Jeongguk keeps repeating the phrase “it’s going to be fine” over and over in his head. 

 

 

This is ridiculous. Taehyung can handle himself. 

 

 

You know he can’t, an insidious little voice whispers from the deep crevasses of his brain. 

 

 

I don’t even care.

 

 

Liar, the voice cackles gleefully. 

 

 

Shut up, he snaps. The pit of dread gnawing at him from the inside out seems to bite down even harder. 

 

 

“Do we really have to risk it?” Jeongguk finds himself asking aloud, even though they’ve already had this conversation too many times to count. 

 

 

Jimin rolls his eyes, “It’ll be fine, Jeongguk. Have a little faith. Stop worrying so much.”

 

 

Jeongguk glowers, annoyed. How could he say that? How could he be so unbothered by the fact that they were about to send Taehyung into the field as bait for a mission? 

 

 

“But what if-“

 

 

Jimin cuts him off, waving a casual hand through the air. “This isn’t our first time,” Jimin reminds him, “We know what we’re doing.”

 

 

Jeongguk is not comforted by this. 

 

 

His enduring doubt must be evident because Yoongi lays a reassuring hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder. “It’s been a few months since Taehyung 'died' and there hasn’t been any fuss in the underground networks. No one suspects anything and everyone else has been carrying on about their business as usual. He’ll be wearing a mask and he won’t talk. We need leverage, a decoy. We just need a body there. There’s no way anyone will recognize him. It’ll be fine.”

 

 

“But-"

 

 

“Besides, there’s no one else we can send in.” 

 

 

Yoongi doesn’t say it out loud but Jeongguk knows what he’s thinking: He’s the most disposable.

 

 

A thousand protests rise in Jeongguk’s throat but before he can say anything, Taehyung walks into the room and the three of them fall quiet. Jimin coughs quietly in the uncomfortable silence.

 

 

“Woah,” Taehyung chuckles, his smile not fully reaching his eyes. He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

 

 

“You didn’t,” Yoongi says brusquely. “Are you ready for today?”

 

 

Jeongguk avoids making eye contact with Taehyung. 

 

 

He hasn’t told anyone about their kiss a few nights ago and neither of them have mentioned it to each other. Ever since that night, their interactions have been cordial, but strained. Taehyung hasn’t made any attempts to address what happened or reach out and Jeongguk can’t help but feel rebuffed. The petulance he initially felt quickly transformed into bitterness and guilt, but he still has no idea what he did wrong - the rift separating them seemed to yawn deeper and wider with every passing moment.

 

 

In the end, Jeongguk had done what he always did: pushed it out of his mind. He told himself he didn’t care, that the disappointment he felt wasn’t real, that the moment they had shared was nothing more than a brief lapse of judgement and that it meant nothing more. 

 

 

But when Yoongi asks him if he’s ready to risk his life and Taehyung responds with a lighthearted, “Yep,” Jeongguk can’t stop his eyes from darting over to steal a glance.

 

 

Belatedly, Jeongguk realizes that it was a mistake but it’s too late to stop the emotions from rushing back in - the incessant worry, the stubborn fear, the begrudging adoration, affection, and all the uncertainties that come with Kim Taehyung. There’s that familiar tightening sensation in his chest, the roaring of blood in his ears, the shallow breaths pumping through his lungs, the worry swirling dark thoughts through his mind. 

 

 

This is no different than any other mission. He doesn’t gets nerves, doesn’t lose his cool, always stays calm and level-headed because he knows he’s good at what he does. He doesn’t have a shred of doubt in his abilities. 

 

 

Except it is different this time.

 

 

Because Taehyung is going in for a mission as the bait. He’s their bait, their decoy, and he’ll be tied up, unarmed, and completely vulnerable to any kind of dangers, not to mention he has no idea how to fight in combat and, oh god, what if they can’t get to him in time and someone takes him out before they even have a chance to get close and-

 

 

Yoongi is going over their instructions for the mission one more time but Jeongguk isn’t listening, isn’t paying attention, can only think about how this mission is too dangerous for Taehyung, how he won’t be able to protect Taehyung, how he’ll have to see Taehyung die in front of his eyes and won’t be able to do anything about it.

 

 

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi snaps roughly, “Are you listening?” 

 

 

“No,” Jeongguk’s defiance acts out before his brain can stop it. “It’s too dangerous.”

 

 

Images of Taehyung’s limp, lifeless body slumped on a chair flash through Jeongguk’s mind, blood staining his torso, trailing down his fingertips, pooling at his feet - beautiful Taehyung with cold, unseeing eyes staring blankly at the floor below, mouth still open in a cry for help. A lump catches in Jeongguk’s throat and he has to blink back tears. 

 

 

“It’s too dangerous,” he mumbles, glaring at his feet, willing the emotions back down, and shaking his head. 

 

 

“It’ll be okay, Jeongguk,” Taehyung says, and Jeongguk startles because he hasn’t heard his name slip from Taehyung’s lips in so long. He had forgotten how beautiful it sounded in the lilt of Taehyung's voice. 

 

 

“No,” Jeongguk insists. “I'm not doing it. You’re going to get hurt, Taehyung,” Jeongguk says, straining to keep the plea from edging into his voice. 

 

 

Taehyung grabs Jeongguk by the shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, and Jeongguk freezes, feeling pinned down by Taehyung’s intense gaze. 

 

 

“Jeongguk, I trust you, okay? I know you’re not going to let anything hurt me, right?”

 

 

Jeongguk blinks back, terrified and defenseless. His mind screams "NO" but he finds himself breathing out a shaky, “Right.”

 

 

Taehyung nods stiffly, giving his shoulders a squeeze for good measure. “I believe in you.” 

 

 

But I don’t believe in myself.

 

 

Jeongguk manages to mutter out a weak, “Okay.”

 

 

Unable to take Taehyung’s faith any longer, Jeongguk flees the room, finding his way back to his own room to catch his breath and swallow the tears stinging at his eyes. On his way out, he hears Yoongi mumble a confused, “What’s his problem?” Jimin can only sigh in response. 

 

 

A few minutes later, Jeongguk hears a soft knock at his door. A quiet voice floats through the wood, “Can I come in?”

 

 

Jeongguk closes his eyes, counts to five, opens his eyes. 

 

 

“Yeah, sure.” His voice is deceptively steady. 

 

 

Taehyung pads into the room, barely making a noise, and the door closes with a muted click behind him. 

 

 

“What’s up,” Jeongguk mumbles gruffly, muscles already tensed, ready to escape. He forces himself to relax, to loosen up and take the defensive edge off of his voice, but it’s harder than he anticipated.

 

 

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, walking closer tentatively, as if he knows any sudden movements will spook Jeongguk, not unlike approaching a baby deer. 

 

 

“Of course I’m okay,” Jeongguk snaps, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

 

 

“I’m not sure," Taehyung murmurs, "but it seems like you’re not okay.”

 

 

Irritation flares through Jeongguk. Who the hell does Taehyung think he is?

 

 

Deep down, he maybe knows that Taehyung is right. He’s second-guessing himself, doubting everyone around him, challenging his own judgment and the judgement of those he had trusted wholeheartedly only a few days prior. There is nothing okay about the situation or how he’s feeling right now but he doesn't want to admit it. 

 

 

“I’m fine,” he says insistently, telling himself that he sounds more sure than he feels.

 

 

“It’s okay to be scared, you know?” Taehyung mumbles quietly, and Jeongguk chances a furtive glance at his face. He’s surprised to find that Taehyung isn’t looking at him but rather has his eyes trained on some spot on the floor that only he can see. He seems to be aiming the question at himself instead of Jeongguk. 

 

 

Something in Jeongguk’s heart softens and his stubbornness gives way ever so slightly. He exhales out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and his voice is much more gentle when he asks, “Is it?”

 

 

Taehyung, torn out of his trance, glances up at him, eyes piercing, brazen, defiant. The nearly insusceptible waver in his voice is the only indication of his uncertainty when he responds, “I think so.”

 

 

Jeongguk sighs. His confusion and anger has melted into a feeble resignation and he can’t bring himself to argue. 

 

 

“Maybe.”

 

 

Taehyung closes the remaining distance between them, never breaking eye contact, and when he whispers out a tender, “Jeongguk,” his fingers are reaching up to cup Jeongguk’s face, tenderly tracing against his skin, his voice almost crooning, “Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk…”

 

 

Jeongguk can’t help but close his eyes and lean into his touch, doesn’t think twice about it, his reaction reflexive and natural, the caress so familiar yet so foreign that it makes his heart ache. 

 

 

“You are so beautiful, you know that?”

 

 

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter open and he stares at Taehyung in surprise. It’s not quite what he expected to hear. 

 

 

Taehyung holds his gaze for a few beats of silence, eyes so unreadable yet completely vulnerable, and Jeongguk wants to say something, anything, because there are so many words aching to slip out of his lips but are held back by a bitten tongue and the fear of giving a part of himself away that he may never get back, hiding from the world, waiting, waiting, always waiting for a moment that will never come…

 

 

Suddenly, Taehyung closes the remaining distance separating them, leaning forward to press a desperate kiss against Jeongguk’s lips and Jeongguk’s body reacts automatically, fingers coming up to grip Taehyung’s face, tangling roughly in his hair, crushing Taehyung’s body against his own in a haze of frenzy. The hidden desperation tamped down in both of them become stripped and exposed and Jeongguk feels like his nerves have been lit on fire. 

 

 

The kiss only lass a few seconds but it feels like lifetimes and the sheer relief and euphoria that courses through his veins feels like ecstasy. Jeongguk tries to breathe in as much of him as he can but eventually Taehyung pulls away, the physical space opening up between them lambent with unspoken apologies and understanding and emotion. 

 

 

“Please don’t let me die,” Taehyung whispers against Jeongguk’s skin and Jeongguk realizes that Taehyung is just as terrified as himself, if not more, that he’s been putting up a brave front for everyone else. Himself included. 

 

 

Jeongguk curls around Taehyung’s trembling frame, suddenly feeling a fierce surge of protectiveness. Something in his chest hardens with resolve and his voice is steady when he promises, “I won’t.”

 

-----

 

The mask is itchy against Taehyung’s face and his nose twitches. He tries not to sneeze.

 

 

The rope binding his ankles and arms to the chair underneath him is rough. Namjoon had made sure not to tie his bonds too tightly but they still press persistently into his skin, as if reminding him that he's completely helpless. Anxiety rises in his chest but he manages to will it away. He trusts Jeongguk.

 

 

His mind drifts to their kiss and he blushes just thinking about it, his lips still tingling. 

 

 

Shadows are moving at the edges of the warehouse. The figures are dark and faceless but Taehyung can recognize their shapes - Jimin’s lithe body darting through the darkness, Jeongguk’s solid form moving swiftly along the wall. Yoongi is on a rooftop somewhere, waiting from afar. 

 

 

Taehyung’s eyes can’t help but follow Jeongguk. It's easy to forget how ruthless Jeongguk can be. He’s so used to seeing the uncertain and childish side of Jeongguk that he forgets how effortlessly he kills. Moving against the background of the warehouse, Jeongguk looks completely in his element - there’s no hesitation in his movements. From afar, he could be mistaken for a machine. 

 

 

Namjoon stands a few feet away from Taehyung, hand resting casually on the small handgun holstered at his waist. 

 

 

Eight men walk through the entrance and the room seems to still. Taehyung can no longer make out where Jeongguk and Jimin have gone in the periphery of the warehouse. The newcomers are dressed in all black and one is holding a large duffel bag filled with what Taehyung assumes to be cash. 

 

 

“Hello boys,” Namjoon says warmly, spreading his hands in a gesture of welcome. 

 

 

One of the men walks ahead of the remaining seven, as if to approach Taehyung, but Namjoon intercedes before he can get too close. 

 

 

The man juts his chin toward Taehyung. “Is that him?” His voice is coarse like sandpaper and Taehyung flinches. 

 

 

Namjoon gives a curt nod. The men hanging in the back chuckle amongst themselves but the man in the front doesn’t smile. “Take off his mask. We need to see his face. Assemblyman Oh likes his boys pretty.”

 

 

Taehyung’s skin burns uncomfortably. Why did he agree to this again?

 

 

Namjoon holds up a hand. “Now, now, before we get to that, we have some last minute conditions we need fulfilled in order to move forward with this transaction.”

 

 

The man frowns in confusion. “Conditions?”

 

 

Namjoon sighs, “The thing is, we don’t really approve of human trafficking. Nasty business, if you ask me. And as a frequent patron of this… industry, Assemblyman Oh has attracted our attention. Seeing as we do not endorse this kind of behavior, we would greatly appreciate if he would halt his participation immediately.” After a beat, for good measure, “Please.”

 

 

The man narrows his eyes and the seven men behind him slowly begin reaching for their weapons, realization dawning upon them. Taehyung swallows down his rising fear.

 

 

“How dare you-“

 

 

Namjoon interrupts him, “We’ve already compiled evidence of every single one of his past exploits. All of the information is ready to send to the press. Now imagine that headline. Assemblyman Oh Caught Purchasing Male Slaves for Personal Pleasure. It’s more than enough to ruin his career and he will undoubtedly face jail time. Out of respect for his service to our country, we will give him a chance to live. That is our mercy.”

 

 

“Why you little-“ The man reaches for his gun but Namjoon is quicker, raising his handgun and pointing it level at his head. 

 

 

“Last chance,” Namjoon says calmly. “We can still handle this nicely. Tell Assemblyman Oh to turn himself in. No amount of connections or money will save him from the incriminating evidence that we have. He will face the full extent of the law. If he tries to flee, we will kill him ourselves. This is the message we wish for you to relay to him. As a courtesy, we will leave one of you alive to do so. As for the rest of your men... I cannot guarantee their safety. You either die here with them and we leak everything to the press ourselves. Or you, and you alone, leave and tell Assemblyman Oh to turn himself in. We will give him five days to do so before we find and kill you both. Those are your two options. You may now choose.”

 

 

The man seems to contemplate the gravity of Namjoon’s words and the room seems to freeze for a few seconds, everyone holding their breaths. He looks as though he is about to nod when everything explodes into chaos.

 

 

Shouts ring through the air as the man holding the duffel back draws his gun, but Jimin is already behind him, blades flashing in the dim lighting, one cutting across his throat while the other jams deep into the crook of his neck. Both the bag and the man drop to the floor. 

 

 

A bullet seems to materialize out of thin air and pierces the chest of another man. 

 

 

Jeongguk moves fluidly through the tumult, dodging a stray bullet and shooting the man closest to him twice in quick succession, once in the head and once in the chest. He catches the falling body before it can hit the ground and uses it to shield himself as he aims at the man who is turned to aim at Jimin’s back. Three more gunshots ring out. Jimin whirls around to throw Jeongguk a grateful look but he’s already moved onto his next target, aiming and pulling the trigger without a moment of hesitation. One more body drops. 

 

 

Another one of Yoongi’s bullets makes its way into the skull of another man. Meanwhile, Jimin runs up to the person scrambling to grab the duffel bag, ducking when he whips around to throw a punch. Dropping low, he slashes his blades through the sinewy muscles of his shins. The man drops to his knees with a pained cry and Jimin immediately punches a blade upward through his jaw. He tugs it upward and uses the blade in his other hand to slash his throat. 

 

 

In the midst of the din, one of the few men remaining standing suddenly turns to look at Taehyung. Everyone is too distracted by the onslaught to notice but he seems to remember that Taehyung is still there. He begins to stalk over and small noises of panic rise in Taehyung’s throat, his mouth going dry. 

 

 

Fear bolts down his spine as the man raises the gun in his hand to aim at Taehyung's head. He opens his mouth to scream, body going numb with terror, but the man suddenly drops his gun before he gets a chance, a strangled wail tearing out of his throat as he looks down at his now-mangled hand. 

 

 

Taehyung looks over, heart pounding way too fast, and he sees Jeongguk standing a few dozen feet away, glowering with his glock raised. He looks absolutely terrifying, his eyes dark, tinted with a dangerous blood-lust and rage. 

 

 

Jimin steps in before he can get another shot in, coming up from behind and stabbing upwards from the base of the man’s skull. 

 

 

The commotion settles and the man still standing in front of Namjoon now has his hands raised. His face is contorted in anger but he knows he’s outnumbered. 

 

 

Namjoon sighs. “It seems like your men made the decision for you.”

 

 

The man’s eyes widen in desperation and he protests, “No! Wait, plea-“

 

 

Namjoon pulls the trigger, the loud bang cutting through the heavy air, and the pleads abruptly stop. 

 

 

Jimin walks over to Taehyung, wiping the blood on his hands onto the fabric of his pants, and Taehyung almost flinches away on instinct. 

 

 

“You okay?” Jimin asks, kneeling in front of Taehyung to untie his bonds, fingers deftly unknotting the ropes.

 

 

“I think so,” Taehyung says shakily, rubbing his freed wrists. 

 

 

Jimin laughs airily. “It's okay, you were never in any real danger,” he says, ruffling Taehyung’s hair, “We wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. You’re one of us now.” There’s a few specks of blood strewn on his left cheek and Taehyung can only laugh weakly. 

 

 

“You did great, Taehyung,” Namjoon says reassuringly from a few feet away.

 

 

A tiny smile breaks on Taehyung’s face at the praise. “With all of the data you were able to get for us, we’ll be able to to alert the media as soon as we get back. The story will get picked up immediately. The press is going to have a field day,” Namjoon says, chuckling hollowly. 

 

 

“Arrests will be made tomorrow at the latest,” Jimin adds. 

 

 

Taehyung moves to take off the mask but Namjoon stops him. “Let’s wait until we get you back to the compound first.” 

 

 

Taehyung nods in assent.

 

 

He turns to look around for Jeongguk but he’s gone, nowhere to be found. 

 

-----

 

The mission is over. 

 

 

Jeongguk is back in his room and the mission is over and Taehyung is okay. The mission is over and everyone is unhurt and they took out their targets and Taehyung is okay.

 

 

So why is he still shaking? 

 

 

Jeongguk screws his eyes shut and the feeling of terror that had seized his body when he pulled the trigger is still fresh in his blood. He knew he wouldn’t miss - he couldn’t even if he had tried - but Taehyung’s life was on the line and if he had missed… 

 

 

Something touches his shoulder and Jeongguk’s eyes startle open, body automatically tensing in defense. Taehyung’s brows are knotted in worry but the affection shines clearly in his eyes. Jeongguk stares back blankly, gaze unseeing and unfocused. 

 

 

He doesn’t even realize that he’s still holding onto his glock, fingers wrapped tightly around the familiar metal edges, unyielding and unflinching, until Taehyung reaches for his hand, gently down his knuckles and whispering, “It’s okay, Jeongguk. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

 

 

Taehyung patiently soothes Jeongguk, uncurling his stiff fingers one by one until he can lace his fingers in between Jeongguk’s and squeeze lightly. 

 

 

Jeongguk barely registers this, a mixture of relief, confusion, lingering terror churning furiously in his mind. Taehyung sees this and gently brings him back down with a soft, “Hey. Look at me, Jeonggukkie.”

 

 

Jeongguk wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. The uncertainty is back and he’s completely paralyzed and the unformed sentence gets stuck in his throat. Panic settles into the empty space and, instead of looking at Taehyung, he walks away. 

 

-----

 

Jeongguk finds Taehyung on the rooftop a few hours later. 

 

 

The sun is barely a sliver in the hazy horizon, a tiny glimmer of light slipping lower and lower to yield the darkness settling in from above. The skyline is aglow with the remnants of the fading sunlight and, in the twilight, stars are appearing one by one, faintly winking back into existence, almost as if saying "I’m still here!"

 

 

Taehyung is sitting with his back against the raised edge, facing the quickly sinking sun, head tilted back and eyes looking up. 

 

 

The sounds of life and civilization below them are slowly winding down, the occasional car driving by or pedestrian chatter faded by the onset of dusk. 

 

 

Without a word, Jeongguk sits himself down next to Taehyung, who doesn’t look away from sky. In fact, he makes no indication that he has even noticed Jeongguk’s arrival. But Jeongguk doesn’t mind. 

 

 

He tilts his his head back and looks up at the darkened sky, at the dim pinpricks of light scattered overhead. He breathes in the crisp air and it seems to clear his mind, a sharp clarity that cuts away at the fuzzy edges that cloud his brain, muddling his thoughts. 

 

 

They sit next to each other in silence for a few minutes. There’s something soothing about the quiet, something that calms and reassures, and Jeongguk savors the tranquility with a hint of relief. Just for a few moments, for a few serene moments, he can simply be.

 

 

Taehyung is the one who eventually breaks the silence. 

 

 

“I love watching the stars come out,” he murmurs pensively, his voice sounding far, far away. 

 

 

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, and he immediately flinches at how loud his voice rings in his own ears. 

 

 

“Yeah,” Taehyung continues, not noticing, his words almost dream-like. “The night sky is always so… beautiful.” 

 

 

Jeongguk can’t help the smile that tugs his lips, nodding slightly. “… So beautiful,” he echoes, except he’s no longer looking at the sky.

 

 

Taehyung hums, “Mhmm.” He sighs, “But it’s always so bright in Seoul. You can never get a good look at the stars.”

 

 

Jeongguk nods in agreement, silent.

 

 

After a few beats, Taehyung continues, his voice tinged with a faint amusement, “You know, one time, I shut down the Seoul power grid so that I could see a meteor shower.” 

 

 

“That was you?” Jeongguk turns to look at him, slightly awed.

 

 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up into a lopsided grin, a light flush coloring his cheeks, “Yeah.”

 

 

Jeongguk can’t help the begrudging respect growing within his chest. “There were a lot of rumors about who caused that and your name was definitely a strong contender but I never actually thought…You know, the city nearly fell apart that day!”

 

 

Taehyung winces, forcing out a weak chuckle, sheepish. “It was only for seven minutes… I just-I just wanted to see the falling stars.”

 

 

Jeongguk stares at Taehyung, looks at him. Really looks at him.

 

 

His gaze glances over the defiant jut of Taehyung’s chin, the slight clench in his jaw contrasting against the plushness of his lips crooked into a faint smile, notices the sharp curve of his jawline balancing the delicate arch of his cheekbones, takes in the soft lashes framing his deep eyes fringed gracefully by the fluffy hair that hangs down to graze his skin, meets the glimmer of a dare in his eyes, almost taunting him…

 

 

He’s so beautiful that Jeongguk finds it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but stare at Taehyung because, wow…

 

 

Jeongguk is barely aware of his own lips moving when he says, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

 

 

Taehyung leans in almost imperceptibly, teasing, “Am I?”

 

 

Jeongguk nods, breath catching in his throat. 

 

 

“Tell me how unbelievable I am,” Taehyung whispers, and Jeongguk swears Taehyung can see straight through his soul. 

 

 

There’s so much to say.

 

 

You’re insane.

 

 

Crazy.

 

 

Terrifyingly intelligent, even though you act like a child half the time.

 

 

I can never seem to keep up with what you’re going to do or say next and you make me so confused but in the most thrilling way.

 

 

I can never get enough of the sound of my name coming from your lips, I wish you would say it more.

 

 

You can break me down with a single look and if you asked me to deliver the world in my hand, I would go to the ends of the earth to do it.

 

 

You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on in my entire life and the thought of losing you terrifies me so much I don’t know how to act around you.

 

 

There’s so much to say, but it all sounds so insignificant in Jeongguk’s mind. 

 

 

“There are no words,” he finally admits, and he genuinely means it. Taehyung’s eyes darken and Jeongguk finds himself being pulled in, entranced, leaning closer and closer. 

 

 

“No words, huh?” Taehyung breathes out, except the words sound so intense in the dwindling space between them. Jeongguk swallows thickly, his heart beating wildly against his ribcage.

 

 

“Words don’t do you justice,” Jeongguk chokes out. 

 

 

Time seems to have frozen, the world slowing to a standstill around them. The air catches in Jeongguk’s lungs as he waits for everything to come crashing back at full speed, but it never comes and he’s stuck waiting, waiting, always waiting for a moment that will never come…

 

 

“Yeah?” It’s barely more than an exhale, a breath of air that brushes over Jeongguk’s lips, still frustratingly out of reach. 

 

 

A reckless surge of bravery is all it takes to tip Jeongguk over the edge.

 

 

“I think I might be in love with you.”

 

 

Taehyung tips forward, capturing Jeongguk’s lips in his own, and the universe seems to lurch back into motion. 

 

 

Something in Jeongguk’s stomach drops and he feels as if he’s free falling as the earth rotates another degree and one more star winks back into existence and the clarity in Jeongguk’s mind is so bright and sharp that it hurts and he breathes Taehyung in like he’s drowning, suffocated by his own love, tangles his fingers in Taehyung’s hair to pull him even closer even though there’s no more space between them but it’s not enough, it will never be enough. He gets lost in the sensation of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, and somewhere in the back of his head he thinks to himself, I could die right now and I wouldn’t mind.

 

 

Finally, Taehyung pulls away and Jeongguk can barely catch his breath but the emptiness is so jarring that when the quiet whine of protest escapes from his mouth, he can’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed. Taehyung’s eyes are glazed over with desire and adoration and Jeongguk’s chest swells with emotion. His fingers press insistently into Taehyung’s skin, impatiently tugging him back, but Taehyung brushes him off and Jeongguk sits back, feeling chastened.

 

 

Taehyung fixes Jeongguk with a glare.

 

 

“It’s about ing time.”

 

-----

 

A single, dull knock thuds against the heavy door, interrupting Jongin’s train of thought. He sighs, irritated.

 

 

“Enter.”

 

 

The door swings open a crack and a man walks through, head bowed in deference. “Sir…”

 

 

“You may speak,” Jongin says coldly, suppressing his annoyance at being disturbed. 

 

 

“We have evidence that Kim Taehyung is still alive, sir.”

 

 

Jongin’s impatience immediately vanishes, leaving in its wake a blazing fury edged with fear. I knew it. I knew he was still alive. He’s still out there, biding his time, plotting my downfall.

 

 

“What do you mean,” he grits out, spitting each word out like poison, “by evidence?”

 

 

A thick envelope is presented to him. He peels back the opening, the shake in his fingers barely detectable. Rage and dread boil through his veins but he stamps it down. Control yourself.

 

 

He slides out the stack of photographs inside. The first are a series of grainy pictures, taken in what looks to be an underground fighting ring. There’s a small figure in the center, arm raised above with a gun clutched in his hand. Jongin’s eye twitches. His visage is barely visible under the shadows of a hoodie but Jongin has spent too many nights dreaming about that face to forget it. It’s him.

 

 

He flips to the next set of pictures. This time, the same thin frame is sitting on a metal chair in a musty warehouse. His face is covered with a mask but Jongin recognizes those eyes, would recognize those eyes anywhere. He seems to be strapped to the chair, bound and weaponless, completely defenseless. Other shapes move throughout the backgrounds of the photographs, amorphous and unidentifiable. 

 

 

The last few pictures are much clearer. There are two figures sitting on a rooftop. The two faces are easily visible. One has been frequenting Jongin’s nightmares often enough for him to instantly recognize. The other catches him off guard. It takes Jongin a few minutes to figure out why he looks so familiar, but when the realization hits, an ugly satisfaction curdles in his chest.

 

 

“Bangtan, huh?” Jongin says lowly, eyes narrowing, “So that’s where you’ve been hiding out… It seems like the traitor’s son has made himself some new friends. Rather powerful friends, too, I might add. But not powerful enough…” 

 

 

“What would you like us to do, sir?” 

 

 

Jongin muses for a few seconds, a cold fury burning through his veins, slavering to be unleashed. 

 

 

“I want him in front of me. Alive."

 

 

“As you wish.” The man motions to leave but Jongin stops him with a hand.

 

 

“In the meantime, find out what building that rooftop belongs to.”

 

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

-----

 

“This is our city, freak.”

 

 

Taehyung glares back, wordless, white fingers wrapped tightly around a small pocketknife. Fear rises in his throat like bile, foul and acidic, but the anger bubbling inside him keeps him in place. Everywhere he goes, he’s reminded that he doesn’t belong.

 

 

The man looks Taehyung up and down, regarding him with thinly-veiled contempt. “You’re outmatched, so don’t even bother.”

 

 

Taehyung grits his teeth, knowing that he’s not wrong. 

 

 

“In fact, I’ll give you some advice, free of charge,” he says, smirking darkly. His voice drops suddenly, and the warning is really a threat, “Know your ing place before you get killed. 

 

 

He turns around to walk away, Taehyung’s hard-earned cash tucked into his back pocket, as if taunting him to do something about it. Taehyung stands rooted in place, tears stinging at his eyes, fingers clenching so tightly he thinks he might be drawing blood. 

 

 

Only when the man has walked completely out of sight does Taehyung fall to his knees, self-hatred swiftly replacing the terror that had paralyzed him. 

 

 

“Coward,” he whispers, vision blurry with tears. 

 

 

Suddenly, he’s free-falling through blackness and the scene changes. 

 

 

He’s cowering under a bed. His bed, he realizes a split second later. 

 

 

Well-buffed dress shoes click their way across the grimy floor, and Taehyung is struck by how out of place they seem. They’re too clean, too luxe, too polished. 

 

 

“The infamous fifth Kim,” an unfamiliar voice says coldly. “So this is how far from grace you’ve fallen.” He lets out a disappointed tsk. “It’s a real shame. If only you hadn’t betrayed us, it wouldn’t have had to come to this… Look at yourself. Selling drugs to get by. What a waste. Your skills could have been so much better utilized.”

 

 

“I’d rather live like this than be used like a pawn again,” his father snarls. 

 

 

The stranger tuts, “Have you suddenly developed a conscience? It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? How many years has it been now? Twenty-five? Thirty?”

 

 

“Thirty three,” his father grits out, voice heavy with regret. “Thirty three corrupt and blood-filled years of unnecessary violence and slaughter against anyone who spoke out or got in our way. Thirty three years of pretending to be gods, disregarding innocence and justice, cutting down countless human lives for our personal gain and amusement. Is that living? 

 

 

“It was… until you betrayed us,” the man hisses, his voice suddenly turning sharp and dangerous. “We’ve had to claw our way back to the top after everything you did. After you killed my father.”

 

 

“Out of all the deaths I have caused, his is one of the few I do not regret,” Taehyung’s father says, satisfaction evident.

 

 

“BASTARD!” 

 

 

A slap rings through the dingy room and Taehyung flinches silently. 

 

 

“Please,” Taehyung’s mother’s voice rings out, pleading, “Don’t hurt him.” Taehyung hears the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and his mother gasps. 

 

 

“Honey, stay out of this,” his father says tightly, “Let me handle this.”

 

 

The stranger laughs mirthlessly, “Listen to your worthless piece-of-trash of a husband, miss. I would hate to have to shoot you too.” 

 

 

“Leave her out of this, Jongin,” Taehyung’s father says slowly, cautiously, “You came here for me. This is between us.”

 

 

Jongin seems to mull over his words. “You know what,” he says, amused, “I take that back.”

 

 

A gunshot rings out, harsh and unforgiving, cutting short an anguished scream, and the body of Taehyung’s mother thuds to the floor, slacken face pressing against the dirtied wooden floorboards. Dark, viscous liquid pools under her lifeless form. Her blank, empty eyes stare straight at a horrified Taehyung. 

 

 

Taehyung force himself to stifle his scream, wanting to unsee the terrible sight in front of him but unable to look away. His heart is pounding so loud in his ears that he’s surprised he hasn’t been found yet. 

 

 

His father’s words still echo hollowly in his ears: “Stay hidden and quiet, no matter what. Do not come out until I tell you to.”

 

 

Now, his father lets out a roar of unbridled fury, but another gunshot rings out, quick and ruthless, silencing him. The yell dies in his throat as his body crumples to the floor like a house of cards. 

 

 

Jongin sniffs in distaste. His voice drips with disgust when he says, “To think that my father died at the hands of such useless scum. What a shame.”

 

 

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, suppressing the sobs that are rising in his chest, wishing to be anywhere else except here. 

 

 

Suddenly, the scene dissolves and he’s plunging through the darkness again. 

 

 

When the world stops spinning around him, panic immediately lances down his body. His palms are sweaty and his fingers struggle for purchase against the empty glass beer bottle in his hand.

 

 

An unfamiliar face leers in front of him, taunting, “Oh please, like you’ll actually start fighting back for once in your life.”

 

 

Taehyung’s chest heaves and he’s out of breath. A bead of sweat drips off his brow. He doesn’t move but his fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle. 

 

 

The man smirks, letting out a dry laugh, “Of course, little Tae Tae will never put up a fight.” 

 

 

Taehyung grits his teeth, anger burning through his veins, but the fear gripping his heart keeps him rooted in place. 

 

 

“Just hand over the money and everything will be fine.”

 

 

Taehyung shakes his head tersely. “No,” he whispers. It’s barely audible but the man seems taken aback. The surprise only lasts for a split second. 

 

 

Before Taehyung can even react, he’s being slammed back against the wall behind him, the sharp edge of a knife pressed threateningly against the soft part of his throat. 

 

 

“Unfortunately, boss doesn’t take no for an answer,” the man growls out, “So either you give it to me now or I take it from your dead body. Your choice.”

 

 

Taehyung’s fingers scrabble to find the money tucked in his back pocket and he shoves it into the man’s hands. “Take it,” he spits, the words bitter on his tongue. 

 

 

The blade retracts and Taehyung is released. The man laughs, voice dripping with contempt, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

 

Taehyung burns with shame and self-hate.

 

 

“ing coward."

 

 

The rage bubbling deep within Taehyung suddenly rises with alarming intensity and he sees red. His mind shuts down, his body going into autopilot, and his arm is swinging before he can stop himself, the glass bottle shattering against the man’s skull. Shards of glass rain down against his shocked face, the light in his eyes suddenly going dull.

 

 

Without hesitation, Taehyung shoves what remains of the broken bottle into the man’s gut, jamming it as deep as it will go. Blood runs slick against his hands as he draws the bottle back and stabs it in again, and again, and again. Shallow gasps choke out hot and heavy against Taehyung’s shoulder but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop, can’t see anything but red and the voice in his head is chanting: survive, survive, stay alive, coward, , survive, survive, coward…

 

 

He can’t stop shaking, even when he finally staggers away, the blood-coated glass dropping to the floor with a muted tink. His fingers are trembling, covered in thick, red blood. He falls to his hands and knees, dry-heaving even though nothing is coming up, retching up only bile, shock and terror and panic threatening to overwhelm him. He’s never killed a person with his own hands before and the gravity of what he’s just done is enough to suffocate him. 

 

 

He slumps against the wall behind him, choked cries clawing their way out of his throat. His fingers come up to grasp at his hair, pulling in a desperate effort to bring him back to reality, but he only ends up getting more blood everywhere. The unmoving body in front of him does not miraculously disappear and he can only sob. 

 

 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Make it stop, make it stop, please, make it stop…

 

 

Taehyung jerks awake from his dreams, his body covered in a sticky sheen of sweat. He’s back in his room, his sheets twisted around his limbs in a frenzied manner. His heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest and nausea swells within him. 

 

 

The feeling is all-too-familiar. His brain is fuzzy, staticky, but he forces himself to stumble his way to the bathroom, shaky fingers locking the door behind him. His breathing speeds up as he struggles to catch his breath, his chest heaving with the effort, but his lungs seemed to be punctured, the rapid gulps of air doing nothing to calm him down. His fingers begin to tingle.

 

 

Get a grip, he thinks to himself, but he knows it’s useless. 

 

 

This isn’t the first time he’s had a panic attack. They started when he was fifteen. Right around the time after his parents had dropped dead in front of his eyes. 

 

 

But he thought he was getting better, thought he had them under control. For a period of time, maybe he did. The paranoia and the nightmares had started to fade - maybe he started caring less, maybe he had gotten used to the feeling of always having a target on his back, maybe he was starting to believe the lies he told everyone else. Whatever the reason, his panic attacks had started to go away. 

 

 

Taehyung thought he had things under control. But he hadn’t planned on falling for Jeongguk. He hadn’t planned on getting attached to anything, anyone. He thought it might be okay, to let himself indulge, have his fun after so many years of running. 

 

 

But old habits are hard to shake and the panic is setting in again. 

 

 

Why do you always do this to yourself?

 

 

The crippling wave of terror that rolls through his body makes rips a weak cry from his throat. His eyes sting with tears and he tries to slow his breathing but he doesn’t have control over his own body anymore and his mind is running wild.

 

 

“Taehyung?” Seokjin’s gentle voice calls out. A light knock. “You okay in there?”

 

 

“I’m okay,” he manages to eke out, voice trembling, acutely aware of how un-okay he sounds. “Just leave me alone… please.”

 

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, telling himself that he needs to calm down, but his body isn’t responding. He tries to reason with his mind but the voices in his head drown him out. He doesn’t know how long he’s in there, loses all track of time, only focuses on trying to keep the darkness away.

 

 

Everyone wants you dead. You cause nothing but trouble. No one wants you here. You’re a liar and a coward. If they knew who you really were…

 

 

There’s another soft tap at the door. 

 

 

“Taehyung?” Jeongguk’s voice floats through the door hesitantly, “C-Can I please come in?”

 

 

Taehyung sobs quietly. He can’t move - his muscles and joints ache from being so tense and everything is going numb. He feels like he’s dying, is convinced that he’s dying, because he can’t breathe and can’t feel anything except the panic paralyzing his body and he needs help except he can’t even more to let someone in, can’t even open the door, can’t even get up, can’t even breathe.

 

 

He manages a strangled gurgle. 

 

 

Jeongguk takes that as a yes. Immediately, his fingers are flying over the locked door, picking the lock open in under fifteen seconds. He opens the door with a steady hand. 

 

 

His heart breaks when he sees Taehyung curled up on the floor, hyperventilating and crying at the same time, choking on his tears and the air catching in his chest. He seems impossibly fragile - like a single forceful exhale might shatter him. 

 

 

“I’m going to come in now, okay?” Jeongguk says quietly from the doorway. “If you don’t want me to, make a sound.” 

 

 

Taehyung cries quietly but he makes no indication of protest. 

 

 

“Okay,” Jeongguk says, voice even and level, “I’m going to walk over and put my arms around you. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

 

 

Still no sign. 

 

 

With a small exhale, Jeongguk shuffles forward slowly and kneels down next to Taehyung’s shaking frame. Tentatively, he puts his arms around Taehyung and pulls him flush against his body. Taehyung’s muscles are stiff underneath his fingers, hardened into their current position and wracked with heaving sobs and gasps. 

 

 

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers, pressing his head against Taehyung’s, gentle but firm, “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

 

 

A memory flashes through Jeongguk's mind.

 

 

A few weeks after he had joined Bangtan, he suddenly found himself crying so hard that he couldn’t even breathe, doubt and fear and frustration swirling with the dangerous thoughts in his mind, threatening to pull him under. You’re never going to be good enough, no one actually wants you around, your mother abandoned you, your father never loved you, people only keep you around because they pity you.

 

 

His body had completely frozen and he had lost all ability to control his own movements, his own breathing, his own thoughts. Jimin had ended up walking in on him and he hadn’t been able to make himself stop crying, couldn’t wipe away his tears and pretend like everything was okay. At the time, he had been too worried that he was experiencing what death felt like to worry about Jimin making fun of him.

 

 

Except Jimin had simply sat down with his back pressed against Jeongguk’s, hadn’t said anything, had just let Jeongguk cry because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. They just sat there like that. For as long as Jeongguk needed. And when Jeongguk had finally stopped crying, Jimin had stood up, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “They didn’t deserve you, you know?” And walked out of the room. Neither of them have mentioned it ever since. In fact, Jeongguk’s not even entirely sure if it actually happened. But he knows it did. 

 

 

Jeongguk suddenly remembers all of this. He remembers how Jimin had grounded him, had been patient with him. He remembers how terrified he had felt. 

 

 

“It’s okay, Taehyung,” Jeongguk whispers into Taehyung’s hair. 

 

 

Taehyung seems to fall apart under his fingertips, crumpling into his embrace, stiff fingers coming up to grip the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt with a quiet sort of desperation as he buries his face into Jeongguk’s chest, trembling breaths puffing against Jeongguk’s pounding heart.

 

 

With hesitant fingers, Jeongguk reaches up to Taehyung’s hair soothingly, fingers gliding smoothly through the soft strands. 

 

 

“It’s okay.”

 

 

They stay like that until Taehyung runs out of tears. Eventually, the shaking stops and his muscles slowly unclench and the tension in his body gradually unknots and he can finally - finally - breathe evenly again. 

 

 

Taehyung makes no effort to move from Jeongguk’s arms, completely spent and slumping weakly against Jeongguk’s chest, sniffling feebly. Jeongguk continues to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, mumbling, “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything is okay…” 

 

 

After what feels like an eternity, Taehyung finally pulls away. He refuses to meet Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 

 

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs. He reaches out gingerly to cup Taehyung’s face. Taehyung’s gaze flickers toward Jeongguk and darts away immediately, but not before Jeongguk can see the pain in his eyes. His heart aches - Taehyung is here, in front of him, in his arms, but the gap that seems to separate them from each other feels like it stretches for lightyears. 

 

 

“Look at me, Tae,” Jeongguk whispers, voice tight. “Please.”

 

 

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, bottom lip quivering. A few beats of silence pass. 

 

 

When he finally opens his eyes and turns his face to meet Jeongguk’s gaze, a single tear slips out of the corner of his eye, trailing its way slowly down face. Jeongguk’s heart gives a painful squeeze and he brushes his thumb over Taehyung’s cheek, grazing over the path of wetness left on his skin, trying to convey all of his love into that one, tender movement. 

 

 

“I’m here, Taehyung. I am here for you. I love you and I am never leaving your side. Do you hear me?” 

 

 

The first time Jeongguk had ever held a gun in his hands, had aimed a weapon at his target and pulled the trigger, had nailed the bulls-eye with deadly accuracy and felt the surge of power and absolute control sluice through his veins like a drug, he had known with absolute conviction that this what what he was meant to do in his life. The rush of vindication was unlike anything he had ever felt before. For once in his life he was sure of himself. 

 

 

That feeling pales in comparison to the way Jeongguk feels right now. The relief and certainty that he feels in his heart when he silently swears that he will never leave Taehyung, that he loves him with every fiber of his being, leaves him breathless and dizzy and terrified and euphoric all at once. 

 

 

Taehyung seems to wither at his words, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head even harder. I don’t deserve this, he thinks to himself. I don’t deserve your love.

 

 

“No….” he whispers weakly, broken and numb. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll leave eventually. Just watch. Everyone leaves eventually.”

 

 

Jeongguk almost lets out a small laugh, even though there is nothing funny about the situation. He is simply suddenly struck by how broken both of them are. 

 

 

“I won’t. I promise," he says fiercely. 

 

 

Taehyung shakes his head softly, voice cracking, “You don’t even know who I am…”

 

 

“You’re wrong,” Jeongguk grits out. “I know who you are, Taehyung. I know who you are and I love you.”

 

 

Taehyung shakes his head even harder and the tears start flowing again. “You don’t, Jeon Jeongguk. You have no idea who I am.” 

 

 

Jeongguk draws Taehyung in even closer and Taehyung lets him, burying deeper into Jeongguk’s embrace as if he can hide from the truth. A sharp pain stabs through Jeongguk’s heart as he realizes that Taehyung might be right. He doesn't really know who Taehyung is. He knows nothing about his past, knows nothing about his life, knows nothing about the man in his arms except the same limited knowledge the rest of the world seems to have. And yet, he can't help but love him.

 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeongguk finds himself whispering. “I still love you. I’ll always love you.”

 

 

Taehyung can only cry silently in response, fingers clutching Jeongguk feebly.

 

 

“I will never leave you,” Jeongguk mumbles against Taehyung’s skin. 

 

 

Taehyung swallows thickly, something in his chest squeezing painfully. His lungs feel like they are full of water and he can hardly breathe but he can feel the strength and certainty in Jeongguk’s words. 

 

 

Guilt wracks through Taehyung, but he ignores the feeling, shoving down the bitter pricks of remorse even though he knows he deserves the pain. 

 

 

He looks up and stares into Jeongguk’s unwaveringly earnest eyes. The icy shame that slips down his spine gives way to the fiery desperation burning persistently in his chest. He breathes out, “You promise?”

 

 

Jeongguk looks down at Taehyung, at the person he has not know for over three moons, a complete stranger, a liar, a thief, a murderer. Red warning lights flash in his brain wailing "DANGER!" and every bone in his body screams at him to run away and never look back. But his stubborn heart prevails above all and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he would follow Taehyung to the ends of the earth. 

 

 

“I promise.”

 

 

Jeongguk leans forward into the abyss, terror and desire coursing through his veins, and their lips crash together with the force of two universes colliding. Through the haze of greed and passion and reckless abandon, Jeongguk thinks to himself with absolute certainty that he has never felt more sure of anything in his life. 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note:

It's been so long since I've posted - life has been picking up and I've been busy. But I always find myself coming back to this fic, no matter how long I step away from it. It might take me a while, but I will finish it. Eventually. Everything is planned out, I just have to finish writing it.

At this point, I don't even know if anyone is still reading/will read this story. But if you have read it up until this point, I really do hope you enjoy it.

<3