—why does no
one else care?

OCTOBER 3:
KIM SEOKJIN

==

most of the songs he sings are old, mellow folk tunes, perfect for his slightly-out-of-tune acoustic guitar and tapping foot. kim seokjin doesn't get much money out of it, but street-side singing is as close of a career—aside from his smoothie job—he'll get.

the sidewalks of the city are crowded with pedestrians stumbling against each other to reach their destinations, eyes glued to their phones and demeanor cold as ice. seokjin hates this about the city. everyone acts like miserable zombies, mouths half agape in yawns and incoherent gibberish against black phones.

so seokjin takes his musty guitar from its fraying leather case (a gift from his late uncle), places a cerulean pick between his long fingers, and strums a few chords.

only a few moments after opening his mouth does he attract a crowd. it's a schedule-type of thing; seokjin sings around six or so in the evening, when the sun is just about to set and people are tired as hell, desperate for some relaxation (oh, he understands it all too well).

he's heard several things about his voice from city-goers; some call it smooth, some call it nasally, some call it beautiful. all seokjin knows is that when he sings, he attracts a crowd bigger than any other street-side performer does.

so he continues to sing. even when his hat on the concrete ground is overflowing with money and clanking coins, even when the sun has dipped below the horizon and the skies turn navy blue, even when the traffic of the city overwhelms his lungs.

it is around eight when seokjin finally takes a break, throat parched and two bottles of water extinguished. he smiles meagerly at the applause, thanking a woman profusely who gives him several bills, and brushes dust off his jacket. most of his clothes are run down, scavenged from the clearance corners of department stores.

if only he had enough money to learn.

he leans back on calloused fingers and stifles a yawn, eyes on the misty clouds overcasting him. "man," he breathes. "man, oh man, oh man."

if only.

the distinct jingle of coins makes seokjin look up, and he finds a boy rolling on his heels in anticipation. maybe he's another street performer? seokjin clears his throat and smiles, head tilting politely.

"hey, want me to sing you a song?" he asks. the teenager looks up, eyes wide and dark. seokjin can't help but look at the guy's dirty clothing, at his malnourished skin, at his shaggy hair with a slight grimace.

the boy simply rolls on his feet again.

seokjin shrugs and strums a few chords, electing to sing anyway. with a brief throat-clearing, he opens his mouth and hums.

"only you," the teenager looks up with a horrified look in his eyes, and seokjin slightly falters but continues to sing, "only you..."

this time, the boy stumbles backwards, hand clutching his ragged white shirt with trembling fingers and heavy breaths. seokjin raises an eyebrow, carefully stopping his guitar. "again, i'm acting weird..."

the boy suddenly crouches down and takes seokjin's money hat between his fingers.

"...in front of you...?" seokjin blinks, but everything is zooming—and then, in a flash, the teenager is sprinting away.

"h-hey, hey! hey! come back, that's mine! hey!" jumping to his feet in panic, seokjin stumbles into the crowd and pinpoints the teenager running away with his hat. of course, of fucking course, no one pays attention to the fact that he's just been robbed—because this is the city, and no one gives a shit about him and his money.

"fucking hell," he curses under his breath, running through the crowds with meager apologies. he squints against the mobs of business-clad pedestrians and manages to find the thief's frame a few meters ahead of him.

seokjin feels anger surge through his gut. before he can reach his arm out to grab the teen by his collar, the kid suddenly takes a sharp left, and seokjin almost trips from the momentum. with a loud "fuck!", he ducks and sprints, teeth gritting against the cold night air.

it seems to be hours until the thief finally stops, bare feet abruptly halting against the slick concrete. seokjin places his hands on his knees and gulps down lungfuls of bitter air, beads of sweat rolling down from bleached pink locks, and stutters out a string of coughs.

when he looks up, he finds himself surrounded by firetrucks, flashing police cars, and loud sirens. with a shaky exhale, seokjin stands up straight and straps his guitar case securely to his back. where am i? the hell?

"hey, hey! you!" seokjin turns around, eyes wide, as he comes face to face with an agitated policeman. "what are you doing here? civilians aren't allowed here!"

with furrowed eyebrows, seokjin looks around him and stifles a light gasp at the commotion. a large, destructed mass of bricks and concrete lies in semi-flames, spurts of water from nearby fire hoses creating thick puffs of gray smoke. it has to be at least two dozen meters wide, and seokjin stumbles back.

"wha—what happened here?" he can't hide the tremble in his voice; he's truly in horrified awe.

"didn't you hear? subway 301 exploded earlier today. one cart just went up in flames and exploded the blackboxes of every other one in the chain. completely demolished the subway system at this block." the policeman waves impatiently at seokjin and points to a strip of yellow caution tape bordering the scene. "mister, you have to be behind that line over there. we don't allow civilians, it's too dangerous."

"wait—exploded?" seokjin ignores the officer's demand, instead peering over his shoulder to the ruins of fourth block's subway entrance. "how? aren't they electronically operated?"

"we don't know, so you need to go!" with a light shove, the policeman gestures to the caution tape dramatically and scowls. "i'll have to remove you myself if you won't, sir."

seokjin squints to the illuminating flames of the rubble, and then his eyes widen. there is the thief, money hat haphazardly thrown in front of him, stance lazy in all his glory. the white shirt billows against his bony figure, possibly due to the cold weather, but the boy just stares hazily.

"well, then what about him?" seokjin snaps angrily to the officer, index finger pointed to the teenager. the policeman turns to the commotion and squints his eyes. "isn't he a civilian? why are you allowing him to just stand there like that?"

"someone else is here? where? is he with you?"

"no, he isn't with me, it's just the fact that the kid over there stole my money," seokjin retorts sarcastically. "so yeah, a thief is here, officer."

"hey," the policeman warns, and seokjin raises his hands in mock apology. the officer looks around as his scowl deepens. "where? i can't see him."

flabbergasted (and a bit amused), seokjin gestures to directly in front of them. "um, right there? the guy in the white shirt? he's literally standing right in front of us."

the officer looks like he's about to say something, but he quickly changes his words. "wait a minute—you're not on crack, are you? hey! hey! guys! this man over here—"

"what the fuck, of course i'm not!" seokjin runs irritated fingers through his hair and sighs. "seriously, enough playing. that kid over th—"

and then, the boy changes.

seokjin has to squint at first to realize it, but then it becomes obvious. and he's never been more terrified.

the teenager lets out a low, excruciating groan, doubled over and clutching his abdomen with shaky hands. his grimy brown bangs fall over his face and completely obscure any sign of expression. seokjin raises an eyebrow in apprehension, stepping backwards despite himself.

after several more ear-splitting cries, the thief's arms sprout fang-like appendages, practically soaking with blood; he falls to his knees as thick black veins shoot up his sickly skin, reaching his neck as the teenager screams inhumanly. he raises his face, and that's what gets to seokjin.

the boy's eyes are white and bleeding.

"hey! mister! you need to leave, are you listening? i swear to god, if i have to remove you myself now—"

seokjin stumbles over his feet as he turns around, eyes wide and sweat sticking to his skin. his breaths are short and uneven, and every bone in his body is dedicated to one thing only—getting him the fuck away from that demon.

so seokjin turns on his heel.

and he runs.

==

hell yeah we're getting somewhere
this became sassier than expected im enjoying
i swear it's angsty *heart emoji*