Dear Kim Y/N,

We regret to inform you that the position which you have applied for has been filled. We appreciate your application.

Have a nice day!

Disheartened, you stare miserably at the rejection email from the restaurant you applied to wash dishes at.

This is the third rejection this week.

Kim, of course, isn't your real surname, and you haven't involved any in-depth personal information on the applications, but it's still frustrating all the same.

It seems that nobody wants to hire a girl with neither experience nor a willingness to share personal information.

You might never find a job.

It's been a week and a half since the last time you visited BB's, and it's strange how much you wish you could step in the door again and experience the kind encouragement from the staff there.

Those men are sticking in your mind like glue.

Shaking your head to push away the thought, you climb up off of your old mattress and wander into the small kitchenette.

Since earlier, small rumbles of hunger have been vibrating through your stomach. You forgot to eat lunch today, being too busy job surfing.

Sticking your head inside the cold square, you groan yet again.

Nothing.

Your fridge is completely empty.

Glancing at the digital alarm clock on the counter, you bite your lip in contemplation.

It's almost 9:00, but you're starving. Bedsides, there's a corner store that's not a far walk from your apartment. If you go quick and stay on guard, you should be completely fine.

Patting your stomach in reassurance as it grumbles in complaint, you scamper back to your room to shrug on your coat and grab your wallet, then head out the door.

The weather has grown progressively colder in the past few days, cold enough that you can see your breath now. You let the misty huffs of air float in front of you as you walk, keeping an eye and ear open for any suspicious characters lurking around.

Thankfully, you get to the store with no trouble.

This area is more populated and has fully-functional street lights lining the sidewalks. People go to and fro about their business, reassuring you.

It's safe here.

You hop through the door of the corner store and start scanning the shelves for something good to eat. There isn't anyone inside except you and the cashier at the front as you dig through the selection of pre-packaged meals, cup ramen, and various snacks.

You're sifting through the chip packages when the bell above the door clangs, alerting the staff that someone else has entered.

Glancing up casually, you take in the sight of the new customer, a middle-aged man with a tuft of thick hair.

Your blood runs cold.

Not because you know him, or because he's bearing some type of a weapon, or dressed like a thug.

No.

It's because with a spine-chilling, single-minded intensity, the man is staring your down, his brown eyes darkened in malice.

You meet his gaze, skin crawling as a slow, wicked smile stretches his lips into thin, horrifying lines.

Crap.

You don't know much about the world, but you do know that his can't be good.

The man walks casually into the store, looking at various things as he edges toward you without being obvious. Every now and then, he glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

You, in turn, are casually edging away from him. Keeping an eye on the man, you drop your hunt for food and stroll toward the cashier counter.

It's a young teenager, maybe seventeen or eighteen, that's working the counter. He's on his phone, texting away, oblivious to the tense atmosphere you're giving off as you move in his direction.

Glancing back to keep tabs on the creepy man, you freeze when your gaze passes the window and lands on something familiar.

A pair of black eyes, to be exact.

It's only for a second that you lock eyes with Jeon Jungkook through the store window before he turns away, pulling the hood of his black sweatshirt further down and disappearing into the black night.

It's only a split second, but you're positive it was him.

His presence doesn't reassure you.

"Excuse me," you say to the cashier.

The boy looks up with a bored expression. "Yeah? Can I help you?"

Quietly, you tilt your head toward the man that's giving you chills and say, "I just saw that man stick a box of candy in his coat pocket. I thought you should know."

The boy's face morphs from boredom to outrage at the though of such theft in his workplace, and he pushes up from his seat.

Heck, he's big. You made a good decision.

As the boy approaches the creepy man with anger in his eyes, momentarily detaining him, you slip out the door and make your grand escape.

You don't go home, though.

There aren't many people coming and going in the direction of your apartment, so it would be all too easy for the man to spy your lone figure walking down the street and follow.

Instead, you duck into a store further down the street, the entrance out of sight of the previous store you were in. You ask the clerk inside where the bathroom is, and scurry into the tiled room as quickly as you can.

It's empty, thankfully, so you close the door and lock it, staring at yourself in one of the mirrors.

Maybe that man didn't mean any harm.

Maybe he was just trying to be polite.

But, even as you consider those thing, your gut tells you otherwise.

There was something sinister in that little grin he sent your way, something that screamed I'm here for you.

You don't understand why you're so calm, but you're glad that you were able to make a rational dedication  and get out of there.

But, oddly enough, that man isn't what disturbs you the most about the situation.

It was that pair of black eyes, peering into the store window as if they knew exactly what they would fine there. He knew you were there, and the man too.

Jungkook wasn't one single bit surprised to see your face through the window; of that you're certain.

So this time, when you pull out your phone and click on your cousin's contact, you don't hesitate to smash the dial button.

The metal is cold agains your ear, the dial tone beating against your eardrum, echoing the frantic heartbeat in your chest.

"Hello?" Jisoo mumbles through the line. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

Her voice is sweet, and warm. Too warm to be involved in what she's involved with.

Too warm to be so dangerous.

"It's me," you say lowly.

There's a catch in her breath, and a slight shuffling noise. She must be working, and moving to somewhere that her conversation won't be overheard.

It's a dangerous game the two of your are playing.

You shouldn't have contacted her, but you need to know.

"Y/N," Jisoo hisses quietly. "Where are you? Why are you calling me?"

"I need information," you answer calmly.

You put one hand on a porcelain sink, leaning your weight agains it. Even your softest murmur echoes around the tiled bathroom.

"Are you crazy? Everyone is looking for you! You can't be giving yourself away like this!" Your cousin's voice is concerned, and a sad tone rings in the back of her voice.

She misses you.

You miss her, too.

"I know," you say in reply. "But this is important."

Sighing, Jisoo huffs in frustration through the phone and clicks her tongue. "Fine. What is it?"

You take one deep breath, then another.

And you say, "Tell me everything you can find on the name Jeon Jungkook."

[A/N]
Unedited
I'm so happy my book is back 😭😭 it disappeared for like an hour and I was panicking
Also
I present to you, my masterpiece:

these squiggly ☝🏻☝🏻black lines here would be the area where the tattoos are, and how they 'connect' so to speak. For further clarification 😂😂
❤️pocketbangtan