Tension clogged up the room, permeating the air until one felt like they were choking on it, as the people gathered within collectively held their breaths, lungs burning from the effort.
But they barely felt the pain. They kept their eyes on the black-haired male seated before them, fearing more what they would find swimming in his inky gaze than the discomfort. They knew what they would hear, what they would most likely witness.
On the floor before him kneeled a messenger, a small, shaking boy whose eyes flickered about the stone surface beneath him. An already swelling bruise was blooming across the side of his face, the welcome that had received him once he had returned home from his patrol alone, a testament to what the boy in front of him was capable of when angered.
"Speak then," the boy before him growled, an animalistic sound that seemed to send an automatic flinch through the crowd.
The kneeling boy nearly choked on his sobs as he tried to stutter through his story. "W-We were on the edge of the territory when they... when they attacked. They came out of nowhere. By the time we even realized they were upon us, half of us were dead. There was no time to run. I-I thought I was going to die."
He looked up then, meeting the depthless eyes before him with a tear-stained face. "He... He spared me. He said he had a message he wanted me to give you."
The black-haired boy straightened up in his chair at these words, the edges of his lips forming a thin, cruel slash of red as he beckoned for him to continue.
"He said that this is your last chance. He's conquered all of the other gangs around him and he doesn't plan to stop there. He says that if lower your guns now, if you surrender to him, he will allow you to remain in a position of high favor-"
That was when the tension expanding throughout the room hit its breaking point.
What spilled forth was much worse.
Without warning the boy seated before them shot to his feet, a snarl of fury that seemed to make the people around him jump just as much as the glasses he sent scattering through the air from the nearby table with a crash, shards littering the floor, his chest heaving with the strain of holding back the flood of anger.
The soldiers shifted uneasily in the room, bracing for his next action.
The boy whirled back around to face his soldiers. He was used to their terror. Had come to savor it, even, revel in it. It meant that he had something he never seemed to get without it - power.
Slowly, he glanced up through the locks of dark hair that had fallen in his eyes. "Surrender?" he echoed, his voice low.
Startling the people closest to him, the black-haired boy let out a sudden laugh, the normally soothing sound given a sinister edge as it spilled out of his mouth.
The two boys who had been standing behind his chair exchanged a glance.
Not caring about the expressions arranging themselves across his soldiers' faces, the boy continued to laugh, almost doubling over with the force of which it poured out of him. And then it stopped as quickly as it had begun, giving way to the violent temper they knew prowled beneath his skin, a hungry lion stalking the length of its cage.
"They want me to surrender." he repeated, his voice hardening like a layer of ice over water as he started forward. "They want me to surrender!"
Grabbing the nearest soldier, the black-haired boy yanked him close, pinning him in place with his fiery stare. "Who am I?" he screamed, demanding the answer from the cowering man in his grasp.
The older of the two boys positioned behind the abandoned chair's eyes widened as he saw the demonstration before him and moved to start forward as if to stop it, but the taller boy at his side held him back with a single look.
"WHO AM I?!" the black-haired boy shouted again, looking around at the mass of soldiers gathered before him.
This time the answer rolled back to him in squeaked ripples.
"Min Yoongi."
This brought a smile to the boy's lips.
Ever since Jimin had aimed his gun at his chest, Yoongi had been slowly losing the grip he had left on his emotions, as if the encounter had shaken something free within him.
All that shooting the leader of that insignificant gang managed to do was create an easy opening for the gang steadily working its way across town, conquering every other one in its path, drawing forth the temper he worked so hard to twist to his advantage. And as if that wasn't enough, now he had soldiers questioning his leadership, clients demanding more that he didn't have the time or energy to give.
He had spent years making a name for himself, creating this gang up out of the ground, and for what? To be challenged by a gang he had barely heard of? To be shoved aside the second he had finally achieved the one thing he had been dreaming about for almost as long as he could remember?
No.
Min Yoongi wasn't going down so easily.
He couldn't.
He'd sold his soul to this. Had killed the remains of the boy he'd once been for this power, this reputation. It was all he had left.
He had to make it all worth something.
There was no other option.
Finally, Jin shook himself free of Namjoon's grasp, starting towards the boss hurriedly. He couldn't bear to watch this any longer, sitting silently by while he watched Yoongi destroy himself, throwing himself at every obstacle in his path with nothing but the promise of vengeance holding him on his feet.
He could feel the guilt eating at him every time he forced himself to gaze upon the younger. Every time he noticed how sunken his cheeks had become, how dark the bruises beneath his eyes hung. In the few times the other boy had actually slept, Jin had thought he'd heard muffled screams bouncing off the walls of the enclosed room, followed closely by the unmistakable sound of things crashing and shattering.
Had he really been so blind to what his boss was going through while he was busy fussing over Namjoon? Busy being obsessed with possibilities that he knew surrounded every hour of every waking day? How could he not have noticed how much Yoongi was breaking until it had become so bad?
He wouldn't sit idly anymore.
Gently, Jin rested a hand on the black-haired boy's shoulder, trying to draw him back to himself. "Yoongi, why don't you just go to your room and lay down, yeah? You must be exhausted-"
Yoongi recoiled immediately beneath his touch, twisting to let out a low noise of irritation as he backed away from the older boy. Up close, Jin could see the true weight of the stress he was under, visible in every bruise, every unnaturally sharp angle of his face. "Don't touch me," he hissed.
By now, Namjoon had crossed the room to Yoongi's other side, pinning the unstable boss between them as they did their best to calm him down.
The soldiers remaining in the room exchanged apprehensive looks as they watched the two boys carefully.
Looks that Yoongi caught.
Fury building up within him, Yoongi leveled a vehement glare at his best friends that almost made Jin take a step back. He had never seen such malice in his eyes, especially not directed at him.
"Everybody out, now," the boss barked, his gaze never leaving the men before him. When nobody moved right away, he snapped his attention to them viciously, obsidian eyes blazing. "I said out! Now!"
Namjoon flinched at the roughness in his voice but didn't back down, not even as the soldiers around them hurried for the exits, eager to escape the wrath they knew would be unleashed soon. No one wanted to be around when Yoongi lost it.
"Yoongi, why don't you just tell us what this is all about?" Namjoon heard himself saying, taking another slow step toward the older boy, who moved out of his reach. "We can help you," he continued, refusing to give up so easily. He'd known Yoongi long enough to know that the indifferent front he put up was, for the most part, just that - a front.
"Please," he begged. "We just want to help."
The look Yoongi gave him was pure ice. "There is a way you can help. You can get out of my sight."
Jin dove forward for Yoongi's hand as if he were expecting the younger to twist away as soon as the words had left his lips, clutching his fingers tightly. This time, Yoongi let him touch him, his face a wall of cold detachment. "Yoongi, please-"
"You have two seconds to let go before I shoot you right here and now."
Shock bled through Jin's desperation even as he jerked his hand back, stumbling backward a step. His eyes were wide, as if he didn't recognize the person before him anymore. Even Namjoon looked at him in horror.
"You wouldn't," Jin stammered out in a whisper. "You'd never-"
Yoongi's flat gaze was unyielding. "Wouldn't I?" he bit out. "You know nothing of who I am and what I'm capable of."
A spike of anger blazed through Namjoon's body. He jabbed a finger into Yoongi's chest as he strode forward, ignoring the way the boss's expression twisted as he got up in his face. "You know how I know that's bullshit?" Namjoon demanded, his eyes searching the other boy's face as if looking for hints of the Yoongi he had come to know. "We're not your lackeys that just simply rush off to do your bidding. We're your friends, whether you like it or not. And I have not sat by your side for years just for you to lie to me now. For you to shut me out like I'm a stranger."
His voice softened as he let his hand fall away from the older boy. "I know you, Yoongi," he whispered. "I know that, if you had your way, you wouldn't be like this. What I don't understand is why you feel like you have to hide behind this wall of fear you've created around yourself. You don't have to be this cruel."
Blood pounded through Yoongi's veins, roaring in his ears, growing louder with every word that slipped past Namjoon's lips. He hated the way he was looking at him, the sickeningly sweet sympathy that dripped from his voice. He hated the way Jin inched closer to him, extending his arms like he wanted to wrap him up in them. He hated the way his head swum at every movement, the way he couldn't seem to make it stop spinning and focus.
He just needed it all to stop.
"ENOUGH!" he yelled, clapping his hands over his ears as if to attempt to block out the sounds.
Namjoon and Jin looked at him in concern, shifting uneasily. In the time they'd been with the black-haired boy, they'd grown rather used to his rollercoaster of emotions. But this... they'd never experienced this before.
"I just need you to leave," Yoongi ground out between his teeth, his eyes still tightly squeezed shut.
When no one moved, he whirled on them suddenly, snapping, "Now."
A muscle tightening in his jaw, Namjoon grabbed Jin's arm albeit reluctantly, twisting around to start directing their way out of the room. The eldest boy, still a little too shaken to fully recover his senses, stumbled alongside him, casting a torn glance back at Yoongi over his shoulder.
The boss didn't meet his gaze, his attention still pinned to the floor.
He looked so much smaller standing alone in the empty space, head bent, his shoulders sinking with exhaustion.
Jin wished there was something he could do to ease his burden. But as he watched Yoongi fall to his knees the second they disappeared around the corner, he knew there was nothing.
As Yoongi knelt on the stone surface, the icy chill seeped through the fabric of his pants to bite at the skin underneath, the sting growing sharper with every passing second he allowed himself to remain there. Slowly, he unfolded his left hand, shaky fingers beginning to pull at the knots of the slim bandage wrapped around his palm. He watched it fall away in ribbons emotionlessly.
The wound had scabbed over, but there was still evidence of the waves of disturbed skin, echoes of the brutal slices that had drawn precious lifeblood.
In careless, angry slashes one letter stood out starkly against the ivory of Yoongi's skin.
J
Yoongi's expression hardened as he gazed down at the wound, a dark rage bubbling up inside of him the longer he forced himself to stare at what he'd done, a physical reminder of his shortcomings. Everywhere, it haunted him.
In the doubts harbored in the very crevices of his mind, drilled into his consciousness from years of being deemed as second best.
In the depths of his memory, the fire barely contained within a boy who glared up at him fiercely despite the gun aimed at his head.
Even when he slept they refused to leave him alone.
And he was helpless to fight them off.
His jaw clenching painfully, Yoongi tightened his grip around his injured hand ferociously, digging his fingernails into the edge of the wound until they broke open the barely-healed surface, releasing a stream of crimson that pooled in the cradle of his hand to leak over and down the sides of his arm. He let it, squeezing harder, reveling in the twinge of pain it created. It calmed his mind, banished all of the other intruding thoughts as his body focused on the area of physical danger.
He needed all of the releases he could get.
He needed-
Yoongi looked up sharply at the sudden crashing sound coming from the direction of the hallway, automatically jumping to his feet and wrapping a hand around his bleeding injury, holding it close to his chest as he drew himself up to his full height. For a split second, there was a part of him that regretted sending out Namjoon and Jin.
He whirled to face the door, and almost burst into laughter at the figure silhouetted by the fluorescent glow emanating from the corridor.
"So this is it?" he scoffed, letting his head tip backwards. "He sent his runt to kill me off?"
Taehyung's face was impassive as he kept the gun aimed toward where the source of Yoongi's voice was coming from.
Yoongi's words dropped to a low purr. "You know, you're not the first one to point a gun at me."
"Then I'll be the first one to not miss." Taehyung's expression remained unchanged, but the grip he held on the gun's trigger tightened as he clenched it between both his hands, willing them to hold steady.
That pulled a dark chuckle from Yoongi. "It is a shame that you've wasted so much time being Jungkook's little lap dog. You could have had so much potential."
The younger boy's expression contorted painfully at the mention of Jungkook. He started forward suddenly, a living fire of hatred blazing in his bloodshot eyes as he kept the weapon trained on the elder, his body shaking with the force of his anger.
"You did this," he hissed, spitting the words out like poison. A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold traveled down Yoongi's spine as his sightless gaze burned a hole into his head. "You did this to him. And now I'm going to make you pay."
Yoongi clutched his hand tighter as he leaned forward, beckoning him on with his body. "Do it," he snarled. "Pull the trigger. Pull it and prove that you're more than just Jungkook's little whore-"
An explosion of gunpowder rippled throughout the room, the acrid bite of metal filling the air.
Yoongi glanced down, expecting to see the blossom of red spreading across his chest. But the fabric of his shirt remained whole.
Taehyung hadn't fired the shot.
Shock coursed through his body as he whirled, coming face to face with the smoking gun aimed toward the ceiling and the person who had just somehow saved his life.
Jimin met his gaze unflinchingly.
• • •
This took a lot longer to finish than I'd hoped, but here's a picture of Joon to make up for it :)
I hope you have a great rest of your week! <3