"Fuck."
Shun held his forehead tightly in frustration. His fingers went up to clench his unfortunately short hair. Disgruntlement strangled his airways to suffocation as he gasped out a stench of troubled breath and tightly gripped the gun in his hand amidst cursing deeply under his trembling breath.
"Fuck!" He yelled this time, nearly close to pulling the trigger of the ranged weapon towards the running vehicle on sight, the weapon's mouth precisely sought at one of its tires.
But it was too dangerous.
He lowered his aim, and his eyes inflated widely upon watching the car speeding past the gates and breaking the mandated speed limit in split seconds. Reality bathes over his frozen body like burning water. His shoulders and knees weakened as his heart dropped in dreadful fear.
No.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He instantly turns to run towards the parking lot. "Hugo, keep the SUV on track!"
As his irredeemable soul followed him to the tracks of nearing hell, his shoulders felt numb. Blood painfully courses through his veins and heart. Its every deafening beat whispered to him like a grumbling curse in hopes to be saved. It was pounding and fuming in his ears. He never felt more than upset that time was running by quicker than usual.
The numbness he felt on his shoulders spread and crawled up to the tensed muscles of his neck.
He gulped, sensing dead and raw eyes glowering at him from above.
"XXX 142's turning west towards Gangnum Street at 108 mph."
What the fuck.
He can sense the final hourglass of his life possibly nearing an end. He has never been this terrified since the raid mission against the Russians.
That happened four damned years ago.
Shun licks his lips. Beeping and typing noises reign in his earpiece.
"Fucking douches. They're making way for the damn SUV."
Jesus Christ.
"Force traffic from 5 km here and on towards the west route. Is the vehicle slowing down? I repeat. Is XXX 142 slowing down?"
Where are the goddamned cops when world peace sought them at this moment?
"XXX 142 is now at 110 mph. Without the royalty pass, the traffic control will deny us access. Squad leader . . . they're ten minutes away from the roundabout."
They're escaping the borders . . .
Shun bounced on his motorcycle. Twist the plugged key and immediately turns the vehicle around, racing illegally down the main street with nothing on but the upset expression on his face and the gun in his hand.
"Action has been raised to code one. An alert message has now successfully reached the leading security team."
Shun forcefully twist the control grip more. "May the heavens forbid hell to break on loose." He mutters as there was a heavy silence on the other line.
Goddamn it.
_______________________
Hiro grimly exhales through his nose and escapes from his serviced car with brows and lips set to intimidating flatness.
The waves of reporters and journalists hurdled outside the main gates and hollered out for his respected name, and the residence guards stood candidly with their heads down as Hiro made it through the revolving door. His unforgiving steps zoom past the entrance to the elevator, leaving his handyman, Shu, five meters behind him, who appears to receive a phone call.
His jaw clenches as he pushes the button for the door to close.
His pair of umbra eyes fell to the watch on his left wrist.
Twenty minutes before the ceremony starts.
He glances up at the increasing number above the elevator doors, eyes turning bright.
There's still time.
His hypersensitive senses itch, and his lids twitched in extreme disturbance.
His pupils catch and pierce thoroughly against his target from the corner and his lips thinned after witnessing the security camera break to pieces.
Discomfort leaves his body as his heart swells upon seeing the elevator is near to stopping on his destined floor.
He shoves his needy palms into the pockets of his sleek trousers as the corners of his lips lift to a gummy smile.
The doors slide open, and a delicate piece of jazz music dances with the hues of white, silver, and gold everywhere around him. The saxophone sultry embodies the well-dressed men and women as he makes his way inside the massive room.
In comparison to the reporters outside, this place was more endearingly suffocating.
"Jin."
His strides and steps hurried north. His sharp attentive eyes busied itself in locating the bride's relative side. When he finds them in the right corner, there were fewer presences to be seen.
A mass number of less than ten.
His brows furrow.
Countless heads innately turn and lift to him in awe, lips parted, cheeks in beetroot red, and eyes glistening wide.
Hiro's darkened pupils were in daze for a few seconds before he recovered and quickly checked again, and his anxious heart had shortly ceased in defeat before he felt it falling into a hard rump.
His shadows waver in clearing a scan of the venue, counting and checking every moving head and living being, but still found no tracks of the scented soul of his beloved.
"Jin?"
A shallow gasp of breath escapes Hiro's pale lips. His distracted and tense pupils turn to look at the bride above the venue platform, who is currently talking to the judge and event organizer.
Before comprehending what to do, Hiro's legs moved on their own.
"That's Hilarious! The Lansters can learn from scratch—"
Harashi halts and closes his mouth from smiling when a familiar build zoomed and ran past the center aisle, catching him and everyone off guard.
The corners of his eyes shift wide.
"Ha! Learning from scratch? They couldn't even say no to their wives," expresses a senator of mainland China, who awkwardly dropped his laugh and followed to look behind him, curious like the rest of his bewildered men.
"Okasan."
Hiro voices from a distance capturing Asami's attention and the nearing crowd. Asami turns to him, baffled, and her astounded expression was angelic than those of the guests.
"Kai? It's good to see you, dear." Her vivid and familiar purple eyes scan him from head to toe in appreciation. "Where's Jin?"
The atrocious relatives unfurled their fans to cover their dropping jaws from the gentle interaction they are witnessing. The young prince is calling the bride his mother even before the wedding?!
The judge shifted his eyes back and forth to the bride and the rarest man specie he had laid his eyes on, and his awkward posture grew worst at the heavy suppressing aura behind him. He held his breath in discomfort and politely bid a temporary farewell. Did he forget to take his medicine?
He's sure he took one this morning.
Asami kept her soft smile while turning her head from left to right and appeared to be looking for someone. "Did he choose to wear the pink bow over the black tie?"
Hiro was at a loss for words. His creased brows slowly slacken and drop while staring at her bright amethyst eyes.
"Jin." He unconsciously mutters. The insides of his chest begin to twist and hurt in deep longing.
Asami blinks and stops looking around the crowd. Everyone's eyes were on them.
Oh my, the crowd is growing.
Her nervous amethyst eyes met his groom's from the other side, and when she saw the unreadable expression on his face, she was forced to look back at the handsome young man in front of her. Her hand reaches over to gently touch his arm.
"Yes, didn't he come with you, dear?"
Hiro shuffles back. "He's not here . . ." His voice was breaking, and his chest was heaving up and down in a frantic manner.
Asami's smile disappeared.
Author's Note:
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