—how can i
get him back?

OCTOBER 11:
PARK JIMIN

==

"it's midnight, jimin."

he bites his lip, half in guilt and half in frustration that—that she would never understand what's happening to her son, even as they speak. and that practically drives him to the verge of insanity; because kim taehyung's mother should be just as involved as he and the other five are. but she isn't—she just can't see, and that's what breaks jimin's shell bit by bit.

"i know," he mumbles quietly, placing the half-empty bowls of twelve a.m. dinner in the sink. "but i—"

"where on earth do you have to be at this hour, jiminie?" mrs. kim whispers, elbows on the table. the dark bags under her eyes are only accentuated by the flush, pale light of the lamp beside her, and jimin feels his throat bob up and down in suppressed emotion.

"it's nothing difficult, mrs. kim." a blatant lie.

"it may not be difficult." she takes a breath. "but please, jimin. tell me why you've been so, so absent these past days. i—i can't afford to lose another person."

jimin stays silent.

and then, he speaks. "do you trust me?"

"i—what?"

he can't tell her: just not quite yet. what difference would it make in the first place? it isn't like she could tell someone to go help catch a supposedly-possessed boy that most can't even see. and with her graying roots and chapped lips, her frail skin and thin stomach, jimin can't put more stress on her. it's just inhumane; taehyung is his best friend, and it's his responsibility to save him if his mother can't, no matter how much the fucking turmoil.

no matter how many tears he sheds when no one watches.

"just trust me," jimin places a hand over hers and manages a smile, "and i swear, mrs. kim, everything will be exactly how it was before. please. just give me some time. don't worry, alright?"

"jimin." it isn't a statement; the word is a mere breath past her lips, shaky with her wet eyes.

but he has long removed his fingers from her own spiny ones, and without another word of sorrow, jimin disappears into the night with a rod in his backpack and tears in his eyes.

==

"it's one a.m.," yoongi slams the blade of his metal shovel into the rough dirt, "it's one fuckin' a.m. and here i am, digging out a grave. who would have thought."

"why are we doing this in the middle of the night?" hoseok whines, brow thick with sweat despite the chill of the night air. "isn't that the dumbest time to dig a goddamn coffin out? i feel like a fucking serial killer."

namjoon shakes his head regretfully, hands clasped onto the steering wheel of his battered down—but extremely efficient—truck. he squints through the window to the two working in the middle of a cemetery (now that jimin thinks about it, the whole scenario is quite shady). "how do you think people would react if they saw a bunch of guys digging out a grave in the middle of the day, huh? and god, you guys can't refrain from cursing for just one sentence."

"yeah, you dumb fuck," retorts yoongi, "because we're the ones working our asses off while you guys lounge in the truck! this is so creepy, my god..."

"we're taking rotations," seokjin rolls his eyes," calm down. christ." he turns to namjoon and sighs, adding, "i'm gonna go help them. the brats won't shut up if i don't go right now."

"i'm still wondering what would've happened if he'd been cremated."

"fucking hell, hoseok."

silent in the passenger seat the entire time, jimin stares at his hands in anxiety, barely managing to stay in the moment. he feels numb, surprising even himself; shouldn't he be more...protective over his best friend's grave? they're practically destroying the place where taehyung was supposed to "eternally rest in peace", but here they are, on the verge of tipping the headstone itself over.

why is he so callous now? why would he ever bring up the idea to dig out his best friend's fucking grave? but jimin knows the answer clearly, regardless of what his brain tries to tell him.

i'll do whatever it takes to get my best friend back, safe and by my side.

"hey, park." namjoon's smooth voice brings jimin back to reality, a few careless blinks directing him to the driver beside him. "you okay?"

jimin swallows and nods. "yeah. yeah, i'm just..."

"nervous, i know. and that's natural. no one's going to force you to dig though, alright? that's just...cruel."

"no," jimin hastily sits up, "no, no. i was the one who suggested it, right? i'm...i should help, too. i can't just let the hyungs do everything and—"

"jimin." namjoon fixates him with tense eyes, chewing his lip anxiously.

"seriously, man. i'm not going to let my emotions get in the way of—"

"no, that's not what i was going to say." namjoon pauses. "can i...can i show you something real quick?"

"huh?"

without waiting for a response, namjoon shuffles through his duffel back between the seats, full of scattered files and slightly-crumpled documents. he curses lightly as the pads of his fingers scrape by sharp edges, but he continues on until retrieving a faded-looking newspaper and extends it to jimin.

"i found this a while back, when i was privately investigating taehyung's case," namjoon explains quietly. "and, and i lost it, somehow. but when he was chasing seokjin and i the other day, it somehow winded up in my...jacket again."

jimin raises his eyebrows. "what the hell?"

"i know, exactly. i didn't want to bring it up at the restaurant because...well, i wanted you to be the first after me to read it because taehyung was—is your best friend, but also..." he leans back with a quick sigh. "the things in that newspaper column are graphic. it would've been just dumb to discuss it in public. it isn't much, but...it was a hell of a lot more than i ever knew before."

"are you saying—"

"yeah," and jimin widens his eyes, "it's the specifics of taehyung's murder."

jimin pauses, staring at the paper in his hands. with a shaky breath, he trails his eyes to the column with his best friend's name in bold, steadies his heart, and begins to read.

KIM TAEHYUNG: MURDERED IN OWN HOME

though contrary to most published articles and reports on the case, the evidence is clear that kim taehyung's death is not the result of a suicide, but that of a murder. as of what investigations have reported, taehyung was found dead on the floor of his apartment with the unmistakable kitchen knife impaled into his stomach, resulting in a death of blood loss. considering he was the only one in the flat at the time, all reason points to suicide as the source of death, despite its extreme method.

however, what if taehyung wasn't alone during that time? this is where my research branches off from those who have previously published their findings. there are several considerable factors to be taken into account for: for example, the completely shattered window by the kitchen in itself should be more than sufficient evidence that, clearly, someone was with him at the time of his death.

granted, DNA samples have been tested on both the knife and glass shards, both yielding negative and absent results. taehyung himself was found with his fingers on the end of the knife's hilt, as if driving the blade into his stomach himself. but other evidence supports my hypothesis, which i will certainly try and publish after proving.

my research has been dismissed from the public crime investigation forces, but i will continue to conduct much more investigations on this. i believe we should take into consideration every possibility of kim taehyung's death, especially including murder.

jimin sets the paper down.

namjoon sits up and sputters, "jimin, if it was too much—"

"why is the author anonymous?" he interrupts, fixating namjoon with a blank stare. "and how the hell do they know so much about tae's murder?"

"i don't..."

"how is that even allowed?" jimin feels his voice rising, the telltale sign of anger creeping into his words. "hell, they're acting as if figuring out that taehyung was murdered will only get them respect. it's so much more than that."

"that's not what i wanted you to get from that, jimin," namjoon sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. "i'm saying that this person might understand what's going on. if we can get into contact with them, then—"

"hey! namjoon, jimin! c'mere!" yoongi's voice cuts through the otherwise silent purple air, grabbing the attention of those in the truck. they quickly cut through the cemetery to the demolished heaps of dirt surrounding taehyung's grave, and jimin swallows, his whole body shaking.

when his eyes lay on the elaborate coffin clearly visible from the dug-out hole, the atmosphere seems to drop twenty degrees.

"oh," he whispers.

hoseok swallows, his joking attitude long gone. "i, um...fuck, that's terrifying."

the night is quiet, a thick pressure of a dead boy's coffin right in front of them. none of them have the courage to move from their positions. thin winds rustle the trees of nearby woods and raise goosebumps on their skin.

after a gruesome span of several moments, jimin finally crouches to his knees and brushes his fingers over the dry soil, swallowing the sick feeling in his gut. this is for taehyung, he reminds himself. you have to do this. you have to find him, figure out who did this to him.

"jimin—" seokjin begins, but the former quickly cuts him off.

"i'll do this, hyung. you guys have done plenty. seriously. thank you so much."

"we want to find him just as much as you do, man," yoongi mutters, and jimin manages a brief, rare, but sincere smile. "of course we'd help."

jimin nods, taking a deep breath before reaching for the metal, hook-like rod he packed into his stuffed backpack. the steel is cold against his shaking fingers, and he vaguely wonders if he can really do this—it's peeking into the grave of his best friend, after all. there very well could be the decomposing body of kim taehyung in there.

all of a sudden, the situation feels so utterly disrespectful. what if his body is there? what if the five of them are clanking their shovels down into the grave of taehyung where his body rests, supposed to lay forever in peace? jimin isn't sure if he'd be able to forgive himself or erase the image from his mind. this is his best friend, for god's sake, and even if it weren't, digging out someone's coffin like grave diggers isn't exactly a virtuous move. he feels blood pounding through his ears, hands shaking at the thought of even touching the coffin. it goes against every one of his morals. 

but i have to do this. i have to find out if that being is really my best friend or not. i have to save him. i have to. i have—

he feels bile rise in his throat.

"hey," namjoon places a hand on his shoulder, "are you sure you can do this?"

taking a deep breath, jimin forces a laugh. "of course i'm not. but i have to."

wrenching his eyes shut and quickly opening them again, jiimin fastens the hook onto the edge of the coffin's cover, attempting to stabilize his breath. c'mon, park. pull the fucking lid! stop acting like a wuss. taehyung needs you right now.

he swallows. "taehyungie...buddy, i'm gonna save you."

and he yanks.

a loud slam echoes through the air as the cover falls to the side. jimin looks to his lap, heart ready to leap from his chest. he hears hoseok suck in a breath behind him, and someone—he doesn't know who, since everyone is whispering—mutters an awed profanity.

"jimin," seokjin breathes, "jimin, look."

so he does.

the first thing he notices is, to his relief, that there is no body. in fact, until his eyes get adjusted, there doesn't seem to be anything in the coffin. but that's the thing. there isn't a body in taehyung's coffin.

but then jimin sees them. the shoes.

"his sneakers," and jimin swears his heart stops for a moment. because the white shoes are standing up impeccably, like they'd been perfectly aligned for whenever they were meant to dig taehyung's coffin back out again, especially since he was buried with the shoes on him. and not only that, but—

"is that...blood?"

and jimin nods because yes, those dark, almost black, splatters on the edges of taehyung's favorite adidas sneakers—the ones he wore to school practically every day and washed after every single gym practice and even when he began to be home schooled, he still wore them to his "therapeutic" doctor's appointments—, they look way too close to blood to be comforting.

"i think..." jimin trails off shakily, eyes glued to the shoes. he doesn't even hear the way that four breaths behind him simultaneously hitch, nor the low hums from a mere thirty or so feet away from him. "it's really dried and old, but...but it—"

"jimin." namjoon speaks slowly, quiet and shaky. "jimin, don't move. stay silent."

"what?" looking up from the ground, jimin darts his eyes in confusion. and then he sees him, standing perfectly still against the minimal light of the moon, white shirt billowing against his bony limbs.

"oh my god."

hoseok swallows. "yeah. kim taehyung is here."

==

im kind of mad at myself bc i made the characters a lil too jim dandy about diggign a fuKCIGN GRAVE
this was poorly written m sorry
can u believe that this is a thriller smh
anyway thanks for reading!!! ily