The wintry chill cutting beneath the lazy breeze was Jimin's only company as he splashed through the puddles of filth gathered in the dips in the asphalt beneath his feet. He probably should've enlisted one of his soldiers to accompany him but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when the only people he wanted to bring were the only ones he couldn't.
Hoseok had disappeared the day after the discovery of Jungkook's ring. Jimin had seen the glazed over look in his eyes as he'd told him the news, the agony hiding just beneath his usually cheery surface. Now no one knew where he was or what he was doing.
And Taehyung.
Sweet, innocent Taehyung who had lost himself all over again the second Jimin pressed that ring into his hand. The older boy could hear the tortured sobs that slipped from his room when he thought no one was listening, the crashes of furniture shattering, the nightmares he woke up screaming from. He hadn't left his room since. And Jimin, who usually was his favorite confidant after Jungkook himself, didn't know what to do to get him to open up.
So here he was, walking through the crisp afternoon air, on his way to check out the disturbance one of the casinos under his protection had reported on the edge of their territory, his only companions the gun strapped to his side and the knife tucked into his belt. It was as much nostalgia as he would allow himself to admit to.
Jimin slipped a hand down to the gun at his side out of habit as he recognized the street the alley he'd chosen to take opened up into, remembering how these buildings looked like in the glow of hazy neon lights, the kaleidoscope of alcohol and tears blurring his vision. He hated this place. And yet, he still forced himself to walk closer.
Right away he heard the distant yet distinct sound of voices spilling out from the old parking lot wedged into the corner. A convenience store used to stand in the front, but the casino and brothel down the street quickly chased away all their domestic customers and rendered it useless so it was reduced to the sad pile of rubble the locals had taken to nicknaming the Mountain. As the point where three gangs' territories collided, there weren't many families that lived here so it was pointless to keep it kid-friendly.
Hesitance bled through his determination as the voices grew louder, tinged with the impossible to miss shade of anger.
Peering carefully around the edge of the Mountain, Jimin came to an abrupt stop, a fire igniting in the pit of his stomach.
Five men were faced off against each other, seeming to be divided into two groups. But Jimin's attention was drawn to the black-haired male in the middle. Even with his back to him, he automatically recognized the outline. It was impossible not to. It was the same one that had haunted his dreams for the last week.
"... maybe someone else should be in charge now," one of the younger boys was saying. "You've held onto this territory for too long. It's time to pass it on."
Jimin could hear the black-haired boy's snarl from all the way across the parking lot, the low warning ringing through the air. "You've got some nerve. Why do you think I've had this land for so long, huh? It's because I show no mercy toward those that try to take it away from me. And I'll be damned if you think you're any exception."
Jimin had had enough of this. His finger tightening around the trigger of his gun, he stalked out from behind the mountain of rubble and aimed the weapon straight up into the air, silencing the feuding gangs' arguing with a ringing shot.
A dangerous smirk found a home on his face at the way they jumped away from him.
"Don't stop on my account," Jimin drawled as he came to stand in the open. "I rather like watching quarrels turn into bloodsheds."
The black-haired boy turned to face him at last, his features arranged in an unreadable expression. Was that a glint of fear dancing in his midnight eyes? Shock? Anger? He'd always been so good at hiding his emotions. It made Jimin want to tear his walls down brick by brick, analyzing every crevice, exploring every secret he concealed behind it. He wanted to watch him come undone at his touch.
Jimin locked eyes with Yoongi across the parking lot, ignoring the slight shudder that went down his spine as they held each other's gazes. This was the person responsible for his boss's death, the mastermind behind the betrayal that nearly wound him in jail, the obsession he'd watched Jungkook lose his mind over for years. And yet...
There was something so darkly alluring about him.
"This doesn't concern you," a member of the opposing gang snapped, striding toward Jimin. A sick smile that made Jimin's stomach constrict crept its way up his face the closer he got to him, his greedy gaze devouring every bit of Jimin's body. "Although I wouldn't mind continuing this conversation after we're done here..."
Yoongi barely felt the small bursts of pain from every place his fingernails were digging into his skin. "Leave him alone," he found himself saying before he'd given his mouth the permission. "This is between us. No need to involve the Purgatory."
Jimin's head snapped toward Yoongi. He'd betrayed them. Jabbed a knife into their backs, fitted the blade between their rib cages and twisted until they saw stars and were gasping for air. He'd blown up the facility, leaving Jungkook to die among the flames without a backward glance. He'd trapped Jimin in the impossible decision of choosing what to save - his friends, his boss, or his reputation.
But the worst crime of all was how he'd made a fool of him.
All those sideways glances, the winks he dropped when no one else was watching, the slanting smirks he reserved only for him... Jimin hated how he'd almost fooled himself into thinking he'd changed. Hated the butterflies that had exploded in his chest every time their eyes met. Hated himself for not being able to shake Yoongi's affect on him.
There was only one way to make it stop.
One way to even the score Yoongi had destroyed when he'd blown up that facility.
A flicker of surprise flashed across Yoongi's face as Jimin aimed his gun at his chest.
"You already made damn sure I was involved," Jimin spat between clenched teeth. His jaw ached as he ground his teeth tighter in time with his growing fury, but he hardly felt the pain. It was hard to feel anything past the burning desire to bury the bullet in Yoongi's heart and end it once and for all-
"Put the gun down," a cold voice said from his side just as Jimin felt the cool metal of a gun barrel being pressed against his head.
Remaining perfectly still, Jimin carefully sliding his gaze over toward the Cobra he'd overlooked. How had he been stupid enough to forget about him?
Not satisfied with Jimin's lack of cooperation, the Cobra slammed the barrel into his temple, nearly knocking Jimin off his feet. The shorter boy stumbled with the force of the impact, stars swimming across his vision. His gun flew from his hand, skidding across the empty lot uselessly.
"I thought I told you to put the gun down," the soldier growled.
A muscle feathered in Jimin's jaw as he stared at the ground beneath him, well aware of the gun's insistent presence against the side of his head. "If you're going to kill me, do it," Jimin snarled, digging his fingers into the asphalt, not caring about the sharp pains racing up his arms. His upper lip curled back from his teeth as he met the gaze of his attacker. He refused to spend his final moments cowering on the ground. "Shoot me."
The members of the gang shifted uneasily, not sure what to do with the unanticipated display of violence.
The Cobra ignored Jimin completely. "Your call, boss," he said, flicking his eyes up toward Yoongi.
The Arsonist said nothing as he knelt beside the silver-haired boy, drinking in the sight of the new boss trapped on the ground. He held his fate in his hand. All it would take is one nod from Yoongi and Bambam would pull the trigger and then his short-lived fantasy about the younger would be just that - short-lived.
But there was a part of Yoongi that would be sad to see the other boy die.
Slipping a finger underneath Jimin's chin, Yoongi forced the younger to look at him. Jimin's skin burned beneath the other boy's touch. He longed to melt into it, to chase it all the way down to the source of this infernal desire, but his heart reminded his body of all the reasons he couldn't. Those same strong hands were the ones stained with his best friend's murder.
The hatred building up inside him, Jimin lashed out suddenly, twisting to snap at Yoongi's hand.
Yoongi only smirked as he felt Jimin's teeth graze his knuckles. He tightened his grip around his jaw, his fingers digging into the younger boy's soft skin painfully, unyielding. Realizing there was no escape until Yoongi allowed it, Jimin brought his eyes up to the black-haired boy's, glowering darkly.
"I think he's of much better use alive," Yoongi murmured. His breath was hot against Jimin's neck.
Jimin hated the goosebumps that rose at his nearness.
He hated everything about himself when he was around Yoongi.
Reaching for one last attempt to break Yoongi's vice-like hold on him, Jimin spat at the older boy's face, a burst of satisfaction creeping through his chest as he watched the surprise flit across the other boss's face. "I am not something for you to use," Jimin growled.
The corner of Yoongi's mouth quirked upward. He turned away from Jimin, picking up his discarded gun as he got back to his feet, turning to face his soldier. "Let him go," he said. "He's not what we came for."
It was the response he wanted, but Jimin couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as he staggered to his feet. Even with the thirst to avenge his fallen boss, his friend, Yoongi didn't consider Jimin a threat. He wasn't enough to even get a thinly veiled threat.
"We'd love to take him off your hands," the man that had eyed Jimin earlier drawled, dropping one of his eyes into a wink in Jimin's direction.
Yoongi's nostrils flared dangerously. Before Jimin even had the chance to think about sinking his knife into his neck, Yoongi had already shot him right between the eyes with Jimin's gun. His fellow gang members took reflexive steps backward as their comrade slumped to the ground.
"Every one of you who thinks they can just trespass into my territory and crown themselves the king will end up just like him." A deadly fire blazed in Yoongi's gaze as he searched for opposition. "Who wants to be next?"
When he was met with none, he raised the barrel of the gun to his lips, softly blowing away the wisps of smoke leaking from the weapon, a smile playing on the edges of his mouth. All it took was one sharp look for his soldier to leave Jimin's side and fall in beside him.
"Wait!" Jimin called after the retreating boss.
The Arsonist paused in his tracks, but he did not turn.
"Give me back my gun."
Yoongi let out a low chuckle as he finally twisted toward Jimin. He lifted the gun thoughtfully, examining the steel surface as if he were deeming its worth. "I think I'll keep it," he said at last, tucking it safely in his belt. A shudder raced down Jimin's spine as they locked eyes. "Think of it as a reminder."
Jimin loathed the powerlessness of the question, but the curiosity was killing him. "A reminder of what?"
A feral grin slashed across his face as he looked back at Jimin. "You owe me."