𝟏: the ruins

rails of the new mornings never linger beneath the shadows of old grey nights. yet, do not expect a polished hue; lights can be chaotic, more vulnerable, capable of tearing you apart into worthless fragments, not even sparing the faintest breath.

yes, that's what the reality has become.

no empathy. no contentment. no commitments. only power. only control. and always, just not enough.

rain drizzled at the foot of those worn-out towers, the ones that portrayed helms and prices, the ruins.

jeongguk strolled down the pavement swiftly, restless and craving. his eyes flared, like a falcon, lost in its own desires. true and bold. the dagger slightly fluttered under his touch. the graveness of the ruins was never a foreign sight to him. he was swift and agile. and none seemed to match his shades.

"you thought of running away, little bastard?" a chuckle escaped his throat. "look at you, all bold and bleeding, foolish enough to hope you will live." the wounded man whimpered under the sudden slash of his dagger.

slurp!

the dagger clung to the raw flesh with a faint hiss. blood spilt, spoiling the mud with the filth of mortal sins.

slurp!

another plunge. a strike at the neck.

slurp!

then again, at the breast.

the faint vermillion accursed the man's face with a bare, naked glow.

death is inevitable. and sins, they reside beneath the folds of humanity like a vital vein. craving and tempting.

"hoping was never a better option. sinners must die. even I am no exception." a sarcastic smile plastered his bloody cheeks. jeongguk wiped the bloodstains from the dagger with a quick click.

humanism had become an old fable, and the ruins, they never cared; the world was tainted, so were they.

the roofs were still dripping from the rain's aftermath.

new blooms swept off their chains. liberty. love. lust. and lastly loathe. vile contrasts. they never fit together. funny, isn't it? and yet, amid the reeks of their venom, some remained, existing, ruined, just enough to breathe.

anticipation, wasn't it just another innocence? another tragedy they thrived on?

the church was massive. with the gothic features and tarnished glass windows, it had been a cultural landmark.

the halls were quiet, perhaps too calm. the rain was still soaking the old, marble floors. the birds ruffled, unfurling themselves dry under the extensions of the window jambs.

taehyung sat on his chapped, wooden chair, moving away from the casement, towards the corner of the room. a thick-spined book rested steady in his hands; an old, polished pair of spectacles adorned his brows. the rain sprinkled slight drizzles on him. the rosary hung down against his wrist like a longing promise.

he seemed peaceful, a stability that radiated an intimidating hue rather than the usual serene tint of a priest.

"father, someone had come to see you." the voice thronged beside taehyung, awakening him from his senses. "on what purpose?" his tone was constant, a husky content that glinted authority.

"she didn't mention." the young boy replied.

"hmm, tell her to wait a little longer." taehyung placed the book on the table with a click. the spectacles dropped slightly forward along the nose line.

"okay, father." the helper closed the entrance, faintly with a thud. a soft sigh left taehyung's mouth, another favour, another lie.

faith.

the word tasted bitter in his mouth. he had been a cheerful boy, all glittery and wild. but he had changed a lot. perhaps, he never did at all. he still has it in him, the melancholy, the longing, to lie on the countryside grassland, careless and free.

but now, it was beyond his limits, all dreams and fine shards of a lost past.

they bound all of him to faith, but he does not blame them; he was a despicable sin, wasn't he? just another disgusting sin draped in silk and grace, nothing more than a sickening smear.

the door was closed swiftly with a creak.

it was a lady, perhaps in her late 40s. a green cardigan embraced her upper body. her hair was neatly tied into a bun, and a light, leather boater was carefully hung against those silvery strands; with a few wrinkles bulging here and there, near her cheekbones and mouth, an old age corrosion, it was.

"how can i help you?" taehyung sat on the black chair, placing himself at the centre. the lady seemed quite familiar. the face, the bracelet, the smile. it was all familiar.

jeon jiah?

"good morning, father." she wiped the faint beads of sweat from her forehead with her napkin.

"good morning to you, too, mrs. it's been a long time since we met." taehyung tilted his head forward. a slight bow. just enough to show a quiet reverence. the lady nodded in reply.

"yes, very much of a long time since we met, father kim." with another reassuring smile, she tucked down the brown leather boater onto her lap.

"i had been with my husband in australia. it was quite a decent proposal. the abbess didn't seem to bother, so i agreed. he treats me well. so, here i am." the narrative was debatable indeed for taehyung's critics. he only shook his head forward.

"so, what purpose brings you here, mrs?" taehyung clasped his hands into a clench, not arrogant, not predatory, just a reminder of his authority.

"since you know me very well, i assume you'd be acquainted with my brother as well." the start seemed personal, and taehyung had guessed it right, of course. he had always known it. everyone came for a favour, nothing more, nothing less.

"hmm, i have seen him. when he was around 10 or something? i do not recall. but i might, perhaps, be acquainted with him." taehyung frowned in the sudden reminiscence.

"and, why does this relate to him? the favour, mrs?" taehyung remarked, with a slight confusion, nothing demanding, just a veil on display, a quiet depiction for the fools, a gesture to bury his untypical acknowledgement over her.

"the favour is about him, father. a slight favour for my repetence. please, please be kind enough to help my nephew. he had been very much vulnerable. so, with you, he can become a better human. i am praying you, father. please help my boy." her eyes glistened under the old lamp. tears streamed down in an instant, her fingers fiddled.

she was trembling under the helm of repetence.

her white cardigan was soon soaked in the saltiness of her tears and sweat. she was breaking, no, she was already broken, broken from the relenting regrets, broken from the screams of a neglected child.

it was nothing but another bland play taehyung always witnessed, a usual sight in the ruins. he used to sense it right, each time, always right.

repetence, the whole idea was a deception. it was for taehyung, it was for every other person in the ruins. but this lady had claimed too much of humanity, too much of something the ruins never allowed.

"why do you intend me in this resolution?" taehyung beckoned with amusement, a glint of escalation deepened his interest.

 yes, he was ruined, buried dark and caged, a wrecked brute in despair. he was nothing, nothing anymore, just ruined enough for an existence. but, a favour, a mortification of humanity? was he ever relevant? was he deserving enough?

humanity was weird, after all. it is natural. he does not debate it.

"you are the only light i chose to believe, father. you have done 'plentiful favours for others', then why not me?" the sudden mention kept him grounded, back to his grey walls, and lost prayers; her negotiation skills were in fact certain. pathetic enough.

"tell him to meet me. i do not mention the date, but i assure you a better redemption." the silent comment flared delight in her sneer. her wet cheeks stood strained in glee, a blink of renewed happiness.

"thank you, father kim. may god bless you throughout with abundance." her eyes twinkled, her breath even, an instance of gratification.

the door clicked. the footsteps faded, another day, another survival.

in the end, nothing mattered anyway, right?

the midnight came quite slowly; faint chirpings of the birds, flutters of the river water, buzzing of the beetles, they all seemed loud in taehyung's ears.

it was the third night, the third-most night since sleep deceived him with a foul bribe of utmost apprehension. he always preferred to be a fool, a senseless fool without the virtue of discernment.

sleep had become an old fellow after all, an old fellow who visited hardly once, or, if fortunate, twice a week.

he had become used to it, the tumultuous ticking of the wall-clock, the silent dripping of the broken pipe; he had become used to the slightest of all essence.

but even amidst the constant routine, he falters, his breath shallows. it was exhausting, it was draining; the way each movement hurt too deeply, growing into nothing but a perpetual deterioration of his proud instincts, god, they all damned him wild and infuriated.

the moonlight seeped through the old wall-cracks, saturating the grey stains with a silver glow. taehyung lifted himself towards the nightstand. his hands, slightly wavering from the sudden rouse.

he poured himself a glass of water, a ritual to lessen his boredom, of course. the water was bitter, sour and sweet, everything at once.

his sleeplessness was turning him insane. his insomnia was shrinking his consciousness. and ultimately, he would kill himself, granting himself a dull demise, the one he always used to fancy.

thud!

the sudden bang on the door startled him.

a knock? at midnight? even though the confusion gnawed him, he made his way towards the door. within a few instants, the thrusts grew desperate, frantic, without humour.

when the door was opened, the rush of briskness hit right in his guts, deep and bare.

 it was his acolyte. his eyes, shimmering red. his hands, sweaty and dripping. his brows, already furrowed in distress. taehyung could guess there had been pretty much a disaster.

"why did you wake me up in the middle of the night? did something happen?" he tried to conceal the exhaustion in his voice.

"father, someone broke into our lockers, the donations, the money, everything is gone. the head priest is infuriated, he had called for you." the boy was panting. he might have run all the way through. a poor lad indeed.

"hmm, do not wait for me, i will go have a word with him. and, do not panic, boy. let me handle it. take rest. young lads like you should not be running around at midnight. go, get some sleep. health's important as well. good night."

"okay, father" the young boy's frown was soon replaced with a tired sneer.

he had been a helper since his very childhood. he was found abandoned, raw in mud, on a slippery, rainy night. he had no surnames. they called him yoongi. just yoongi. he was timid, lean and bright. a boy who remained within his boundaries. the one who limited his speech to clarity. a tolerant boy with an abiding faith and profound respect towards everyone.

"then, i may take your leave, father kim. good night, father." yoongi bid him farewell.

the door closed with a grunt, a departure granted with utmost contentment.

well, taehyung never regretted it. he has been a very generous fellow, the perfect priest. and of course, he would never want to ruin that, not even the slightest.

the night was a bustle in the ruins. the swirling mist, trailing dust, kindling cigarettes, seethed the grunts of their bare hearts into nothing but hollow spares of a rare humanity.

truths were never absolute, and the ruins, they never really cared. right or wrong. they always chose survival. it was an instinct, a tactic. they were no different, weren't they?

the drain spilt the dense black liquid onto the ground. the darkness was spreading quite slowly. street alleys were thick with ugly rats and foul scraps. the stray dogs howled in hunger. the night lamps flickered, withdrawing the last of their luminosity.

the market alley was a compact of riotous corruption and dissipated livelihood. street fighters and bankrupt hitmen thronged the narrow aisle. their faintly lit cigars summoned a quiet warmth amid the briskness. smoke swathed around them, shifting in a blank demeanour.

jeongguk stood beside the iron wall with a nonchalant expression. his thumb slightly straightened as his fingers tightly wrapped the slender cigarettes with another puff of the toxic vapour.

"where were you last night, jeongguk? we had a pretty good deal last night." one of them blurted out with a grin, rather mockingly.

"i was busy." jeongguk played calmly, claiming his senses to stay unprovoked at the latter's derisive.

"oh, must be busy with the stripper noona, can't blame you though, that slut's got quite a needy pussy, doesn't she?"

jeongguk's face turned bright red. the mob laughed scornfully at the ridicule, patching jeongguk's silence into a viscous rage.

"aww, are you shy, jeongguk—"

thwack!

a heavy blow landed on the guy's face.

blood seeped. flesh clamped. all dislocated and assaulted.

 his knuckles were spoiled with grime. his muscles twitched under the streetlights. it was quite a moment. an enraged animalistic declaration.

"do not dare to say her name like that, you pathetic mite!" his growls grew with each hit, gore and fury sought seeds of wilderness inside him.

"why? does it hurt when i speak of her like that?" the man managed to spit out a bloody fluid with a snarl.

"yes, it does. and now, pay for it."

jeongguk pinned the guy to the mud-flooded floor with his foot and struck the latter at the chest.

his anger was again flooded. his eyes flickered light under the dim glow. his strikes grew loud with a bloody jazz. his only secret jazz.

blood stained his shirt like a constant visitor.

the clink of his knuckles with the jaw and the skull and the flesh, conceded him a high drug, a damned drug. he clung to it as he fucked up his own erratic senses. the thick saturated liquid descended, tracing lines on his skin. his heart was warmer than before. now calmer. too calm.

the man trembled, his breath was shallow, and soon he fainted; his head lay low on the ground, beneath jeongguk's feet. perfect.

it was raw rage. a monster. an accursed piece of hell.

"take him away, out of this damn city. people like him degrade my existence."

a few of them stumbled under the sudden claim. their necks were red from confusion and embarrassment. perhaps, panic? fear?

the man was taken away as said. he merged with the pitch-black fog that whirled through the alley. forgotten and buried under the mighty jeon without a trace, wiped off clean without any scars.

that was jeongguk. an untamed brute with no room for empathy. a rusty petal of lost bliss. a wild creature none dared to approach.

he had made himself all keen and irrational. many despised him and hid behind the folds of those filthy streets like serpents ready for a feast.

but jeongguk, he was the master; he was the empire, and that calloused their senses with feral terrors, a sickly peak of hatred turned fright.

the club was a bleak blend of sweat and sex, loud music, stripped self-respect, and high-on-drugs dwellers, the same old contrasts of the ruins.

the music blared like their irrationals. jeongguk stepped into the crowd, his shoulders draped in the old leather jacket, his hands swinging past the sweaty crowds.

it was quite a dream, an obnoxious, petty dream of the teens. jeongguk used to despise it, the blank lunges, the flickering dim light, the tapering hallways; it might be the chaos in his senses, or it might be their skully flesh, he did not want to acknowledge any of it. well, he was a ruins' child, wasn't he? so, does it make any difference?

the sour chunky liquid grazed a searing sensation down his throat. it was his way, the weary and sore way; perhaps, that's what he was made from, bitterness, mud, hatred. despite its degraded morals, the ruins taught him an adequate lesson: 'keep your rage until they realise they are worthless about your feet.'

well, it was in his ethics, even if the ruins never really considered it.

"hey, jeongguk?" jeongguk glanced sideways. it was the club owner, min hannah, a human he counted as one at the very least.

"oh hey, noona, how are you?" his voice was laced with exhaustion and bluntness.

she was the only person he used honorifics with. she was quiet, stayed within her limits, and fairly entertaining, just the way he liked it.

"you have grown a few muscles." a slight smile furled her lips; he knew it, the faint sway of her hips, the way her hands curled facilely around the glass of beer; he had known it, always known it very well.

"you have grown prettier as well, noona." he whispered, deep and husky, after all, his body also demanded a release; it was even in both ways.

gluping the last shot, he followed the woman towards the stall nearby.

it was their usual spot, not that he was complaining; he enjoyed it there, only when he was in his right mind, of course. it had been mutual, consensual, and no strings attached, not in the trivial slang of immature lads, but the real adult thing.

moans grew lewd, whisking with the dull music of the mosaic floors.

there were a lot of people like them, half-naked, half-high, pleasing each other without any demands. it was a normal, tedious scene at those bars.

her cherry-red lipstick was smeared about her face, her eyes rolled up to the lustful clouds; he thrusted into her brutally, no affection, no smiles. just a plain temper of lechery and hassle.

"jeongguk, harder, boy." she vented out, facing the grey walls with another pleasant drool dripping down her mouth.

"do not boy me, noona. we both know i can do more than this."

jeongguk grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it.

"ah, jeongguk!" her eyes rolled back. he pulled himself out.

his shaft was drenched and slick, his hair stuck to the temples along with the sweat. all luscious and flushy.

"it's over now, you can go, noona." jeongguk shifted from the narrow stall, leading himself out of the neon light of the crooked alley. "you do not get to treat me like a whore, boy. you owe me for this." she spat the tasteless saliva into the basin with a grin.

"oops, my bad, noona." a sly sneer adorned his face.

"why don't you fuck me from the front? it is better that way, you know?" his cheeks lifted with the usual amusement. it was her routine query, a general banter between them.

"i do not do soft, noona. i like it this way. you have got to accept it sooner or later. this inquiry won't change this."

he waved her goodbye, and then, eventually, with a slight spin, he dragged himself out of the club. a beer bottle clutched his hands. his jacket swayed obliquely with his tracks.

it was a normal day. a very normal day for him, for them.

his silver chain glimmered. his skin reddened. the cold had wrapped him twice. then again thrice. it was a ritual. old street alleys, dirty cement pavements, flickering, rusty street lamps, and his drunken haze. it was nothing but an immaculate blend.

the wet asphalt of the road, remarking the ruins' bloodline, the same wonted, infuriated bloodline.

it had been rough and never once soft.

the ruins were a heaven, a corrupted heaven. all black and grey. they were the customised variety of lost dignity. they ventured into blood and violence. the city and the police never bothered; they were the allies, the broth makers.

politics was another drama. capitalism, to be precise.

they had it under them, the power, the money, the control, everything. the ruins had always known it, but none were concerned; revolution was an unfamiliar concept, they had got what they needed to survive: alcohol, women, and drugs. so, do they have a sufficient reason for a revolt?

 after all, they all breathed the same dead, greasy air, didn't they?

the morn flattened with the azure sky; the slight smoke from the chimneys, the morning mist, the faint chitter of the sparrows, a well-dreamt dream of the cities.

jeongguk was full-fledged, asleep, and demolished from the dull beer and nasty cigarettes. the dense drain-mud stained his shirt. his head was tilted towards the green mosses and dried dirt of the ugly walls; his eyes were all dark and twitching with hesitation.

a nightmare, perhaps?

he always had them; they refused to leave, and he stopped trying ages ago. and now, he states them as a due dose for his wrongdoings, a debt, a mere punishment.

he was indeed a sinner, a criminal, a murderer; but then again, anyone who survived the ruins was one as well. so, really, who could truly blame him for it?

"j-jeongguk?"

it commenced faint and stuttering, only aloud to oneself.

it was jiah, his aunt, his only blood alive, perhaps.

"jeongguk? it's your aunt jiah, please wake up, my boy." the lady pulled him by his shoulders with all her might, wrestling timidly with the younger's indifference.

"jeongguk, you told me you behaved, right? in those l-letters, you told me it was fine, did you not? b-but, you lied. i-i cannot see you like this, jeongguk. please wake up!" the stammer in her tone grew along with her wailings, jolting jeongguk awake from his flimsy slumber.

he's never been a deep sleeper because of his nightmares, so there he was, all awake and gorgy from the faintest of her shrieks.

"can you shut up for a moment? you do realise that you are ruining my sleep, don't you?" the growl was sharper than expected.

"i am your aunt, jeongguk." her words were laced with disappointment and desperation. no aunt would enjoy seeing her nephew deteriorating in the streets.

"not when i do not consider you as one, jiah." it slipped out smoothly, no snags, no guilt.

according to him, it was the truth, after all.

jeongguk never really considered her as one since her departure, more like deliberately leaving him to rot in the filthy ruins, discarding him like some rusty custody not worthy anymore. he was tired of it. all of it.

her husband was filthy rich, and she was a coward. he had built up a reasonable settlement in australia. he wanted power and politics; ruins did not have it. so, he took his aunt as a trade.

he was polite and well-mannered in the presence of the abbess. hence, she readily agreed to their marriage. though he appeared all quiet and humble, he was nothing more than a wolf in disguise.

he treated jeongguk like dirt, never considering the latter's emotions as a 14-year-old. he only had room for his own priorities, like his aunt jiah being another of his possessions.

jeongguk does not even care anymore. if they do not respect you, do not even bother to spare your slightest pity for them; they do not deserve it.

if she had truly loved jeongguk, would she have ever left him in the first place? wasn't his love genuine enough?

"j-jeongguk?" a tear descended, flashy under the skim of the sun's morning rays. her deep brown eyes were now fixated on him, saturated with the saltiness of the tears.

"how can you say this to me, my boy?" she broke down, completely, cheeks already wet from the warmth of falling tears.

"do not call me that, do not call me that when you do not mean it. it's disgusting to hear it from you, jiah." his words were unfiltered, blaring, and wild.

"i know i have wronged you, jeongguk. but please try to understand my situation. i had no choice. i wanted to give you a better life."

"there you go again. a better life? you consider 'this' as a better life? my god, you are insane, lady. i do not blame you, though. i am more comfortable here than with your rich husband. i prefer being here to your hefty luxuries."

he stated it clearly, without any flaws, just the way he wanted it.

"son, please, i can say no more. i cannot defend myself before you. but please, listen to me. hear my part for god's sake. please come with me." jiah was incessant. her lips glowed from those infuriating tears. she was noisy and weeping, like she had lost a fine part of her.

"you don't get to order me, jiah. i am not the old puppet, not the old good boy."

a dry laugh left his mouth.

"i have grown worse, jiah; so much worse in the past 14 years. i have changed in ways you would never be able to endure. so, do not waste your petty tears on me. it's stupid, the most dull-witted thing you would ever do."

he brought it out, once again, sleek and calm.

for a while, he stood there, staring almost lifeless through her red, wrinkly eyes. then, eventually, he grabbed his wet jacket from the ground, brushed off the grime and pulled it on.

"jeongguk, i am begging you, please come with me, i won't ask anything from you any more. this, this is the last thing i am asking for. please come with me, jeongguk, please." she pulled his arms, blocking him from leaving.

"do not touch me. are you dumb? do you not understand what i am trying to say here? please, please do not bother me any more." he pushed her hand with a strong blow, just enough to assert his decision.

he walked off, beyond the cold chalky dessert, away from the insolence.

jiah fell to her knees on the ugly pavement. her white skirt was now drenched in mud. her grey hair swung through the ruins' murky breeze.

it was final.

jeongguk had decided it long ago. he had everything he wanted there in the ruins. then, why should this bother him? and of course, it does not bother him at all. he had been alone for years. why does it matter now, all of a sudden?

it was his own will that claimed it, carefully, with precision, tactically, and temperamentally.

so, ultimately, it was his choice, his only choice. no one gets to question him for it.

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i have tried my very best to portray each character and their dynamics. i hope you guys enjoyed it. love ya.

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