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a teacher comes up to the front of the room after taking attendance, her lips curling into a pleased smile. the students are anxious, some bored. but korean history must go on. it is for the sake and good of their valuable country for the youths to know their place. so the teacher projects a presentation slideshow onto the hologram board and begins her lecture.
“decades ago, adults have lost all control on the younger generation. the part of the brain that restrains risky behavior does not completely develop until the age of 25. underage crime rates increased by the day. more kids were skipping school, further delaying their brains.
“due to countless movements advocating for some action against the younger populations, the government of the republic of south korea laid down a new world; a world that would keep the youth under control for the sake of our people.
“with a physical wall separating those under the age of 25 and those beyond it, the young ones are on their own. they’re kept under a metaphorical lock and key, finally kept under control out of fear. stripped of normal names and identities until they are of age, they are nothing but youths, inhuman until they would finally be able to go over the wall exactly on their 25th birthday.
“those who go against the new laws get executed without any warning. rebel groups are beginning to form, but about 90% of them have all been caught and given proper punishment. there’s nothing good coming for those who wish to follow in their footsteps. so please, do not be like them. at this point in time, there can be no hope given for poor youths like you all.”
or maybe there is hope. the thought appears within some of the students’ minds, their fists clenched against their laps.
it's dark and musky and three has no idea on how to escape, if there really is a way to escape. they're on his tail quickly approaching, but he still runs for his life. the sirens are getting louder by the minute. three, we order you to stop and accept corporal punishment. like he will actually listen. those teachers deserved what they got. he had listened to these higher-ups for nineteen years of his life, and he's done hearing nonsense.
a car immediately corners him on the other end, and another when he tries to go another direction. then another. he's done running. he feels the fluorescent red landing on his shirtfront, and everywhere else on him that the authorities are ready to shoot at if he dares try to move another step.
doors clunk open and slam shut. officers are already beginning to close in on him with iron pipes in hand. three slowly raises his hands in surrender and his lips twitch bitterly in refusal. so this is how youths will die nowadays. the word is tasteless on his tongue. nineteen years of age, and he's still legally stamped as a youth. all because of some crackpot fool who decided to butt in the field of psychology.
it comes to show that adults always have the upperhand when it comes to living, that no matter what the younger generation will always face the backlash. it only became law when it was signed on a measly slip of paper by the president.
his eyes close and he prepares himself for the fatal beating, instead hearing pounds and kicks that aren't aimed at himself.
"it's one of those bulletproof boys!" one of the officers scream and three looks long enough to spot a boy with unruly black hair, handguns in both hands and half his face shrouded by an intricate mask.
before any of the officers can come and drag three away, the stranger dashes quicker than they can think, aiming high kicks up their jaws to knock them out. bullets are thrown. bullets are dodged and their brethren fights against them as the boy releases them. he's quick, even three notices that, and he can predict the adults' strategies before they can think of them themselves.
each and every one of them fall to the ground and collaborate to make a large pool of blood that belongs to neither three nor the boy. the masked stranger gets up on his feet after checking to see if the recent one he shot is just as dead, approaching three cautiously.
"you're okay for now," the boy assures quietly, his voice sounding deeper than what three had expected it to be. he straps one of his guns back onto his belt and lowers his mask to reveal his face. he appears just as young, if not younger, as three is. he appears more tired than three is.
"... yeah," three replies and accepts the extended hand the boy offers, standing up but not tall enough to meet the boy's eye level. he's taller.
"i'm crook," the boy introduces himself and still grasps onto his hand.
"three." he squeezes crook's hand before pulling away. crook’s hand still lingers in the air before it’s lowered and pressed firmly against his side.
"i know," crook abruptly responds, though with so little emotion in his voice that twists three's nerves a bit. "you're why i came here."
crook leads three deep into the city, down a labyrinth of paths that three isn’t even familiar with. no one else seem to be familiar with it either, so that eases three, knowing no officers can come after them. as if the other boy can answer him if he asks anyway. crook isn’t a boy of words, more occupied with making sure both his weapons are still loaded than the idea of holding a conversation.
there isn’t much to talk about in the first place. three holds back a slew of questions he’s tempted to ask but knows crook can’t be bothered with. it’s obvious the other is taking him somewhere safe, but there is one question on his mind that had been nagging him for the entire trip.
“how old are you?” it just blurts out of three’s mouth, and he vaguely regrets it the moment crook tightens his grip on one gun.
“is that important right now?” the answer is hissed out at him. intimidating and bothered.
three just shrugs. “i don’t know. i just don’t want to catch myself calling you ‘hyung’ if you’re younger, you know?”
the statement has crook puzzled, but instead he purses his lips tightly into a thin line. “... i’m seventeen this year.” he leers his focus back onto his pistol, ejecting the magazine to check his ammunition for another time before clicking it back into place.
“so i’m older.”
“all my teammates are.”
“teammate?” he recalls one of the officers saying something about the bulletproof boys. “are you saying i’m your teammate now?”
crook faces him completely, giving him a full look from head to toe. one of his brows lift in interest - as for what kind of interest, it’s pretty vague to tell. “if you can live through the training, hyung.” he gives a stoic nod before continuing his way.
and three just follows.
“well, hello there! welcome to the island of misfit toys!”
three is creeped out and had taken a step back. crook is, of course, unmoved by the greeting. someone who is in desperate need for a hair straightener approaches them and with his elbow, he nudges the happy-go-lucky boy who greets the two upon arrival. “hey hope, that’s disrespectful. that team all died off a month ago.” and yet the hope guy is still smiling even with the reminder.
“aiiiie, we already burned incense for them this morning. it’s fine. don’t be all serious,” hope assures him, waving his hand back and forth to dismiss him. he turns to smile at the other two boys again, cooing as he pats both their heads. “crookie, your little friend here is so cute! this is three, right? is he joining us for dinner?”
their base is underground, like every other rebel base that line up beside it. a network of young rebellion. it uneases three a bit, who wonders just how they haven’t been discovered yet. and how they all can breathe being so far below. it’s only been a few minutes and it’s already becoming hard for him to breathe.and the fact that they all know his name doesn't exactly help.
“little?” three’s eye twitches a bit and he looks over to crook, who just shrugs and slips the backpack off his shoulders.
“he’s joining our team actually. monster's orders.” crook pulls at the zipper and begins to rummage inside. “i got the beef,” he announces quietly while slipping out two wrapped packages of the raw red meat, and immediately three other people rush in.
“aigoo, crookie-yah! i knew we could count on you!”
“...”
“don’t tell me you took anything else.”
there’s chaos and excitement and a lot of hair ruffling in crook’s case and it makes three more nervous than he already was. but crook comes and touches his shoulder unexpectedly, squeezing it to get his attention.
“monster’s the leader and in charge of battle tactics. hope is in charge of our weaponry and trains us. v cleans the base and is our best at defense. jin’s the cook and the medic. he’s mute, just warning you. sugar knows how to hack computers to get us information,” he whispers, pointing a finger to match each name with a face. three sniggers at the last one. “they’re our teammates.”
“come on in, three. we don’t bite much,” sugar gestures for him to enter the base entirely, but not before he slips off his shoes, a bit tattered from all that running. “jin’s going to start marinating the beef, so we have to wait.”
jin makes some hand gestures but three can’t make anything out from them.
“he said he’ll give you a second serving,” v translates effortlessly.
it’s hope’s cue to gasp dramatically. “what?! no fair! i want a second serving!”
“ey, hope. he’s new. let him live.” v swats a feather duster at hope’s face.
so this is what it’s like to feel at home.
“monster and i are the only ones who don’t have roommates, so i had to be yours,” crook briefly explained, bringing him into the small room. there’s little space to move and both their beds are blankets and pillows already neatly arranged on the floor, no different from his past living conditions other than the tidiness and the ... roommate. “so i’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable with sleeping with another boy.”
“you know, you never told me what you do.” the other five had already retreated to their bedrooms with heartful goodnights flung in three’s way, so it’s just him and crook again.
crook takes his pistols off his belt and spins them in his forefingers, grasping them back against his palms again. “take a hint. it’s related to my name.”
“crook? you steal things?”
“mhm.” crook nods and goes to put away the guns in the weapon room while three waits for him. he puts them back into their proper place before coming back. “i supply things for the team. i have to steal. well,” he pauses, his brows lowered. “i want to steal.”
“what do you mea-”
“shh,” crook presses a finger against three’s lips and crouches down, taking his bag again. “don’t tell the others … okay?” he unzips what seems to be a secret pocket on the inside, revealing it to be packed full of candy and other trinkets.
“a kleptomaniac, huh?” three crosses his arms, impressed.
“what’s that?” crook squints at him and pulls the zipper back, suspicious. “are you insulting me?”
“eh?” three blinks repeatedly. “you don’t know what that is?”
“i ...” crook frowns. an expression other than his usual straight face. “i don’t know a lot of things, okay? shut up.”
three straightens his back with a look of curiosity but he chooses not to ask stupid questions for now. “it means you have an urge to steal. or something like that. i remember reading a magazine article about it.”
“they have magazines on this side of the wall?”
three snorts out loud and rolls his eyes. “for a member of a rebel group, i’d expect you to at least know about illegal smuggling.”
crook nearly smiles at this. “you do have a point there.”
"is that why you guys wanted me? just 'cause i know what's going on behind these old deadbeats' backs?"
"no," crook points at the tablet attached to one of the walls, the screen currently showing three's face on a wanted graphic. WANTED FOR REPEATED CASES OF ADULT-INVOLVED ASSAULT, the graphic reveals, offering a hefty reward for his capture. "it's just because you're like us."
three’s aim is clumsy at best, missing the target board completely whenever he shoots. his hands shake around the gun. hope evidently isn’t impressed at his first try, but he pats the younger one’s back nonetheless. it’s still early after all, he insists. he urges three to keep trying until he gets adjusted to a weapon. crook watches occasionally while he shoots with a rifle a few stations away, unfazed despite being here during sunrise to supervise three’s progress.
again, monster’s orders.
you’re not the rookie anymore, kid. so it’s time for you to look over one, monster had murmured in his ear the previous night before both three and crook settled into their beds.
each of crook’s shots land on the small red center of the target. the leader has to be kidding.
“hey, crook!” hope’s call has crook turning towards him and three, lowering his weapon. “could you help three for a sec? i gotta go fetch something from sugar.” crook just nods to comply, and hope happily claps his hand against his shoulder. “good luck, my saengie.” he half-jogs out of the training room.
three is working on refilling his bullets by the time crook sets the rifle aside and makes his way toward him. he doesn’t even notice crook is there until he lifts his head and gasps, grasping onto his shirt thankfully borrowed from sugar, who is the closest in size.
“you could have warned me,” three mumbles under his breath, eyes lowering back on his handgun.
“i don’t do warnings.” crook squints to get a closer look on him, noticing the sweat beading on the older boy’s forehead. “... do you want a drink?”
“what? no, it’s oka-”
“i don’t want to see you pass out. i’ll get you a drink,” crook firmly states before running out the room and into the kitchen. three’s mouth curls at the kind gesture. it doesn’t take long for the younger male to return with two cans of cola.
“oh man.” three exhales at the sight of the familiar brand and sets down his gun. he grasps tightly onto one can, staring at it as if it isn’t real. “it’s hard for youths to buy soda nowadays.”
crook’s lips twitch upwards but he turns away in time when three looks at him, pushing the tab up to crack the can open. “i got it from some teacher's lounge in a school nearby. ... i think you’re underestimating my abilities, three.”
three just laughs. “i’m not.” he sets the can down on the concrete floor and stretches his back, while crook watches silently. he’s been doing a lot of watching now, particularly at three. but he’s just following orders. “i’ve even seen you shoot. you’re pretty cool at it.”
crook’s cheeks begin to burn. stupid flattery. “... thanks.”
“so?” three picks his gun back up. “hope said you were going to help me?”
“... yeah.” crook sets his own can aside before coming closer to him. the color still doesn’t leave his face. he allows three to first grasp onto the handle and aim, but he eventually shakes his head in disapproval. "your hands are shaky. you need to keep your composure while you shoot."
"like this?" three grasps onto the gun tighter, trying to get a good direction to aim at. crook tsks at how easily three begins trembling again and steps over so that he's behind him. he reaches around him and grips onto both three's hands with his own, correcting his position.
"like this," crook whispers, and it tickles three's neck surprisingly that it makes him swallow hard. "are you okay?"
"j-just peachy."
"huh." what did that even mean.
"i'm fine, crook."
crook accidentally pulls down the trigger, sending both of them aback by the blow. still, it lands perfectly at the center of the board. "... sorry. um. okay." his expression is suddenly stiffer than usual as he lets go of him, refusing to make eye contact when three turns.
"... are you okay?" three asks, taking a step closer to crook who returns it by taking another step backwards.
"peachy," he imitates three's voice, tone and all. "let's just keep going."
three does improve over the course of a few months. he can even shoot at the target successfully with one eye closed, though he's cautious not to do it around his teammates, lest he'll attract concern. they've become well-accustomed to him, particularly crook who insists he stays next to him every meal, every training session, every, well, thing. he's very persistent on the idea that he's just following monster's orders, but even the leader smiles knowingly once mentioned.
three's eventually assigned to help him gather supplies, a subtle way for the older ones and v to tease them both. of course they can do it another way, if not for crook's silent death threats over the dinner table.
"i think they mean well," three assures crook one sunny day, when they're both outside of the base, settled in a nearby spot with boxes of soap and shampoo in their bags. he works on a strawberry-flavored chupa chup that crook so graciously stole because his hands had begun to twitch for more after they took what they needed without an oblivious cashier's eye.
"i think they're ridiculous," crook grunts, breaking the chupa chup stick in his hand.
"i don't get what you're so bothered about," three states with brief laughter. he sucks at the candy for a few seconds before pointing it at crook. "unless you hate being babied."
"that's why i'm bothered. i am not a baby."
"sure you are. mr. sixteen-years-old." three guffaws again when crook kicks at his shins. "you still have eight or nine years before you can legally go over the wall, you know. you're pretty youth-ly."
crook scoffs and bites down on his empty stick. "even if i never signed up for all this, i wouldn't be able to go over the wall anyway."
"huh?" the statement confuses three, and he leans over to him. "what do you mean?"
"you know all that propaganda a while ago about how the youths have it better than other people? with all those kids in white gowns and bald heads and captions such as 'rats like these have no home. you do.'?"
three just nods.
"well ... i was one of those rats. i still remember the number they gave me. 06131001."
"no," three breathes out. he smiles sickeningly, refusing to believe it. "they totally faked that. that was just a scare tactic to keep us from rebelling."
crook awkwardly runs his hand through his hair, unsure of whether to feel angry or disappointed that three thought he was lying. "it's real. it's ... a lottery kind of thing. newborns get randomized and chosen for this. see?" he rolls up his sweatshirt's sleeve and reveals the same exact number etched into his inner forearm. 06131001. "drugs. perfume. you name it. i got tested for it. people like me couldn't go over the wall. we just get killed before our birthday happens."
"that's horrible."
"yeah? it does makes you fueled for rebellion, doesn't it? seeing how much of a mess i look because of them?"
"you look fine."
"i'm doubting you."
three stares at crook's slightly sunken eyes, and his skin that may not be the greatest, and everything else. but it's fine. crook is perfectly fine. "i'm telling the truth." he pauses before asking another question. "so crook, huh? is that really your name?"
name. crook fails to find what's so important in a name that the government is willing to take even that from him, from every other youth actually since all their names don't count either. "no. monster gave it to me. because i was a ... uh ... what was that you called me? that thing that sounded like an insult. oh! kleptomaniac. yes. i took his notes the first day i was taken in and hid them under my bed. he wasn't mad though."
three blocks his laugh with the back of his hand. he's been laughing a lot more actually, with crook's help unknowingly. "sounds like you." he goes back to smiling, because what else is there to do? "so if you could actually have a real name, what would it be?"
"i told you. i got named crook."
"no no no, i mean if we didn't have to deal with this. all this youth stuff. if we had normal names," three corrects him, but crook stares at him like he doesn't understand. again. three just sighs. "i did a paper on this a year ago. when before all these youth laws got passed, everyone had normal names. like the new name you get when you turn 25."
crook shrugs casually, not really wanting to put the idea into deep thought. "i don't know. what about you?"
"i always thought i was a jimin kind of guy. jimin. doesn't that sound cool?" he gets no response. "aiiii, you're no fun. what would be a good name for you? crook. cr ... kook." he scrambles to find a syllable that fits. "jung ... kook. jungkook. yeah! i think jungkook's nice for you."
"jimin and jungkook," crook deadpans.
another infamous three grin. "sounds like the perfect duo, right?"
it's the night before a big mission. a huge five-group attack on one of the nation's biggest military bases. monster's evidently excited for what's to come, shown from their group meeting, as he goes over all their positions and strategies and where to move when he orders certain codes. both sugar and monster work hand-in-hand, with sugar providing the possibilities with illegal military data, monster handling the solutions to the possibilities.
they have their biggest dinner that night, a slew of leftover ingredients about to go bad put together for hot pot. three just smiles watching all the commotion, and even fights with hope for one of the thickest pieces of beef to dip in the broth. though crook effortlessly steals it in between his chopsticks when it's flung in the air. cue the other teammates' applause.
they're all full and drowsy in the end, leaning back with their hands hovered over their stomachs. v is touching jin's shoulder with an affectionate smile before working on collecting the filthy dishes alongside him. the rest all hobble off to their rooms but not before sugar leans over to crook and sets him aside to talk. three watches them with some foreign feeling settling in his stomach, but he shakes it off and escapes into his room, assuming that it's just because he's full.
crook comes back in just as three finishes settling into his sleepwear, sighing and closing his eyes. "you know," he begins while changing clothes, so three sits up from his bed and scoots over to him. "i have to give sugar some credit. he found me first, when i was hiding in some ditch. i would have died if it weren't for him. so i'm grateful."
he remembers the event by heart. he remembers how afraid he was shivering in the cold with just a bloodied gown on. he remembers nearly strangling whoever went in his way, his lack of trust in other people, and how whenever he looks at three, he doesn't believe that he had acted like that at all.
three purses his lips together. he wouldn't have imagined that crook would have that kind of backstory, and suddenly he understands him a bit more. or maybe even much more, much to his pleasure. he observes crook's facial expressions. they've noticeably softened since talking about sugar. "so you do like him?"
"i never said i disliked any of our comrades."
"no, i mean, romance-wise. are you saying you like him like that?"
crook just stares at him blankly, trying to understand. he vaguely knows the definition of romance, but he tries to piece together any idea of how it feels. he looks over to three and just exhales, doubting that the other has any idea either. "does that just automatically come with being saved?"
"definitely. and you're like the epitome of damsel in distress. you're rocking it." three snickers.
"i'm not a damsel. whatever that is," crook huffs out, giving him a harsh elbow into his shoulder which three blocks, or attempts to block because crook is so quick. "if you're going to go with that logic, then that means you're in love with me."
three doesn't respond to that verbally, only wiggling his blows and making exaggerated kissing noises that crook rolls his eyes at. he's too busy laughing to notice that the younger male is coming closer, closer, closer. and crook is gently grabbing onto his shoulders and leaning in, pressing his lips against three's.
oh.
three definitely doesn't expect this, his shoulders slacken but the rest of him frozen. crook's still moving his lips, clumsy and inexperienced, never forceful. three's not sure who pulls away first, and they stare at each other with widened eyes and breaths that take effort.
"what was that for?" three gets the balls to ask.
crook doesn't answer at first, looking at everything else but three. "i don't know." he gets up and avoids any eye contact with him. "i told you. i don't know a lot of things."
three straightens himself and frowns, staring up at him. "then i'll teach them to you." that's when he grabs crook's arm and pulls him down for another kiss. he's not sure if this changes what they are, what they can be. but crook's kissing him back, his hold on three's shoulder so unstable three has to hold onto his hip with his other hand. whatever. he'll think about it later.
fire. screams for change and order. explosions and gunshots from left and right. crook's hand in one of three's and a handgun in another. they both stand back to back, watching out for each other, their hands messily entwined. the perfect duo, right? they watch their comrades fall dead one by one, and jin's silently weeping in raspy sobs when he knows he failed again once losing v's pulse. he presses a gun to his head and looks over to the two with shaky hands and teary apologetic eyes before pulling the trigger.
crook screams something at him that three can't make out. he repeats it again. before three can ask him to say it again, the younger boy leans in for a kiss, barely brushing their lips together. then three loses him when they finally let go. and he realizes what crook had been saying all along. jimin. and a small little phrase that has three running for him.
it's too late to think.