#kurofic

Summary:

It begin with a simple request, sent by a pigeon, that landed on William's desk one day, but little did the dispatch supervisor know that it was only the beginning of a difficult investigation as well as an exploration of his own beliefs. Co-written by Southern_Breeze, we hope you enjoy our story told via documents.

Notes:

into_the_abyss is writing the part of William, and Southern_Breeze is writing the part of Sebastian and Grell.

*Please Note: No pigeons were harmed in the writing of this story.*

This collaborative fic is written in the form of a letter exchange and features letters from William (myself,) Sebastian, Grell, Ronald (all SouthernBreeze, a.k.a @eviltwintheory) as well as some original characters.

Pairing: rome/kangjun Rating: PG Word count: 6240 Warnings: unbeta’d, second pov Summary: And in all the places Barom goes, he wants Kang Jun by his side. Author’s notes: Happy Belated Birthday to Sei! In which, no amount of words dedicated to your name will ever be enough to convey how wonderful you are. All in all, I tried. I recommend listening to lost stars, both the original and Kangjun's version, to understand how magical inspiration is. Specific portions can be correlated to specific verses and I apologize beforehand for faulty characterizations, unbeta'd madness, and second person pov.

WIP. 

word count: 1408 pairing: dongwoo/hoya warnings: lapslock, unbeta’d, second pov; the usual. heavy re-interpretation of greek mythology + the seven vices + extremely faulty characterizations. summary: hoya seeks catharsis. a/n: based on this and this. written for sei; for whom, without, i would not be living in the yadong dumpster. if only my writing was half as beautiful as yours would i dare call this a gift. perhaps in the next life i’ll write something worthy enough to bestow upon you.

written for lazychaoz as part of the 2015X valentine's bangtanexchange:

Pairing: jin-centric ; 2seok ft. past!taejin Rating: PG Word count: 7013 Warnings: none Summary: Happiness is not a stagnant state. Nor can it be measured by the accumulation of materialistic goods. Seokjin learns the hard way. Author's notes: A round of applause for T, who held my hand and fed me 2seok feels all the way. For her endless patience and encouragement as my beta; the Jung Hoseok to my Kim Seokjin. With special thanks to E and S for their support. Without them, this fic would have never been completed.

It’s the same routine every day, like clockwork. Seokjin wakes up, gets ready, and reads his activities off the tattoo received each day. Eyes skip over the 30 minutes slotted for family activity. To him it is just free time. Spare for the fact that he can’t go out for fresh air nor escape the huddling family units ( and the sore reminders that arise ).

His gaze flickers back to the oddity shoved in between what he’s used to: a rallying of sorts, President Coin has something to say. 

He files in like the rest of the citizens of 13, shoulder to shoulder, a monotony of gray.

Then strangers begin to pour in, sporting an array of outfits and empty gazes, fidgeting figures and soot covered faces. She begins and informs them about the refugees, the situation in twelve, and what followed after yesterday’s broadcast. Of course Seokjin had seen it. All of them have. Everything up to the blackout where the mockingjay fired at the force field.

She expects a welcome and that everyone will abide to. It means more soldiers to fill in the gaps the epidemic left behind, more people to back the cause they have been waiting for 75 years. No one will say no.

Before everyone disperses, he’s pulled to the side.

“You have an extra bed in your bunker, correct?”

Seokjin blinks once before replying, the implication already dawning upon him: “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” is the only confirmation he gets and Seokjin wonders if he’s dismissed before the other adds, “one from district 12 will be staying with you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin supplies with a nod of his head, knowing full well he’s been drafted for the welcoming team. At least it explains the abnormal scheduling of his tattoo today.

915 of them, she had informed her citizens, gathered in one place looking lost. Seokjin doesn’t blame them. Not after what they’ve been through and weaves a smile on his face because that’s the least he can do. There’s no luxury for hesitance down here. Follow the orders and keep everything functional.

He’s led to a boy observing his surroundings. The male is shorter by a few centimeters, hair dark, grime embedded in nails from working in the mines, and the same dark soot dusted across shoes and clothes. He looks too young to be working in the mines, displaced somehow. But he’s probably 19 or so, recalling the age where childhood ends and work begins.

Without missing a beat, Seokjin offers a hand to welcome the other. “Kim Seokjin,” he introduces as the other grasps his hands. They are calloused, rough patches lining his palms, leaving Seokjin to wonder how many hours were spent underground. Too busy in thought he nearly misses the “Kim Taehyung” that the other divulges.

“You’re staying with me,” he informs before handing the other a grey jumpsuit – the uniform of the lost district.

II.

Seokjin has to relearn how to live with another soul and the adjustment period is tough. He tries his best though ( at least you believe you are ) giving the other a tour and preparing Taehyung for the life in district 13.

However, there’s always something off kilter. Like at night when its no longer his own breathing that fills the silence of the room or the fact that he has to get up at least 10 minutes earlier to rouse the other from his sleep. The hardest part is being responsible for another individual, keeping him in check because despite the refugees having the status of ‘guests’, to some degree, they are slowly being integrated as citizens themselves.

( that’s a lie. the hardest part is remembering why there’s a stranger in the bed beside yours. )

The boy goes missing one day. ( boy is an unfair term because you’ve been right about taehyung’s age. ) Seokjin is tempted to give up until he spontaneously makes an appearance in the room with a look of excitement about him.

“I caught a glimpse of the mockingjay,” he spills without Seokjin having to press the issue.

She has a name you know? Seokjin nearly quips but shuts up in favor of listening to the rest… in vague disapproval ( the frown says it all ) because he wasn’t supposed to have traded a mandatory task for a glimpse of the icon of hope.

“She looks distressed.” It’s a simple statement, not tinged with judgment or disappointment, perhaps a hint of understanding. Seokjin tries to not read to hard into it as he starts worrying about their cause unraveling and how he might have to waste away down here before something can be done. ( frustration stems from the tangibility of freedom. 

They’ve all known about her arrival and her recovery period. A bit of anxiety as days pass, short on time because the Capitol can eradicate more districts by the time she’s ready. There were rumors of her recovery and her meeting with President Coin. Seokjin’s more surprised by the boy’s audacity to venture and sneak a glance. The elder would never dare even if curiosity were too tempting of a motivator. He grudgingly forgives the other.

And that’s the end of the conversation. 

III. 

It is probably 3AM when Seokjin sits up in his bed, drenched in his own sweat. Chest heaves as he tries to blink away the images from his head, forcing himself to inhale and exhale before trying to fall back to sleep again.

He can’t.

Finds himself turning too frequently in bed. A sigh catches his attention, as the other asks, “Can’t sleep?” Seokjin suddenly feels a flush of shame for being too loud in his tossing and turning, disturbing his roommate.

“Yeah.” A brief pause before he asks in return, wondering if he had disturbed the boy or had the boy not been sleeping at all, “You can’t either?”

There’s a shake of his head and Seokjin turns towards the other, resting the weight of his upper body onto his elbow. Taehyung has an arm supporting his head and the other hand resting on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling as the elder begins to wonder if it's the glimpse of the mockingjay or thoughts of home that has kept the other up. Probably a bit of both.

“I…” Seokjin’s not quite sure why he’s sharing or what compelled him to. Perhaps him trying to take the youngster’s mind off other matters or trying to take something off his chest, he doesn’t know and maybe the reasoning doesn’t matter all that much.

“A nightmare,” he confesses as he looks down and studies the palm of his hand before finding it in himself to continue. When he looks up, he notices the other’s gaze on him.

“A few years back there was an epidemic – pox. It wiped out a lot of the population, my family included,” his lips struggles to form a smile. It gets halfway there before it falters. Its probably nothing compared to what the boy has been through but Seokjin still dreams of their faces, their smiles, the deterioration and observing from behind glass doors, the I’m scared, Seokjin. I don't want to die as tears collect like dew upon eyelashes. Bodies burned, mass graves, nameless to protect the survivors.

( you sometimes still lie awake wondering why it didn’t claim you back then. perhaps you would have preferred it to this. it is kin to rotting away, less in body and more in soul. )

“Same with my friends. I doubt they even know what the sun looks like,” he forces out a chuckle and the boy remains silent. There’s nothing much to say and Seokjin is just glad that someone is listening. Its just part of life, he convinced himself back then, people die – some earlier than others.

He hears the rustle of sheets and watches as the boy from 12 slips out of his own bed and crawls into his. Seokjin makes room, puzzled but finds himself not minding.

The “please” comes out barely audible but Taehyung didn't need to plead.

Everyone has their fair share of suffering. Seokjin falls asleep soon afterwards.

IV.

It’s rare but the familiar emblem of the Capitol blares on the screens of the television, quickly enrapturing everyone’s attention. A face far too familiar is projected on the screen after Caesar’s introduction. Peeta Mellark and Seokjin spies the mockingjay approaching with a shattered expression.

Then he begins to speak nonsense, invalidating their cause, asking for something as ridiculous as a ceasefire and Seokjin finds himself hissing. He did not conform and abide to the rules to end it all here. He didn’t persuade himself to wake up each morning, despite how lethargic he felt, in order to resume hiding and continue under this non-aggression pact. He promised. Fucking promised to catch a glimpse of the sun and the stars, the trees and the plains, and the expanse of sky for his friends who were unable to experience things they’ve only heard of.

His voice joins in with the rest – in rage and in hate at the blonde boy behind the screen, imploring them all to stop what they’ve done.

Seokjin fails to notice the way Taehyung’s hands clench into fists.

( the differences in position was never something he had taken into consideration despite all this time living with an individual from district 12. are they really fighting for the same thing? )

Days later President Coin announces immunity for the victors. Chaos ensues in a cacophony of voices and protests, in which Seokjin joins with great confidence. 

V.

The response is quick and despite having heard of the events in district 8, it’s more stunning in the propo. Stunning not the correct term but it tugs at Seokjin’s heart and he finds his fists clenching in rage at the injustice. The hospital was full of harmless individuals, only proving the lengths in which the Capitol would go to in order to remain in power.

Despite the corny message stitched onto the end, the emblem of the evolution, and hilarious graphics, Seokjin finds his heart pumping with adrenaline against his own will. As if the entire crowd itself has been injected with a strong dose.

( it is just propaganda, just trying to boost morale, you tell yourself. but you fall for it anyways. )

Although Seokjin is aware of these facts, his voice still joins in harmony with the chanting – fist raised in air and echoing the message of his comrades. He’s in tandem with the rest. It’s conflagration and he is willing to burn. 

VI.

The mockingjay is busy. The media is the first battlefield and neither side can afford to lose. The second propo is of her returning home to the ruins. Gale narrates the events, the last night before the destruction of a district.

In some ways, it looks like the rubbles of 13 but one can still make out the buildings – and even worse the corpses. Concerned, Seokjin takes a glimpse to the individual on his right and notices the unwavering gaze as he takes it all in. Jaw tight and it dawns on the elder that this was what the boy used to call home.

There’s nothing left and nothing to return to. Seokjin must have seemed pathetic to be troubled by loss due to an epidemic.

915 out of 10,000. The boy is lucky to be alive, lucky to have made it to the meadow before it was too late, heading Gale’s words.

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Seokjin realizes he’s been staring and forces himself to focus on the propo once more. A sense of hate chokes him; frustrated with the whole situation and despite his initial qualms… at that moment he was ready to go to war.

That evening, before both of them go to bed, Taehyung hums a snippet of the song. It’s surprisingly soothing, grasps at Seokjin’s soul in a way he can’t explain.

“You have a nice voice,” he notes in honesty and pretends not to see the way embarrassment creeping up to his cheeks and dusting it pink. Unfortunately, it also stops the lovely tune so the elder picks it up:

where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.

Taehyung joins but not before flashing Seokjin one of those smiles that showcases all his teeth. Seokjin’s lips curl into a smile, one that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

VII.

Then it all goes wrong, starting with Capitol’s propaganda featuring Peeta once more. He’s changed, that’s for sure. Enough people begin to doubt whether those are his thoughts or are they fed by the capitol.

The feed breaks and melds into Katniss’ song for a brief second before it flickers back on. It continues for a few times and Peeta’s distress becomes evident before the feed is broken off forcefully. A Capitol film ending in failure.

Alarms blare and an announcement comes through about an air drill. It’s probably just to keep them all calm, Seokjin figures before he begins searching for his roommate, scanning the crowd and calling out his name a few times as people clad in grey jumpsuits brush past him.

He finally finds the other, shuffling along with the rest of the individuals around him and Seokjin makes room for himself beside the other. He offers a smile and reassures the other that “it’s just a drill.” He’s practiced for as long as he could remember, hence why everyone descends the stairs in a calm and orderly fashion. Even the refugees seem to catch onto the mentality and evacuate as if it was nothing but practice.

And at first it does feel like practice. The speakers reconfirm that again and again on a loop, citizens are neat and organized as they descend into the depths of district 13.

Then the first bomb strikes that rattles everyone. The first instinct is to crouch. Their gazes cross and he’s sure his eyes mirror Taehyung’s widened ones.

Then all hell breaks loose. First with the water from the sprinkler system, drenching them from head to toe, making it harder to navigate and descend. Screams pierce the air as everyone begins to scramble for the doors. 

Fear seizes Seokjin’s heart despite the years of practice, more worried about people being trampled to death in this frenzied stampede than about the bombing. District 13 was meant to be a fortress – to hold out long after the Capitol has fallen and disintegrated. 

He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, fingers filling into the interstices of the younger’s as he places his other hand on the boy’s shoulder, and begins to usher the other down to safety. He may be imagining it, but the boy’s pulse is fast and Seokjin wonders if he’s afraid. Anyone would be really. He tries to reassure the other, as they descend the stairs, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’re almost there. 

( you’re not sure if it’s to reassure yourself or someone else. )

And they are despite the torrent of water pouring from the pipes, uncomfortable in the way both hair and clothes plaster to skin. But that is the least of their worries.

They make it safely down into the bunker and Seokjin exhales in relief before releasing the other’s hand.

VIII.

His district is not 13 if not well prepared and he dries himself off with the towel provided before climbing into one of the bunkers. Taehyung’s already seated, blank expression upon his face and Seokjin doesn’t blame him. He’s a bit startled too by the turn of events, how quick it was. Perhaps this is going to become normality – just the first taste of war they had all longed for.

The elder draws his knees to his chest as he takes in his surroundings and begins to put names to faces of the neighboring beds, wincing once in a while when the bombs have found their targets. It's a synchronized reaction with the rest of the population: cringing, necks disappearing due to raised shoulders, as if trying to duck from something but realizing it doesn’t hit… not in the way one expects it to. Debris falls from the ceiling and Seokjin glances up in curiosity. Panic begins to set in when he notices the cracks and imagines the ceiling splitting into two and crashing upon them.

“Anything,” he begs, voice cracking and caught up, “talk about anything.” It startles the younger a little but he soon begins. Taehyung’s shoulders are pressed against Seokjin’s overly large ones as if proximity could fight fear.

( maybe it can. you just never had anyone to help you out with that theory. )

His voice is deeper than Seokjin remembers, which is odd because ever since the little harmonizing he’s been hearing the younger’s voice more and more, but it might be because he’s trying to be respectful of others by half-whispering. 

Taehyung begins to illustrate the way the stream holds the entire world in a shard of light, the sunset glow that adds a pastel and warm hue to the mountains – even gives The Seam a bit of its own color. How sometimes he observes the sky and a single pale cloud breaks the monotony of blue. He escapes by ducking underneath the fence like he’s observed older kids to do and tumbled in the vegetation and inspected some wild animals in awe. He distracts you with his childhood dreams of leaving the place – a mining district not a place for a boy like him. ( you cant help but agree ) Once upon a time he tried to convince another to join him, the boy who would join him in the escapades beyond the borders ( he never tells you what happens to him ), the way stones skipped and caused ripples in the streams because they were young and bets were just a method to spice up lives.

Seokjin traces the childish jut of his jaw with his eyes, gaze at light as fingertips, enamored with his tale. 

( all your life you’ve only known these four walls and the shades of grey that adorn this complex. too dangerous to venture outside so children are taught to quench such desires before they even form. it sounds like another world to you and you would, perhaps, give anything to see it.

especially to try out the whole sport of skipping stones. )

It dawns, at some point between the tale of chasing a cat and counting stars, that it was selfish to have requested this from the other. Must be painful to recall what once was given the image of what it is today.

“I’m sorry,” cutting the other off in mid-sentence. A quiet apology is all Seokjin can offer. The other provides a shrug and a smile and the elder supposes that if he was willing to share then perhaps it was okay?

( you’re just hopeful and you know it )

The conversation remains forgotten when everyone gathers, in the intermittent of the lack of dropping shells, and watches the mockingjay tease her pet. He watches Taehyung’s smile grow as he watches the cat desperately chasing after the light, being taunted without knowing, and Seokjin finds himself chuckling along with the crowd.

IX.

There’s a rescue for the captured tributes underway when another broadcast fills their screens. Instead of another filmed clip of the mockingjay, this is of the other tribute. Finnick, Seokjin thinks his name is before the man confirms it by announcing it to the world. It is odd because it isn’t like anything else before. Its not a short propo but rather an interview like thing and Seokjin wonders what is up.

He finds himself too absorbed in the man’s tale to continue along that train of thought.

See, despite being the only district not participating in the games, they still monitor it. Use it as a reminder that their comrades are suffering and that 13 is the only hope to end the Capitol’s tyranny. Seokjin remembers viewing it for as long as he could recall, still can taste the bile on his tongue from the first viewing. It was beyond cruel.

What was worse was the drawing of names from the bowl, watching tears cascade down faces too young to be involved in a game of murder, and families trying to bid their last farewells as it is all tied up with a pretty bow of glory. He remembers the way his fingers would tighten around his father’s shirt and how he would bury his face in his mother’s arms.

Seokjin had thought it ended after someone won that they were spared this life of anxiety of partaking in the games as well as immunity for the family. 

Apparently he thought wrong. So did the entire nation according to Finnick’s reports. So appalled by the relay of how they were forced to be sold or coerced into it that Seokjin had to turn away… only to glance at the younger male beside him. Taehyung’s face is impassive and Seokjin wonders if he’s used to wearing that expression. Wonders if every year he holds his heart in his hands and hopes not to be picked while composing his face. How must have it felt like to be gathered into one place and watch familiar faces step onto the pedestal, knowing the chances of seeing them again was slim. 

Seokjin should be considered fortunate.

And this is exactly why they fight, the male reasons, to end injustice and cruelty and free the world from this man.

( it’s more than just snow but tales that tug at emotions can rule out reason )

Secrets keep spilling and horrors revealed until all of a sudden it ends. The feed and everything else with no explanation. The higher ups will come up with something as the mass looks at each other in confusion before rounded up and convinced to retire to their beds.

The next day, they are rallied once more. He joins the crowd, side by side with Taehyung, as they listen to President Coin’s announcement. It is one of victory and reunion. So positive and hopeful what could possibly go wrong?

Morale soars and humans cheer for 13, for rebellion, for the mockingjay. 

( oh if we only knew back then ) 

X.

Seokjin’s known it from the start. Everyone was merely a pawn in this fight, just like how the mockingjay can't dictate her own fate, collected over time and until handicaps weren’t needed. A war was necessary all along and most civilians of district 13 have trained all their lives for it.

Some never expected it to be so soon albeit 75 years is a long time. Not long enough to be forgotten but neither is it short enough for it to remain too fresh. The other districts have done their part: declared their stance and brought down the Capitol’s electricity ( for a while at least ).

This is their turn to hold up the end of the deal.

Seokjin takes one last look around his room, the two beds attached to the walls and the simple sheets that adorn it. He owns nothing else and Taehyung came empty handed ( spare for the clothes on his back long discarded ). The resident of 13 is all geared up, long prepped for the role of a soldier.

Taehyung’s outfit mirrors his own. The refugees don’t have to but most of them participate. Those who are able bodied and even those who aren’t help out in other ways.

( but you can’t quite explain why you are saddened by the sight. you catch his gaze and twist your lips in the semblance of a smile and he replies with one of his own. )

“Ready?” Seokjin inquires, bravado of sorts as he takes in a deep breath and slings his bag over his shoulders. There’s a curt nod as he reaches over to ruffle the other’s hair. There’s a hybrid between a scowl and a smile as he shakes it out and smoothens it with both hands. The elder only grins before opening the door, taking one last glance at his living quarters.

The engine is loud, drowning out all possibilities of a conversation. Seokjin is probably too nervous to engage in one anyways as he’s strapped to his chair, hands holding onto the weapon bestowed by his district. Sunlight filters in through the glass in front of the pilots. Beyond that is a small expanse of blue sky lined with pale white clouds.

A smile is grafted on his face, knowing full well that this may be the last and first time he ever witnesses such a breathtaking sight.