A/N: AYO IT'S A DOUBLE UPDATE
GRAB SUM POPCORN AS U READ 🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿
~~~~~
Murder.
It's the first thought that thunderbolts in your head after you cut the call with Sam. How by then, every ounce of hatred you had for him is intensified to the maximum.
His words unfurl in your head like an echo while you try your best not to hyperventilate. Think, Y/N, think.
As melodramatic as it sounds, you're willing to die for your dad. Better you than him. That, however, doesn't mean you won't fight back. Of course you will. It's not a choice.
But Sam wants something from you. Something that you clearly don't have: The file.
The goddamn file. It has to be.
For a brief moment, you considered shaking Jungkook awake. Since he's in the mafia, he would probably know a better strategy to get you out of this mess. But is this man even in the mafia?
Then again, you know nothing about him.
But from his house, to his cars, and to his level of sophistication, Jungkook clearly isn't an ordinary employee at a McDonald's.
On another note, involving Jungkook in your matters will only make things more complex. Because last time you checked, Sam wanted Jungkook dead. So maybe keeping him out of this would be for his own good.
You turn to the clock that ticks sharp 12:15 am.
Panic swells in your chest, and you place the phone down before glancing at Jungkook. He's asleep, his cherry-rounded lips parted like a baby. You envy his calmness while you, on the other hand, are in the middle of a freaking life crisis.
Damn him.
Turning away, you grab your bag from the night-stand, clumsily pulling out a khaki coat and cargo pants that Taehyung had brought you.
Even in a state of distress, you take a second to admire his amazing sense of fashion.
Clumsily, you change in the bathroom before tactlessly dumping several pillows under the blankets on your bed so Jungkook thinks you're asleep. Hopefully, he doesn't notice the lack of movement and sound under these sheets.
You've been told you sound like a dying cow while you snore.
But of course he doesn't know that. Cringing at the thought, you tippy-toe towards Jungkook's suitcase beneath the window sill. You need a gun.
You rummage around it, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sight of brand new Calvin Klien boxers. Ignoring them, you finally spot a metallic gun inside the netted pocket of the suitcase.
Grabbing it, you tuck the weapon in your waist strap, wincing at the coldness pressing against your heated skin. You jolt to a stand, tying your damp hair up into a high ponytail before slipping on sneakers that are a size big for you.
Then slipping Sam's flip-phone in your coat pocket, you silently leave the room, not before pausing to take one last look at Jungkook. You could have sworn he just moved.
Stressfully, you scrutinize him quietly, arriving at a random thought that weighs you down harder than you thought it would.
This is probably the last time you'll ever see him.
It takes a solid minute of staring, a visual farewell crunched in your eyes until you shrug. It's not like you treasured a good relationship with him.
Quite the opposite, actually. Then why the heck are you finding it so hard to leave?
Just go, you idiot.
Without a fleeting thought, you swirl out the door, shutting it as softly as possible.
Then knowing you have only seven minutes on the clock, you bolt down the hallway, heart beating rapidly in your chest. On your way out, you spot the receptionist behind the desk who smiles at you with a rum guise of smugness.
It's like she thinks you're heading straight for a cheese trap.
You don't give her the attention. Clutching the phone in your pocket, you make it out of the hotel, making sure to exit through the back so Yoongi doesn't catch you sneaking away.
It's cold out here, although you're convinced each breath of white-puffed cloud from your mouth is a combination of fright and rage. You clutch your coat closer to your chest, jogging through the dimly lit avenue that seems forever long.
A couple of minutes in and you reach a 7 Eleven store, the bright neon lights of the title dazzling your droopy eyes. You squint, abruptly feeling a shadow of a person shift to your left.
Turning, you glance back at the 24-hours open sign of the store, catching the reflection of a man on the glass frame. You gulp down a lump in your throat.
Whoever the man is, somehow wants you to know that you're being followed. Simply because no one in the right mind would stalk someone behind a glass door.
Unless, of course, this one's a total wackadoodle. Was that even a word?
Fear glitters in when a flash of bilberry-blue swipes across the corner of your vision, a sudden low rumble of a voice ahead.
"Going somewhere, Red?"
Your blood drains in your veins at the sound of Jungkook's voice.
You turn, watching him lean against a street lamp with his hands folded to his chest. He's still in his blue silk gown, his exposed chest glistening royal-sepia from the moonlight.
It's simply illegal to look this good in a nightgown.
He's staring down at you coldly, unshaken by the cold that you're being such a baby about. Sentences warped in your throat, you can only stare back with a mouth hung open.
"How... how did you—"
"A little tip," he interrupts. "The next time you try to escape, don't be so damn obvious about it."
Your cheeks turn pink, but you try not to look away. Play it cool, Y/N!
"I needed a walk," you say. "I couldn't sleep."
Your lie is transparent. Jungkook sees right through it, eyes narrowing down at your waist. "Is that why you stole my gun?"
Dang it.
This time, you look away, wracking your brain for a valid excuse. "Um... well... I needed it for self-defense," you say, fiddling with your fingers. "It's not safe for a girl to walk alone at—"
"Get back inside," he grunts, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his temper.
"Take your own advice and leave," you say, trying to cooly walk past him but to no avail.
He grabs your forearm, and you wince, smacking his hand away. "Don't touch me," you snap. "I have somewhere to go."
Jungkook raises a brow at you, taking a step close. "And where would that be?"
"Sam," you blurt out. "He has Jihoon—My dad. He has my dad. I need to go. Let me go," you babble, trying to walk away again. He hovers before you, blocking your way.
To think he would be disquieted by any of this was an overstatement. He only snickers at you dryly, grip tightening on your arm. "And you believe him?" He asks. "You seriously believe him, Red?"
"Yes!" You hiss bitterly. "I heard my dad's voice. Now let me go!" You twist away but he grabs your arm securely this time.
"You're not leaving," he snarls. "It's a trick. Are you stupid? He isn't—"
"No!" You spit. "He has Jihoon!" You drive your fist against his hard chest, but he doesn't budge.
Only—the belt of his silk gown undoes, briefly revealing his toned abs before he swiftly covers the fabric over him.
While he's fiddling with the strap of his nightgown, you try to sprint away, but he's in front of you again, ready to fight you for all it takes. You slip your hand behind, pulling the gun out from your strap before pointing it at his nose.
He seemed slightly surprised by your move. But soon, his lips tug upwards in a sense of ridicule, as if the gun in your hand shot fart bombs instead of bullets.
Although that would be pretty funny, you think, wracking your dirty brain for imagining that.
"You won't shoot," says Jungkook, head tilting to the side in amusement. "You're not capable of it."
Anger roils your gut. "Oh yeah?" You say, pressing the tip harder to his nose. "Try me," you challenge.
Blink and Jungkook snatches the gun from your hands. Gasping, you turn away, pointing his own gripped gun at his arm around your waist. But not wanting to hurt him severely, you angle it slightly away so it'll only cause a scrape.
You pull the trigger.
A loud boom fires and Jungkook lets out a strangled groan, his hands losing their grip over your waist. But even in pain, his fingers grip the belt of your coat, not daring to let you go.
"I...," he grits out, jaw clenched with the pain arousing from his wound, "...really fucking hate you, Red," he spits.
You freeze, guilt-stricken. Maybe it wasn't much of a scratch after all.
"Sorry," you say softly, slipping your hand inside your coat pocket to pull out money and the Haribo candy Junghyun had given you. Careful not to hurt him, you place the items in Jungkook's hand, curling his fingers around it.
"You'll find bandages at 7-Eleven. I-I have to go. I'm sorry." you prattle, stepping away from him. Jungkook's breathing shallows, his agony aching for you to help. You wish you could, but you just... can't.
He'll be fine, Y/N.
Without another look, you turn, sprinting away from the man who flipped your life into a seemingly unrealistic twist of hell. You don't blame Jungkook though. It's not entirely his fault.
But your family comes first. And Jihoon is the only family you've got. You don't turn, knowing that if you see Jungkook's condition right now, you might go back for him.
As you run, you spot a black Limo by the grill place Sam had mentioned earlier. You cross the street before charging towards the car. Then flinging the back door open, you hop inside its grim comfort.
"I'm here," you choke out breathlessly, shutting the massive door with a wham. "Drive away."
The chauffeur turns with surprise, gawking at you without moving. He must have expected you to be scared since you're practically getting kidnapped right now.
You roll your eyes at him. "I said drive, you dickass."
~~~~~
A/N: Unedited. It's 12:52am. I'm craving ramen.