Chapter 3: Cast Out and Caged

Never in his life had Jimin felt as small as he did under the pirate captain’s gaze. The intensity of it made his airways close and his heart stop beating in his chest; it was as if the man’s hand had closed around his throat and squeezed, hard, slowly forcing the life out of him until it was all he could do to pray, to beg to be spared.

When the pirate finally looked away, it was as if Jimin had emerged from the sea after nearly drowning. He quickly cast his eyes down to the deck and drew a quivering breath, his blood rushing in his ears and making him feel faint. He tried to get ahold of himself, tried to calm down, but all the dread, the terror, the fear that he’d felt during the night was accumulating inside of him now, and when the captain spoke, Jimin flinched, his right hand fisting the side of the blonde pirate’s shirt next to him without even realizing it.

“Who’s this?” Min Yoongi asked, his voice a low and hoarse drawl, laced with bored disdain.

“Chim, I think his name is,” the blonde man said cheerfully, and Jimin numbly wondered how he could sound so utterly content with the situation when it was all Jimin could do to simply breathe. “He’s the newest addition to our family.”

Jimin’s head snapped up at the same time as the captain emitted a dubious scoff. “I thought I told you you can’t adopt every single fucking rat you find in the gutter, Taehyung,” he said with a cool glare in Jimin’s direction. “This one will be dead within a week.” Had Jimin been any less frightened, he might’ve taken offense from the captain’s words, but when Min Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in something akin to anger, he shrank into himself, the sensation of drowning rising fast within him once more. “Is this the reason why you’re coming back empty-handed? You took him instead of what I actually asked you to bring?”

“I did,” the blonde man, Taehyung, said, not a shred of worry in his voice.

“Unbelievable,” the captain spat and turned to face the pirate he’d been conversing with before Jimin’s arrival. “Namjoon, why the fuck didn’t you stop him?”

The man shrugged and spread his arms in an expunging gesture. “I’m not in a position to stop Tae from doing what as he pleases, captain,” he said almost casually.

“As first mate, you outrank him.”

Namjoon actually laughed at that, something Jimin perceived as teetering on insanity; the captain’s mood seemed to be descending towards rage with alarming speed, and the others were willingly provoking him to help him along the way. “Last time I tried to pull rank on your brother, you told me you’d shove a cannon up my arse, Yoongi,” the first mate chortled, though he sobered up rather quickly, his eyes momentarily shifting to Jimin. “Whatever the case is, captain, the boy was sacrificed by his village. They threw him before my feet and begged us to take him in exchange for their village’s safety.”

If Jimin hadn’t been looking at the captain so intently, he would’ve missed the flash of tension on his face, a mere ghost of apprehension, but when Yoongi blinked, his gaze was as dark as before. “That’s none of my business,” he said harshly. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this boy? You plan on substituting him for the supplies you were supposed to get?” He flicked his head at Taehyung, the corners of his lips twitching into a wry smirk. “Never took you for the cannibal type, Taehyung.”

It was a jest, Jimin knew, but he’d heard of people who feasted on human flesh, and the thought alone prompted him to quickly let go of Taehyung’s shirt, eyes widening in alarm. The blonde man only laughed and dismissively shook his head. “He’s too cute to be eaten, but that’s not the point. Look, he’s infused with a Blessed Rune,” he explained and lightly patted Jimin’s shoulder. “He can be useful.”

That seemed to pique the captain’s interest, his brows arching in surprise as he turned to look at Jimin once again, and if Jimin had found his attention frightening, it was nothing compared to when Yoongi addressed him directly. “You have a blessing?” the captain asked, a subtle hint of curiosity hiding behind the roughness of his voice. “Which one?”

He parted his lips, but all that left them was a trembling exhale. He knew he had to answer, and it had been such a simple question, but under Min Yoongi’s gaze, he felt like he was drowning, with no air to fill his lungs, nothing to help him find his voice and explain. The Canary, he cried inwardly, but the words wouldn’t leave his head. All he could do was look, his eyes trailing over every inch of the captain’s face, registering his narrow, fox-like eyes, his straight nose and smooth, pale skin.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was the last face he’d ever see in this world.

Upon his lack of response, the pirate’s expression quickly morphed into one of frustrated impatience and he pushed away from the quarterdeck rail to stride over to Jimin, who instinctively tried to take a step back, but Taehyung’s hand on his back held him in place. “I asked you a question,” Yoongi barked, his voice hard. He came to a halt barely a meter away from Jimin, who was too busy clinging to his sanity to notice they were of almost equal height. “Can’t you even fucking talk?”

The results were the same, with Jimin managing nothing more than to stare at him with wide eyes, and he clicked his teeth in contempt before turning to Taehyung. “So instead of food and water, you brought us a mute coward,” he stated coldly, sounding utterly discontented, as if he’d never been so disappointed. “Fuck’s sake, Tae, of all the useless-”

“I’m not mute.”

Jimin wasn’t quite sure what it was that suddenly made his fright retreat to make way for his anger; perhaps it was the look in the captain’s eyes or the tone of his voice, the same one he’d heard so many times from the lips of those who had discarded him without hesitation not ten minutes prior. Whatever it was, it surprised even himself, even more so when he parted his lips and found his voice flat with contempt. “But like you said,” he hissed, lips curling down into a scowl when the captain turned his eyes back to him, “it’s none of your business, bastard.”

He never even saw the strike coming. Barely a fraction of a second had time to pass after the curse left his lips before the back of the captain’s left hand connected with his cheek with a devastating crack, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs and filling his vision with black spots. It felt like he’d been hit with a bludgeon, as if his head had been split open, and the burst of pain elicited a sharp exclaim from his throat.

Jimin probably would’ve crashed into the ship’s rail if the captain hadn’t grabbed hold of his chin before he could stagger off balance, roughly pulling him back upright until their faces were merely inches apart. From the rigid coldness of his fingers, Jimin numbly realized the captain’s left hand was made out of hard metal, an artificial limb.

“You forget your place, boy,” Yoongi growled, his fingers digging into Jimin’s jaw until he feared it might break under the unyielding pressure. “Right now, your life is dancing in the palm of my hand, so unless you’re eager to have me end it, you’d better fucking behave.”

Jimin’s face was throbbing, his heart thundering loudly in his left ear, but even though he could hear Taehyung’s agitated sigh, even though he knew the wise thing to do would be to cast down his eyes in submission, he didn’t. Instead, he reached up and tried to pry the captain’s metallic hand away from his face, his short fingers hardly a challenge for the ones made out of steel and tin. “Go right ahead,” he gritted out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Maybe I’d rather die than have you be in control of my life!”

Min Yoongi’s laughter was as cold as the night, utterly devoid of glee. “Tough words for a helpless boy such as yourself,” he said dryly, and he inclined his head as his eyes fell to Jimin’s cheeks. “Look at you, you’re crying.” He scoffed at the fact, his grip never wavering. “Does your face hurt? Or are you so afraid you-”

“I’m not,” Jimin protested even as he felt the wetness spill from his eyes. “I’m not crying.” It was an obvious lie; his face ached with so much pain he felt he might faint, he was scared out of his wits, and he had been torn away from his home, a home he would never see again, a home that had turned its back on him. He was justified in his tears, but he would never tell the captain that, never for as long as he lived. “It’s the sea,” he said instead, fighting against the quiver of his voice, and his gaze never strayed from Yoongi’s. “The sea is overflowing.”

What followed was a series of muffled snickering that alerted Jimin to the presence of probably the entire rest of the crew. Their argument had escalated, and when one side of the clash was the captain of the ship, his men had gathered to observe. Apparently, they found something amusing in Jimin’s words, or perhaps it was his denial of the obvious fact that he was crying, but for the moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if they were laughing at him, if they found him pathetic. He paid them no heed, instead clinging tightly to the anger that held his fear at bay, conveying as much of it as he could as he glared at the pirate captain.

Whereas his crew laughed, however, Yoongi remained silent, his eyes narrowed as they trailed over Jimin’s face, his aggravated scowl having smoothened out into a pensive frown. For several seconds, he only observed him, and while Jimin could see the gears working behind the captain’s calculating gaze, the meaning behind his expression was unreadable.

Finally, he turned away, his hand falling from Jimin’s face and leaving his jaw numb. “Tell me at least one of you idiots knows what he is,” Yoongi said snappishly, looking between Namjoon and Taehyung.

It was the former who answered, a note of hesitation to his voice. “The, uh, the mayor’s son said it was the Rune of the Canary,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on a point right above his captain’s head.

For a moment, Yoongi just stared at him, lips parted in skeptical disbelief, and then he raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, hissing in poorly restrained irritation. “The Canary,” he repeated slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “You brought me a songbird.”

“I did,” Taehyung said instantly, lacking the first mate’s apprehension. “You’ve been complaining about our lack of a proper musician aboard the Agust, so this is a perfect turn of events!” He all but beamed at Jimin. “He’ll fit right in!”

The last statement was so ridiculous it almost elicited a dubious snort from Jimin, and one look at Yoongi was more than enough to realize the captain shared his sentiment on this matter. He fixated Jimin with a cool glare, and it took more effort than Jimin wanted to admit to not recoil under the harshness of it. “And what do you say to that?” he asked, his voice equally cold. “Will you sing?”

“Never.” The word fell from Jimin’s lips before he could think twice, and half of him cursed his own recklessness as he watched anger seep back into the captain’s expression. The other half, however, the half that consisted of the throbbing pain in his cheek, reared its head in challenge, refusing to cower. “I won’t sing,” he bit out scathingly. “Never for you.”

Yoongi’s brow twitched and he shifted as if to strike Jimin again, this time with his right hand, but Taehyung stepped in between them before he could do more than tense his muscles, placing one hand on the captain’s shoulder. “He’ll come around,” the blonde man said, his voice almost alarmingly convincing. “Just give him some time. He’s just been thrown out of his home, you gotta go easy on him.” When Yoongi didn’t budge, not even to avert his outraged glare from Jimin’s face, Taehyung sighed softly and leaned forward, his voice taking on an almost childlike lilt as he put himself beneath the captain’s height. “Come on, brother,” he whined, and Yoongi’s brow twitched again. “Let me keep him, pretty, pretty please.”

From the corner of his eye, Jimin could see Namjoon’s smug grin, displaying a set of deep dimples in his cheeks as he shook his head, and for a moment, he wondered what on earth was so amusing.

Then his attention was jerked back to the two pirates in front of him when the captain emitted a frustrated sound and took a step back, looking so utterly agitated as he reached up to run a hand through his hair, pushing off the hood of his coat in the process. “Fuck,” he spat, his voice austere from fury. “For fuck’s sake, fine! Keep him if you bloody have to, but he’ll sleep in the brig!” He glared at Jimin, and there was something so utterly accusatory in his eyes, as if he was the cause of all evil in this world, he and no one else. “A songbird belongs in a cage.”

His venomous words sent a thrill of anger up Jimin’s spine, but before he could do more than curl his lips down into a scowl, the captain rounded on Taehyung. “He’ll be your responsibility,” he snapped and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Not mine, not Namjoon’s, not Jeongguk’s or anyone else’s. You’ll teach him how to survive on this ship, you’ll put him to work, and if he doesn’t pull his weight or gets in the way, I’ll personally throw him into the sea!”

Taehyung emitted a cheery sound at that, as if he hadn’t heard the threat on Jimin’s life. “Roger that, sir!” he chirped, smacking his right hand to his forehead in a gesture of salute before turning to beam at Jimin, the rectangular grin out in full force. “You hear that, Chim? You get to stay.”

“The rest of you, raise the anchor!” Yoongi shouted as he stalked away from the two, his crew quick to get out of his way as he stormed towards the aft of the ship. “We’re not spending another fucking second on these forsaken shores! Get us out to open sea!”

A resounding, “Aye, captain!” rose from his crew before they all set in motion again, moving left and right, some climbing up the shrouds while others steered their steps towards the fore to deal with the anchor. Namjoon heaved a sigh and sent a pointed look at Taehyung before following after Yoongi, calling out orders as he went.

“Come on,” the blonde pirate said and took Jimin by the arm to lead him away from the bustle up on deck. He led him away from the quarterdeck and to the main mast, where he kicked open the companionway and motioned for Jimin to climb down first. “The brig’s this way. Sorry you have to sleep there. I didn’t expect Yoongi to be in such a bad mood today, although I did kinda go against his orders by bringing you here. Still, it might be for the best, you know? It’s sort of like a prison, yeah, but it’ll keep you safe as well! Since you’re my responsibility, I’ll be holding the key, so no one will be able to disturb you. Not that they would, everyone’s so nice on this ship, but they get drunk a lot, so… well, you never know.”

Jimin listened to him ramble all the way to his cell, finding himself incapable of responding or even interrupting Taehyung’s flow of sentences. They passed a long row of bunks and climbed down another set of ladders, walked past what looked like a storage space, and by the time they reached the brig, Jimin’s head was throbbing painfully, both from the dark bruise that’d had time to blossom across his cheek, but also from what he could only identify as a migraine, the toll of the night’s events finally catching up with his body.

“Here we go.” Taehyung plucked a chain of heavy keys from the wall outside the door before pushing it open, and Jimin swallowed thickly at the sight of the cells, sturdy bars of iron rising from the floor and all the way to the ceiling, leaving no room for escape. “I have to go help with casting off,” Taehyung said as he unlocked the cell door and held it open for Jimin, still smiling, “but I’ll come back as soon as I can. I’ll bring something for you to sleep on, and I’ll try to get Hoseok to come look at your cheek. And your hand.”

Jimin had almost forgotten about the cut on the back of his hand, the one he’d sustained when deflecting Taehyung’s sword back in the village, but now that the blonde pirate brought it up, the wound added its voice to the already dull symphony of pain in his body. “Okay,” was all he said as he took a seat on the floor inside his cell, his jaw aching.

“Hoseok’s the ship doctor,” Taehyung explained softly, taking care to close the cell door quietly, as if to spare Jimin’s headache any further disturbances. “He’s got herbs and salves that’ll make you feel better in a heartbeat, so just hang in there for a little bit longer, alright, Chim?”

Despite the fact that his face hurt every time he moved his jaw even a fraction, Jimin looked up and mumbled, “Jimin. My name’s not Chim, it’s Jimin.”

Taehyung blinked and made a noise of understanding. “Oh, okay, that’s what that old lady called you,” he mused, nodding to himself before offering Jimin another blinding smile. “I think I’m gonna keep calling you Chim, though, if I can. It’s such a cute name, so it suits you.”

With that, he sauntered off, shoving the cell keys into the pocket of his trousers on the way out. The very second the door closed behind him, Jimin closed his eyes, curled into himself, and broke, tears bursting from his eyes as every single ounce of anguish he’d felt over the course of the night came crashing over him.

Everything hurt. His head, his face, his hand, but worst was the pain in his chest. In the mere spawn of an hour, he’d lost everything, his home, his friend, his freedom, even the control of his own life. He’d been thrown away like a rag, only to be picked up and treated worse, and now he felt like the earth had been stolen from underneath his feet, as if he was on the verge of an endless fall.

I’m going to die, a voice in his head screamed, and he felt his sanity cracking. Alone on the sea, I’m going to die.

His airways constricted and he couldn’t breathe, panic flooding his veins and dulling his senses to everything that wasn’t inside of him. All he could do was feel, feel the horror in his chest, the sorrow in his heart, the pain in his head. His muscles were going taut, tightening to the point it almost hurt, until he was certain he’d rupture a vein. His body heaved and he choked on his breath, and when he fell onto his side on the rough floor, he didn’t even notice.

Jimin had no idea how much time had passed when he suddenly felt a hand on his back, rubbing firm, soothing circles into his spine. “Breathe,” a voice told him calmly, “take a deep breath for me, I know you can do it.”

A part of him wanted to reject it and pull away, to refuse the offered help, because he knew the only people on this ship were pirates, the same pirates who had caused his state to begin with. However, more than that, he wanted the pain to go away, he wanted the ache to stop, and so he clung to that voice with all his might, gasping breathlessly as he attempted to fill his lungs with air.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Jimin vaguely recognized the voice, but the first one spoke up again before he could place it. “The hell do you think, dumbass?” it said, just as calm as before. “He’s having a panic attack.” He felt someone’s body shift closer to his to provide him with warmth, with a sense of security. “Breathe for me, Jimin, just like that, in and out. You’re doing so well, you hear me? Really well, just follow my lead.”

He found himself nodding frantically, a whimper spilling past his lips when he finally succeeded, drawing a trembling inhale. Instantaneously, the chaos in his mind eased up, and while it was by just a fraction, the clarity of it spurred him on to do it again, focusing all of his effort on breathing.

“That’s it, you’re coming back now.” The voice never stopped encouraging him and the hand kept rubbing circles into his back, and slowly, he found himself beginning to calm down. The tautness of his muscles eased and he stopped shaking, the distorted roaring sound in his ears fading until he finally regained his awareness of his surroundings.

“Do you think you can sit up?”

Jimin blinked away the blur from his eyes, only now realizing how wet with tears his face was. He felt faint and groggy even as he lay on the floor, but he made himself follow the sound of the voice and found a man kneeling next to him, tall and gangly, and below a fringe of cocoa-colored hair, his brows were arched in expectation as he smiled almost kindly down at Jimin. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you sit up,” he said, and when Jimin offered him a slow nod, the man helped him sit up, his hands on Jimin’s shoulders to guide him to lean his back against the iron bars of his cell.

Jimin exhaled slowly and allowed himself to relax, his eyes momentarily sliding shut as he attempted to regain his thoughts and make sense out of the situation. In his panic, he had blacked out completely, losing track of both time and of his surroundings; he hadn’t even realized the ship had departed, but now he felt the steady rise and fall of the vessel as it rode the ocean waves, and his nostrils caught the strong scent of salt and spray.

“Are you okay, Chim?”

He cracked his eyes open and instantly recoiled, a yelp leaving his lips before he could stop himself. Taehyung’s face was mere inches away from his own, his eyes wide with concern, but he smiled upon seeing Jimin’s reaction, as if he was pleased he had managed to startle him. “I think he’s fine now,” the pirate chirped and scooted away, plopping down onto the floor not far from Jimin. “But his cheek’s really swollen.”

“Of course it’s swollen,” the stranger said with a huff, pursing his lips as he studied the left side of Jimin’s face. “Yoongi really didn’t hold back at all, did he?” He shook his head in discontent before straightening up and placing a hand to his chest. “My name’s Hoseok,” he told Jimin, the smile returning to his lips. “I’m Agust’s surgeon, or doctor, or whatever you want to call it.” He moved his hand towards Jimin’s face, but left it hovering a few inches away. “Can I?”

Jimin’s eyes went from the man’s hand to his face, searching for a sign of hostility, but no matter how hard he stared, he found no reason to refuse. Slowly, he nodded, though he didn’t quite manage to stop himself from tensing when the doctor gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the side.

“You’re gonna be purple for at least ten days,” Hoseok said instantly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the sizable bruise, “and yellow for another ten. There’s no immediate sign of a fracture, but it can be hard to tell when it comes to the cheekbone. How’s your eyesight, can you see properly out of your left eye?” Jimin nodded and the man seemed content. “Can you move your jaw?”

“Yes,” Jimin said, wincing as he spoke. “But it hurts.”

The doctor snorted at that, but not unkindly. “I should think so,” he said and released his chin to lean back on his heels and reach for a satchel he’d placed next to the cell door. “Yoongi doesn’t look like it, but he carries a shitload of strength in his punches.”

The mention of the captain made Jimin’s lips curl down into a scowl, his brows knitting in anger, and Hoseok must’ve noticed, for his voice was much gentler when he took his seat in front of him again, holding a glass phial in his hands. “I know it’s hard to believe and definitely not what you want to hear right now,” he said slowly, “but Yoongi isn’t a bad man.”

Whatever Jimin had expected the doctor to say, it certainly wasn’t that. His eyes widened and he fixated Hoseok with an incredulous stare, so utterly caught off guard he barely even felt it when the doctor began applying a cool ointment to his cheek, his touches featherlight and meticulous. “Not a bad man,” Jimin repeated dubiously, his voice a sharp hiss. “He ordered an attack on my village. He backhanded me, with an artificial hand, mind you. I can’t even feel the left side of my face. And he put me in the brig, saying this is where I belong.”

“Considering the apparent state of your face, I think you should be thankful for a lack of sensation,” Hoseok countered, grinning at his own jest even as Jimin continued to stare at him as if he were mad. “Anyway. Yes, he did strike you, but I hear you also called him a bastard, so you had it coming.”

“Wha-” Jimin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you trying to tell me you believe his actions were justified?” he asked shrilly, speaking through gritted teeth.

Hoseok sighed at that and shook his head, as calm as ever even under Jimin’s near accusatory glare. “No,” he said, “of course they weren’t. He shouldn’t have hit you, but,” he raised his voice on the word as if he could sense Jimin had been about to say something, “you shouldn’t have said what you did. You don’t seem to realize the position you’re in. This is a pirate ship. Yoongi is a pirate captain. Now, I don’t know how much experience you have in dealing with pirates, but if it was any other man, they would’ve reached for their sword or gun rather than their fist.” He leaned back and tapped the mouth of the phial against Jimin’s nose in an almost playful manner. “You’re alive only because of the captain’s kindness.”

“Kindness,” Jimin repeated stiffly and turned to Taehyung in hopes of getting a more sensible explanation from him, but the blonde pirate merely nodded enthusiastically, smiling his rectangular smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel at ease?”

The doctor snorted, the sound just shy of gleeful. “Yes, actually, it is,” he mused and produced a wad of cotton and a linen bandage from his satchel. “Your cheek may be hurting and you may be sleeping in the brig, but you get to live another day in this world.” He quirked a neat brow. “Not to mention you punched Taehyung in the eye earlier. The captain’s younger brother.”

His words prompted a sting of guilt in the back of Jimin’s head and he sent a quick glance at the blonde pirate, who only laughed, as if he couldn’t feel the dark bruise surrounding his eye. “I’m sure it was in self-defence,” Hoseok continued, “but you still did it, so… consider the three of you even.”

“Even. Right,” Jimin said, not convinced in the slightest, and it was at Taehyung he directed his frustration. “Apart from the fact that you and your crew killed my friends.”

The pirate looked absolutely unperturbed. “Did we?” he hummed with a thoughtful smile, as if he couldn’t remember ever doing such a thing. “If you’re talking about those villagers, they weren’t really your friends, were they? I mean, they willingly offered you in return for their own arses.” He pursed his lips, the first hint of annoyance seeping into his face. “Honestly, I would’ve wanted to open that one guy from collar to balls, but you’d already agreed to come, so…” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, taking a second of two to think, and then he grinned again. “That old lady was the only one who stood up for you,” he said and sat up straight, teetering on exhilaration. “She was really amazing, wasn’t she? She didn’t seem scared at all, she even poked Hisashi in the chest with a stick.”

Hoseok paused his ministrations with Jimin’s hand to emit a cheery cackle. “Shit, and he’s still seething about that, by the way,” he chortled with a bright grin. “Especially since you stopped him and made him apologize in front of that woman.”

“I didn’t make him do anything,” Taehyung protested, although he didn’t seem too agitated about the possibility. “He did that all on his own. It’s not my fault he thinks I’m frightening.”

“Right, because who in their right mind would ever think the quartermaster is frightening?” the doctor asked rhetorically and shook his head before returning to his task. “On a ship, the quartermaster is in charge of discipline, amongst other things,” he told Jimin by way of explanation. “We’re all closer than family aboard Agust, but if someone steps out of line, and they do, Taehyung’s the one who cracks the whip.”

Jimin wondered briefly if the doctor meant the words literally, but decided against asking; he’d already asked too many questions to which he did not want to know the answer. Instead, he sullenly cast his eyes down, making the mistake of looking at his hand halfway through Hoseok’s ministrations; the cut was shallow enough, but the sight of dirt-mixed, clotted blood and pus made him feel nauseous. Or perhaps it was the steady rocking of the sea that made his stomach churn.

“Taehyung, take the medicine from my satchel,” the doctor said, needing only a brief glance at Jimin’s face to recognize his queasiness. “The blue phial for his nausea and the clear bottle for his pain. And water.”

The blonde pirate was quick to comply, digging out the requested items, and when he crouched down next to Hoseok to pass him the glass jars, Jimin took a moment to study his face. He wondered what depth of ruthlessness was hidden beneath his cheerful smile; the man looked almost like a child now, youthfully expressive as he struggled to uncork the leather cask of water. He was kind, Jimin thought, kind in the way he’d protected Jimin from Yoongi, kind in the way he smiled and in how is touches were so gentle.

But even so, Jimin couldn’t simply forget the image of him in his mask, pointing a bloodied sword at Jimin and Jihyun’s grandson. “Y-you still killed them,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “You still murdered innocent people.”

Taehyung didn’t even blink. “That’s true,” he said without pause before emitting a sound of triumph when he finally managed to pry open the water canteen. “And I’m not gonna justify or excuse myself. I did what I did, and I won’t lose sleep over it, even if you will.” His tone was light as day, as was his smile when he passed the bottle over to Jimin, who took it with slight hesitation. “I am sorry we had to meet like that, though,” the pirate said, rocking back and forth in his seat. “It wasn’t the best first impression, but I really want us to be friends, Chim.”

Jimin almost choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, tears springing to his eyes as he coughed. “Friends,” he repeated dubiously when he recovered, but while the mere thought sounded absolutely ridiculous to his ears, there was something almost contagious about Taehyung’s grin when he gave an enthusiastic nod. He almost giggled, catching himself in time to swallow the sound.

“Aye, friends,” the blonde pirate all but beamed. “I like you. You’re cute, but you have more attitude than half the crew. Plus, you’re incredibly brave to come here just to save your friend.” He leaned forward, and this time, Jimin didn’t recoil. “I want you to be friends with everyone else, too. Just like Hoseok, they’re all good people.” His smile faltered into something much softer, as did his voice. “Even Yoongi.”

His words triggered a flare of pain through Jimin’s cheek, a dull reminder of what that good man had done to him. He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing, choosing not to bicker endlessly with these two pirates who seemed to all but worship their captain, and while Taehyung seemed to barely notice his silence, launching into a retelling of their clash against the Busan mariner base, Hoseok offered him a sympathetic little smile, as if he understood what Jimin was going through.

They stayed for another fifteen minutes, until the doctor had cleaned and bound his hand and made him ingest a few drops of thick, opaque liquid from each of the glass phials Taehyung had picked from his satchel, with a promise of eased pain and a few hours of sleep. Taehyung carefully slipped a frayed blanket over his shoulders and patted him on the hair in an almost loving manner before standing up and moving to walk out of the cell.

“The sun will rise in three hours,” he told Jimin, spinning the brig key around on his index finger as he waited for Hoseok to gather his things. “You think you’ll be okay to start working if I come get you then?”

Jimin’s head felt heavy when he nodded, as if his strength was being drained from his veins. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled and pulled the blanket tighter around himself, but before he closed his eyes, he raised his head and looked at the two, hesitating only for a moment. “Thank you. For…”

He didn’t say anything else, but they seemed to understand well enough. “Sleep,” Hoseok told him while Taehyung smiled sweetly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

With that, they left the brig, and Jimin heaved a deep sigh, letting his eyes flutter close as he leaned his weight back against the iron bars. He was calmer now, the ache in his cheek and hand slowly ebbing away to make room for his exhaustion. He was also thankful for whatever it was Hoseok had given him to drink; even though his mind was peaceful now, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep without it, the tension of his location still lingering.

Slowly, he scooted down and curled up against the floor, folding his arms under his head to cradle it. I won’t yield, Jimin promised to himself as he closed his eyes, expelling the memory of the captain’s words and his actions from his thoughts. Even if they attempt to break me, I won’t kneel.

The last thing he heard before he was claimed by sleep was the gentle whisper of the sea, and the distant, seething song of a piano.