32; Conclusion pt. III

'I have a bad feeling about this.'

'You don't say,' the older man paused, offering the latter an incredibly bereft look of amusement before grumbling to himself on returning to the path.

'I've had about ten thousand bad feelings about this ever since that text message. Never. Again.'

Taehyung's cool stroll came to an abrupt halt. He stared at the ground for a long, hard moment; his eyebrows furrowing into the sand and asphalt captured within his shadow as he recalled the source of his conflicted thoughts from moments prior.

'There's just one thing I want to make clear before that.'

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at the words curiously. 'And that is?'

'I want you and Jongin to head back to the car and stay there,' Jimin said; his eyes unnaturally void of the usual spirited spark that flitted in them. 'Do you understand?'

'Roger that,' Jongin was quick to respond with a hint of relief in his words; fingers combing through his dyed hair as he turned to face the latter.

'Let's go.'

However, Taehyung – on the contrary – was unconvinced. 'No.'

'Hey, hey, come on now...'

'I said no,' the blonde refused to budge; his gaze unfaltering as he stared at his peer in disbelief. 'We're in this together. You said so yourself! I'm not going anywhere, Jimin.'

'I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Taehyung. We're dealing with full-fledged criminals, not some two-bit school thug. They are serious threats, and there is no way I'm going to make room for civilian casualties. This is for your own good.'

Taehyung fell silent. He stared at the redhead for a long moment, uncertain whether or not it was the right time to say what was on his mind for the most agonizing hour yet, but with little to no discretion, it left him anyway.

'You're a cop, right?'

The words gave rise to a brief streak of pain across Jimin's face. Taehyung noticed it; the way his eyebrows twitched into the subtlest of frowns and his lips pursed in response in his attempt at stifling a flinch. What was he to say? That he didn't expect to have been so careless so as to have made a friend while undercover? That not a soul was meant to find out the true nature of their enrolment? That their bond was a mistake?

'I'm sorry,' was all he whispered; a small well of guilt clawing into his chest. 'It wasn't in my intention to lie to you. You're probably upset. I mean, I would be too. But if there's some small chance you aren't, at least until this is all over, I'll explain everything.

'But for now, get as far away as you can from here. Please.'

The only words Taehyung could use to describe how he felt at that point was 'messed up'. His insides churned. His thoughts felt like chunky building blocks of what was once a sturdy castle tumbling over one another dismally, out of his control.

Ever since complying to Jimin's request, the blonde felt unnaturally confused. Restless. Agitated. And yet the more he reminded himself of just how little he was capable of in such dire circumstances, all Taehyung felt was a stifling helplessness.

A handful of needles slammed against his chest as he breathed in deeply; his midriff possibly decorated with colourful bruises; but Taehyung couldn't have cared less for his injuries at this point. Because all that swirled in his mind like a troubled tide were thoughts of Jihye and the two friends he'd left behind.

Kicking up dirt with his sneakers, he couldn't help but wonder just how much of an idiot Van Choi—or rather, Park—Jimin was. Far too many things had gone wrong this evening. Taehyung regretted having not stopped them from visiting the school. He regretted encouraging the ridiculous topic of Baekhyun which led to an argument he couldn't bear the thought of being his last with Jihye. He regretted not having apologized sooner for his actions. He regretted not having tried harder to keep her safe. And lastly, he regretted not being able to realize sooner just how much Jimin’s friendship meant to him, regardless of the latter’s lack of complete honesty.

But if there was one thing he suddenly realized before it was too late, it was that he finally had a chance to change the outcome of events. He refused to let regret be the last thing he felt that night.

And directing curses at his best friend, Kim Taehyung; with renewed vigour; his heel, running in the direction they came from like his life depended on it.

'Seriously!?' he heard the janitor call after him in exasperation. 'We just got here and you're...'

However, the student was quickly out of earshot. Taehyung couldn't tell how far they'd come or how long it had been since they left, but all he could hope was that he made it in time for something. Anything.

… But what he didn't expect was the sight of Jihye’s trembling form being held at gunpoint.

Following the sound of raucous clatter and the dull hum of a rotor ease to life, Taehyung's breathing had relented to that of an elderly smoker's. He fought not to double over; the muscles in his midsection incredibly tender to touch from the earlier struggle; but the moment he imagined he'd lost his footing from exhaustion and pain, what he saw when he the interior of the warehouse came into view staggered him. In fact, it felt as if he'd just experienced a phenomenal lapse in time.

Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. Taehyung raised his head – his palms sweaty and pressed against the black denim on his knees – and stared at the scene in progress. His eyes pored over the pair of officers closest to him, gradually moving beyond them where he recognized the school principal. Only this time, with a glock in his possession, and most shockingly, with the barrel of the very weapon settled against the side of Jihye's head, in perfect line with her tear-filled eyes.

He glanced briefly at the waiting aircraft behind them and at what may or may not have been two shadows within it. But such additional details left his mind the moment he felt his heart beating in his ears. He could feel the blood rushing to his head; every pulse quickening with an adrenalin that fed off his fear and anger.

Jihye. It was the only name dancing in his vision. The only thing that crossed his mind. The only thing he thought of protecting when his knees buckled, trembled, but suddenly arched forward.

The world rotated again. Time gradually eased in. And Taehyung was certain it did because he could hear the shouting in his ears as he ran and he could see the gun waving in his direction menacingly.

'Stop! I-I swear I'll shoot...!'

Perhaps it was a stupid thing to do. No person in their right mind would run head first into danger that recklessly. And he could tell his actions would cost him the moment he heard Jimin's outcry on his right squeeze through the mighty thumping in his ears.

But being in love made whimsical impulses seem possible. Taehyung, however, was about to discover that rather than immediate, fairytale results, gunfire was all that awaited him.

Taehyung was – at this point – now completely out of the remarkable slow motion he managed to attain. The violent pulsing in his ears reduced considerably, replaced by the quaking voice of the principal that seemed a lot louder than it was just seconds ago. A chorus of cries echoed in the tin warehouse, bounding off the walls like mighty waves.

'D-don't come any—I'm really gonna do it, you know! This thing is loaded!'

His face, neck, and palms stung with sweat. His torso prickled with menacing stabs. The boundless courage he felt seconds prior suddenly dissolved into a nameless dread at the realization that he was in the line of fire.

'Look, don't...'

Before the shaky threat could leave Junmyeon, a clap of thunder bounced off of every tin plane in the warehouse, stopping him short. A gun fired, yet within that split second, Taehyung recalled neither the quick flash that followed, the slide of the firearm jittering back from impact of the blast, nor even the sound of an empty shell chime eerily against the ground.

All he felt was something ram into him from aside, in turn knocking him off of his feet. Taehyung's head collided with the floor on impact of the fall; a dull pain growing rapidly in his cranium as if a balloon had begun expanding in his skull, on the brink of bursting from the inside out.

Subsequent the pounding headache was awfully whirling vision. His eyes were terribly unfocused and he squeezed them shut for a moment, opening them again when the image of Jihye being threatened with a gun flooded back into his conscience. Or rather, the quivering image of having a gun pointed at him and hearing it fire.

Taehyung panicked. Against the bilious headache and the unpleasant return of pain in his torso, he rose on all fours with great difficulty. Was he shot? He couldn't tell. But the fact that he couldn't feel immediate pain anywhere as yet meant he'd somehow avoided the danger... until he noticed faint red splatters against the grey of his sweater.

There was no sign of entry. No sign of having been injured whatsoever. He couldn't understand where the blood had come from until Taehyung's eyes snapped in the direction of a pained wince beside him.

'J...' his voice stuck like knives in his throat; panic and terror rising from his belly like steaming acid.

'Jimin...?'

Jihye's heart thrummed in her skull. Each capillary and cluster of nerves strummed under her scalp with such clarity that she suddenly doubted there was at some point so much uproar or that the gun fired at all.

However, when she opened her eyes, the world eased in soundlessly. For a brief moment, the sounds wafting in and out of her ears reminded her of being underwater. Sounds appeared in the form of fluid waves. But her vision, on the other hand, was startlingly acute.

She turned; her head snapping in the direction of the silence; where her eyes met the steaming barrel of a gun. And behind it, stood the eldest Byun with eyebrows furrowed in the slightest; his demeanour frighteningly calm despite the fact that he'd just opened fire at someone… but who could it have been if not her?

The reality dawned on her in an instant. The quiescence gradually accommodated an eerie buzzing. And what followed after was uncertain. Her head moved from side to side. She struggled to comprehend the evidence of her eyes, but when she witnessed both Taehyung and Jimin crumple to the ground, she screamed.

Junmyeon's arms and legs slackened. His entire body felt as if it were turning into one massive mound of jelly as he lowered his firearm, trembling at what had just transpired.

A great deal of unexpected events had occurred this evening. The unforeseen midnight delivery, the pair he suspected for the longest time having infiltrated the school, his next target conveniently planted outside for their taking considering their first attempt at it had been ruined, on the brink of getting busted after their tiring efforts... but the last thing he predicted was violence of this caliber. Of shooting someone in cold blood.

Was it worth it? He didn't know. There were too many aspects of their business to consider before answering that question to his full capabilities.

However, his body reacted otherwise to the question.

Junmyeon had never fired a gun before. He never intended on firing one in the first place. He put on an act. Pretended to so they could make an easy, harmless getaway. Their business had – after all – never comprised of violence as such. But the fact that his partner had carried out the act with little to no discretion seeped a wintry cold into his bones.

'Don't just stand there,' the older man's voice interrupted his conflicted thoughts. 'Get her in, you fool!'

The words – along with a string of discord and his questionable venality – bounced around in his skull like a giant iron mass. Junmyeon's fingers quivered uncontrollably, and in his shaken state, they slipped from the girl's arm.

'H-hey, that guy's b-bleeding, you know...?'

'There's no time to waste.'

'This is too much. We can't—'

'Junmyeon!'

Jihye's legs moved against her judgement. What was once fear now accommodated a growing disquiet that pushed her to move. She worked against her quivering limbs. She fought her distressed thoughts, her whirlwind of emotions, the tight clench of anxiety in her core, and leapt.

Junmyeon watched her escape him with his innards in a similar state of affair. Without another glance at his partner, his own mind lurched into fight or flight; his body reacting to the latter as he suddenly turned, fleeing in the opposite direction to safety.

'That imbecile!' Mister Byun growled, staring after his retreating form with nothing short of disdain.

'Baekhyun, what are you doing? Get the girl!'

The younger boy peered out at his father with a look so incredulous, one would imagine he had just been openly insulted.

'What?' his mouth hung open. 'Dad, are you kidding me? I didn't come here to be one of your...'

Before he could even think of continuing, the older man gripped the front of his sweater, practically heaving him out of the chopper and in the direction of the girl's sprinting form.

'Just do as I say!'

Conflicted but giving in to his father's command, Baekhyun stumbled forward, muttering a number of curses at his old man as he followed in Jihye's footsteps.

Was it his fault the principal decided to carry out an impromptu kidnapping on a Friday night? No. Was it his fault the principal called them out to the stinking harbour at this ridiculous hour? No. Was it his fault Kim Junmyeon just up and left in the middle of such a crucial mission? Certainly not.

Byun Baekhyun had many other important plans for the evening. Neither of them consisting of having being dragged out of the house at such a preposterous time of night, witness his father shoot Van Choi (who turned out to be a police officer) and to be chasing down his ex-girlfriend... but the more he put these events into retrospect, Baekhyun couldn't deny the unease that accompanied them. He'd been relatively grumpy throughout the evening since the fiasco, but now, he felt straight out unnerved.

Despite his father's business having been explained to him vaguely, he never – in his wildest dreams – imagined it to reach the height of life or death. In fact, Baekhyun wasn't sure whether he was comfortable with his father's devices anymore. Certainly wrapping up the Kyungsoo and Namjoo plans weren’t as troublesome as this. But thinking back to the headmaster's cowardly escape, the younger boy refused to accept the same fate as him.

Besides, the more he stared ahead of him at the girl reuniting with a familiar blonde head, the more amusing the situation had become. Perhaps this would be fun in some way after all.

'Taehyung...!'

Jihye cried; shudders rattling her from the inside out as she came to a slowing stop towards him. The boy looked up; his reaction similar as he noticed her eyes travel towards Jimin who; at this point; erected himself, cradling his left arm in his free hand that pulsed out crimson threads of life into his coat and shirt like a miniature waterfall.

'How bad is it?'

Taehyung shook his head slowly; his eyes clouded over as if his mind strained to compute the question. 'I-I don't know. It might be a direct hit. I mean, there's—there’s a lot of blood...'

'Nah,' Jimin croaked to their surprise; both students jumping in fright at the sound of his voice as he moved to stand.

Taehyung panicked at the wobbly start he got off to, throwing his hands out to steady him in concern. 'Hey!'

'Don't worry. This isn't half as painful as a gunshot,' he explained, steadying himself for a brief moment before turning to face the two, still clutching his arm tightly. 'I don’t think it’s fatal for a couple more hours.'

In the moment it took for the pair of students to breathe a sigh of relief at the news, Jimin's eyes flicked to another corner of the room. Stifling a wince, he reached for the discarded stun gun and stood again with the bleeding arm against his side like an extra weight; his face unexpectedly somber when he returned to them.

His eyes bore into Taehyung's, who – upon registering his hard gaze – couldn't help but swallow the lump in his throat with great difficulty.

'You came back, so I expect you know what you're doing, Tae,' he paused, bobbing his chin at something over the latter's shoulder before slinking away. 'I'll leave this one to you.'

He was prepared to clamber into the helicopter; his patience wearing thin with the grating panic and looming fear of having himself as well as his business ruined. He hadn't worked this hard to have everything slip away in an instant. The head of the Byun family couldn't understand just how crucial of an event was disturbed, but dwelling on it again, all he felt was a hot, swelling irritation towards his partner that had abandoned the mission.

He could not deny that first impressions of people lasted a lifetime. The moment he had laid eyes on Junmyeon, he looked into a mirror of enterprising potential. However, enterprising was all he was. When it came down to the true colours of their dirty work, he was as good as a scarecrow with leafy limbs stuck to a poll in the middle of a figurative gold mine.

Useless idiot, was the only seething the older man was capable of as he made way to board the chopper.

The moment his son reappeared with the girl, they would be well on their way to a cargo in the Pacific. They would become untraceable. Lay low for as long as they pleased while operating the ransom of one of the three richest young people in their possession. Their drug trafficking would be well on its way to success once more. They'd be rolling in money, living exotic lives off the coast of Positano, Réunion, or one of the islands off of the Seychelles without a single care in the world. Ah, it was a perfect plan indeed!

The thought of his impending success was overwhelming. Blinding. It had been for a long time ever since conjuring the ingenious idea of using his prosperous background to his advantage. Junmyeon had served him well, but his time was limited. If he wasn't taken in by the police force, he was certain to return and take care of him himself.

Mister Byun's mind worked miles a minute processing the events following his success. So much so, he had failed to account for the one remaining component to his troubles: the female officer.

Before he could set foot into the aircraft once more, an overwhelming weight rammed into his side powerfully. Startled by the sheer force of the blow, the older man's body swayed in the direction of the attacker's throw; his body collapsing to the floor in an unceremonious flailing of silk-clad limbs.

Kyungja had successfully speared him to the ground; pain immediately blooming in her shoulder on impact; and feeling the familiar burn in her knees as they slammed against the concrete floor beside the perpetrator, stifled a wince. Her mind worked as efficiently as a supercomputer. Her senses spiked – each one frighteningly acute – as her police experience and training came back into play.

The current situation was a far cry from what it started out as. The stakes had changed drastically. From simply recovering a kidnapped victim, they were now fighting against a possible homicide... the thought – when it first occurred to her – elicited chills throughout every plane of her body she never experienced before. She felt a streak of intense panic unlike anything she'd ever felt. Because the victim this time was not just anybody. It was Jimin. Her confidant. Her colleague. Someone she suddenly realized; in that instant; that she could not lose. And no matter what, she wouldn't allow his injuries to go unaccounted for.

Forcing herself to recover from the brunt of the blows delivered, Kyungja immediately sprung back into action. Despite the fact that the culprit was on his back, undeniably winded by the fall, and with his weapon having skidded a few feet from him subsequent to his tumble, the confrontation could not be considered over. Not until the threat was in handcuffs or subdued until backup arrived, she could not take such risks.

'Ugh...' the sound escaped Mister Byun in the form of a gurgle.

His brittle bones weren't helping his predicament. A sharp pain nestled directly beneath one half of his ribcage, seemingly lodging a knife in the lung every time he breathed. The last thing he expected was to be tackled so violently at this age, yet now that he was, he instantly regretted having not accounted for his surroundings better.

After a brief moment of writhing; a crippling pain in his hip greeting him next; he his side, wincing. He spotted the gun almost instantly. He stretched a single arm towards it, yet before he could make more of an effort to seize the firearm, he felt the stifling weight of a person against his back. Following a person practically sitting on him, was a knee that braced his neck, kneeling against the girth of it with such force that he couldn't move a muscle.

'You have the right to remain silent,' Kyungja mouthed; her breathing laboured as she