The pain was throbbing throughout the entire of Yoongi’s body. He seemed to be struck down by something and his chest was just blooming with pain, wave after wave. His head was splayed sideways, and he could see some black figures nearby. They seemed to be struck down by something too. His breathing was erratic as if his body was trying to desperately keep him alive. His mind seemed to be screaming something at him, but all he could hear was his ragged breathing. His mouth opened, trying to say something. But all that came out was puffs of air, white in the cold air. His eyes darted around and settled on his hands. It was stained with something red, red..?

Boots could be heard tapping against the concrete pavement as it brought its owner, step by step, to Yoongi. The person squatted down and inspected Yoongi. He could see the rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest, though fine. “It didn’t kill him immediately,” he murmured as his left hand reached towards the back of his pants. “Then, die once again. It should kill you just fine.” He muttered, standing up and aiming at Yoongi’s temple. A bullet cut through the air as a loud bang sounded, temporarily blinding Yoongi’s painful breaths. It travelled straight down and entered his temple, burying itself into his brain. Pain exploded, like fireworks on a dark night. Blood gushed out, painting Yoongi’s face red.

Yoongi jolted awake. He looked around and found himself in the room. He had fallen asleep again when he was supposed to work. Yoongi stretched his hands out. He needed to get this done before dawn breaks. Glancing at the time, he cursed. How can he get that list of things done in freaking 2 hours? Oh gosh, this is driving him crazy. He flicked a stray strand of hair away and sighed. Cracking his knuckles, he quickly got to work. Worst case scenario, he’ll just be scolded.

Nah, it ain’t that bad. He chuckled and reached for one of his tools. Tweaking a few wires within, he replaced the lid and reached for another of the same. They had to have backups in case things went wrong, he told himself. All these plans they had devised and revised repeatedly throughout the years had to be executed to perfection. No room for mistakes was allowed or even tolerated.

Soon, it was a minute to 5. Yoongi was still hard at work, finishing up one of the last things in the list. The grandfather clock outside chimed 5 times, signalling it was 5. A while later, the door opened. “Everything’s done?” a voice asked, and he yawned after. “Yes, Hoseokie.” He swivelled his chair and faced a sleepy Hoseok. His hair was in a disarray, sticking out in all directions. Some buttons of his pyjamas had come unloose, revealing some slightly tanned skin of the younger. “Go sleep, you fool. Get some more before we start out nightly campaigns later.” He shooed the younger out, and he quickly shuffled to his bed. “I need sleep too.” He let out a yawn, and he flopped himself onto his bed. Nestling into a comfortable position, his eyes drooped shut and brought him to the land of sleep.