy. But Jimin thinks it's reasonable and fair to have grim thoughts about really grim things. He jerks the phone away, and Seokjin relents with a sigh, returning to the same backhug position as before.
Jimin scrolls again through the shots Hoseok decided to save for his own reference. Trucks, license plates, drugs yet to be classified, weapons left at the scene. Wide shots of vacated rooms. The medical team triaging the victims in smaller groups, some subs able to walk themselves out to the waiting vans, others needing some support or additional time to come up. There's also a photo of Taehyung carrying Jeon Jeongguk out of the building himself.
"They were able to locate multiple family members," Hoseok is saying, "but he rejected the offer of placement with them."
"They probably sold him off in the first place," Taehyung mutters venomously.
"Well, we don't know that, but…"
Jimin feels physically disgusted. He discards the phone face down on the counter. Yoongi reaches over and takes it.
"He's too sick for the group homes, so, for the time being, he's pretty much stuck in the hospital. It's really not…" Hoseok purses his lips. "The best environment-"
Jimin feels Seokjin sigh, chest rising and falling against his back. "We can tell. It's okay to say it. You want to volunteer to foster this sub, don't you?" Seokjin says.
Taehyung lights up with a grin. "Yes — can we, please?"
"Everyone needs to agree," their head dom says. "But, if we do take this on, I will do everything in my power to make it work and make it a success."
Yoongi's expression is blank as he looks up from the pictures and searches for Jimin across the counter. Jimin doesn't give him any signal, either, because Yoongi should come to his own decision.
Namjoon speaks next. "We got the certification for a reason. And there's a reason we were deemed to be qualified."
He's right. They've never fostered a sub before; they're so busy they haven't talked about it at all lately. With their members having such an involved interest in the issue of submissive trafficking and dynamic science, a couple years ago they went through the certification process, partially in order to gain a greater understanding of the system, but without a specific fostering goal in mind — just to have the option, if they ever wanted to. And now that desire has manifested.
Their eros is large but stable. They have plenty of resources. Half of them are experts in some aspect of this. Besides their lack of experience, they're perfectly equipped.
"I think that's a yes?" Seokjin prods.
"Yes, yes. Of course." Namjoon is now looking at the pictures over Yoongi's shoulder.
"If we can work out the logistics," Yoongi says slowly, "then I think we should do it."
Of course he does.
Now everyone's looking at Jimin.
It's just… Jimin thinks their eros is perfect just the way it is. And it's not as if a permanent change is being proposed, but if they try this, it will disrupt their everyday life for at least a month.
Jimin doesn't want that. Selfishly, selfishly, selfishly — and fearfully, perhaps — he doesn't want his eros' attention to be (temporarily) wholly consumed by another sub.
But his selfishness and fear pale in comparison to those images.
"Yeah," he decides, "I want to help."
"I'm sure you can walk," Seokjin says, registering Jeongguk's confusion, "but it's painful, isn't it? This way is quicker and better, so sit down, please."
The eros' head dom isn't as scary as Jeongguk is used to; he certainly isn't trying to look intimidating, in that fuzzy pink sweater. Still, Jeongguk wouldn't dare to disobey such a simple command. Actually, he's grateful to know what Seokjin wants. So he climbs onto the wheelchair.
(It is pretty painful. The hospital people put him on less medication today so he could pay attention better.)
Taehyung, smiling, hands him his backpack. His backpack. The black bag and its contents are currently his only belongings. The social workers gave it to him earlier this week, with some hygiene things inside. Now he also has all of his papers, some bottles of pills, and a printed photograph of the eros that is going to be taking care of him while he gets better. He holds his backpack against his chest as Seokjin starts pushing him out of the sterile little room where he has been held for several blurry days.
Seokjin was right. It's good that he's sitting down — the hospital is overwhelmingly busy and the hallways are long. He focuses on the backpack in his arms and the sight of his new shoes.
He's very glad to be leaving. That doesn't mean he's not scared, because it could be that he is about to enter a much worse situation. This could also be a big improvement, though… He'll find out soon enough.
The eros members who came to talk to him… yesterday? — Taehyung and Hoseok with Seokjin, who he met for the first time — must have thought he was stupid when he immediately agreed to move in with them, without taking time to consider. And they wouldn't be wrong — he never seems to learn, never manages to act right and protect himself, never thinks, never has been able to kill the little amount of hope inside that leads him to take stupid risks. But his decision wasn't based on nothing.
They enter a large elevator. Taehyung stands between him and the other people.
Jeongguk has never never never ever met a dom like Taehyung before. He cannot fathom why someone would disguise themselves as a submissive to sneak into a place where really bad things could happen to them, unless they genuinely wanted to help. It was dangerous but Taehyung did it and he saved Jeongguk and a bunch of other people from getting sold to new owners.
Cautiously, Jeongguk has concluded that Taehyung has good intentions. The switch, Hoseok, too, probably. (Apparently Hoseok also helped with the operation; Jeongguk hasn't seen concrete evidence but he is not sure why they would lie about that.) Cautiously, Jeongguk has concluded they must actually care, for whatever reason — or, they believe that they care, and isn't that the same thing as caring for real? — about the subs they rescued. That they weren't lying when they said they want him to have a better place to recover than the hospital. That they aren't just snatching him up as a convenient victim who nobody will miss.
And Jeongguk hopes that, even if a couple of the eros members are not as good, it won't be that terrible, because they won't be able to hurt him in ways the others would easily discover.
(Doing so much thinking makes him tired, and it's useless; it won't protect him from whatever's coming. He hasn't had much else to do in the hospital, though.)
Suddenly they're outside. Seokjin steers him past the entrance awning, down to the street. The sun feels nice and warm. "We’re almost there," Seokjin says, and he points towards one of the cars lined up against the curb. Taehyung waves at the car. The door opens and Hoseok gets out. He must have been waiting for them.
"Hi, Gguk!" Hoseok is just as chipper as the other times they’ve met. He opens the rear door of the car, where they must want Jeongguk to get in. "It’s good to see you out of the hospital!"
"Hi," Jeongguk tries to say, but the sound doesn’t come out. He swallows. His throat still hurts but it’s getting better. Using more force and air, he’s able to say it on the second try, quietly. "Hi." Hoseok beams down at him.
When Seokjin brings him to a stop, Jeongguk casts his backpack onto the floor of the car and quickly transfers himself from one seat into the other, assuming what he is expected to do instead of waiting to be explicitly instructed — either choice could be wrong, so he would rather not waste time. Luckily, he doesn’t get chastised. Taehyung takes the wheelchair from Seokjin and starts heading back toward the hospital entrance.
There is some cool air blowing towards him from the center console while the black upholstery behind him radiates cozy heat. Jeongguk thinks he’d better proactively buckle his seatbelt as well, so he does. By the time he’s settled, his heart is beating quickly with exertion. He really doesn’t like that. Hopefully in a week or two he won’t be this weak anymore.
Seokjin, still standing at the open car door, ducks to look inside. "Jeongguk, do you like these?" He holds up a small yogurt drink, the plain type with the foil on top. Jeongguk nods. "Me too." Seokjin pops the little straw into the foil and extends it for Jeongguk to take. "This is for you, then. Please don't drink it all at once."
Jeongguk nods again and tries not to flinch when Seokjin closes the door. Hoseok climbs into the driver's seat, and Taehyung slides into the back, which is nice. Jeongguk isn't afraid of sitting next to him. Seokjin settles in last, and Hoseok peels away from the curb. "With the current traffic, it should be, mmm, thirty minutes? Until we get home. Okay?"
Rhetorical question probably, but Seokjin hums agreement. Jeongguk sips his yogurt, closing his eyes to better savor the tangy, sweet flavor. He would be drinking the whole thing in one gulp if Seokjin hadn't told him not to — he's hungry. It doesn't really make sense to him that he's still frequently hungry despite getting fed a lot more often than before.
Taehyung said several of the eros members are good at cooking and that they are looking forward to feeding him. Jeongguk really hopes that's true.
Hoseok is a good driver. The ride is smooth, and he doesn't curse at any of the other cars. Seokjin has turned on the radio, but it's not too loud. No one makes conversation.
Listening to the quiet music, enjoying his little drink, and watching the buildings and streets pass on the other side of the window, Jeongguk feels so grateful. Lucky. Maybe even happy. He sees the normal people outside doing normal things and he feels closer to them than he has in years.
He is far from a perfect sub — luckily, Taehyung knows that already, and wanted to take him home anyway — but for them, Jeongguk will try to be the best he can possibly be.
"We're here," Seokjin says, and Jeongguk is startled back to awareness. He rubs a hand over his racing heart. Oh, he must have drifted off. "We're here," Seokjin repeats gently, assuming he didn't hear. Hoseok puts the car in park under the shade of an awning, next to a row of motorcycles. Jeongguk blearily gathers his strength and climbs out with his backpack, closing the door behind him after using it to steady himself.
Jeongguk is used to being locked up in high rises and this is not like that at all. Tightly packed buildings — multistory but not very tall — line the one-lane residential street. Multicolored clean laundry is hanging to dry on many of the balconies above. Seokjin walks up to the entrance of a building where pink and white flowers climb up a rusting trellis. It's so achingly ordinary that, although it doesn't really mean anything, it reinforces his stupid hope.
He can feel Taehyung's eyes on him as he follows where Seokjin and Hoseok are going, walking with as normal a gait and pace as he can manage, shoving his pain aside. His headache is everpresent, that's a given whether he’s been someone’s punching bag recently or not, but the walking agitates his ribs — they told him one of them is probably cracked. Hoseok holds the door. The building entryway is dim and cool; up three steps (ow) and down the hallway, they arrive at, thank goodness, an elevator.
Beep, beep, beep, up to the top floor. "Everyone is home right now," Hoseok says, looking down at his phone. They already told Jeongguk to expect that. "Yoongi-hyung made lunch!" He’s not looking forward to meeting more people, of course, and squirmy anxiety expands in his chest the closer they get to the apartment. The promise of food after helps, though. And, he reminds himself, if Taehyung hadn’t saved him, he’d be going through far worse.
The front door. Seokjin types a code into the keypad — Jeongguk doesn’t see what it is — and as they cross the threshold, Hoseok takes the backpack out of his hands. No, that’s mine! he thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut. There’s nothing really in there anyway. It’s okay. He takes a breath. Taehyung is behind him, not touching him but close enough to keep him moving.
There’s a lot going on: Seokjin proclaiming, "Welcome!" and Taehyung suddenly trying to help him take off his shoes and Seokjin putting in front of him a pair of yellow slippers, and the really good smell making his stomach contract, and he has to look around the foreign space to spot where the new people are. The momentum of the group pushes him forward — and he knows there’s no way to stop being scared besides going forward — across the shiny white tile to a sitting area with a maroon carpet, where two people are standing in front of chairs. "Everyone, say hi to Jeongguk!" Seokjin calls out. The third person approaches from the direction of the kitchen.
It’s almost more awkward than scary. He sees small smiles, worried eyebrows, and politely folded hands. The guy in the middle seems the most excited. "It’s nice to meet you! I’m Namjoon! Welcome to our home!"
Yes, he would have recognized Namjoon from his height. The tallest member of the eros is a switch and a brain scientist, or something — Jeongguk doesn’t really know what that means — researching how dynamics work. "Thank you," he rasps, and he moves to reciprocate Namjoon's bow with a lower one but flinches when Seokjin grabs the back of his shirt.
"Sorry," Seokjin says in a weirdly high pitch, sounding truly apologetic. "Sorry, don’t- don’t do that. We know you’re very polite, but — your ribs."
Really? Jeongguk isn’t entirely comfortable with that, but, okay. He will do what Seokjin says.
"This is Jimin," Namjoon says, smiling like he didn’t hear anything, gesturing left.
Jimin gives an awkward little wave. "Hi." The angelic-looking blonde is another switch and a university student, if he remembers correctly.
"We’re glad you’re here, Jeongguk." The third is Yoongi, the eros’ final dom. He works from home, something to do with music. He's going to be around a lot, so Jeongguk should be careful not to upset him.
"Thank you," Jeongguk whispers again.
"Enough standing around," Seokjin says. "Let’s have lunch."
Yes, thank you. Jeongguk gratefully drops into the chair Taehyung pulls out for him, near the end of the long table that abuts the kitchen island. Taehyung sits next to him again. The same table, the same chairs, like everyone is equal. "Tired?"
Jeongguk nods. It's probably obvious.
"Incoming!" Seokjin, approaching the other side of the table, carries a tray that he puts down carefully, preventing the steaming liquid from sloshing, and slides across.
His lunch! His hands fidget in his lap. He can't wait to eat… He could probably eat more than this, he thinks. His meal is already portioned out into a small-ish bowl, while everyone else is getting handed bowls and plates to serve themselves…
"This is just hot water with honey," Seokjin says. That sounds nice. And the rest of the tray is self-explanatory: chunks of fish and sweet potato on a bed of mixed-grain rice. "They walked you through your diet plan at the hospital, right?"
He nods. He remembers that discussion happening and he even remembers some of the things that were said. People who were just starving can't suddenly have everything they want, stuff like that. (He already knew that from experience.)
"We won't withhold food from you. You can have more if you ask. But we are going to encourage you to stick to the plan, so you don't get sick. Does that make sense?"
Huh. Honestly, no. They would give him more food, even though they don't want him to have it? It doesn't make sense. He won't be asking, though, so it doesn't matter. He just nods.
To avoid drawing attention, he starts eating at the same time as everyone else. It's like the room disappears — he closes his eyes and all that remains are the new flavors, spicy and homey and warm. Finish chewing before you swallow, the nurses kept chastising him; he does try.
He was so right to choose to come here, he was right. For a few minutes, everything is- well, even then it's not perfect, but everything is as good as he needs it to be. And the portion isn't too small after all. He's not hungry anymore after it's gone, content with sipping the rest of the water.
"Jeongguk."
His head shoots up — did he miss something? Did he miss a lot? He wasn't listening. Are they mad? Seokjin is smiling, though.
"Would you like to see your room?"
Oh. Would he? Is he supposed to?
Seokjin starts to get up. "Let's go. I'll show you."
Taehyung helps him pull out his chair. Once he's standing, Jeongguk has enough sense to look down the table for Yoongi and say, "Thank you for the meal." Yoongi just gives a thumbs-up. That's funny.
Taehyung doesn't come with him when he follows Seokjin back toward the maroon-carpeted sitting area. Hoseok does, but Hoseok… He wants to trust Hoseok, but he doesn't. His body doesn't. He's getting scared again.
There's a little hallway branching off to the left; they turn, and then it's just the two of them, with him, alone. The fear is exhausting, especially since it's useless. Something bad either happens or doesn't happen, no matter how he feels, no matter how well he can anticipate it.
The door on the right reveals a sunlit room with a big, white bed — a nice room, the sort of room an owner would let him have before realizing what a bad investment he was. (This is not that, of course.) As they file in, Seokjin launches into explaining. It's their guest bedroom, which he and Hoseok rearranged yesterday and this morning. There are many details to explain; he and Hoseok hop from one to the next, pointing, demonstrating. Jeongguk tries to turn into just a floating pair of eyes and ears so he can absorb the bombardment of information.
Here is a pack of waterbottles, stashed for him to take. Here are some clothes he can wear. Here are some activities he can do if he wants to stay in his room. Here is a tablet he can use to play games or look up music or really anything — woah — and here is its charger.
Then, here is the bathroom, yes, just for him. (He avoids the mirror over the sink.) Here are the towels. Here is how to get hot water from the taps.
There’s a bench in the shower so he can sit down if he gets tired. That’s really nice. Shockingly nice, for them to think of something like that.
When they finish with the hot water lesson, they find Namjoon now hovering over the desk by the window. He's juggling bottles of pills that Jeongguk recognizes — some, at least — from the hospital, from his backpack. Oh, his backpack that's now on the ground by the bed. Namjoon also has a pad of sticky notes and a pen. On the note, he writes one word — nausea — then takes one pill from the bottle he's handling and places it on top of the note on the desk.
Oh? Jeongguk steps a bit closer so he can look. Another note says cough. The other one says sleep. Hoseok swoops past to help work the next bottle open.
"You don't have to take any of these if you don't want to or you don't need them. I just- you know, I thought I could lay them out clearly like this, so you could find what you need," Namjoon says, focused on writing the word pain.
It is, again, weirdly thoughtful. If they gave him a handful of unidentified medications, he would take them without protest or question. (Whatever happens happens, right?) Maybe they know that. Instead, Namjoon, who doesn't even know him, is presenting choices Jeongguk can make in private, and making it clear and easy. (Assuming he isn't lying.) "Thank you," Jeongguk mumbles.
There is yet another bottle, after the pain one. Namjoon holds it up with an expression of distaste. "They gave you this, so I'll leave it here, but… I don't recommend it. A dynamic suppressant will just make things more complicated."
Suppressant, he writes, and he adds the pill, anyway. That's weird, but, okay. Jeongguk just won't take it, then. Namjoon's instructions were pretty clear.
Then they all leave.
They all leave. They take the rattling pill bottles with them and leave him by himself, and it's quiet, ear-ringingly quiet in the room and on the other side of the door.
After a minute of waiting, he impulsively reaches for pain and nausea and swallows them dry, because he knows his body will appreciate those. And if the drugs aren't what Namjoon said… if he just took something bad… well, he's just screwed, then. Whatever.
He's tired.
He knows they cleaned him up at the hospital, in some way — he doesn't really remember. That was days ago. He could use a shower.
He looks over at the bed, white and plush. His slippered feet skim across the carpet. Maybe he’ll just rest his eyes for a minute. And then he'll… Oh, who does he think he’s fooling? He passes out as soon as his body is horizontal.