CHAPTER 2: All In One Day

Smoke.

He could smell it.

There's smoke. Perhaps someone is grilling barbecue not far from him, but he couldn't smell any hint of chicken – or pork if the latter prefers that. Fish can be grilled too, he thought, but that doesn't matter right now. Instead, he is smelling gasoline. Who the hell uses gasoline in grilling– oh.

Jeongguk wakes up coughing, accompanied by the headache that made him writhe terribly.  It didn't take him long to realize that he is lying flat on the ground, the coldness of the dirt moistened his leather jacket.  He reaches for his head to take off his helmet and seek relief, only to regret it seconds after as more smoke welcomed him. He coughs.

He tried to get up but his limbs are telling him oh hell no! and that made him stumble back to his place. His hand flies to his aching waist, he checks and checks and no, he isn't bleeding and he hasn't coughed blood either. He is still in one piece, thank God, but he's hurting. Perhaps his landing wasn't as good as he thought it would be, otherwise, he wouldn't pass out because of shock.

Shock. Right. He was shocked, but why–

Vacation. Phonecall. Motorcycle– no no no! My Baby!

His other hand reaches the ground. Soon Jeongguk forces himself to propped himself up using his elbow. He ignores the pain as he succeeded to sit up the second time. His eyes roam around the area for the moment. He's still on the hillside, but no further from the road on the left and closer from the farm below. Then his eyes wander again and– oh shit.

"No no no!"

His world shatters before him. At first, he was thankful to have a very impressive instinct to jump off the ride and dive into the ground before something worse happens, but now Jeongguk doesn't think there is something more painful than to see his Baby crushed to a motherfucking tree – he's the one who named it – bleeding out the premium gasoline he pumped into it many hours earlier. He spent half of his savings only to buy that motorcycle, and now it looks nothing but junk ready to be recycled in a junk shop. 

Jeongguk wants to cry, Seokjin will kill him, but all of his tears retreated when he saw sparkles.

His Baby is sparkling.

Did he mention it's also smoking?

Fuck.

Quickly, Jeongguk reaches for his helmet and shoves his head right back into it. He drags himself backward on the ground, there's no time to worry about getting his leather jacket and jeans muddy because of fuck! His Baby is about to explode!

Then it did.

Jeongguk's eyes remained closed, still unaware that it's useless to cover his face with his forearms because he is wearing his helmet already. His ears are ringing, hands are shaking, and he almost forgets how to breathe.

Some seconds passed and he finally let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. Slowly, he drops his hands, palms flat on the ground as he glanced at the horizon and all he sees are the dark clouds dispersing before him along with the dancing flames just below it.

He ducked his head down, he was on the verge of screaming out loud but he stopped himself, not wanting to inhale more of the smoke.

Letting Baby die just like that is one thing, but having your phone and wallet – in the motorcycle storage box – explode with it is a he-fucked-up thing.

Not to mention that somebody else know that he is Jeon Jeongguk and a twenty-three year-old human being.

He's in the middle of nowhere too.

Great.

What a lovely vacation.

It's been two hours since the accident. Jeongguk knows the time thanks to his Rolex – the only precious thing he managed to save – and now he's exhausted. He had been walking that felt like miles after miles, looking for a shelter. It's almost evening and all he can see are just farms and plants and now he decided that green is his least favorite color. He's getting hungry too.

It's his fault anyway. He was speeding off terribly fast, and now he is certain that the small suburban village he once rode past before is far from his current ground, but he's still hoping.

His limbs are screaming at him to stop walking, it's obvious at the way he limps, but of course, Jeongguk wouldn't do that. He agrees that he is tired, but he refuses to lie down on the muddy grass and let the insects eat his skin off. He needs shelter, please!

Jeongguk is not a soft guy, he's not a cry baby at all, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to survive the life of conmen, but this? Walking in the middle of nowhere without a phone and money and water but only his watch and a small knife that's attached to his ankle? He's about to give his tears up. It's just that what a small knife can do when somebody out there might have a rifle ready to put holes in his chest? He is much taller than the greens but he can't make himself not to think about In The Tall Grass by Stephen King.

For a moment he thought he was actually crying, but no, it's the sky. Now he's soaking wet too. Great.

Is rainwater drinkable?

Ah.

He's going crazy.

He's stressed, he knows. He's too tired to think of any ideas how to bring himself back to Seoul, to his hyungs. His head is spinning now and his waist is still aching from his earlier fall, yet he kept walking. Just how unlucky a vacation can be.

Just as he was about to laugh his ass off, to curse the birds that have been annoying the shit out of him because they are so noisy, his eyes landed on something he once thought was a dream.

A hut.

Hence, he runs – or at least he tried to, he's just walking faster and almost stumbles – and reaches for the said shelter.

It was a tiny hut and not a household it seems, it's more like a guardhouse. It was made up of sticks and there's hay on its roof. It's something a big bad wolf can blow, but at least he can spend the night in there.

He knocks on the door, "Is anyone there?" He asks, his voice is kind of weak because of his state. He knocks again, but still, there was no response, hence he decided to open it by himself.

But the thing is . . . it's locked. There must be a hook locking it from the inside, but nonetheless, the door is made up of sticks too and it's easy to break.

That's why – without thinking – he pulled it open with force. The sticks fall off one by one, some breaks in half. He succeeded.

But something else is blocking the doorway. He looks up, and the smile that was once in his face falls off as well. It wasn't something anymore, but someone.

It was a guy holding a stick. He looks like a baseball player who is about to hit an incoming ball, and that's when Jeongguk realized–

Jeongguk falls on the ground, face flat with a head bump.

He just wanted a place to sleep, damn it.

A/N Please give me some thoughts about this chapter. I love reading your comments, and if you're reading this I LOVE YOU.

Jeongguk has a foul mouth, you see, but we will fix that. *wink wink*

And who's that guy with a bat?