#jungha

Chapter 5: Case 229040120

           The stairs cracked, the creaking only slightly sharper than the dulled thud of his knee hitting them as he tripped over the blanket still trying to keep him cocooned in silent, deep sleep, the stray ends of it coming apart and splaying behind him as he finally kicked himself free and climbed the rest of the steps up.  His palms slapped against the wood, each hiss opening his eyes wider as he pushed himself up like a sprinter at the line.  The starting gun had been a scream, just one sharp enough to pierce through his slumber, one lightning bolt to jettison him off the couch and up into the loft where his sister was.

           “Hey, hey,” he hushed, her head immediately between his hands and pressed against his chest as he sat beside her shaking body, her own blankets already tossed aside as her legs thrashed a little before she sank against him.  “You’re okay, I got you.  It’s okay,” he repeated over and over as she shuddered between breaths and gulped for air. He wondered how dark her dream had been, the bookcase and desk in her room becoming clearer as his eyes adjusted. He picked up a stray plushie off the floor that had jumped off the bed or been knocked aside and passed it back to Junhga who accepted it with a hug as she finally caught her breath.  

           “Need me to call Yoonji?” Taehyung said as he moved around the room, a stray wad of paper thrown back in the trash can and the edge of her blanket pulled back over her legs as she shook her head.

           “No, o-oppa, I’m okay.”

           “You sure?  Want me to stay?”

           “I’ll be a-alright,” Jungha said with a deep breath, her head tilted back as she closed her eyes.  Taehyung watched her in the dark—at the way her face always seemed to be shining, at how long her hair was getting, at how small she still seemed despite how grown she was—and reached down to kiss her forehead.  The hand on her head had her eyes opening as he smoothed out her hair and whispered back,

           “Alright.  Get some more sleep, then.  It’s a big day.”

           “Do I have time?”

           “It’s barely three,” Taehyung said as he glanced at her clock, the tick, tick, ticking of the hand barely audible but enough to drive him crazy if it was sitting by his head all night.  The picture beside it had him stalling as it always did, Jungha’s cap and gown engulfing her almost as much as the huge bouquet of flowers she was holding, her eyes closed as she smiled so widely Taehyung knew her cheeks must hurt.  He looked just as happy beside her.  Proud.  Exceptionally.  And Namjoon, his arm around her shoulders as sturdy and reassuringly as he always had been, his dimples on display.  Yoonji, behind the camera, grumbling about how they had to hurry because the thousands of other people graduating university wanted to take the exact same photo in the same spot because a university created uniformity—Taehyung smiled remembering her rant that went on longer than taking the picture had before patting Jungha’s shoulder.

           “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, waiting until Jungha laid back down and took a few solid breaths before he shuffled back downstairs, the contrast of moving slowly after thundering up them making his heart find its regular pace, too.  Still, he put his arms through a jacket and patted the pocket to make sure a carton and lighter were there and put on his shoes, the door clicking quietly behind him.  Crisp air met his face, and he leaned over the concrete wall wrapping around the apartment building floor for a moment, the city as quiet as it ever was in the dead of night.  Knowing he could stay there if he wanted to, he went down the stairs instead, his slippers slapping against them as he pulled his jacket tighter around his pajamas.

           They weren’t the same stairs, and he never huddled underneath them to hide or play, but he stood beneath them to smoke, the clouds blown out taking no shape at all but still conjuring images before him. Countless nights just like now, and yet one in particular taking him back ten years ago, back to a huge house with real hardwood floors and multiple bedrooms and stainless steel apartments and books in every room and a refrigerator always stocked and new blankets and safety like they had never known, and yet still, nightmares.

           The new room would be shared, just for a while, until Namjoon could make room in his study for a bed, but Taehyung would leave the real room to Jungha.  They had whispered into the night, like they both knew if they stopped they’d wake up from the dream.  Together again, finally, and in a beautiful home with someone who would truly care and look after them was more than a dream come true.  But they had both drifted off eventually, no clocks keeping them awake, no one else coughing or mumbling to themselves.  No flashlights or phones under covers, just a covered window and their covered bodies, just warm enough and safe, finally safe.

           But dreams—Taehyung sighed as he blew out another puff of smoke, remembering how hard Jungha had cried even as she stuffed her hands against her mouth like she had trained herself not to wake anyone else over the years.  It had been so long since he had had to comfort her, and she was so much bigger now. He paced awkwardly and sat beside her, trying to hug her and doing his best, telling her to talk to him.  He asked if he should get Namjoon, if she needed something, and while his heart ached, a pang, pang, pang pain when she said,

           “Yoonji unnie—I want her,” he had called the girl. His friend.  As he curled his arms around his legs on his new bed and watched her climb through the window and shuffle over to Jungha’s arms, his jaw clenched so tight it would be sore later, he wondered then what could stop his thundering heart.

           Smashing the butt under his slippers, Taehyung filled his lungs with the night air over and over again, gulping it down as he looked up at the top of the stairs he stood under, globs of discolored but once pink gum making his eyes lose focus, until he was ready to go back.  Not to sleep.  He would sit on the floor downstairs and work on a case while Jungha sought a happy dream this time.  He never went back to sleep after a scream woke him up.  Not after that first time.  

           The floor, or his bones, or the table, creaked as he sat down, the lamp by the couch flicked on and hovering over him. They would continue to creak until the stairs did, when Jungha came down for breakfast, and then Taehyung would get up. Until then, creak, crack, crick.

             The floorboards in Namjoon’s house didn’t creak, but Taehyung tiptoed carefully, anyway, jolting a little when the man said without turning around from his coffee machine,

           “What do you want for breakfast?  Who’s up?”

           “Just me,” Taehyung said, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt that was still a hand-me-down, too stained and too big and too holey to stand too close to the man’s impeccable suit, silky tie, and pants with an ironed crease-line down the middle.

           “Oh, not Jungha?  And your friend?”

           “My—” Taehyung gulped, feeling his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s would.  He glanced over his shoulder at the door he had shut behind him and then started fidgeting with his hands, wondering how he had fucked up so quickly.  One night.  One mistake.  One time, and he’d already ruined—

           “Have her use the door next time,” Namjoon said as he turned around, his cup clinking on the marble countertop before he leaned his hands against it.  Taehyung swallowed, opened his mouth, and shut it again, wondering what sounds had bleated out of him without permission.

           “I’m so sorry, it’s just, Jungha, she had a nightmare, and we didn’t want to—I should have asked, I’m so sorry, I just—I didn’t think, she’s my friend, I didn’t even—”

           “Taehyung, take a breath,” Namjoon said, the smallest smile on his face.  “You can have friends over.  Jungha can, too.  But there’s no need to sneak around.”

           “It was—late.”

           “I was awake,” Namjoon said, his smile wider now before he waved a hand in the air.  “And I would have seen it on the cameras this morning if I wasn’t.  Don’t sneak girls through the window, Taehyung, that’s lesson number one.”

           “Yes sir,” Taehyung bobbed his head, his toes curling and flexing out before he had the nerve to ask, “What’s lesson number two?”

           “Always eat breakfast, even if you’re like me and can’t cook,” Namjoon laughed.  “Frozen meals are your friends.”

           “Got it,” Taehyung nodded.  “Can I help?”

           “Can you use a microwave?”

           “Like a pro,” Taehyung nodded again, smiling as the man handed him four porridges and pointed next to the stove.  Figuring that’s where a pot was, the telecommunication worked as Taehyung opened it to find what he needed.  “Do you work even on Saturdays?” he asked as he opened the packages and started to break them up as they heated.

           “Sometimes,” Namjoon hummed.  “I try not to make a habit of it, and yet I’m usually there. I’ll be back for dinner, though. What will you three do today?”

           “Oh, well, I have work later.  I won’t be here for dinner.  Is that okay?”

           “Of course.  I’ll make sure Jungha eats well.”

           “Thank you,” Taehyung said to pot before snapping his head up and bowing to the man.  “Thank you, sir, really.”

           “Oh, stop all that.  What will your friend like to eat?”

           “I doubt she’ll stay,” Taehyung said.  

           “Well, she’s welcome to,” Namjoon said.  “Go wake them up so I can see them before I leave.”

           “Okay, yes sir,” Taehyung nodded, passing the ladle to him and eyeing the kimbap laid out, his stomach growling as he passed the store-bought rolls in plastic by.  Pushing his way back into the room, he started to say,

           “Wake up, there’s breakfast,” but his mouth closed when all he saw was Jungha sitting on her new bed rubbing her eyes.  The window was slightly open, and Taehyung shivered as he went to close it.

           “There’s breakfast, and plenty for seconds now,” he told his sister before clicking the window shut.  Her gasp at the idea of seconds made him smile, his eyes searching outside for any sign of Yoonji before he locked it with another click, and Taehyung and Jungha sailed back to the kitchen, not a creak to be heard.

             Watching the last drops of water fall from his hair onto the tile, drip, plip, all traces of smoked scrubbed out of his hair and off his body even if it would linger on his pile of laundry until he had time to wash them, Taehyung only pushed himself to dry off when he heard an alarm go off.  A towel still patting his hair as he came out, Taehyung grinned at Jungha with her bundle of clothes pushing past him.

           “Oppa, I can’t be late!”

           “You have an hour,” Taehyung said, his voice rising as the door shut him out.  “And it’s fifteen minutes away!”

           “I need to shower and eat and—” Jungha squeaked as the shower turned on, so Taehyung shook his head and went to fix breakfast, the store-bought kimbap laid out with chopsticks ready as he rummaged around with containers and all of the packages in the fridge until her lunch was ready.  Hearing the water off and Jungha saying,

           “Oh, oh,” to herself, Taehyung went gently upstairs, his socks barely padding against the stairs at all even as his shin was developing a bruise from falling a few hours ago.  Making her bed, he unplugged her phone and picked up the bag slung over her chair, putting her pencil bag and journal inside it just in case before clicking the light off as he went back downstairs.

           “Oppa, what should I do with my hair?” Jungha called out, and Taehyung got close to the door to say,

           “Yell at it to do what you want.”

           “Oh, I’m not yelling, am I?  Oppa, am I?”

           “Yes,” Taehyung said, knocking on the door once. “I have your things.  Come out and eat.”

           “You eat first, oppa, oh, oh,” she went off again, and Taehyung smiled as he carried his food to the coffee table to eat.  His cheeks were full when she came out, and her face red and her hair still a bit damp as she pulled at the sleeves beneath her sweater and clawed at the fabric around her neck.

           “If it’s uncomfortable, change,” he said as she shook her head and smoothed down the plain and straight black skirt.

           “I’m too nervous,” Jungha groaned as she picked the sweater neck up and repositioned it on her shoulders before sighing. “Does it look okay?”

           “You look beautiful,” Taehyung said honestly, his eyebrows raising when his sister glared at him.

           “Oppa.”

           “What?”

           “Please don’t tease me today,” she whined as she stomped a foot, the dark leggings making it sound like a fluffy animal had just bounced on the ground.

           “I’m not teasing, Jungha!  It looks professional, but not like you’re trying too hard.”

           “Oppa, I am trying hard!”

           “I said too hard, Jungha,” he said as he swallowed.  “Eat everything that’s there.”

           “I can’t, I’ll throw up,” she groaned as she stuffed a roll in her mouth.  “Whaf if they haf me?”

           “They won’t hate you,” Taehyung said.  “Or haze you.  Tell them your brother’s a cop.”

           “Detective,” Jungha said as she stood up proudly. “And the best.”

           “Now who’s teasing,” he said as she rolled her eyes fondly and then dug through her bag while eating.

           “I just know I’ll forget something.”

           “Then you’ll never forget it again.  Do you want me to walk with you?”

           “Oppa, that’s embarrassing.”

           “What?  I used to walk you to school.  Yoonji did, too, when I wasn’t around.”

           “That was when we were kids, oppa,” Jungha said, finally sighing as she found the comb in her bag and started to brush through her hair.  

           “And yet here you are, going back to school.”

           “Being a teacher isn’t the same,” she frowned before slapping the comb on the counter that made the drying cups clatter together. “Okay, I’m ready.”

           “At least brush your teeth.  Gross,” Taehyung said, smiling as he got up and put their dishes away, tsking a little at Jungha’s only half-eaten food.  Picking her lunch up, he slipped his shoes on, grabbed his phone, and put his jacket on, his smile wide when she came back out of the bathroom.

           “Oppa.”

           “Come on.  Being late on your first day would be so embarrassing.  Worse than your brother walking you to work.”

           “I just don’t want them to think I’m—a baby,” Jungha said as she put her shoes on and took a deep breath before slinging her bag across her body and opening the door.

           “But you are,” Taehyung grinned, just glad that she was letting him tease her just a little.  “Text me at lunch or call me.  Do you have any free time?”

           “I doubt it,” Jungha mumbled as they walked down the stairs, her short heels clicking and his shoes clacking on the concrete the whole way.  “I have to meet with the headmaster, and I just don’t think my room is quite ready. And after my first class, I’ll want to really sit and think, you know?  Oh, what if they hate me?”        

           “I already said they won’t.”

           “I mean the other teachers.”

           “They better not.  You tell me if anyone else, okay?”

           “It’s not illegal to be mean, oppa.”

           “I’m not a cop all the time, Jungha,” Taehyung said as they crossed a street.  “I’m your brother first.  Just let me know, okay?”

           “Okay, oppa,” Jungha sighed before taking the lunch he was carrying for her.  “Oh my god, did you make me lunch?  I totally forgot.”

           “Yes, so make sure you eat it all.”

           “What about you?”

           “I’ll eat, don’t worry,” Taehyung said, the sting of the lie thankfully dissolving quickly in his stomach as they crossed another street.  Besides, a small black form caught his eye, a bit like an alley cat or a dirty ghost, and he nodded ahead of them so Jungha would look up.  “Why, look at that.”

           “Unnie!” Jungha called out, waving as best as she could and picking up her pace after the street was clear to pass.  “What are you doing here?”

           “Couldn’t let you go to work without wishing you luck,” the other girl said as she was suddenly bursting with color, a bouquet of flowers revealed from behind her.

           “Oh, unnie, they’re so pretty,” Jungha gasp as she thrust her lunch back at Taehyung to take them, her nose wiggling cutely into them before she laughed.  “This is the weirdest bouquet I’ve ever seen.”

           “They were the discarded ones no one wanted,” Yoonji shrugged.  “But I knew you would love them.”

           “I do.  I do, I’ll find a vase and put them on my desk.  I have a desk!”

           “Yes,” Taehyung nodded, not wanting to tease his sister for how awed she sounded.  He looked at his friend for a second as the flowers distracted Jungha.  He trusted she hadn’t stolen them but simply used her ways to get them.  Her ways, which he knew well and often used to his advantage without ever taking advantage of the girl.  No longer a girl.  A woman, likfe he was a man.  And yet still as small as the day they had met.  Her skirt was as small as it was then, too, when she hopped up on that convenience store counter and crossed her pale thighs.  She at least had tights on today, the same color as Jungha’s though littered with holes, the glimpses of her legs making Taehyung look at what else he could see, too.  No new bruises, no extra makeup to cover anything up.  Satisfied and relieved, he handed Jungha her lunch back and clicked his tongue.

           “Who was it that didn’t want to be late?”

           “Ah, I’m going,” Jungha said, literally jumping ahead of them before bounding back, a quick kiss to each of their cheeks making Taehyung smile and Yoonji wave her away across the last street she would take alone.

           “Ah, they grow up so fast,” Yoonji mumbled, a fake tear wiped from her eye.

           “Yeah,” Taehyung said.  They really had.  Taehyung glanced again at his friend, who hadn’t grown in height at all, who wasn’t so much different from the girl he had met, who was still cocky and knowledgeable about things he would never understand, who was still so easily hurt and yet had the thickest skin.  Taehyung wondered when she had grown up, if she even remembered being a kid, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

           “There’s leftovers at home,” he said when Jungha disappeared into the building.  “If you go, do me a favor and wash my clothes.”

           “Smoking’ll kill you, you know.”

           “And who should I blame for getting me addicted?” Taehyung hummed, his head cocking at Yoonji’s hip did.

           “Peakboy.”

           “Fair enough,” he laughed, nodding to her and putting his hands in his pockets, her tiny frame pushing past him though she still squeezed his elbow as she did.

           “Go catch those bad guys, Taetae,” she sang, his eyes rolling as he turned to watch her go.  He looked at the school, and he looked down the street as Yoonji weaved between people.  His eyes stayed on her hands, like when he watched Jungha paint, but she kept them to herself despite all the easy marks she passed.  After one street, she turned and waved at him with both before doing a little bow, and Taehyung laughed before shooing her away.  She turned toward his apartment, and only when she was out of sight did Taehyung finally go, one last look at the school allowed before he left for real.

             The d-d-d-dee of the insects shaking in trees as they impressed their potential mates by rubbing their wings together grew louder, like when instruments joined in together, the crescendo almost deafening before everything quieted, the stillness before the finale making Taehyung’s breath catch, but the orchestra ended with a bumbled bang as Yoonji’s boot got stuck on the windowsill.

           “Shit,” she mumbled, her normal gracefulness temporarily distorted until she hopped the rest of the way, her hands fixing her skirt as she did and her bag thumping against her back as it righted itself. “Ta da,” she grinned, her fingers wiggling deftly.  “How are my two favorite daddy Warbuckes?”  

           “That makes no sense,” Taehyung sighed as he shut the window.

           “My two favorite Annies,” Yoonji shrugged as Jungha hopped over to hug her.

           “Unnie, I didn’t know you were coming!”

           “Surprise.”

           “Namjoon hyung said to use the door next time,” Taehyung said, his teeth catching his lip when he turned and saw a purple mark on the back of Yoonji’s thigh at the hem of her skirt.

           “Hyung, huh?  Not appa?”

           “He’s not our dad,” Taehyung said, his arms crossing over his chest as he dug his fingers into his ribs.  

           “Maybe one day,” Yoonji shrugged.

           “It’s just for two years.  Until I’m eighteen and can afford a place for us.”

           “Selling ramen really makes the big bucks, huh?” Yoonji said.

           “Look, did you come here just to make fun of me? Your jealousy—”

           “Jealousy?” Yoonji huffed.

           “Please don’t fight,” Jungha mumbled, her arm around Yoonji’s waist and her head on her shoulder.  Taehyung’s fingers curled again, the nails a bit sharper this time against his shirt.

           “I’m going to help Namjoon hyung with dinner,” he eventually said, the black of Yoonji’s eyes not nearly as unsettling as the purple swirling with yellow on her leg, a blackhole colliding with constellations.

           “Oh, he cooks for you, too?” Yoonji said, the tone still evident in her voice.

           “Unnie, please come look at my drawing,” Jungha said as she pulled Yoonji away from Taehyung.  Taehyung pulled himself away.

           “You’re welcome to join us.  I know Namjoon hyung wouldn’t mind,” he said, already out the door before he heard another snippy remark.  He breathed with his back against the wood, his hands flat on the grain, in-in-in-out like a song of his own as the insects started up again now that they weren’t being disturbed.

           Namjoon was at the kitchen counter frowning at his rice maker when Taehyung tiptoed in, something great about the man he never wanted to disturb.  His work clothes were still on, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow as he fiddled with the machine before it seemed to click on correctly.

           “I swear,” he chuckled, “I somehow get worse every time.  Is your friend joining us for dinner?”

           “Oh.  Um,” Taehyung said, clearing his throat.  “I can tell her to leave if—I did say to use the door—she—”

           “That’s all you can do,” Namjoon said with a reassuring smile.  “Can you also wash the carrots?”

           “Yes sir,” Taehyung nodded, his hands glad to be busy scrubbing at the rough hairs and skin of the carrots before he peeled them. “What, um, what do you mean, though?” Namjoon hummed with his head in the fridge.  “About that’s all I can do?”

           “You can show people the door,” Namjoon said as he closed one himself, “but you can’t make them open it.”

           “Oh,” Taehyung said, nodding before adding, “but can I open it for them?”

           “In this situation, yes,” Namjoon laughed. “Literally, of course.  I did mean that.  But metaphorically—a lot of my work is showing kids a new door, you know? I show them all the options they have, but it’s up to them to decide which one to go through.  You understand?”

           “Yes sir,” Taehyung nodded.

           “Hyung is fine,” Namjoon said before mumbling at the package in his hand.  “I did warn you two we might starve.  Are you two eating enough?”

           “Oh, yes si—hyung.  The kimbap is enough for us.”

           “I doubt it,” Namjoon hummed.  “You two are still growing.  I can give you more money, if you want to buy things.”

           “That’s okay, hyung, really, I get a discount at the store.”

           “Well, surviving on snack foods also isn’t good,” Namjoon said before sucking a breath.  Afraid he had burned himself again, Taehyung looked at him quickly, but the man just cocked his head and smiled.  “Sometimes I find that I give advice I don’t follow myself.”

           “Oh.”

           “I did try to learn to cook.  I am still trying.  I’m just not suited for it, I guess.  It shouldn’t be an excuse to only eat snacks.  My job shouldn’t, either.  But sometimes that’s better than nothing.”

           “Right,” Taehyung nodded, wondering why his smile came so easily as Namjoon laughed.

           “So eat snack foods as much as you like.  I suppose it’s more about balance, as so much in life is.”

           “We can at least have a good dinner.”

           “There you go,” Namjoon said, giving him a thumbs-up before frowning at the package he was holding.  “If I can figure it out.”

           “Surely it’s not that hard,” Taehyung said before biting his lip.  “I mean—”

           “No, no, you’re right,” Namjoon laughed.  “But look at this, what’s this mean?” Taehyung went over to glance at the directions, wondering why his fingers curled around the peeler in his hand when he felt his arm brush against the man’s before he stepped away and leaned his head in instead.  The ba-ba-bump in his chest an unknown tune that Taehyung wanted to follow, to listen to more, to hum along to, interrupted when the bedroom door clicked and Jungha came sailing into the room.

           “Unnie is going to lie down but says thank you for the invitation.”

           “I doubt that,” Taehyung frowned.

           “She did, oppa.  She said thank you for letting her stay, Namjoon oppa.”

           “Of course,” Namjoon smiled before reaching the package across the counter.  “Any chance you can help us with dinner?  We might all be eating only rice and kimchi if not.”

           “Oh!  Oh, I’d love to,” Jungha beamed, hopping over.  Taehyung watched her, his smile wide and his heart proud and his stomach grateful.  When she took a bowl to their room later that he found empty just like the room was after the dishes were done, Taehyung thought of that circle, purple and black and yellow and brown on Yoonji’s leg, as he washed it, too.  He glanced at Namjoon, finally in his comfortable clothes, sitting in the living room working on a case while Jungha sat on the floor working on her homework, her face serious and focused, and he went back to his room to gather his own to join them.  His eyes looked out the window, and he breathed in-in-in as the insects sang de-de-de, the long out matching their dee before he left his friend to the night.

           Replacing the night shift was a relay, the wary runners passing the baton to those fresh and ready to finish the rest of the race until it was time for another rotation.  Taehyung knew not to speak in the morning to the man he replaced.  He had worked with him before through the night, his waning energy turning into impatience and annoyance.  Criminals were rarely out at five or six in the morning, but if they were, they would be contending with a man who had been awake all night, his human body screaming at him to sleep.  The night shift rotated every couple of months for a reason, and Taehyung was just glad he rarely got assigned to it anymore.  He understood why vampires craved blood.  No sun, empty streets, a lack of sleep—all of it made you go a little crazy.  Detectives did their work during the day in hopes of making sane and rational decisions.

           As sane and rational as humanly possible.

           Taehyung adjusted the picture similar to the one by Jungha’s bed, though he was the center of this one, his “PASSED” detective test held up high.  Namjoon stood by with his hands in his pockets, a proud smile on his face, and Jungha had her arms around Taehyung’s middle.  The camerawoman, unseen but still heard in Taehyung’s head, teased him and then asked to handle his taser, so his face was a mixture of a smile and an eye roll.  Truly one of the most unflattering pictures ever taken, and yet Taehyung made sure the frame was just right as he sat at his desk.

           It kept him sane throughout the day.

           That, and the pack of smokes he went through.

           He pulled one of his feet halfway from his shoe, his toes curling against the insole, and shook his leg while arranging his paperwork.  A little like finding the end of a thread left out when a pincushion wasn’t available, he just needed to find where to start in order to start.  The pile of paperwork, of writing reports and signing forms and making sure all his cases were updated according to what his bosses needed even if there was no update at all, was never-ending.  It made Taehyung want to light a match on it.  No one had warned him about how tedious the work would be. But paperwork took up the majority of his life, and it was constantly trying to consume him.

           He had other things to sort through every morning, too.  His own feelings and thoughts and memories, his concern for his sister, his worry for Yoonji, his appreciation for Namjoon who he needed to check on soon, all of these were invisible and yet needed to be filed away for later.  Even then, they fueled him, too, made the sorting of the real files easier.  He looked at the picture of his sister to be motivated throughout the day.  He went outside under the work stairs to smoke to distract himself, to numb himself, to stay sane whenever he needed to.

           Sane and rational.

           He had to ask himself, as he played with the lip of his shoe between his socked toes, what was the rational thought behind kidnapping a child?  He had to put himself in the criminal’s shoes.  To see why they thought it sane to do such a thing.  But this case, far more serious than the ones he had dealt with before, didn’t feel sane and rational at all.  Everyone knew his background, so he sometimes wondered if the case had been given to him because of it.

           Give the orphan the orphans.

           Let the murderer take the case.

           Taehyung curled his toes, his eyes finally focusing on what he was actually looking at, the paper held steady between his hands. He was well within his legal rights, to be a detective despite being a murderer, but his record was always going to exist, and it was always going to be brought up.  All through his academy, all through training, all through his time trying so hard to become a cop, everyone brought it up.  Inja, Inja, Taehyung-inja some started to call him, the nickname not kind or one to build camaraderie at all.  But everyone picked at everyone, the close bounds rarely formed, and if so, after years of service.  He watched the ones who knew the Captain be promoted, be picked, and he watched the ones with rich fathers passing when he knew their scores weren’t good enough.  He watched, and he clenched his jaw, and he talked to Namjoon, and he kept working hard. Harder than most, his need to prove himself a strong motivator, but his need to make Namjoon proud and to protect his sisters even stronger.

           His new captain saw his potential, at least, and recognized his worth when he was assigned to the station as a fresh detective. He shadowed and followed until he was ready to work cases on his own, and if Taehyung was given the “lesser” cases, he never said anything even if his colleagues did.  Steering clear of homicide, the bile mixing with blood no worse than any other shame Taehyung had endured, he preferred the cases he was given. Tracking down missing persons felt like true detective work.  Even if it was just a stray elder who took a wrong curve, leading people back home felt right to Taehyung.  Was what he could do to thank Namjoon for giving them a home, was what he could do to help Jungha keep hers, was what he could do to let Yoonji have one whenever she wanted.

           Grunting slightly at a colleague walking by, Taehyung sat up when his boss trailed in after him.  Slipping his foot back in his shoe, Taehyung stood up and bowed, his tie pooling on his desk until he stood back up.

           “Kim,” Captain Heo said, another person who never greeted the morning with a smile but would be tossing back drinks and laughing with anyone who wanted to see the sun go down with him.  “Have a new case for you.”  Plopping it down on the top of a pile that wasn’t for new cases, he rolled his shoulders as Taehyung picked it up.  “Well, transfer, really.”

           “A transfer case?” Taehyung hummed, curiosity peaked as he lifted the cover page.  His jaw clenched as he saw the first picture pinned to the top, a scruffy haired boy with a front tooth missing as he smiled wide.  So wide, like he didn’t quite want to.  Transfer cases could be passed on for many reasons, but letting else someone take the fall for an unsolved case was usually high on the list. Occasionally all the lines that were crossed had actually been twisted, and the wrong station had gotten it initially. A transfer could just be to make sure the right people were working on the job.  And occasionally that was a reason for transfer—pass it along to someone with more expertise.  Taehyung wasn’t sure if this transfer was for any of those reasons.  As he looked at the child staring back at him and glanced at the address on the top of the form, he doubted it was for any of those normal reasons.

           “A missing child.  Pretty sure he’s just a runaway, but look into it, won’t you?”

           “Yes sir,” Taehyung said, as if there was anything else he would do.

           “Good man,” his captain said before bowing his head and moving off toward the coffee station.  Never able to stomach the stuff, Taehyung sat back down and stared at the file, wondering who the boy was, where he was, why he was missing, who might know him, and when he would be found.  Wondering, most of all, if the child was rational and sane.  If he was, Taehyung would understand why he would have run away.  But if he was rational and sane and had a sister, had a brother, then why would he have? Sorting through his cases and checking his appointments, Taehyung gathered the file up to start immediately.

             The blip blop of rain spattering against the windows was the perfect environment for Jungha to paint, but she really wanted Taehyung to give her some privacy.

           “You let Yoonji watch you,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room, the plft of Jungha’s paintbrush on her canvas reaching his ear before he walked away.  He curled his toes as he walked down the hall, the way he and Jungha had halted in their sliding the previous night when the door cracked open still making his heart still even though Namjoon had just smiled at them and said, “Carry on,” as he passed them.  Sixteen felt far too old to be playing indoor ice skating, but Jungha had fallen into the couch and muffled her laugh against the pillow, her lungs gasping once Namjoon had gone to his room as she said,

           “Oh, oh, oh my gosh, I thought he would get mad!” Taehyung thought so, too, and told his sister, but Namjoon never seemed to get mad.  Not when Yoonji kept sneaking in through the window and out the next morning before they could convince her to stay for breakfast.  Not when Taehyung broke a dish he was drying. Not when Jungha woke up screaming and scared him one time while she slept walked and he was still working in the living room.  They didn’t have to sneak around or hide their treasures, which was good.  There were no stairs to hide under, anyway. But old habits die hard, and Taehyung shuffled softly into the living room, not wanting to disturb the man.  He was sitting on the couch cross-legged, a stack of papers bent over one thigh held in place by one hand and a pen spinning in the other as he occasionally tapped it against his leg like the softest punch to ever exist.  He tutted a few times, his chin sticking out and his head cocking back and forth, and Taehyung watched him for a second, always surprised to see him out of his work clothes.  No gray hair in sight, not like the judge Taehyung would always remember sitting above him, Namjoon was so much younger than Taehyung realized, too, his position and wisdom always making him seem like the oldest sage in a longstanding village. Tonight he looked young, and Taehyung felt like a child watching him as he hid half of his body behind the hallway wall until Namjoon said,

           “Everything alright?”  Feeling summoned, Taehyung nodded.  Acknowledged, now he felt welcomed as he entered the living room, though he still wasn’t sure what exactly he should do.  “I apologize again for not having a television,” Namjoon said as he looked up from his papers, his glasses so thick he must be incredibly blind. “Are you sure you don’t want me to buy one?”

           “No, we don’t need one,” Taehyung said as he sat down on the floor, his stance copying the man on the couch.

           “Need help with homework?”

           “No s—hyung.  Jungha’s just painting and told me to get out.”

           “Oh?”

           “Well, she didn’t say that.  Just that she wanted privacy.”

           “Ah.  Is she—” Namjoon said, his pen spinning as he blinked down at Taehyung a bit like an owl. “Well, I’m sure it’s not my place. You’ll tell me, or she will, if she needs anything.”

           “Oh, yes,” Taehyung nodded before gesturing at the man’s paperwork.  “Is it a hard case?”

           “They all are, I find,” Namjoon said before sighing a little, his glasses replacing the pen as he tapped them against his knee for a second.  “I try not to compare them, as each person is different.  Ranking people’s lives as harder or easier than others doesn’t do any good.”

           “Oh,” Taehyung said.  “I never really thought about it like that.”

           “How did you think about it?”

           “Oh, uh,” Taehyung said, clamping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t look too stupid.  Curling his toes against his legs, he bit his lip before shrugging. “I guess I just—I don’t know. Everyone has their reasons.”

           “Yes,” Namjoon said, the way he stopped tapping his glasses the universal sign for “go on.”

           “To do what they do, I mean.  To commit crimes.  I mean, everyone has a reason to do anything.  Like, even if it’s a bad reason or a, uh, like, if we’re confused and think we’re doing what’s right.”

           “Were you?”

           “Was I what?” Taehyung blinked.

           “Confused.”

           “No sir,” Taehyung said with a small frown. “I did the right thing.”

           “Right,” Namjoon said, though the small sigh he let out as he put everything in his lap, the papers and pen and glasses, on the table had Taehyung sitting up straight, his heart racing.  “You’re right that everyone who commits a crime has a reason. Unless they’re declared insane, they have a sane reason.  At least what they think is sane.  And what’s saner than someone who says, I’m hungry, so I’ll steal food to eat? What’s saner than someone who thinks, I’m in danger, so I’ll protect myself, even if that means someone else will die?  These are sane thoughts, aren’t they?”

           “I—think so,” Taehyung said.

           “And are they rational?”

           “Are they—rational?”

           “They are,” Namjoon answered for him.  “One course of action follows the next.  If A then B.  This does not mean they are all valid, though.”

           “Okay,” Taehyung nodded, not quite sure what they were talking about anymore.

           “That’s what I have to ask about this case,” Namjoon said as he tapped the top of his papers.  “The child thought A and saw B, but why couldn’t he see another option? Is it his fault he didn’t?  Backed in a corner, an animal will often bite. Do we punish the animal that is already scared for defending itself?”

           “No?”

           “I’m sorry, I’m merely rambling,” Namjoon said, smiling a little as he leaned back on the couch and stretched his arms across his chest.  “What did you want to ask me?”

           “Ask?  Oh, nothing, I just—Jungha, remember?”

           “Of course.  You just have a look to you.”

           “A look?”

           “Many.  Like you have something to say.”

           “Oh,” Taehyung said, slouching a little as he thought about what the man had said.

           “It’s not for a TV, and it’s not for help with homework.  And it’s not your friend?”

           “Yoonji?  No.  I guess I just—was wondering lately—what will happen.  When I turn eighteen.”

           “I always find when I ask a question to ask one.”

           “Are you being a judge right now?” Taehyung huffed, bristling again even while Namjoon’s eyes opened wide.

           “No.  Should I be?”

           “You’re just—I feel like I’m in trouble.”

           “You’re not.  We’re just talking.  Sorry if you feel that way.  I just want you to be able to talk to me if you want.  But I can’t force you.”  Taehyung looked over the table at the man for a few seconds before sighing and shrugging.

           “I guess, just—what will happen when I’m eighteen?”

           “You’ll go to university, I hope.”

           “But I can’t afford that.”

           “We’ll find a way.”

           “But what about Jungha?”

           “What about her?” Namjoon said before getting comfortable in his couch.  “Ask what you want to ask.  Think about what answer you’re looking for, and then ask the right question to get there.”

           “Will she have to leave your house when I turn eighteen since I’ll legally be old enough to be on my own then?” Taehyung said, wondering if he was holding his breath as he waited.

           “That will be up to her,” was all Namjoon said. “Or her and you.  No one said you had to leave here when you turned eighteen.”

           “I—don’t?  But I thought—”

           “Legally I’m merely acting as a foster parent for you both at this time.  Once you’re eighteen, you can do as you wish.  And I, being well over eighteen, have been doing what I wish for a while. If I wish for you to stay, and you wish to, you’re welcome to.  Do you think you’ll be ready to care for Jungha on your own in less than two years?”

           “No,” Taehyung wanted to say, but even if he knew the answer, he wanted to ask the right question to hear it, so instead he asked, “Do you think I will be?”

           “Financially?  No,” Namjoon said as he reached out for his glasses and papers and pen again.  “But you’ve been caring for her since she was born, so of course.  Even the right questions don’t always have one answer, though.  Maybe that’s why this case is so hard.”  He was speaking down at the paper as he tapped it with his finger before turning a few pages in.  Taehyung watched him for a second as he circled something and jotted down a note.

           “I’m going to walk around the block for a bit,” he said, realizing the man wanted to get back to his work.

           “Alright, say hi if you see missus Reeh.”

           “I will.  Hyung, thank you,” Taehyung said, bowing so quickly he didn’t even notice Namjoon smile up at him as he hurried away to put on his shoes by the door.

           “Taehyung, it’s raining!” Namjoon called out like he had forgotten, but the blip blop had reached Taehyung’s ears the second the door opened.

           “Oh yeah,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed an umbrella.  Taking the two stairs slowly, he stood for a moment as the rain doomed, the dum drum dum on the umbrella echoing in his ears.  He looked left and then right, knowing missus Reeh wouldn’t be out with her dog in such weather, and thought about the decisions he had to make.  He thought about where he wanted to go. About what was on his mind.  Once he figured out the answer, he asked himself—where should I go?  And he turned left, knowing he had many more blocks to go until he reached the street.