Chapter Text
Jungkook
Head pillowed on his arms, Jungkook stares listlessly at the water bottle hanging off the side of his cage. His mouth is so dry, he can’t even work up enough saliva to wet his chapped, cracked lips. The water, stale though it undoubtedly is, would taste like heaven, and yet, he doesn’t have the strength to push up onto his elbows to reach it.
A savage cramp makes the muscle in his right calf writhe. The muscle cramps have been getting worse, but there’s nothing he can do except lie in his too-small crate and hope it will go away soon. He can’t even stretch his leg out to relieve the pain because his cage is only large enough to accommodate him lying in a scrunched-up, little ball.
Cold air pumps through the vents in the room where he’s kept, making his dry, overheated skin prickle uncomfortably. He shivers, and the motion causes his cage to rattle against the tile floor. The sound hurts his ears, not his human ears, but the second set of ears, long and fluffy, that start at the top of his head and flop down to his shoulders.
It’s always cold in here - in the vault room. Jungkook is kept here with all of Master’s most valuable possessions. He’s not sure why, since there’s nothing very valuable about him. Master doesn’t even take him out to be admired during parties, anymore. He’s not a cute little baby bunny, anymore, that’s why.
Ever since he grew up and lost the ability to fully shift into a rabbit, only able to stay in his human form, keeping just his bunny ears and tail, Master seems to have lost interest, although, no one has bothered to explain it to him.
He’s been left to rot in this cage for eons now, the cage that used to afford him plenty of room in his bunny form, but now squeezes him into a pretzel shape due to his long human arms and lanky human legs. Oh, how he wishes he could still shift forms, then maybe his master would still love him. Would still hold him. Would still coo softly at how cute he was, how small. He yearns to be touched and loved, but no matter how hard he tries, no matter how uncomfortable he is in this tiny cage, his body won’t heed his commands to shift.
Instead, he’s bored, and he’s lonely, and now he’s sick. Very sick. Maybe dying.
No one seems to care.
Jungkook blinks eyes that are so dry they feel like they’re full of sand. Putting his thumb into his mouth, he runs a dry tongue over the digit and grabs a fluffy ear with the other fingers of that same hand. Tug, tug, tug. Self-soothing in the only way available to him in the confines of his lonely cage.
Yoongi
“Yoongles, don’t forget that it’s your turn to do the dishes tonight,” Hoseok cackles into his earpiece.
Yoongi rolls his eyes and refrains from reminding his partner? Co-worker? Teammate? Whatever, that when they’re on a job, the comms are only to be used for necessary communication. Hoseok already knows that. He’s only doing this to get on Yoongi’s nerves, so he’s not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it worked.
Fuck, his teammates are so annoying. Does he love each and every one of them more than life itself? Yes. Does that keep him from wanting to murder them in their sleep? No, no it does not.
“Less chatter, guys,” comes their team leader, Namjoon’s, husky reprimand. “Any movement in there, Yoongi?”
Yoongi takes a moment to look through the grate from his hiding spot inside the vent. He has a great view of the third floor hallway. All four of the doors leading off the hallway are closed. The hallway is empty, the guards absent, exactly as planned. “Nope, all’s clear.”
“Okay, take a left at the next intersection. Vault room should be straight ahead of you from there.” The blueprints for the mansion they are currently in the process of robbing are fixed in his head already, but it’s nice to get confirmation. “Got it, boss.”
“Fuck you,” Namjoon grumbles good-naturedly. Despite being a certified genius and their leader, Namjoon hates being called Boss. Just like Yoongi hates being called Yoongles. They’ve been together long enough that they know all each other’s pet peeves and delight in using them against each other.
As instructed, Yoongi takes a left at the intersection and continues to crawl through the vent, peeking through grates until he finds the room he’s looking for, the vault room. Within minutes he has the vault cover off and is standing on a tile floor in a decently-sized room.
As it’s name suggests there are several vaults lining one wall. He grins as he takes in the make and model of each one. Not a single one of these safes will pose any problem for him. There’s no one in the world better at cracking safes than him. That’s not bragging, that’s just facts.
“Jackpot,” he whispers into the comm.
“You’re in, then?” Jimin’s sweet, high voice is so ethereal, it tickles his eardrum. “What do you see?”
Every outfit such as theirs needs a con man, and Jimin is theirs. His role for tonight is to run distraction if it’s needed. So far, it hasn’t been. The owner of this mansion is away on a business trip, and Hoseok, their hacker (and the biggest pain in Yoongi’s ass, but that’s beside the point), has the mansion’s security team chasing after a phantom threat in a different wing of the huge compound.
“There’s four safes, all of them child’s play. I could crack them blindfolded,” he informs the team. Again, not bragging, just facts.
“How fast do you think you can do it? Probably not as fast as me.” That’s Taehyung, the youngest member of their team. His enthusiasm always reminds Yoongi of an excitable Pomeranian. His specialty is demolition.
Pulling his favorite lock picks from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, Yoongi says, “Why don’t you time me, and we’ll see how confident you are of that statement when I’m done. My guess is that it’ll take me less than 10 minutes.”
“Remember, we’re after one thing and one thing only,” comes Namjoon’s no nonsense input. That man is so unflappable, he could be in the middle of an earthquake and still his voice would sound the same undisturbed, warm and calm like a lake in the summertime. “The tanzanite necklace.”
Yoongi twirls the lock picks around his fingers and walks confidently up to the first safe. He’s just about to get started, when he catches a slight movement from the corner of his eye.
He whirls, ready for an attack, and sees…
“What the fuck!”
At his exclamation, the comm comes alive with queries from the rest of the crew. “What is it?” “What’s wrong?” “Yoongi, are you okay?” “Do you need backup?”
He should answer them. He really should. But the sight in front of him defies explanation. He’s dumbfounded.
It’s a child in a cage. A cage meant for a medium-sized dog, and yet somehow, that child is crammed in there with not an inch of spare room to move around.
“I’m sending Seokjin in there to extract you unless you answer me, right now, Min Yoongi!” Namjoon yells.
Well, how about that. There is a way to fluster their ever cool and collected leader after all.
Namjoon’s tone and the threat of an extraction by Seokjin, the team’s muscle, breaks Yoongi’s from his stupor. “No. No, I’m fine. It’s just that there’s a kid locked up in a cage in here.”
An explosion of sound comes from the comm. “A WHAT!”
Yoongi ignores them in favor of getting a closer look. Sidestepping a desk that has a bunch of boxes and containers of different sizes on it, he crouches down and peers into the cage.
The child is lying down in almost a fetal position, which is all the cage will allow, eyes closed.
Keeping his voice as low and soothing as possible, he says, “Hi there, little one.”
Glassy eyes crack open and regard him solemnly. “Hi, sir,” croaks the child, a boy if the slightly masculine cast to his features can be believed. There’s no fear in his voice. No surprise either. In fact, there’s no emotion whatsoever except resignation, if that can be counted as an emotion.
“I’m Yoongi. What’s your name?”
“Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s eyes blink slowly as if he’s not really all there. Aside from the stain of red that paints his cheeks, his complexion is pale. The poor thing looks very unwell, and the sight of him tugs on Yoongi’s heartstrings.
“Well, Jungkook, how about we get you out of that cage?”
“Are you sure that’s wise, Yoongi?” asks Jimin through his earpiece.
“What are you going to do with a kid once you get it out of the cage? You should just leave it there,” says Hoseok.
Yoongi turns off his comm and makes short work of picking the lock on the child’s cage.
The door swings open, but Jungkook doesn’t move to get out, just looks at him through half-lidded eyes that seem so lost and despondent, they bring out a fierce protectiveness in Yoongi.
“Come on, honey,” he coaxes.
“It’s too hard. Too tired,” murmurs the boy.
And that’s concerning. More than concerning. Has he been in that cage so long that he’s lost the ability to move? His arms and legs are quite thin with very little muscle mass.
“That’s okay. I can get you out if you’ll let me. Can I touch you?”
A slow nod follows his question. Everything about this boy is slow, his motor responses, his speech, his reactions, like he’s in a daze. Has he been drugged? Or is it the illness that’s making him so drowsy?
Yoongi reaches into the cage and grasps the boy under his shoulders. He’s dressed in loose fitting shorts and nothing else, upper torso left bare. Heat emanates from his skin like he’s roasting inside an oven, despite the cool temperature in the room.
“Shit, you’re burning up.”
Jungkook tugs on something in his hand, something mottled white with tan spots. “Yeah, ‘m dying, I think.” The way he utters that sentence, like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter one way or another whether he lives or dies, stiffens Yoongi’s resolve to help him, no matter the cost.
“You’re not dying, little one. You’re sick and you’ve obviously been neglected, but you’re not going to die. Not on my watch.”
Yoongi, then, begins to pull, and as Jungkook’s arms and legs unfurl from the cage, he realizes the boy is probably older than he’d originally taken him for. His long, coltish limbs look like those of a teenager. The motion must be uncomfortable for him because he makes breathless little whimpering noises until he’s free of the cage and lying on the floor.
“There, that’s gotta be better, huh?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the floor next to the boy’s head. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I have some provisions in here, somewhere.” Without waiting for a response, he pulls off his backpack and roots around until he finds a small bottle of water and an energy bar. He likes to be prepared for anything, although, he never expected a scenario quite like this one.
Jungkook needs help getting into an upright position, and he ends up leaning against Yoongi while Yoongi holds the bottle for him, coaxing him into taking small sips. Water leaks around his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto his thin chest as if he doesn’t know how to drink properly. It’s scary how weak the boy is.
Once he’s drank his fill, Yoongi unwraps the energy bar and holds it out for him. Jungkook lets go of the object he’s been holding onto this whole time, but it doesn’t fall to the ground. It appears to be stuck to his head. Strange.
“What’s this?” Yoongi puts the food into Jungkook’s hand before touching the fuzzy, white and tan…thing. Soft, warm fur meets his fingers.
Jungkook stuffs the entire energy bar into his mouth and attempts to talk around the mouthful. The words come out garbled, but Yoongi gets the gist of it to be, “One of my ears. I have two of them, well, four really. Two like yours and two other ones like this.” He shifts his head slightly, and sure enough, there’s another long bunny rabbit ear on the other side of his head as well. They flop down almost to his shoulders, only partially hidden by his wavy, raven’s-wing-black hair.
Rabbit ears? On a child? Yoongi has so many questions.
“How did you get them?”
His thin shoulders shrug. “I dunno. Always had’em.”
“Are they attached?” Yoongi asks incredulously.
“Yep,” Jungkook slurs. “They’re…a part of me.” The brief activity of the last couple minutes ~ getting out of the cage, drinking, eating, and talking ~ seem to have taken everything out of the poor kid. He slumps heavily against Yoongi’s chest. “I like you. You’re nice.” As soon as the words are out, Jungkook goes limp, either passed out or asleep.
Rabbit ears or not, one thing is certain, Yoongi isn’t leaving him here.
Holding the boy against himself, he turns his comm back on. “Hey guys, we’ve got a situation.”
“Yoongi! We sure as shit do have a situation, you idiot,” Hoseok spits. “You’ve got company headed your way. I hope you have the necklace, because you need to move, now! What the fuck were you thinking ~ turning your comm off in the middle of a heist!”
Shit! The necklace. He’d completely forgotten about the necklace.
“Um, give me ten minutes, and I’ll get the necklace.” Yoongi stands, cradling Jungkook as though he were a baby instead of a lanky teen. The sad truth is that Jungkook weighs much less than a healthy teen his height should. It’s absolutely no trouble carrying him.
“You don’t have ten minutes. The guards are about to walk in on you. Forget the necklace and get back into the vent,” Namjoon says, simple and to the point, as if he isn’t watching weeks of planning go up in smoke.
Yoongi looks down at the unconscious boy in his arms. Crawling through the vent while carrying Jungkook isn’t feasible. “No can do. I need another way out.”
“I’m on my way,” Seokjin says. “Lock the door and blockade yourself in the vault room. I’ll get up there as quickly as I can. Hold tight, Yoongi.”
“Go,” Namjoon agrees.
That’s one of the things Yoongi loves about his teammates, they may not get along all the time, but they’re there for one another without question. He knows each and every one of them would die for him, and he for them.
“So much for ‘easy in, easy out, and no one the wiser’,” quips Taehyung.
“Shut up, pup,” sighs Namjoon.
“What? Isn’t that what you said?” Taehyung asks. Brat.
“Best laid plans, and all that.” Namjoon sighs again.
Jimin’s light, airy laughter filters through from the background.
Well, as long as he’s waiting for Seokjin to bulldoze a path through the mansion’s security team to rescue him, he might as well spend his time wisely by snatching the necklace from whichever safe it’s hiding in. This will be a chance to set a new challenge for himself. How quickly can he crack four safes while also safely holding onto a sleeping boy?
“Time me.”
“You got it,” Taehyung exclaims in his ever-excited voice.
Taehyung
Skin nearly vibrating with a combination of nerves and anticipation, Taehyung watches as first Yoongi, and then, Seokjin emerges from the shadows near the wall that surrounds the mansion. “Here they come,” he announces, as though the other can’t see through the tinted glass windows of their surveillance vehicle just as well as he can.
Both Yoongi and Seokjin move at a careful jog, slower than the sprint they would normally employ when departing the scene of a job that didn’t go exactly to plan. The cause of their caution must be the boy clutched possessively to Yoongi’s chest, head lolling, limp as a rag doll. There’s something the matter with the way the boy’s arms and legs are bent and stiff, despite his clear unconsciousness, but Taehyung can’t tell what’s wrong at the quickly closing distance.
He scrambles to open the van door once his two teammates are within range.
“Step on it,” Seokjin says while helping Yoongi out of his backpack, movements ginger so as not to jostle the boy still held, close and protected, in Yoongi’s arms.
Namjoon immediately starts up the van, even as he asks, “Are you being followed? Did they see your faces?”
“No, I don’t think so. I was careful, and all the guards are taken care of. I don’t know how long they’ll be down for though.”
When Seokjin says the ‘guards have been taken care of’ he means they’ve all been rendered unconscious with his bare hands. He never uses a weapon, and he never kills, using only enough force to put his opponents out of commission for the duration.
Yoongi, the best larcenist in the business, sits in the vacant seat next to Jimin, and Seokjin carefully straps the seatbelt around both him and the boy.
The van they use for surveillance is a great big beast of a thing. The inside has been hollowed out enough to house all their equipment along with a high tech set up that allows Hoseok, their hacker extraordinaire, to work his magic during their jobs. There are still a couple functional seats, although, most of them just sit on boxes or on the floor. Taehyung has never seen any of them use the seatbelts before.
“I can’t believe you actually brought him with you,” Hoseok snaps. Hoseok is usually a ball of sunshine, optimistic and upbeat even in the most dire of circumstances. To hear him sound this…hostile, is jarring. We should drop him off somewhere as soon as possible.”
Yoongi gives him an unimpressed glare, “We aren’t going to just drop him off somewhere. He’s been horribly neglected. You should have seen the size of the cage I found him locked inside. Look at his poor legs! He couldn’t even straighten them out. Who knows if he’ll ever be able to straighten them fully again.”
Taehyung looks, and indeed, the boy’s legs are bent at the knees and hips as though he’s permanently damaged.
“Poor baby,” Jimin breathes out. Kind, soft-hearted Jimin reaches over and rests a hand on the boy’s cheek. “Oh no, he has a fever.”
Hoseok sighs, looking genuinely contrite, and says, “Look, I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, but these are all good reasons for us to take him somewhere they can help him. We aren’t equipped to take care of a normal, healthy kid, much less one that needs as much help as this one does. Our best course of action is to drop him off at the nearest hospital. They’ll be able to treat his injuries and get in touch with social services. Kid’s probably got a family out there, looking for him.”
At some point, in the middle of Hoseok’s reasonable argument, the van goes over a pothole in the road, and the van shakes. The boy cracks open bleary eyes, whimpers, and grabs at something white and fluffy at the side of his own head.
Yoongi, then, does something that, frankly, astounds Taehyung. He bundles the boy closer against his chests in an action that can only be described as cuddling, and begins to croon into his ear in hushed tones. Yoongi! The same Yoongi who hates hugs, never wants skinship of any kind, and would rather have his hand chopped off rather than receive an overly-long handshake from a stranger, is comforting a kid he’s only just met by wrapping him up in his arms like he’s something precious.
Weird.
The boy seems pretty out of it. He doesn’t look around to see where he is or who he’s with. His eyes are mostly closed, and his hand eventually finds its way over to his mouth, thumb popping inside. He tugs on the fuzzy thing in his hand and sucks his thumb until he falls back asleep.
No one says a word. All of them ~ except for Namjoon, who is driving the van ~ are mesmerized by this child.
“Isn’t he a bit old to be sucking his thumb,” Taehyung can’t help but ask, once he’s sure the boy is asleep.
“Traumatized children often find comfort wherever and whenever they can,” Namjoon chimes in, deep voice a whisper.
It figures that Namjoon would know such an off-handed fact. The man loves to learn about all manner of things. He can often be found reading articles on the internet. When he isn’t planning their next job, that is.
Seokjin tucks a strand of the boy’s wavy hair behind his ear. “He’s such a darling.”
It’s no surprise to Taehyung that Seokjin has already fallen for this poor, neglected child. Out of all them, he’s the one most likely to bring home strays in need of a little TLC. His mother-henning tendencies can be over the top, at times. That’s the dichotomy of Seokjin. On the one hand, he’s violence personified, and on the other, he’s very nurturing and caring.
Trailing a finger along the boy’s cheek, Seokjin brushes against the scrap of fluff held loosely in his hand and startles. His eyes widen. “What’s he holding onto?”
“That’s one of the reasons we can’t just drop him off at a hospital or whatever,” Yoongi explains, voice low as he gently turns the kid’s head to the other side.
There, nestled among his dark hair, is another long, fluffy…ear. It can only be…
“He has bunny ears?” comes Jimin’s awe-struck whisper.
“Yeah, he has bunny ears,” Yoongi confirms. “If we take him to the hospital, he’ll just become someone’s experiment subject. A lab rat. You know I’m right. It’s up to us to help him. We can’t get anyone else involved.”
“Well…shit,” says Hoseok.
And that just about sums it up, thinks Taehyung.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Happy New Year! I hope the new year brings you much love and laughter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jungkook
People are talking nearby. Maybe in the same room as him, maybe not. It’s hard for him to tell. He feels like his ears are stuffed with cotton…bunny ears and human ears alike. The voices sound muffled and distorted, rising and falling, loud then soft, but never clear enough for him to make out.
He tries to open his eyes, to make some type of response. Master will be angry if he doesn’t answer right away. It’s no use, though, his eyelids are too heavy. No amount of trying will open them.
His thoughts are syrupy slow. His mouth and skin are parched, like all the moisture has left his body. He’s immeasurably hot and freezing cold at the same time.
Is this what dying feels like?
He gives up on responding to his master, accepting of whatever punishment might come, and let’s himself float. Not quite awake, nor fully asleep. Lost in some strange, ever-shifting dreamscape.
Seokjin
Bowl of broth in one hand and spoon in the other, Seokjin sits on the bed and tries once again to get the sick child to swallow a bit of the warm liquid, to no avail. Same as the time before, and the time before that, the broth dribbles from his unresponsive mouth and onto the cloth that Yoongi is holding beneath his chin.
“Come on, precious. Swallow. You need to swallow, sweetheart.”
He tries again. Still, no success.
He meets Yoongi’s eyes, worried yet determined.
“He’s so dehydrated. We have to get him to drink it. Here, let me try.” Maneuvering himself out from behind the boy, he trades places with Seokjin, who wedges himself between the feverish boy and the headboard of the bed, holding him against his chest in a semi-upright position.
Yoongi presses the spoon to Jungkook’s lips, but doesn’t tip the liquid into his mouth right away. “Hey, little one. Do you remember me?”
Jungkook’s eyelids flutter. They’ve been doing that off and on for a while now. This time, though, they actually open slightly. His chapped lips part, and he mutters the first word that Seokjin has heard him say. “Master?”
Yoongi’s face falls in a way that lets Seokjin know how disturbed that one word leaves him.
“No, little one. It’s me. Yoongi. I’m the one who took you out of that cage. Do you remember?”
Jungkook’s only response is the slow blink of his eyes. Seokjin is relieved to see them open again, even if it’s just to half-mast.
“Hyung wants you to drink some of this broth. Can you do that for hyung? Yoongi tips the spoon, letting a few drops land on the boy’s tongue, and, lo and behold, Jungkook swallows.
Seokjin feels a thrill of victory in that simple bob of Jungkook’s throat. “That’s it. Good boy.”
A tiny shiver ripples through the boy’s body. Whether the shiver is in response to the praise or the effect of the chills he probably feels ~ what with the high fever ~ Seokjin doesn’t know. He makes a note to praise him often in the future, though. In order to move into a more comfortable position, Seokjin wriggles and hitches Jungkook’s back more firmly against his chest.
The king-sized bed they’re on is Yoongi’s. Its sheets are of the highest thread count available. Its pillows are numerous and airy-light. Sitting here feels like sitting on a cloud.
Matching his expensive tastes, Yoongi’s room is on the more lavish side. Beautiful artwork lines the walls and sits on shelves. They’re Yoongi’s favorite pieces, the ones he couldn’t bear to part with after he stole them. Along one wall, sits all the fancy equipment he uses to mix and produce music. When he isn’t polishing the skills of his thief’s trade, he can often be found in here, headphones on, immersed in his hobby, creating new rap tracks.
Seokjin rubs the bunny-boy’s chest to help keep him more alert. Now that he’s awake enough to eat, he hopes they can get another couple spoonfuls into him, at least.
They get him to swallow another dozen or so times before he fades back into unconsciousness. Honestly, it’s better than Seokjin expected, but less than he hoped. “Was he this bad when you found him?” he asks as he scoots out of the bed and tries to arrange the boy’s bent arms and legs in what he hopes is a comfortable position.
“He was awake enough to tell me his name and to eat an energy bar, drink a little water. He passed out pretty quickly after that, though.” Yoongi pauses to brush Jungkook’s bangs out of his eyes. “There was a water bottle hanging off the side of the cage he was in, you know, the kind you have to lick at to get the water to come out? Like the ones in pet Guinea pig cages. I don’t think he’s ever had water from a cup before. He had a hard time drinking from the bottled water I had in my backpack.”
“They really did treat him like a pet rabbit, didn’t they?” Seokjin asks, horrified.
“Worse than, I think.”
“What I’d really like to know is; where did he come from? And how did he get to be in that mansion? Kept like a pet or just another rare object in the vault room?” Seokjin tucks a light sheet around the sleeping boy. His skin is still way too warm for anything heavier, even though shivers often wrack his frail body.
Yoongi’s jaw flexes in an obvious attempt to control his anger. “I don’t know, but I’m glad I wiped them out of everything in that vault room, including Jungkook. I know we aren’t in the business of killing people, but if we were, that Jeon gang would be on my hit list.”
Namjoon
The objects from their most recent heist lie on the desk in Namjoon’s office. Everything that Yoongi found in the mansion that belonged to the head of the Jeon gang, Jeon Sanggul, is now on this desk. Everything except the bunny-boy.
The Tanzanite necklace is there, of course, along with a pearl the size of his fist, a pouch full of loose diamonds, some cash, and a bunch of documents he hasn’t had time to read through yet, but that will probably prove to be quite valuable.
The Tanzanite necklace will go back to their client, Lee Yongbok. Yongbok, or Felix as he likes to be called, makes an honest, if humble, living as a DJ at a club called Stray Kids. The necklace is a family heirloom that belonged to his mother before she passed it down to him. When it was stolen by some petty crook in the Jeon gang, Felix didn’t know who to turn to. Luckily for him, a friend of his, the owner of the club, Bang Chan, was a past client of Namjoon’s and gave him their card.
As far as the rest of the loot goes, well, most of it will be sold off through trusted channels and the proceeds used to pay their salaries and reinvest in their business. They don’t charge most of their clients any kind of fee and only take on jobs that meet their strict standards. Most of their clients aren’t wealthy or influential and can’t afford to pay the high price tag their services warrant. Therefore, they take their fee from the bad guys they enjoy making suffer for their crimes.
The Jeon gang is different, though. Namjoon and his associates ~ they really need a name for themselves ~ don’t usually go up against anyone as powerful as the Jeon gang. It worries Namjoon that the heist went sideways, that Seokjin had to go in, that he and Yoongi were possibly seen, that they might be identified by the security thugs. He knows that jobs rarely go off perfectly, that’s why they always have several backup plans. And he trusts his team to do their jobs well. Still, he worries. It’s part of his job as their leader.
And then there’s Jungkook. A completely different kind of worrisome.
There’s a discreet knock on the door, right before it opens. “Hey Joonie,” says Seokjin.
As the oldest member of their team, Seokjin is the only one allowed to call him that.
“Hey, Jin. How’s the rabbit-boy doing?”
Jin shrugs, “Not great, although, we did get him to take a little of the broth.”
“And Yoongi? How’s he doing?” Namjoon has known Yoongi for a long time, ever since grade school, and he’s never seen him get so attached to someone so quickly. Yoongi can be gruff on the exterior, brushing off physical affection, viewing the world through a cold, cynical veneer. Watching him hold Jungkook so tenderly was like seeing an entirely different version of his old friend.
“He’s with Jungkook now. I don’t think he’s left his side since we got home last night.”
Namjoon sighs. “Let’s hope he gets better.”
“I’m going to go everything I can to make sure he does, for Yoongi’s sake as well as Jungkook’s. That poor kid deserves so much better than what life’s given him thus far,” Seokjin says, brows furrowed and a steely look in his eyes.
Seokjin is a sucker for a worthy cause. They all are, really, but Seokjin even more so than the rest of them. If Jungkook can be healed by willpower alone, Seokjin will accomplish it.
Jimin
It’s been three days since they brought Jungkook home with them from the Jeon gang’s mansion, and nothing much has changed.
They’ve all taken turns sitting with him, watching his shallow breaths, wiping sweat from his face, and hoping for a miracle. So far, only Seokjin or Yoongi have managed to get any nourishment into the boy. And when they do, he’s always too dazed to do much more than eat a few spoonfuls of whatever it is Seokjin has prepared before he falls asleep again.
Unless they have something else to do, they each usually take a couple hour shift to sit with Jungkook every day and again during the night. The only exceptions to the rotation are Yoongi, who doesn’t ever leave, and Hoseok, who never even enters Yoongi’s bedroom, much less spends any time with the sick boy. In fact, Hoseok doesn’t even ask how Jungkook is doing, never mentions him at all. It’s as if Hoseok thinks that if he ignores him, Jungkook will simply disappear.
Jimin is currently taking his turn, sitting in a chair pulled up to Yoongi’s bedside. Yoongi himself is asleep on the other side of the bed, finally having succumbed to the insistent pull of slumber after having denied himself any real rest as he watched over the ill bunny-boy.
A breathy whine, so soft and low that Jimin almost misses it, comes from the bed. Glancing over to see if Yoongi is maybe stirring awake, he sees a different set of chocolate-brown eyes slowly open, so slowly it seems as if the lids are weighted down.
Another whine, this one slightly louder, prompts Jimin to sit closer to the bed, trying to catch Jungkook’s gaze with his own. “Hi there, cutie.”
Jungkook’s gaze lazily sweeps the room until landing on Jimin. There’s no surprise at seeing someone he doesn’t know, nor is there any curiosity, only a dull acceptance as if Jungkook isn’t really seeing him. As if he doesn’t think any of this is real.
Feeling sympathy towards this lost soul well up and wash over him, Jimin reaches out and trails his fingertips along his jawline, belatedly asking, “Sweet boy, can I touch you?”
“P-please. Please touch me. It’s been so, so l-long.” The words are a soft murmur and yet they’re filled with more longing than Jimin has ever heard.
“So long since someone has touched you?”
A molasses-slow nod.
Jimin keeps his touch light, brushing up to his temple and over to one long, furry ear. “Your ears are very soft. Do you like them to be touched?”
“Yes, I like it. Feels good.”
A stuttering sound like a teeny-tiny motor that cannot quite catch reverberates from Jungkook’s throat. It’s not the chest-deep purr of a cat, but Jimin thinks it might be the bunny equivalent of a purr.
“Oh, aren’t you precious. Just the cutest baby bunny I’ve ever seen,” Jimin can’t help but gush. A part of him feels beyond privileged to be the first one to hear Jungkook’s darling little purr. Another part of him feels guilty. It really should have been Yoongi.
The purr cuts off. “Not cute anymore.” Jungkook’s slurred words are sorrowful. Mournful.
Jimin feels the loss of the purr keenly. He frowns. “Well, that’s not true. Did someone tell you that?”
Jungkook looks away as if he’s embarrassed. “Master says ‘m too big. Not cute anymore an’ can’t shift. Worthless.”
Anger flares up inside Jimin’s gut because, even though Jungkook’s words are timid and difficult to make out, he’s sure he heard the words ‘Master says’, ‘Not cute’, and ‘Worthless’. And the idea that anyone would tell this sweet boy that he’s worthless…Worthless!…Hell no! Jimin won’t let that stand.
“No, baby, no. Don’t believe such lies. You’re not worthless. That’s like saying the sky is worthless or the ground is worthless. You’re worth is immeasurable. I don’t even know you very well yet, and I can already see your worth. You shine like you’re golden.” The words come spilling out of him before he has time to truly think about what he’s saying. There is truth in them, though. Jungkook is special, and not only because of his adorable bunny ears.
Jungkook’s eyes widen and his lips quirk up in a barely-there smile. “This is the best dream I’ve ever had. I hope I never wake up.”
Yoongi
The sound of hushed voices wakes Yoongi from the first good sleep he’s had since bringing Jungkook home. Worry that the boy isn’t going to get better, that he might in fact die, has been eating him up. He keeps still, his eyes closed, not to try to fool anyone or eavesdrop, but rather in the hopes that he might fall back asleep. Just for five more minutes.
Namjoon: “I delivered the necklace to Felix, and he’s very grateful. He insisted I take a platter of brownies back for you all.”
Taehyung: “Score! Felix’s brownies are the best.”
Seokjin: “Shhh, keep you voices down. You’ll wake them.”
Jimin: “Yeah, hush it down, Taetae. They’re sleeping so sweetly together, I can hardly stand it.”
Taehyung: “Don’t worry, I already took a bunch of pictures to remember it by. See?”
The resulting squeal from Jimin is what nails the coffin on Yoongi’s search for more sleep. He groans and rubs at a tickling sensation on his nose. His hand meets downy soft fur, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that both he and Jungkook must have migrated in their sleep until Jungkook was cuddled up against him, the top of his head under Yoongi’s chin. The fur tickling his nose is one of Jungkook’s bunny ears.
He props himself up on one elbow to take a closer look. He boy has one thumb in his mouth and is sucking away quite happily in his sleep.
“Sweet, isn’t he?” whispers Seokjin.
Yoongi nods. “Looks healthier, too. Skin has more color, not so pale.”
“He was awake earlier. Jin-hyung got him to eat some porridge,” says Jimin.
“That’s good.” The painful constriction around his chest that has grown worse the past few days as his worry over Jungkook increased, eases at these positive signs of the boy’s improved health. Sitting up more fully, his gaze takes in all the people surrounding his bed. “Did I hear you all talking about returning the necklace to Felix earlier? Why are you holding the heist debriefing in my bedroom?”
Namjoon huffs and spreads his arms out to his sides in a helpless gesture. “Because this is where everyone is. I couldn’t very well have a heist debriefing with only me and Hoseok, now could I?”
An uncomfortable silence falls over them at the mention of Hoseok, whose absence in Yoongi’s room is all too apparent.
Taehyung
“Hyung, you’re hogging him,” Taehyung absolutely does not whine ~ except that maybe he does.
To which, Yoongi huffs. “I’m not hogging him. You’re more than welcome to sit in here with us.”
Now that Jungkook is feeling better and is more alert, Yoongi has taken to bringing him into their shared living quarters for a couple hours each day. Jungkook doesn’t talk much, and it’s unclear whether he still believes them to be an elaborate dream that his mind has conjured up or whether he understands that his circumstances have actually changed. Either way, he seems to have accepted them all and likes being around them.
Right now, Yoongi is sitting on the couch, and Jungkook is beside him, head in Yoongi’s lap while Yoongi reads something on his tablet and strokes his fluffy ears.
Taehyung flops down onto the floor in front of the couch. “Hi, baby bun!”
Jungkook’s smile is small but sweet, nose wrinkling and front teeth showing.
“Wanna come to my room? I’ve got lots of fun stuff like video games, my manga collection, and oh, we can eat some of the snacks I have stashed away in there.”
Jungkook’s smile fades, and he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling uncertainly.
“Remember, Tae-ah, he might not know what any of those things are,” Yoongi says.
“That’s okay. I can show him!” Taehyung jumps to his feet, holding out his arms to see if Jungkook will take him up on his offer.
After a beat of indecision, Jungkook holds out his own arms toward him. Beaming, Taehyung lifts the boy off the couch as if he were a toddler. Jungkook goes to him easily, wrapping his stiff, bent arms and legs around his neck and waist the best he can. Because he spent so much time in a cage that was way too small ~ years as far as they can tell ~ Jungkook isn’t able to fully extend his legs. His arms are a little better, but not much. For this reason, he can’t walk, not yet anyway.
“Not too long, Tae. He still gets tired easily, and it’ll be lunch time soon.”
“No problem, Gramps.” Taehyung cackles at Yoongi’s annoyed huff and bounces Jungkook on his hip, delighting in the giggle he gets from the cute bunny-boy in return.
Hoseok
The unmistakable smell of kimchi fried rice wafts through the air as he pushes open the front door. Seokjin’s been cooking.
Hoseok smiles at the feeling of home the scent evokes for him. Seokjin has been making that dish for them ever since they all moved into this base of operations five years ago. Ever since they became more than just a bunch of criminals who sometimes worked together, and became a real team. More than a team, actually, more like…a family.
They compliment each other, filling in each others’ weaknesses. They’re stronger together. Smarter. More powerful. More effective. More…everything. Together, they’ve accomplished things that Hoseok never dreamed possible before.
These days, they don’t work for themselves. They each have enough wealth to live comfortably and never work again. The cases they take on, now, are usually to take down corrupt politicians and money-hungry corporations. Their clients are the underdogs, the downtrodden, the people who don’t have anywhere else to turn.
Like that poor, broken-looking, child Yoongi brought home, his mind unhelpfully supplies.
Irritated, he squashes the thought.
It’s not like he has anything against the boy or rabbit or whatever he is. It’s just that he’s afraid. Afraid of becoming attached to something so fragile. That’s why he has never had a pet. The idea of loving something and losing it…he can’t bear it. And the boy Yoongi rescued from the Jeon mansion, he hadn’t looked sick. He’d looked close to death. And no, nope, no thank you.
Avoidance has been Hoseok’s coping mechanism.
He’s been gone more than he’s been home, taking on any errand that needed to be run, every excuse to leave, to not be around when the inevitable happens and that poor kid dies.
Animated chatter comes from the open kitchen/dining area; Tae and Jiminie bickering, Namjoon espousing on some theory or other, and an airy giggle he’s sure he’s never heard before.
He toes off his shoes and rounds the corner. The sight that greats him is not what he expected.
All five of his teammates are gathered around the dinning table, talking and eating. That’s not the strange part. What’s surprising is the boy snuggled up on Yoongi’s lap…very much not dead, healthy-looking, in fact. Or, at least, much more healthy than the last time Hoseok saw him.
Seokjin has pulled a chair up close to Yoongi’s and is feeding the boy, whose droopy, white and tan rabbit ears frame his face. Taehyung sits on his other side, making funny faces which elicit tiny bursts of giggles from the boy.
“Taetae, stop. I’m trying to get him to eat,” Jin half-heartedly scolds at the same time as Namjoon says, “Hobi! Come in, eat with us. We all just sat down.”
Jimin gives a little cheer, “Yay, Hobi-hyung is here. We’ve missed you.”
Hoseok smiles, hesitant but sincere. “I’ve missed you guys, too. Sorry, I’ve been so…”. He’s not sure how to finish that sentence. He’s been a lot of things he regrets; absent, selfish, scared.
“It’s okay,” says Jimin. Always empathetic Jimin. “You’re here now.”
“Come on, blossom. Open up and eat a little more for hyung. Please.”
Hoseok looks over at the other side of the table to where Seokjin is holding a spoon full of fried rice up to the boy’s closed lips. One hand tugging on a floppy ear, the kid has shrunk back and is staring, wide-eyed, at him. Gone are the giggles and smiles. He appears terrified.
Yoongi frowns, looking between Hoseok and the boy on his lap. “It’s okay, little one. That’s just Hobi. You don’t need to be frightened of him. You two just haven’t been properly introduced yet. Hobi this is Jungkook.”
Notes:
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