Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Jungkook liked to walk. He enjoyed the feel of the pavement under his feet, steady and strong, unyielding. He liked the sound of the leaves crunching beneath him as the wind blew them into his path. Most of all he liked the silence that came from being by himself. There were always people around him but now, when he was going nowhere and no one was expecting him, he could pretend for a moment that they couldn’t see him; He was just there, and they were just there, but they weren’t there together.

   He didn’t have a specific path he took. He just walked until he felt like stopping. Sometimes he’d walk through downtown, slipping through the crowds of people taking up the sidewalk. Other times he’d walk through the suburbs, just him and his thoughts to accompany him. Today he found himself at a small park, nestled between some small shops and mid-rise apartments. It was mostly quiet, only a few people making use of the nice weather.

   He took a seat on one of the wooden benches and, not for the first time, he found himself observing those around him. He watched the others in the park and wondered what it would be like to be like them. The mother pushing her child on the swing, the man walking his dog, the two teenagers smoking dope beneath the play structure; they all seemed to lead such simple lives. Did they have darkness in them too, he wondered? Were they as happy as they pretended to be or did they too feel like strangers in their own lives?

   What was it that made them so different from him? Rather, what was it that had gone so wrong for Jungkook? Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere? Perhaps he’d read the map to a normal life wrong and stumbled into some unknown area, far from the safety of the crowd. Now he was lost, wandering, trying to keep the wolves from devouring him. He’d spent his whole life trying to find his way back but the trees were so thick and the stars clouded. He was beginning to call this other place home.

   He was floating, a dead branch adrift in a stream of emotions he could never grab hold of. He had never been part of the pop culture parade; He didn’t see the point in obsessing over celebrities and sports teams he knew nothing and cared nothing about. When he heard his classmates gushing about reality TV shows and Miley Cyrus he felt like he was standing outside, watching everyone else exist through a window he could never open with no doors in sight. Then he realized he was the one on the inside and he’d closed the blinds on everyone else. Maybe the window had been put there just so he could see what he was supposed to be but not to become it. The disconnect between him and the rest of the world was an unbridgeable chasm, separating him from a life he could never have.

   Of course, the longer he went without it the more he realized how useless it was. People had become nothing but rats in a maze: chasing the cheese of gratification and praise. It was all about likes and retweets and whether or not they got their picture in the yearbook under “Most Likely To Not Be A Failure.” Jungkook wanted nothing more than to throw his middle fingers up and tell them to go fuck themselves but he had to play the role. He had to seem the same as them; he couldn’t show people how different he was, how wrong he was. Basketball, Skateboarding, Choir: His body was a trophy case of participation medals, second hand awards placed there to fool those around him but he could never fool himself; he wasn’t a person like them. He was a placeholder for the soul his body had never been given.

   He didn’t hate being different most of the time. After all, it wasn’t like he wanted to be like everyone else. No, that was the farthest thing from what he desired. The problem was he didn’t really know what he desired. There was a hole inside of him where his heart should be and it made figuring out what he wanted that much harder. The phantom longing was nestled inside of him, deep and strong like a tumour he could never remove. It pulled at everything he was until he felt like he was going to break. Who knew? Maybe one day he would.

JUNE 1ST 

   He was on his way home from his dealer’s place when he saw it: A small area of the park near his house was cordoned off. Tacky yellow police tape was attached to the trees and running around the perimeter of what was apparently a crime scene. He couldn’t see what was going on from where he stopped, watching curiously from the shadow of a large elm tree a few yards away, but it had to be something big by the looks of how many cruisers had showed up.

   I should leave, Jungkook thought, before anyone notices me. It was two AM and he was loitering around a crime scene, probably a murder no less, with enough drugs on him to get him in some semi-serious trouble. Well, he assumed it was a murder. That many cops didn’t show up for a simple act of vandalism. If it was a murder then the police would be on their guard and he should really leave before they notice him. The urge to see, though, to find out if there really was a body, was pulling him forward before he could stop himself.

   He stepped out onto the sidewalk and shoved his hands in his pockets, slipping on his mask. Apathy, this time; A bored kid on his way home and not a potential suspect. He hoped. His ear buds were in but he kept his music paused, bobbing his head to an invisible beat and listened.

   His heart was pumping its way out of his chest and his brain kept screaming at him to TURN BACK but he ignored them both, a little nagging feeling behind it all telling him to keep going. His excitement grew as he got nearer, gnawing at his stomach and threatening to give him away. Part of him thought it was strange to be excited about seeing a murder but he’d never been particularly normal anyway. It didn’t surprise him (much) that the thrum running through his veins and tickling just under his skin was desire rather than fear, a thirst bubbling up from his core.

   He knew better though, knew just how dangerous it would be to let that show so he kept his face blank and impassive, looking every bit the normal teenager he wanted to portray. He’d always been good at fooling the world (though he’d never been able to fool himself).

   The flashing blue and red lights bathed the area in an eerie clash of flickering colours that were too jarring to the senses to ignore, even if he’d wanted to. He peered over casually, taking in the uniformed officers dotting the scene as they spoke into their radios and scribbled notes on little pads of paper. There were a fair amount of them. It was definitely something serious. No one was wearing heavy gear or brandishing weapons so a bomb threat or hostage situation were definitely out. It wasn’t until a group of officers moved that Jungkook could see into the park and the reason they were all gathered.

   There, sat delicately against the tree, was a woman. Long ebony hair cascaded down her chest, perfectly parted in the middle to frame soft cheekbones and plump lips. Her hands were arranged to hold a purple flower against her chest as if she was posing for a painting; only it was stained red with blood. In fact, her entire torso was streaked with blood from her neck where it looked like it had been slit. Jungkook’s own blood pounded in his ears as he stopped and mechanically removed his headphones. The world quieted to a whisper around him as he looked into her still open eyes. Her gaze seemed to pass by everyone else and move right to him, almost like she was challenging him to ignore her. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to.

   She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to reach forwardand call out to her, to close the distance between them and touch her. He took a step forward and stopped; He couldn’t. If he did they’d see him and he’d be in trouble. He couldn’t let that happen but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either. It was a million years held inside a moment, a thousand revelations all happening at once inside his head so quickly he couldn’t process them. He didn’t know what he was feeling, he just knew that it was different than anything he’d felt before. Suddenly he wasn’t there anymore; His body was standing in the middle of the street but he was in the park, with the woman that had suddenly turned his world upside down and stolen the ground from beneath him.

   “HEY! YOU!” One of the officers must have seen him. In no less than ten seconds he had three police officers standing around him, hands poised to draw their weapons if they needed to. “Who are you and why are you here?”

   He tore his eyes away from the body, staring at the man who’d spoke in shock. “I-I-I...” His gaze was drawn back to the body and he swallowed as he looked between her and the man regarding him suspiciously. He’d never had trouble with words like this before. They were weighed down in his stomach, rooting themselves so deep that Jungkook had to tear them out from within. “I-I-I was just- just walking home a-and...” He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, he just grabbed at the first words he could find.

   When he looked back at the body again the woman who had captivated him a few seconds ago was gone, replaced with a corpse. The portals he’d been lost in before were now glassy and blank, staring at no one and nothing. His whole being flipped around and he doubled over, throwing up on the police officer’s shiny black shoes.

   “Oh! Gross!” They seemed to back up simaltaneously, and the man he’d thrown up on was trying to shake some of the bile off his shoes.

   He wasn’t sure exactly what came over him but he knew what to do. He looked up at them, tears threatening to spill from his now wide eyes. “She’s dead? I’ve just seen a dead person?” He gagged in the direction of another officer, spitting up whatever saliva remaining in his mouth.

   “Nasty,” one of them murmured under his breath.

   No one seemed very keen to move towards him and he took advantage of that fact. He fell to his knees in the puddle of puke on the pavement below him and wrapped his arms around himself, forcing tears out. “I can’t believe... She’s dead.”

   It took a moment but he felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder and looked up into the eyes of one of the men. He looked down on Jungkook with pity, just as the boy had wanted. He sniffled, breathing out erratically as his bottom lip quivered. The officer’s eyes softened and he looked at the other two men. “He’s just a kid.”

   The recipient of his vomit eyed him warily but took a tentative step forward, kneeling down just far enough he avoided the mess on the street. “I’m sorry, son, but we need to ask you some questions.”

   Jungkook nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve and leaving a trail of snot across his face. The officer held his eyes steadily. “You need too-“ Jungkook hiccupped. “You need to find who did this, right?” The officer nodded. “O-Okay. I-I’ll help.” He pushed himself up, noticing that he didn’t have to fake the tremors in his hands.

    It was much easier than Jungkook had expected to fool the officers. They bought his story far too easily, tricked by his sad eyes and vulnerability. If only they knew the truth behind his feelings, how they stemmed from that little spot inside him that wanted to see more rather than forget.

   One of them even offered to pay for his cab. He took their offer, giving the cabbie the same fake address he’d given the cops earlier. He wasn’t sure why he gave a fake one; He just knew he didn’t want them to know who he really was. Once the cab dropped him off he waited until the yellow car had made its way far enough down the street and doubled back, stopping in an empty alley way. He crouched down next to a dumpster as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

   The image played in his mind, as vivid as if he was seeing it for the first time all over again: those cherry red lips against pale skin, whispering to him as if she’d wanted to share a secret with him. Her eyes had reaffirmed this, beckoning him forward and into her bosom. Had there not been people around...

   It was odd, perhaps, that he felt as calm as he did. Upon thinking in the cab, he hadn’t been sure if he was just in shock, and once it faded he’d begin to feel the usual reactions, disgust and nausea, maybe question the frailty of human existence... But that wasn’t what he felt now.

   He wasn’t sitting there wondering what kind of person would do that like he probably should, he wasn’t sickened by the very thought of someone else taking a life like he should, and he wasn’t sad because someone was dead like he should be. All the things he should have felt were at the very back of his mind, eclipsed by- by something else. A fascination, pure, unadulterated and rooting itself deep inside of him.

   He couldn’t get her eyes out of his head: the way she’d looked right through him like his walls were actually windows, as if she saw him. It unnerved him a little but more than that it made him feel so alive!

   He wanted to understand it. He wanted to know why seeing a corpse had brought him a greater sense of peace than the drugs burning a hole in his pocket right now. He wanted to know why his whole body was a mess of adrenaline and endorphins, why this felt like a better high then what his dealer sold him. He wanted to know why, in the back of his mind, he could see the briefest scene of himself holding the knife to her slim neck.

   Jungkook’s lips turned upward into the faintest hint of a smile.

JUNE 2ND 

   He scoured the internet the next day for any information on the murder. There were a lot of articles but none held any valuable information. Frustrated, he slammed his laptop shut. He hadn’t been expecting much but he’d hoped for something at least. His mind was a mess of thoughts all tangled together; Right when he thought he had a handle on one he found six more knotted to it and lost his grip. He realized he wasn’t going to get it figured out in one night but his patience was wearing unusually thin already. He wanted answers now. He set an alert to notify him if anymore articles under the search terms were added and got ready for school.

   He didn’t hate school but he didn’t particularly enjoy it either. Who would? The classes and work weren’t so bad; he’d always had an affinity for bullshitting his way through assignments. It was the people that made it tiresome. He had to constantly be in control of himself. He could never let his mask slip. It was his only protection from the world and he wore it as not only a shield but as a life vest. He wasn’t bulletproof after all. Just because he didn’t care didn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt.

   He took the bus to school because his parents were already gone in the mornings when he got up for school and riding a bike in New York was more dangerous than it was helpful. Everything in New York was dangerous. He’d witnessed a hot dog vendor get held up last month. Some guy robbed him at gun point and almost caused a traffic collision fleeing the scene. A four year old girl had nearly been run over by a car and was sent to the hospital, all for $347. People like that made Jungkook question whether or not prison was the best alternative. He might be fucked up but even he knew hurting an innocent kid was wrong.

   He took a seat on the curb by his bus stop and waited. He lived far enough from downtown that traffic wasn’t absolutely horrible most of the time, but it could still be a bitch some days. He could never know if the bus would arrive on time or not.

   Finals and graduation were at the end of the month so he pulled out his study guide and leafed through it mechanically. He had already memorised all the material but it gave him something to do while he waited.

   He heard the bus before he saw it. Raucous laughter and a medley of too-loud music leaked through the open windows and drifted down the street. He closed his book and stashed it into his bag as he got up. As the bus drew closer he sighed and slipped on his mask again. Time to fool the school.

   “Ayy! My man Kook!”

   He grinned and nodded at Jace through the window, turning his cap around as he moved to get onto the vehicle that took him to hell every weekday from eight to four.

   “What’s up Jace?” He slid into the seat next to the younger boy, slouching back as the bus screeched and began moving.

   “Did you hear about the party this weekend? It’s gonna be sick. Avery’s parents are out of town and the football team is supplying the kegs.”

   “Sweet. I’ll see if I can make it.”

   Truth be told he hated parties. It was so much harder to pretend when he was drunk. He’d gotten into the habit of making fake mixes to avoid it. It worked most of the time but it was still a hassle trying to keep it up all night when everyone and their mother seemed to want his attention. Sometimes he thought he wore his mask a bit too well.

   “You gotta man. Sinclair is gonna be there and a little birdie told me she wants the Kook-D.”

   “For the last time,” Jungkook sighed and drew a hand over his face. “Stop calling my dick that. It’s weird.”

   Jace snickered and threw his arm around Jungkook. He always wore too much aftershave and it gave the older boy a headache. Did girls actually like that? “Not a chance. Comedy gold such as that cannot be forgotten. Besides, every boat needs a name before it’s christened.”

   “For the last time: I. AM. NOT. A. VIRGIN. Just because I don’t fuck every girl who looks at me doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked any.” He was lying of course but admitting the truth was like setting a giant spotlight on himself. He was turning eighteen in four months. Eighteen year old virgins were weird and too suspicious, especially when they had suitors more than willing to change that.

   “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

   He shoved Jace away and smirked. “Sick dude, and not the cool kind. You’re a perv.”

   “And the ladies love it.” He howled like a wolf and Jungkook laughed on the outside but on the inside he was already counting down the hours until he could go home and find out more about last night.

   Since Jungkook was a senior his class schedule wasn’t too full anymore. His grades were excellent and he’d gotten most of his required courses out of the way as early as he’d been able to. When the ‘friends’ he’d made complained about how busy he was he told them it was what his parents wanted but it had actually taken quite a bit of convincing to them to allow Jungkook to fill his timetable completely. They’d been worried he’d become overwhelmed and fall behind but in the end they’d reluctantly agreed.

   Jungkook had thought that the fuller his schedule would be the easier it would be to avoid others as much as possible. It hadn’t quite worked out the way he’d expected. The work had been too easy and soon his classmates began pestering him to hang out and ‘get crunk’ and whatever the hell it was they did. He had said yes a few times to placate them. Maybe if he agreed once in a while they’d lay off. Unfortunately his ability to bullshit extended well beyond school work. He played his part too well and they actually liked him. Well, liked his mask, anyway.

    He’d somehow found himself amongst the popular kids, the best point guard on their basketball team and the object of quite a few girl’s affections. He should write a book. He’d call it How to Trick People Around You So Well You’re Stuck with the Bastards for Life - An auto biography by Jeon Jungkook.

   Being as popular as he’d become was both good and bad. Yes, he had eyes on him more often than he’d like but his reputation preceded him enough that no one really looked. He was just ‘Kook’, the popular Korean kid who was good at basketball and broke all the girls’ hearts without trying. He could put himself on autopilot with them and remain hidden. It was the new kids he had to put a bit of an extra show on for; Them, and the teachers.

   It had been tricky, at first, charming the adults. They weren’t all as naïve as his classmates. It had taken a lot of work, observing each teacher until he picked up on the things they liked and disliked. Then he just played into it: Included a paragraph about the superiority of Russian government systems in his history paper for Mr. Kyotlov, argued that importance of monogamy in his family studies essay for Ms. Bentley, who’d been cheated on and divorced a year prior, etc. The list went on. In the end they’d been just as taken with the smart little Korean boy who got good grades and stayed out of trouble. (And maybe he’d played up the stereotype for them a bit but it had worked and that’s all that mattered.)

   The downfall of how well his plan had worked was that now he only had four classes, three before lunch and one after. The rest of his day was empty and left him at the mercy of the others with spares. Sitting in the cafeteria playing stupid card games, playing a pickup game outside when the court was empty, going for cruises: it was all boring. Granted pickup games meant he didn’t have to talk as much so they were a preferred option. Sometimes girls would come to watch, giggling and whispering behind their hands anytime he glanced at them. He smirked and showed off because he knew that’s what any boy would do but he never asked for their number afterwards. Sometimes they gave it to him anyways. He grinned and shoved it in his pocket but at home they ended up in the trash can.

   He’d never been attracted to them. He could recognize when they were pretty but he’d never thought of it himself. He’d wondered once if perhaps he was gay. A part of him had rejoiced because he’d thought if he was gay maybe that was what was wrong with him and he could fix it but alas, it was not that easy. He wasn’t attracted to men either. He just wasn’t attracted to anyone. He didn’t care to figure out why either because he didn’t feel the need to change it. Getting into a relationship was the last thing he wanted right now. Having anyone, male or female, clinging to him, constantly trying to touch him and be around him, was enough to make him shiver. It would make it harder for him to pretend if there was someone so close to him all the time, constantly trying to “get to know him better”. He couldn’t afford complications like that. His life was taxing enough as it was without adding things to the mix.

   Lunchtime in the cafeteria was the worst part of the day. He had to continue his song and dance for a whole hour. No letting his irritation show when someone looked away, not when his audience was everywhere. The only thing to do was play along. For the whole hour. If he had a heart it would break at the thought.

   The cafeteria worker slopped something onto his tray and ushered him along. He thought it was beef stew but at this point he had learned to stop guessing. The only day the food was good was pizza day because if there was one thing they couldn’t fuck up it was pizza. They were New Yorker’s after all.

   He decided to play it safe and grab an apple before making his way over to their table. It was universally known that the middle table by the windows was theirs and nobody broke that rule. He didn’t give a damn where they sat personally, but it was all part of the ‘status quo’.

   He took his seat across from Jace as the younger boy acknowledged him with a nod and continued whatever story he was using to get into some girls pants today. He didn’t know who today’s victim was but he rarely knew them. Jace went through them faster than Jungkook could keep track. The younger boy was leaning in as he spoke, brushing her side with his arm occasionally and she was eating it up. Jungkook sighed to himself before taking a bite of his apple and reserved himself to another fifty-two minutes of torture.

JUNE 2ND 

   It wasn’t until he sat down on the bus at the end of the day that he had a chance to check his phone safely. There were a few dozen new hits for the previous night’s murder waiting for him. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and swiped open his screen. Most of them were as useless as the others he’d read but he found one that mentioned something new. It was the most recent one, posted twenty-seven minutes ago. It seemed that the reporter had gotten new information from the police department.

   GRUSOME MURDER IN HENLEY PARK LEAVES POLICE BAFFLED

   The brutal murder of an unidentified woman in Henley Park last night has left the community shocked. Shortly after 1 AM John Bates looked outside the window of his studio apartment to be met with a grisly site. A young woman was found murdered, throat apparently slit, inside the quiet park. “I couldn’t believe it,” Bates said. “It was awful. I’ve lived here in this neighbourhood for twelve years and never seen anything like this. It’s a quiet place, you know?”

   While the method of murder is not strange sources inside the Homicide department revealed that no D.N.A. aside from the victim’s was left on the scene. According to the same sources the investigative team on the case has little to go on aside from eye witness reports which have revealed nothing.

   When asked, Chief Inspector David Hale had this to say: “It’s still early on in the investigation. Our people are working hard to process the evidence and follow any and all leads. We are confident that we will find the person responsible for this.”

   Authorities have not revealed the name of the victim. No word yet on whether the family of the woman has been contacted.

    Well, he was impressed and relieved to know they didn’t find the killer’s D.N.A. Jungkook didn’t want him getting caught before he got his answers. Well, he didn’t really want him getting caught period. He was too vital a piece of the puzzle Jungkook had become. Somehow he’d taken Jungkook’s life and not only flipped it but scrambled it like a diner breakfast and they’d never even met. He’d been fine enough with his life before. It had been boring but at least he had had a hold of the reigns. Now he was left hanging on for dear life while a stranger steered him into open water.

   JUNE 16TH

   To say that he was disappointed was a massive understatement. A flurry of information had been released since the murder but it was all useless. The victim was a woman in her late twenties, Marie Rodgers. They had her husband (Widower now) on all the news stations talking about how “hard it was to lose her” and “how devastating it was on their family”. They had one daughter, age four, with cerebral palsy that the media went nuts over. Anything for ratings, he guessed.

   He wasn’t even sure what he had been waiting for himself. Short of miraculously running into the murderer on the street and striking up a conversation there was no way he was going to get his answers anyway.

   Just when he decided maybe it was time to forget all this and find something else to occupy his mind his phone vibrated from inside his bag. Upon fetching it he saw it was a link from Jace. He opened it and as the page loaded his legs nearly gave way. There’d been another murder.

   There weren’t many details. The authorities could not confirm the murder was linked to the Henley Park incident but there were similarities. He sat down on the bed and stared at his phone as he processed the new information. So they couldn’t confirm it but they didn’t deny it either. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. He’d been ready to give up when the link was so conveniently given to him. He didn’t believe in fate or some higher power watching over the world but if he did he’d say they were on his side. He had to find out more.

   He was a virtual mess all day. Finals were right around the corner and most teachers had stopped giving out new assignments which meant classes had essentially become study hall. It also meant Jungkook had to listen to his thoughts repeating and churning in his head like they were a radio he couldn’t shut off. His knee kept bouncing beneath the desk, his pen tapping above it; he couldn’t sit still. He wanted to see the second murder scene. He knew the body would be long cleaned up but there was still the actual location. He’d nearly given up after the lack of anything in the past two weeks. Now that there was something new he had to go see it.

   He packed his stuff up, taking extra care not to drop anything with his trembling hands and walked to the front of the class. He coughed quietly and Mrs. Keeting looked up from her workbook.

   When she took in Jungkook’s state, probably pale and definitely a little shaky, she let out a gentle breath. “Oh dear, Mr. Jeon. Are you alright?”

   “Not really,” he admitted. “Would it be alright if I excused myself a bit early?”

   “Of course,” she all but cooed. She scribbled her signature onto a hall pass and added “sick” in red pen along the bottom. “There you go dear. Go and get some rest.” Jungkook thanked her and left as quickly as he could. For once he was legitimately glad he had played teacher’s pet.

   He got a cab outside of the school and gave the cabbie an address a couple buildings down to be safe.

   “You sure you wanna go there kid?” The cabbie looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “Someone got killed nearby there last night. Sick son of a bitches out there.”

   Jungkook’s jaw set and he bit back his comment about minding his own damn business. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said instead.

   When they got there Jungkook tossed the cabbie some money and got out before he could get another lecture. He walked a couple buildings down until he spotted the address. It was a nail salon that took up the far right side of a small strip-mall. There were no police vehicles in front which made sense. It had been almost six hours since the body was found; The police would be long done with their forensics.

   He glanced in the windows as he walked by but there was no one inside and the sign said closed. That suited Jungkook just fine; in fact he preferred it. He didn’t want someone seeing him snoop around. He walked around the side of the building and to the back where the article said they found the body. He saw yellow police tape and knew he was in the right place. He was already anticipating the delicious satisfaction that would pump through his veins. He held his breath and turned the corner.

   Nothing.

   He stopped in his tracks, staring down at the scene with an empty mind and a hole in his chest. The ground and wall were covered in dried blood but the sight did nothing for Jungkook. He waited for the rush he’d felt the first time, for his veins to pulse with adrenaline and fire but nothing came; If anything it frustrated him. He didn’t understand. He’d waited two weeks for something and now that he’d finally gotten it he was left with more confusion and yearning than before. He wanted more.

   He hadn’t been aware of how thirsty for it he’d been until he had it taken from him. It was as if something he’d been promised had been snatched away. He felt cheated, like a child not allowed his dessert. He’d come to relieve the ache inside of him, not make it grow. Now he was left staring at the browning stain on the pavement and wishing he could turn back time and catch just a glimpse of what had been.

   JUNE 17TH 

   The next day found Jungkook researching again. It was still too early for anything useful in news articles aside from things he’d already assumed: No D.N.A., no witnesses, no clues. He admired the killers commitment to self-preservation. This was New York, the city that never sleeps, and yet not a single anonymous tip or anything leading to his identity. It was all very impressive, if not a little aggravating. He had nothing to go on! Not a single thing. He was essentially standing there with his dick out, waiting for an opportunity. Well, the first step in any war was to gather information, right?

   He started googling famous serial killers to try to gain some sort of insight. He learned that they were actually rarer than Hollywood would let you believe and those that remained uncaught even rarer still. In this modern age of science and technology it was easy to leave evidence behind; A fingerprint, a single hair, even a cigarette butt could be your demise. The fact that the killer had struck twice and left nothing was extraordinary.

   The more he thought about him the more Jungkook felt this burning desire deep inside of him. He’d always assumed he didn’t have a soul but now he’d found it and it was alight with thoughts of this mystery artist. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, so many things he wanted to say. It was odd; He’d never met the man but he’d gotten closer to Jungkook than anyone else in almost eighteen years. It was strange for him to desire someone’s presence. He’d spent his whole life wanting to be alone and suddenly he didn’t want to anymore. He wanted him. How or why he was still unsure, but he definitely wanted something.

   He printed out any useful articles and pinned them to the back of his closet door. He marked in his calendar when the murders occurred and even charted out on a map where the bodies were found. Before long his closet door looked like something out of a movie.

   Soon, he resolved, I’ll find him and get my answers.

   JUNE 28TH 

   He’d been asked to be Valedictorian for his graduation but declined. He didn’t need to impress these people any more. He’d already gotten offers from multiple colleges and a few scholarships. He could afford himself this one mercy. Besides, he was too distracted to stand up in front of anyone. Lately his mask was dangerously close to slipping and he needed to be extremely careful.

   The day was especially hot. He was glad he’d worn shorts beneath his gown. Who the hell decided to have an outdoor graduation in June? Sitting amongst his classmates, rows and rows of red stretching on around him, his thoughts were far from them. The first body had been found two weeks before the second. Maybe that was the killer’s schedule? Would there be another body soon? It had been about two weeks since the second body was found so it stood to reason there would be. He was hoping so. He was tired of this waiting game.

   He smiled when they called his name and shook the principles hand, waving down at his parents before getting off the stage as quickly as he could. The sooner this was all over with the sooner he could get the hell out of here and never have to see these people again. High school might not have been hell for him but it had been far from heavenly.

   JULY 25TH 

   Two more murders and a month later Jungkook had come to a realization: He idolized this man. For the first time in his life he was looking up at someone instead of down. His closet had gone from covered to cramped with newspaper articles and maps, phots of crime scenes overlapping like a macabre collage. He wondered who he was, why he did what he did, what he felt when he did it. He couldn’t keep the thoughts out of his head. They filled it and leaked out the sides, leaving him dripping with curiosity.

   The police had been hopefully outmatched from the start. The ‘Manhattan Murders’ had left them looking foolish and out of their depth. When they got nowhere after the third victim the FBI were finally brought in. They claimed they were ‘on his trail’ but Jungkook saw through the smoke they were blowing: They knew nothing and had nothing. If they had anything they would have brought in suspects for questioning or issued a warrant for someone’s arrest.

   The more Jungkook thought of the killer’s brilliance the more he grew agitated. He wanted to feel again what he felt that first night. It was like a fire burning within him, threatening to burn him up if he did nothing. He wanted, needed, to recreate that first time. The only solution he felt was right was to meet this killer personally. It was a long shot, he knew that, but it was the only way.

   He thought long and hard about the right/best way to contact him. The number one factor was secrecy. If he left a message to a serial killer that was found by the cops he’d be fucked. Even if the cops determined he was innocent, he’d be the first person of interest in their investigation and the media attention would kiss any ideas of talking to the actual killer goodbye.

   After he’d exhausted every option he settled on something he knew would get the killer’s attention; He decided to fold origami flowers like the one he’d seen the first time and leave them around the city. None of the articles had mentioned any flowers so either the killer hadn’t left anymore or the cops were keeping it quiet: either way only the killer and the authorities knew about this.

   He knew literally nothing about flowers so he had to do quite a bit of research, starting with purple flowers and narrowing it down until he was positive he’d found the one from that night.

   Purple Hyacinth – asking for forgiveness or expressing deep sorrow/regret.

   The symbolism confused him. He doubted the killer left behind a flower without meaning its symbolism but this made no sense. In his research he’d found serial killers were rarely remorseful, and when they were it often meant a deep mental or emotional struggle over their actions that often led to sloppy disposal and their eventual capture. This man had been meticulous to the extreme which suggested emotional stability. So why did he ask for forgiveness?

   As the list of questions he had grew longer the list of answers got shorter until it was as empty as he now felt. It was wrong, so wrong. He’d always felt different and lost but never completely empty. Maybe he’d put himself on auto pilot so much he had forgotten how to actually feel. Now his emotions had become a freight train heading straight for him. He worried that if he didn’t either pull the brake or find a way to hop on he’d be destroyed.

   He spent all night getting ready. His mother had a habit of starting craft projects she’d never finish so it was easy enough to find some purple paper in their cupboard. He spent most of the night folding. He had to look up a tutorial and he completely messed up the first few but soon enough he got into the hang of it.

   The rest was trickier. While the public would think nothing if they saw one of these on the ground the police would probably see a red flag. He had to leave a message so he could get in contact with the killer but he couldn’t completely give himself away should the authorities find one. He found a writing forum where people could post story ideas or general inspiration on a message board. It wasn’t full proof but none of his plan really was.

   Pen in hand he wrote the website and a username he’d created on every flower, as well as a message to the killer. It took him a while but once he was done he looked down at his handiwork with satisfaction. Odds were the cops wouldn’t find them but the same went for the killer. Still, he couldn’t let himself do nothing. He had to try something or else he’d spent the rest of his life regretting.

   His desk was littered with scraps of paper and his fingers were marked where they had been cut but his mind was clear. Jungkook would find him, he would find Jungkook: they would find each other. He prepared everything and slipped it into his messenger bag, sliding it beneath his bed lest his parents invite themselves into his room again.

   He tried to sleep but his mind was swimming with possibilities as he stared at his ceiling. Along with them, the message he’d left also replayed in his head. He thought it over and over until he didn’t have to think at all, it just continued filling his vision as finally succumbed to exhaustion.

   You don’t need to be forgiven.

JULY 26TH 

   He slept fitfully all night. His dreams were consumed by a film reel of dark eyes and flitting shadows whispering to him, calling him closer and praising him sweetly in shades of silver. He woke in a cold sweat, clutching his sheets between his fingers and his pulse pounding. He stared at his ceiling once again and as memories of last night flooded him so too did his excitement. If his plan worked he could finally speak to this killer and find the insight he desperately seeked. He was wide awake now.

   He went over his map and checked the locations where the bodies had been found. All three were scattered randomly about Manhatten and finding a distinctive pattern was difficult. It was his best guess at this point so he chose areas he thought would be secluded or dark enough and just hoped. He carefully grabbed his bag, wary of crushing the paper, and left.

   He took the bus. His plan was more suspicious than just visiting a crime scene and the anonymity of public transportation was welcome. The places he’d chosen were pretty well dispersed across the city so he ended up taking multiple buses and routes. That was good, though, because should anyone look into it they would find it hard to track. Perhaps he was thinking too much into it but his gut told him the more careful he was the better.

   He’d written a list on his phone of all the locations he’d leave his messages for safeties sake despite having it memorised. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Every new location he visited ignited the fire within him just a little bit more and when, a few hours later, he’d finally finished he made his way home satisfied. This was the best he could do.

   According to the timeline there would be another murder soon. Jungkook had planned it as well as he could. The killer did not leave a body every two weeks exactly like clockwork but often within a few days of the mark. Now he had to wait. He logged onto the writing forum and left his message. He hadn’t wanted to do it too early since the closer it was to the murder the more seriously he hoped he’d be taken by the killer.

   Art in the Night
   I knew a man once who was an artist. He created something so beautiful that it changed my life. It was his first work but he’s created many more since then. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing his new pieces but I know they’re just as wonderful. I hope to see another, and hopefully, him too.

   Satisfied with his message he turned his computer screen off. He sparked a joint and leaned back in his chair, puffing on it and habitually flicking the tip as he thought. He was reaching out, as foolish as it might be, in the hopes that one man in a million would grab his hand. He’d never been the type to put his faith (if you could call it that) in something he didn’t know. So many things he felt and did now were new to him, fuelled by the hope they’d be explained soon. If not he feared the pressure might become so overwhelming he would finally break. Only time would tell.