Clue

TW: blood, graphic descriptions, death, mentions of underage sex work, implied mental illness.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤSeptember 4th, 2004

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ Broken glass. Taehyung was told never to touch it as a child, because it would hurt him. It would cut him open and scar his fragile skin. His mother was always protective of him, but every time Tae would get a cut or a scrape, she would scold him for being so careless. Bleeding was a horrific thing, and blood should stay in your body, she told him.
So naturally, when he heard it, the only thing he thought of was how angry she would be if he got up. So he didn't. maybe something fell over, and she would see it when she walked in the next morning. She would clean it up, she would protect him from the shards.
Moments later, Taehyung smelled something strange, something he would smell whenever the family went camping, and recognized it as the smell of the stuff his dad would pour over the fire to light it, helping them to stay warm against nature's chill. He was warm enough now, though, so why did he smell that?
The next few moments happened in an instant, but they felt so slow. First, another sound of broken glass, a loud bang, stabbing pain in his arms, and a searing heat.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ fire.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ Of course, Taehyung cried out, but by that time, the fire had spread and was burning with a ferocity of a forest fire, covering his whole room. All of his stuffed animals going up in flames, crying out with him for help in his mind. Still, no help came. Tae made a run for it, the pieces of glass cutting into his foot as he ran to his door, his small body struggling to get it open. Why wasn't it opening? Was there something heavy on the other side? It was then when Tae really started to feel scared, the realization that he was stuck here was slowly starting to set in. Was he going to die here? The flames were getting hotter, and it felt like there wasn't any air left to breathe in that tiny room. What do you do when you're going to die, he asked himself while he kept pushing against the door. Do you pray? Do you beg?

He decided to do all at once, and whatever was out there seemed to listen, because the door opened, and there his dad was, lifting him up to get them out of there. Taehyung cried out of pure relief. His dad was here. Someone was here to keep him alive. They weren't out just yet, this was a big house, and Tae was on the top floor out of three. The roaring of the fire matched the roar of his blood in his ears, but he would be okay. He wasn't alone in that room anymore.
Turns out, whatever caused the fire in his room wasn't the only one in the house, because no matter where he looked, there were flames. "Where's mom? And Ki? And Sunny?" He asked. His dad didn't answer, only pressed forward, a pained sound coming out of him when he put his hand on a flaming rail to jump over a fallen bookcase, getting them downstairs to the second floor. "Dad, where'-"
"I don't know.. your room was the only one i could get to." he answered simply, to get the boy to stop struggling. It worked, but only because Taehyung suddenly felt an ice cold rod stab through his spine. His brothers, his mom.. they were still up there? Before he could say anything, he heard his father curse. His dad never did that in front of him, so he lifted his head to see what was wrong.
The floor was crumbling. The flames were starting to lick through the floorboards, and they would never make it downstairs before the whole upper floors collapsed. Taehyung looked to his dad, scared and waiting for instruction. His dad seemed just as scared, and just as lost, but seemed to come to a realization as his eyes landed on a window, bringing Taehyung to the edge of it. "you have to jump."
Tae's eyes widened, shaking his head fearfully. "No, I can't, it's too high!"
"you have to. Ill jump out right after you, okay? I'll meet you right at the bottom."
"I'm scared."
"I know. I'll be right behind you but you need to go, now. NOW"
And just like that, he was pushed off the edge the second the floor fell out from under his father.
Taehyung landed on his stomach, thankfully, but the pain was indescribable. While he was now on the ground, he had landed hard, definitely breaking something in the process. His first instinct was to call out again. To find his family, but no one answered. He ran to the front door, banging on it with his tiny fists, calling for his father again, crying his eyes out like he was trying to put out the fire himself. the door flew off it's hinges, knocking Taehyung back, the shrapnel cutting into his face. Blood. The crimson, forbidden liquid coming out of him like a faucet, coating his hands and face, the taste seeping into his mouth and making him gag in horror. He needed to get out of here. His fight or flight instinct was hitting him all at once, and just like that, he ran.

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ He didn't stop running until he got to Daegu, a city pretty far from where his house was, but not nearly far enough. He fell asleep on a subway, and didn't get off of it until morning. His sleep was riddled with nightmares of a young boy who had seen far more than he was supposed to. His father was well known, so the news was everywhere Tae walked. Despite trying his hardest to drown it out between the tears, he picked up on some things. The fire was started maliciously, through several lit glass bottles of lighter fluid thrown through the windows, starting at the third floor. There were no survivors.
No survivors.
Taehyung looked up to see a report of the bodies plastered on screen. If that wasn't enough, it was accompanied by a voiceover. His mother and brothers died at the top floor after the roof collapsed prevented any access to or from their rooms.
No survivors
His father was impaled on a gas pipe that had burst out of the ground.
No survivors.
And here Taehyung was, with nothing but a strange walk and several blisters and cuts.
One survivor.
The fire started at his room. At his floor. If he had gotten up as soon as he heard it, there would've been more time. His parents might still be alive. his brothers...
One survivor.
Glass, explosion, fire, pain, fall. Glass, explosion, fire, pain, fall. All of the events replayed in rapid succession in his head, like he was finally realizing what just happened to him.
Why did he survive?
Glass, explosion, fire, pain-
Pain. Lot's of it. All at once. Tae heard a gasp behind him as he fell to his knees, throwing up everything he could possibly have in his stomach. Before anyone could ask, he was running again, booking it anywhere he could, down street corners, through alleyways, until he saw a fire escape with an open door at the top. Being the nimble kid he was, Taehyung climbed it, and when he opened the door, He was in some kind of industrial area, with a lot of wires and hanging objects. He was losing consciousness, and fast, so with his last bit of strength, he shut the door.

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ When he woke, Taehyung realized he was in an abandoned theater, an old one at that. The stage was barely held together, and the crow's nest he was currently sleeping in was even more conspicuous, but he didn't have anywhere else to go at the moment. Was he homeless? It seemed like it. He was more lost than anything. He had to keep moving. Survival mode. He used to see movies about someone caught in the wild, and this was no different. This time, he was just a kid, caught in an unfamiliar city, alone.
People didn't like his scars. Whenever he approached mothers for help, they shied away from him, because of the cuts on his face and the blisters on his arms. The trash was a useful resource, but he was sick, and if he could get one painkiller, he would feel just a little more sane. Desperation caused him to make a mask out of his last clean shirt. No one could see who he was. No one wanted to help him anyway, but maybe he could get some food, some protection.... anything, if he covered this up. It ended up working, for the most part, and Taehyung was more successful with his pleas after that.
The homeless population took pity on him, and offered their food when they had it. Some of them even saved him when he was chased down by a predator, or attacked by the occasional druggie. As Tae grew, he learned, and he never took the mask off. There were old books in the loft of the theater, and Tae would read them at night, with a flashlight, anything to distract him from the glass, the explosion, the fire-
anything to distract him.

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ He wasn't of age, but that made him more appealing to them. To the men he would sell himself to, replacing the mothers that he pleaded to in his childhood. He was too old for them now. teenagers didn't illicit enough pity for them, but as Tae found out, he was the perfect age for these disgusting a**holes.
Survive.
Anything to survive.
Anything to distract.
When they were done, they would throw him out. He felt disgusted with himself, with what he had done every. single. time.
His parents would be so disappo-
no. No. He couldn't think about them. He built up a lot of money, and eventually had enough to rent off of a friend, the old owner of a studio by the theater. It was heavily discounted, but finally Taehyung had something to his name.
His name was on it. His name.
It didn't hit him until he couldn't sleep. he was pacing around that space, trying to figure out what was wrong until he passed out, and had his worst nightmare yet. Someone coming to find him, to finish off what they had started, to find the last Kim. Maybe they were dead, maybe they didn't know he even existed, but to Taehyung, he was in danger. He felt like he did back then, a scared little boy trapped in a room with no way out, waiting for the fire to catch up to him.
That's why he broke, paying off a local gang to protect him and keep watch over his block. It cost him a lot, but it was the only way he could sleep at night, whenever he could.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ This was his life now. The mask kept him on the same level as everyone else. Over the years, he held onto that piece of cloth with a vice grip. It got to a point where he couldn't bear his own reflection without it, afraid to see the scared kid looking back at him, alone.
his landlord took him in, raising him as an apprentice in the world of photography, teaching him everything as Taehyung took care of him. The man had a terminal sickness, and with no extended family, Taehyung took it upon himself to make sure the man was fed and cared for.
Soon, that old man died, leaving everything to Tae, being his only living friend. Taehyung was crushed, but like everything, moved forward without a glance back, taking over the studio. He stopped selling himself, but he could use the things he knew to his advantage, starting a company specifically for capturing people when they wanted to appear sexually appealing. It was what he knew, even if he intended to never put it in practice again.
He never really recovered.
At night, he would hear it all again, he would see their faces and feel that terror.
Anything to survive. He never really got out of that mindset. never really processed what happened to him, never felt safe enough to come to terms with it.


ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ That one night broke him,
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ and there was no gentle hand to protect him from the shards it left behind.