Chapter Text
Yoongi snaps into awakeness motionlessly, lungs raw and blazing with smoke, head aching, immediately assessing the situation he finds himself in, maintaining the rough drag of his breathing, the slump of his back. His wrists are chained tightly behind his back, his ankles and shins chained to the legs of the hard metal chair, and the air around him is slightly cold, something dripping distantly but enough of an echo that perhaps the space he’s in isn’t enormous. There’s motion, bustling he can just hardly catch - not a soundproof room then. There’s no breeze, a closed door, and he can hear the breathing of several others, two rough and jagged like his own, two others regular and light - guards beyond the door?
His mind whirls, questions and plotting and an undercurrent of panic. He was captured, he was captured , was the smoke a trap? Was it for him? Was it for Namjoon? Is Namjoon the other, is - is Jungkook the third? Oh God, Jungkook , is he okay? Yoongi allows himself to so minutely shift his eyelashes, to barely peer across the room, and he has to press his tongue into his teeth painfully to prevent a gasp.
Jungkook and Namjoon are tied up in chairs across from him, Namjoon chained in the same way Yoongi but Jungkook just bound with ropes, hands tied tightly to the arms of the chair instead of behind him. Yoongi grits his teeth at the dark bruise on Jungkook’s cheekbone, at the soot smudging his face, at the tightness of pain in his expression even unconscious, at his burnt, blackened clothing and the ragged rattling of his breath - how much smoke did he inhale? Namjoon is lolling unconscious in his chair too, but he could be faking like Yoongi, whose heart rate is rapidly shooting up because he can’t, can’t see a way out of this, and Jungkook, why is Jungkook here?
The door clicks open, and Yoongi just catches sight of Kang Jihoon, one of the top targets in the corrupt providing company of the trafficking ring, strolling into the room, sharp gaze flitting lazily between the three of them. Then he lets his eyes close firmly again, and doesn’t let himself stiffen when Jihoon steps up and kicks him roughly in the shin with a scoff. Then Jihoon is walking away slowly, and Yoongi bites his tongue when the man steps directly in front of Jungkook, pulse racing faster when the silence pushes in around them. Then a slap echoes through the small space around them, and Yoongi’s breath jolts in his lungs, fury exploding through him, and he can’t prevent himself from peering just through his eyelashes again. Jungkook is limp in his chair, head hanging against his chest, and Yoongi feels his hands shaking when Jihoon winds a hand in Jungkook’s dark hair, dragging his head back to expose slack features, and strikes him hard across the face. Yoongi’s heart sinks and he forces his eyes closed again when Jungkook cries out, thrashing awake with a gasp, immediately doubling over in a fit of terrible coughing.
“Where - where a-am I, what’s -” Jungkook gasps as Jihoon laughs coldly.
“Shut up. You’re not here for you. You’re here for them.”
“H-hyungs?” Jungkook’s voice is high with worry and terror. “Hyungs! What - what did you d-do to them? Hyungs! Are they -”
There’s a crashing blow again, and when Jungkook cries out loudly, Yoongi can’t help peering through his eyelashes again to watch Jungkook’s breath hitching, head limp against his chest again, and Yoongi’s pulse thunders in his chained wrists. Then he’s closing his eyes hastily again when Jihoon’s piercing gaze lands on him, and the man’s voice is oily, sneering.
“He breathed in a lot more smoke than either of you,” Jihoon notes conversationally, “which means if he’s awake, so are you. So here’s the deal.” There’s a quick jostle of motion, and Yoongi has to force himself not to tense as Jihoon drawls. “If you two don’t sit up and open your eyes, I’ll snap his wrist.”
Jungkook gasps, and Yoongi can hear him thrash in place before Jihoon sighs as if inconvenienced, and the sound of a blow rings through the room again, Jungkook crying out mutedly. Yoongi bites his tongue hard enough he tastes blood, heart pounding - what can he do, what should he do?
“Fine.” Jihoon mutters. “Left wrist first.”
“Don’t.” Namjoon snarls, and Yoongi snaps upright too, glaring daggers at where Jihoon is lazily smirking at them.
“Don’t touch him, he’s not a part of this.”
“Hyungs?” Jungkook whispers uncertainly, tear-filled eyes round with shock, pain, confusion, and Yoongi feels it sear in his chest even as he keeps his jaw set, eyes cold.
“What are you hoping to accomplish here, Jihoon?” Namjoon spits.
“We’ve been in this life longer than you, you’re never going to get anything out of us.” Yoongi hisses venomously, and Jihoon raises an eyebrow.
“As you two know, we have some… important events coming up, ones we can’t afford sabotage on. There’s channels that could guarantee us a smooth and eventless path to that, taking out some saboteurs. We just need some… locations. Both your bases would be a decent start.”
Yoongi stares incredulously, and Namjoon’s glare is venomous. “Like hell are we giving you information. You know better than to think you’d ever get anything out of us, so what the hell is all this for?”
“Kill us, fine, but let him go, he isn’t involved.” Yoongi presses, and forces himself to ignore Jungkook’s whimper, his heartbreaking, absolute lack of comprehension. Jihoon rolls his eyes.
“Of course I know you can withstand my worst, what would I ever get out of either of you?” Jihoon says silkily, and the smugness in his gaze is unbearable and makes Yoongi’s heart shudder even before he murmurs pointedly. “But I don’t just have you, do I?”
As casually as anything, he turns swiftly on his heel and slams a fist into Jungkook’s chest so hard the chair scrapes back on the cement flooring, and Jungkook erupts into a jagged, terrible cough, rough and unending. Namjoon is shouting, and Yoongi is swearing furiously, and Jihoon shoots them a wink before turning and hurling another punch directly into Jungkook’s chest, even harder. The chair rocks back on two legs and thuds back down, barely audible over Jungkook’s sobbing, broken coughs, rough and raw and agonizing, and there are tears pouring down his cheeks even before Jihoon raises a fist, shakes it out, then slams it into Jungkook’s chest again, his chair crashing to the ground with a terrible bang. Jungkook chokes a cry at the impact, muffled and muted before he’s coughing, ragged gasps being torn painfully from his lungs and they’re not stopping, he’s not breathing, his shoulders are wracked with tremors and he’s choking, Namjoon’s eyes bright with horror, agonized.
“Stop!” Yoongi growls, straining against the chains, heart slamming its way out of his ribs. “Stop, he isn’t part of this! Leave him alone!”
Jihoon slowly turns, sneer in place. “Oh? What did you say? Your base is where?”
Yoongi glares at him, grinding his teeth, and Jihoon meets his gaze evenly, not turning away when he raises his leg pointedly and kicks Jungkook hard in the shoulder, Jungkook thrashing against his bindings in the chair, still coughing brutally, gasping and heaving. Namjoon is shouting furiously, and Jihoon whirls to face him.
“Oh, do you have information for me instead?”
Namjoon vehemently spits where Jihoon can stick his information, then jolts and tenses when Jihoon smiles pleasantly before turning and slamming a vicious kick against Jungkook’s chest. The rage that erupts in Yoongi is a physical flame licking at his breathless, blazing lungs as Jungkook chokes, heaves desperately, thrashing with terrible wracking tremors and he’s not breathing, he’s not breathing, he’s not breathing . There’s blood trickling from his wrists where the rope is scraping at his skin as he spasms and thrashes, desperate for oxygen he isn’t receiving because he isn’t breathing, he -
“He isn’t breathing!” Namjoon shouts, and Yoongi is gasping with desperation and Jungkook is writhing and thrashing, lips fading blue. Jihoon sighs loudly, annoyed, then leans over swiftly to fist a hand in Jungkook’s hair, yanking his chair upright and striking him hard across the face. Jungkook drags in a shuddering gasp at the blow, doubling over in the ropes binding him, cough jagged and grating, tears pouring down his face as Jihoon drops the chair again and turns to face them. Jungkook’s face is screwed up in agony, terror shining from his wet eyes, and Yoongi’s heart hammers and shudders.
They’re going to kill Jungkook, they’re going to kill him and Yoongi and Namjoon are chained up and can’t defend him, and Yoongi’s wrists are bruised with how tightly he’s yanking at the cold metal bindings futilely but he cannot watch Jungkook die, not like this, never. Jungkook, who is sweet, who is kind, who is lovely and generous and so, so genuinely good and caring and compassionate and makes Yoongi’s heart flutter and surge and -
Jungkook’s scream shatters the raging quiet around them, and Yoongi’s head shoots up so quickly his neck sparks in protest. Jihoon has a lighter pressed firmly to the inside of Jungkook’s forearm, and Jungkook’s scream is ragged and breaking. Namjoon is thrashing and cursing and yelling, and the horror of it is blurring the room around the edges, stretching Yoongi’s rapidfire heartbeat to an incessant high-pitched whine. Jungkook is writhing in agony, the rope slicing into his skin unforgivingly and blood welling, the merciless flame against his soft skin as Jungkook’s chest heaves and his tears pour, Jihoon’s fist yanking Jungkook’s head back by his dark hair to bare his neck as he screams and screams -
“Fine, stop!” Yoongi bellows, “Please! Please, fine, just - just stop!”
The click of the lighter going out is barely audible over the roaring in Yoongi’s own ears, his desperate panting and Jungkook’s terrible, ragged gasps as Jihoon drops his head roughly to loll against his chest again. Jungkook’s dark hair covers his face even as his entire frame shudders violently, as he curls into himself and sobs.
“Jungkook?” Namjoon whispers, concern and worry bleeding from his low voice, but Jungkook just sobs and Namjoon’s eyes are bright with tears he does not let fall. Yoongi can’t breathe as Jihoon steps even closer to him, and his rasp lacks any bravado.
“What do - what do you want to know?”