all mine | pjm

f o r t y - s e v e n

He walks over to a glass cabinet and gets out a matching glass, placing it on the counter and pouring the crystal clear drink into it.

"Vodka." he holds the glass out for you to take.

"Uhm, do you have Soju?" you ask for instead.

You've never had a drink before, you've always been to scared to try it, but Soju seems tamer, at least, you assume. Vodka cannot be the first thing you drink, you'll lose yourself right away.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Don't offend me like that. Soju is merely a soda compared to this. I purposely make more trades in Russia just to get to their drinks. Nastoiki over there? Like none other."

You're too scared to reject him again, and take the glass from him, your finger slightly brushing each other, making you nauseous.

Everything about him is unsettling.

He's only in a black shirt and black pajamas, way more relaxed than what you saw him in earlier.

It reveals more of his skin, and you find that he is more covered in ink than you first believed.

Small and big pieces cover both of his arms. Small letters, numbers and stars cover his fingers. His neck is decorated with faces of women, blades, wilting flowers. You're mesmerized. All his tattoos are so different, you've never seen a collection like this.

He notices your staring and smirks, "Tattoos. They cover up scars." he says, his voice low, so deep it scares you.

He pulls up his shirt to reveal a very prominent blemish on his lower abdomen, right over the waistbands of his pants.

It's an old gash, starting from the left side of his stomach, and ending on the right side of his back.

But it's only obvious under the kitchen lights, otherwise you would have missed it as it's surrounded by more ink.

The gash is decorated like a vine, leaves and petals coming out of it, camouflaging it.

"Your boy did this to me, an old fight we had two years ago, the last time we saw each other." he pulls his shirt back down.

Your boy?

Jimin?

"What were you fighting over?" you say, your voice weak, nervous.

"The same reason you're here; power, dominance." he replies, taking a gulp of vodka with not even a single flinch to his face.

You nod, looking down at the glass in your hands.

"I want you to open this." he then turns to get a black box from the opposite counter and places it in front of you.

You look up at confused, but his expressions stays the same, waiting.

You place the glass by his, and very carefully start to remove the lid, to reveal black tissue paper.

You look up him again, "You're on my side now, you have to trust me." he adds, your fear not concealed well at all.

You look back down and start to pick at the paper, to see a gun, a very familiar pistol waiting at the bottom of the box.