It takes you a minute to fully realize the words he's just spoken to you, and a minute more to screw your mouth up into a wrinkled line of disgust. "Your targets deserve it? Are you serious? Yoongi, I was your target."
He points a finger at you. "Incorrect. We were never supposed to kill you. Our target was the man coming after you."
"Still." You can't believe that they have the audacity to think that they can choose who deserves to live or die. They aren't God. Just the thought makes you want to grab him by his slender shoulders and shake some sense into him, making him realize that his vigilante idea of justice isn't the right one.
Sighing as if he senses your thoughts, Yoongi leans his weight back against the table and rolls his shoulders. "Okay, I'll edit that. It's more like we make sure we don't go after the good guys that get caught up in some drug leader's grudge. We screen our hits; we research their background and lives, and make sure that they aren't innocent. Better?"
"Maybe." But not really. You never imagined yourself having such a conversation - trying to convince an assassin why he shouldn't be an assassin. "What I'm really asking is what gives you the right to decide who lives or dies?"
At the question, Yoongi twists his mouth into a severe frown. "We chose to go after men that won't stop unless we stop them. Rapists and abusers that are on good terms with people that will keep them out of jail for years, Y/N. Did you know that the man coming after you had a history of raping his targets before delivering them where they needed to be brought?"
At that, your mouth goes dry.
If Jungkook and Taehyung hadn't interfered, and if he had caught you that night...
You shiver as your skin crawls, unable to meditate too deeply on the possible outcome of that scenario. You don't know what to say.
Even though you still gape at the idea of the Bangtan Boys playing judge, jury, and executioner as they see fit, you also now have to admit that the practice probably saved you from an experience worse than death.
"Not so against it now, are you?" days the man before you smugly. He must've read your expression.
You're about to answer him when a the ringtone of a cellphone cuts you off, echoing around the exposed beams of the house and bouncing inside of your eardrums.
Swift like a striking snake, Yoongi's hand darts into the pocket of his jeans, and then the phone is pressed to his cheek. "News?"
You go stock still as his knuckles tighten around the tiny metallic box, then relax. Yoongi's body slumps, his shoulders going lax, and he lifts a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, okay. Got it. Thanks."
Your heart is about to beat it's bloody way out of your chest.
What if Jungkook dies?
What if he'll never wake up again?
What if Jimin and Taehyung hate you for the rest of your life, blaming you for something that, although you regret your involvement in it, really isn't your fault. You truly hope that he wakes up, not only to resolve your guilt, but because you know that the six other men that surround him and support him will suffer a gaping hole of blackness in his absence, bearing the weight of his loss for the rest of their lives.
You have to admit that you might feel a little pull from that black hole, too.
When Yoongi breathes out a gentle sigh and whispers, "Jungkook woke up," all your worries go flying out the shattered window of Hoseok's childhood home.
Those big black does eyes finally opened.
"Come on," says the small-statured man in front of you, motioning with a flock of his wrists. "Let's go back to the house."
You follow him wordlessly, climbing back into the car with an excitement that doesn't near match the restrained eagerness in Yoongi's motions.
Even though the older man's face is its usual placid lake of calm boredom, you can see his relief and love shining through the slightest trembling of his fingertips, and the way he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth every couple of minutes.
He's ready to get back and see his younger brother awake and well.
Roaring to life, the car engine rumbles the seat beneath you as Yoongi revs it and yanks the stick into drive. Taking a final glance at the crumbling building, you realize something.
"Hey," you say. "You never told me your story. You didn't tell me how you were born."
A slight laugh tumbles from his lips, dry and humorless. "Mine is the least original of all. It's a classic 'my parents didn't care, so I ran off and joined a gang' scenario."
Pursing your lips, you simply arch a brow at him. There's no way. His story can't be simple, especially because he's Yoongi. He's so tough and cool and unruffled about anything and everything.
There has to be more than just that.
When he sees your look, the black-haired hitman groans. "Persistent little thing, aren't you? Fine. I was a Boss back in Daegu."
Shocked, you stare at him with new eyes. This man not only was part of a gang, but he ran it. In Daegu.
"Holy crap," you mumble. "A twenty-something-year old mob boss is driving me around like a chauffeur."
Snorting a little, Yoongi flicks his bangs from his eyes in annoyance. "Ex-boss. I quit that years ago."
Years ago. How does he have years to spare?
He's so young, that he had to be eighteen or nineteen years old when he was a boss. That's that craziest thing you've ever heard.
"Why did you leave?" you ask.
Tightening his lips into a thin line, Yoongi shakes his head. His eyes have gone totally blank and cold, and it's like staring at the side of a glacier. Smooth, solid, unbreakable, and completely cut off.
He shut down on you.
Okay. You sit back in your chair, not wanting to press them man who can probably kill you with one punch.
Yet, even as you do this, Yoongi glances up into the rear view mirror. He curses, loudly and with a ferocity that snaps your gaze to his face.
The glacier in his eyes is broken into a million pieces.
"Hold on, Y/N," says Yoongi, just as you feel something smash into the back corner of the SUV.
You shriek and try to hold yourself back as the force threatens to slam your head into the dashboard, your fingers clinging for dear life to your seatbelt.
The car fishtails and skids, a wild beats that Yoongi is working desperately to reign back into control. He finally forces the wheel to keep a straight path, watching in his rear view mirror again. "We've got a tail."
You look back too this time, and see another black SUV behind you, the front bumper caved in from when it hit your car. With the black tinted windows, you can't tell who's driving or how many people in the car.
"Who are they?" you gasp, wincing when Yoongi narrowly avoids another collision with the vehicle by stomping down on the gas pedal.
You're traveling at a dangerous speed through the narrow streets now, every turn forcing a screeching sound from the straining tires.
" I don't know," hisses Yoongi through gritted teeth. His hands are white knuckled on the steering wheel.
You glance back at your tail again, almost passing out when the window rolls down and an arm emerges, the hand holding a small silver object that make you want to vomit.
"G-gun," you choke out. "They've got guns!"
Another curse and skidding turn later, Yoongi taps your knee. "How would you like a crash course in getaway driving?"
Nope.
You shake your head viciously and slap at his hand, which has tightened like a vice around your kneecap. "Not happening. You want to live, don't you?"
"Yup." He's so calm as he looks at you, brown eyes gleaming with feral amusement. "And that's why you're driving."
Before you can even protest, Yoongi's pulled some weird trick that involves shoving you into the driver's seat as he leaps over you into the passenger seat.
You end up gaping, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline and pressing on the gas pedal, not totally sure how you got there.
"Yoongi!" You screech at the man who's currently digging under the passenger seat. "I don't know where I'm going!"
His phone clangs against the plastic of the dashboard, clattering as it settles. "No worries. I turned on the GPS."
Oh, great.
He's turned on the frickin GPS.
"Turn right in three feet," intones a robotic female voice. You scream and wrench the steering wheel to the right, narrowly missing taking out the wall of a building as you slide onto the road.
Meanwhile, Yoongi's drawn two gleaming handguns from under his seat and is lowering the window, grinning a smile that send chills down your spine.
"Oh yeah," sighs the lunatic beside you. "It's been much too long since I've gotten to do this."
And he opens fire on the car behind you.
[A/N]
Unedited
Finals, writer's block, and life are the things that have kept me from you guys 😭😭 I'm so sorry.
THANK YOU FOR 85K!!
ANNNNNND WITH THE FANARTS