APR 1, 2019.
8:45 PM.
JUNG HOSEOK.

jung hoseok decides to ignore it.

well—not really.

but there's literally nothing else left he can do. so to clear his conscience, he decides to ignore it. keep it buried inside his brain forever. put some bolts on it, two-factor authenticate it or some shit—whatever. it's out of his hands now.

jung hoseok decides to ignore it.

(he fails.)

the police in his area are shitty. they could care less about anyone living there—this entire vicinity is poor. there's hardly any remaining potential you could garner from the dingy, undeveloped construction at the narrow margins in gwangdeom street. hoseok lives at the edge of 4th street, a shabby little apartment complex with puddles of stagnant water at the peripheries. probably why the police never take him seriously—he's dirt poor, got literally nothing to offer. his reputation around here pretty is trash too.

(they probably stashed hoseok's report regarding the park jimin case somewhere in their shit pile like they always do.)

it's quarter to nine. hoseok just got out of a job interview. the work's nothing too over the top, just a measly cashier job at this one cafe thirty minutes away from his place. the job's not even assured (considering hoseok's awful track record when it comes to city work), but there's only so much he could handle.

of course jung hoseok is nervous. scared. or whatever other adjective on the Webster dictionary there is with a negative fucking connotation. who wouldn't be? that shit was awfully traumatizing, but thinking realistically, what else could he do? his schedule is full and he's on the brink of eviction, so he tries to push that little spectacle further into his mind as much as possible. repressing is better than going too over the moon about it. it's better not to think (jung hoseok never mulls over aything anyway—why is this any different?)

think about something else—like the rent or something. hoseok mentally ruminates. never mind, makes me feel even worse.

he's got enough cash to treat himself to some grilled beef at the local pub run by one of the town aunties, but he wants to settle on some homemade rice noodles hand-in-hand with three episodes of Masked Singer. in regards to the wifi, jung hoseok has to mentally apologize to his 72 year old neighbor who has absolutely no idea how to add a password to her router.

he stops by the pub anyways.

(just this once. just this once he should treat himself. after that incident he deserves something positive for once).

"is he new?" hoseok asks as he settles down on the window booth, eyes darting toward the new guy in a shabby apron behind the counter.

"yeah, he doesn't really talk much," the local uncle replies, flipping through his pad. "the usual?"

"you already know." hoseok smiles meagerly.

hypothetically speaking, if jung hoseok were to talk even further, probably attempt to enhance his human interaction skills and perhaps smile even larger like he used to when he had an actual stable job, his town reputation would skyrocket 90,000 kilometers off the troposphere.

granted, he's actually pretty lucky that the uncle's one of the decent few in the area, otherwise the pub would've been a total no-no for him.

out of instinct he grabs his bulky notebook out of his bag and starts to check off his potential job bucket list (it's becoming an unhealthy hobby at this point—he honestly hopes the cafe job would hold on stable if for some reason an unknown universal force would allow him to get the job).

"...park jimin." the uncle mutters as he arrives with hoseok's beef cutlet.

the uncle is looking at the newspaper cutout on the floor. it must've fell out hoseok's bag (he swore he would throw it out after filing a report at the station—it just completely slipped his mind. he feels weird—who in their right mind would keep a literal newspaper portrait of a missing man in their bag? he feels like a freak).

"you know him?" hoseok asks awkwardly. "i saw it at work, i think i accidentally took it from the pile. i'm not really sure."

"not personally," he replies. "he used to come here a lot. always sat in the same spot near the counter bar, always ordered the same food too."

"he did?"

"boy came everyday for dinner. don't really know why, 'e looked like he had a city job so not sure how he had time mingling 'round here." the uncle shrugged. "suddenly he stopped. heard from one of his buddies he used to come along with that he'd gone missing—'ts awful, really."

"do you know?" hoseok starts. "like, what happened to him?"

the uncle paused.

"boy went crazy," he starts weakly. "that's what i heard from 'em, and to be honest i believe them. few weeks before his disappearance he started to look worse. boy looked as frantic as ever, 'twas really worrying to look at. after that, he just vanished. just like that."

hoseok doesn't tell him about his encounter.

he eats his beef cutlet, but the usual spark isn't there. the pre-beef cutlet talk about park jimin had soured the mood and ruined his appetite (hoseok learns that small talk about a literal missing person before a meal could gradually deteriorate his capability to eat normally—big ouch to his personal-hoseok-quality-time).

for some unknown reason hoseok cannot bring himself to tell him about the recent incident.

looking at the whole thing after deliberately mulling about it only makes it seem like some fake, ghastly hallucination formulated by his mind out of sheer sleep deprivation. the meager amount of belief the cops have invested into hoseok's convenience store story (literally zero to none) has toppled jung hoseok into a state of psychological warfare. at this point, he's not even sure anymore if what he saw back there was actually real or not (considering the highly unconvincing tale of face-melting that he had frantically explained to the cops, the story just seems awfully far-fetched), so yes, jung hoseok feels like he has been gaslighted by his own thoughts.

the blackout that happened shut off all the cameras in the store, hence the absolute lack of evidence regarding park jimin's return.

jung hoseok mentally smacks himself in the face. of course they wouldn't believe him. the whole thing just seemed so far-fetched. not to mention the whole 'i-saw-park-jimin' spectacle going hand-in-hand with the nearly-evicted boy out in 4th street would make literally anyone consider whether or not this was done out of attention or not.

right. the whole 'boy who cried wolf' phenomenon.

"how much is it?" hoseok asks the new boy behind the bar counter after finishing his meal, feeling lethargic after being alone with his own thoughts.

no reply.

hoseok assumes he didn't hear him.

"how much is it?" hoseok says a little more slowly this time, voice twanging right up the end. the newbie continues to wipe empty glasses from the counter.

no reply.

"uh," hoseok laughs weakly. "hey?"

"you have to tap him," uncle emerges from the back. he gently taps the boy's shoulder twice, and the newbie immediately halts and looks up. "he can't hear that well—doesn't really talk that much either. you have'ta be a bit direct when it comes to him. make him know you're talking to him. ain't that right, yoongi?"

the newbie nods nonchalantly. his eyes drift towards hoseok.

they say eyes are windows. in this case, hoseok cannot see the opening.

hoseok pays for his meal and the uncle talks something about over-cooked noodles, gesturing towards the back kitchen. he goes in, yoongi follows.

hoseok smiles uncomfortably behind the bar counter as the two of them withdraw from his sight. the newbie seemed a little weird, but everyone in this town is (that or the fact that nearly everyone here just treats him like utter shit—hoseok can't tell the difference).

out of instinct he shuffles through his shaggy pockets for a tip, hand clutching onto some mangled bills then throwing them into a tip jar.

"hey! you guys left your register open!" hoseok yells, seeing all the exposed cash inside the register. pregnant silence is all he gets. "hey! i'm closing it, okay? just letting you know in case you accuse me of stealing! you're welcome, by the way!"

hoseok leans toward the other side of the bar counter.

he sees something by the side.

and there's a pause, because jung hoseok needs time to comprehend things. especially when he needs to comprehend things that fucking catches him off guard.

among the haphazard pile of paper checks, he sees a grey lighter with a peculiar design.

the same design as the one park jimin had bought the day of the incident.

-
OKKKKKKK
ive been off bc i had exams and i kindaaaaa abandoned this which i feel reaaally bad about i am so sorry about that, but since my summer has started ill be able to finish this real soon!!!! how are u guys??? hope yall are well :)