title: afraid
characters: a study on moon bong ki.
summary: ❝he walked in, a faux leather jacket slung over his shoulders, a clenched jaw and his knuckles decorated with bruises. a wildfire contained by the smallest restraints.❞
trigger warnings: violence , abuse , gangs and drug use
the dawn of his adulthood - his youth spent in the sunny coast of busan were a turbulent time. scruffy hair, and a lackey figures - the faux leather jacket the hyungs gave him, draped over his thin shoulders.
moon bong ki was fourteen years old, and had bitten way more than he could of chewed off. which was evident with the way the young boy was weighing the cool metal gun resting in the palm of his hand.
❝ don’t be a little bitch.❞ a man in his early twenties had barked out, his patience was running thin with the runt of his group. ❝ we know you can handle it - it’s less personal than fighting, less guilt. “
the messy hair teen flinched at the elder’s words - gulping as glanced at the target, and then back to the gun that laid in his hand. his mind chanting to him, that this wasn’t a real person..just a dummy.and inkwon hyungnim was counting on him, he was chosen out of the other errand boys for a reason
shaky hands held up the gun and a boom was heard through the warehouse.
the young boy sat crosslegged on the roof of his school. a cigarette pressed between the middle of his lips, eyeing the upperclassman who was currently pacing around with a pissed off expression.
“ you’re not getting the pills until you pay up sunbae.” the boy provoked. the honorific dripping with sarcasm as he glanced up at the older male. “ you’re two payments behind.”
“bong ki-ah, come on, i’ll pay you soon, just give me another bag, i promise.”
the boy snorted, finally standing up from his spot, an unreadable expression placed on his youthful features.
moving closer to the older male, a smirk on his face. “ sorry sunbae, you gotta rip leeches off to survive.”
the smell of burning skin lingered in the air.
“ you can’t be getting into so many fights bong ki-ah, this isn’t busan anymore.” the newest foster father drilled, his wife cleaning the wound on bong ki’s shoulder as he spoke.
“ you need to put that anger towards somewhere else.”
the teenager growled -biting down on the inside of his cheek. he felt conflicted, a wildfire that had already burned so much, nothing not even these people could drench it now.
“ we’re signing you up for mma, bong ki ah, don’t disappoint us.”
blood.
there was blood everywhere splattered on the crisp floors of the empty warehouse.
the source of it unknown as bong ki lingers in the building. his eyes shifting around it, until he spots a figure laying on the ground, a cloth draped over it.
his stomach turns as bong ki drops onto his knees, his fingers shaking as he unravels it.
his face turning white as sees the body.
the face is ever changing, flickering from his foster parents, to minhee, to seokmin, to his youngest sister, risa and jaehyun.
bong ki wants to throw up.
until he hears a familiar voice taunting him.
“ don’t be a little bitch bong ki, this is what you get for turning on us.”
a cold sweat is falling from bong ki’s forehead, his alarm ringing annoyingly beside him.
his eyes shifting around the bedroom of his apartment, his cat looking curiously at her owner, as he runs his fingers through his damp fringe.
that couldn’t be a good sign.
