White, and pastel pink - Jimin is all fluff and tease. Candy-hued hair, oversized sweater, and lollipop between his glossy lips. Always waiting, on the upper floor of the bar, away from the crowd with bright curious eyes. People whisper about him, enthralled. Even the dagger he plays with between those dainty fingers seems endearing, with three blooming roses on the handle.

Matte black, with a touch of crimson red - Yoongi is intimidatingly quiet, and rarely seen. Sometimes, beside Jimin, his hand would be visible under the dim lighting, beyond the clamour and chaos of the bar. Shorter, veiny hands with cuts and faint bruises, thick silver ring adoring the fingers.

It's an open secret that Jimin is Yoongi's favorite thing. An alluringly pretty sight - men would ogle but never dare to get close to.

Too bad he can barely talk, they say.

Yoongi remembers the state Jimin was in when he found him. A street kid that couldn't carry out a small job for the local gang, and was left to die. Scrawny, covered in blood and sweat, throat damaged beyond repair.

But those pretty brown eyes locked onto him, with the spark of life flickering in and out. Yoongi couldn't look away.

He still can't.

He brought Jimin back from the precipice of death, and built him up little by little, with his own grit and desire.
A doll, a weapon, the fire in his groin, the object of his affection.

It brings Yoongi comfort, the thought that one day, when they face the bitter end of life, Jimin will be by his side.

Together, to the end of the world.

That day came sooner than Yoongi expected, in an abandoned warehouse surrounded by a few dozen men from his competition. Delirious from multiple wounds, with hundreds of empty bullet shells glistening amidst the river of scarlet blood by his feet, there was only one thought on his mind.

That shy teasing smile. How he wishes to see it one last time, as he digs his fingers into those plump lips and push the gun barrel down the pretty little throat.

Yoongi was alone, because Jimin, of all people, sold him to the enemy.

The gun barrel feels cold to the temple.

Everyone's afraid at the moment of death. Yoongi has always revelled in the thrill, the moments of danger that pierce through the numb exterior built for survival. But this time, when the end is finally near, standing amongst the corpses of all his most trusted men, the fear is threatening to overtake him once and for all.

Sweat beads down his forehead, blurring his vision. Yoongi averts his gaze and exhales a long shaky breath.

So this is how it all ends.

Suddenly someone from the other side speaks, voice loud and impatient, "let's go, tie his hands up."

He's in a car, dark streets whooshing past them outside the window. A tall and stout man sits next to him in silence. Another guy up front in the passenger seat. The radio is on, filling the car with faint upbeat pop tunes, giving it an eerie vibe.

The car eventually pulls up to an old house on the countryside. Wrought iron gate, brick exterior, away from the noise of the city.

He's taken to the basement.

Dark, grim, and stale.

With a single bulb on the low ceiling, glaring into his eyes.

Yoongi is tied to a post with hands behind his back. His mind is hazy from the blood loss, open wounds throbbing with sharp pain, reminding him of the precarious situation he's in.

Yoongi winces and focuses on the figure approaching him.

Kim Namjoon, leader of the rival clan. He looks more relaxed than during their typical negotiations, the collar of his starched white shirt unbuttoned, a smile playing by his lips, "Hey."

"Nice digs, Joon." Yoongi replies, trying to curb the involuntary tremor of his body.

Namjoon surveys around them, "it's alright, family's been here for a long time. And the basement, well, it's nice and tucked away."

Yoongi hums, and responds slowly, "you know there are repercussions to what you're doing."

"Is there?" Namjoon chuckles, "you still trust in your men, or what's left of them, after being betrayed by the one closest to you?"

Yoongi's shoulders stiffen at the words.

Namjoon steps closer, eyes scanning through each of his wounds, "you know what your problem is, Yoongi? Pride. Ego and pride. Always so cocky at every meeting, acting like you're fucking invincible."

He shakes his head, "and the whole time, I had Jimin right at your house, slowly earning your trust, waiting for this day. Such a fool."

Yoongi's silent.

"He told us everything, you know? The time, the place, down to the specific members that would accompany you. We've been planning for months, trying to wait for the perfect moment. And it was all worth it in the end."

The sharp stab of betrayal still rips through Yoongi's heart, sending chills down his spine.

The warmth of his skin, the tremble of his lips when they kiss, those bright eyes gleaming of tenderness and unspoken yearning.

Was it all a lie?

Yoongi's mind is fading in and out, as his breath becomes short and shallow.

"It's almost over now. A few more hours." Namjoon inches closer, his hollow smile not faltering, "I need you to spill the security details of where you keep all the intels on the other families, including the books you stole from my brother."

His eyes turn cold at the words, "how many hours did you torture my brother before you killed him, hmm? Well, allow me repay your effort in kind then."

Namjoon waves his hand, and the men waiting behind him approach, "lemme know when he's almost done." He turns around and leaves, disappearing up the stairs.

The torture seems to last forever. Yoongi didn't expect anything less. Between the sharp punctures of pain, as his mind turns into an empty haze, fragments of past flash through, adding a dull ache to his heart that's impossible to ignore.

He remembers the way Jimin looked, three nights after he was saved. His physical condition was stabilized, but the hopelessness of his situation loomed in the air.

Yoongi gazed into those eyes, and inexplicably, resonated with the fear. With a sigh, he hands Jimin his own gun, "make a choice. You either end your life now, or choose to live."

Jimin opened his mouth, a thousand words seeming to rush to the surface, but all that came out was airy gasps, feeble and desperate, like a wounded animal choking on their last breaths.

His lashes trembled and tears streamed down his cheeks. Yoongi could feel Jimin crumbling right in front of his eyes, the reality of his situation sinking in bit by bit.

Never being able to speak properly again. Nobody in the world that gave a fuck about his whereabout, left to die, neglected and forgotten. At the mercy of someone that barely wanted to help him, hanging onto the dark and morbid world by a thread.

Yoongi wasn't surprised when Jimin finally reached for the gun with a shaky hand.

But his eyes widened when Jimin grabbed onto his arm instead. Hesitant, timid, but his fingers grasped onto Yoongi's sleeve, head dipped low, submitting to his presence.

The warmth of his fingers made something shift in Yoongi's heart.

He never told Jimin, that his gun was emptied. Trust needs to be earned.

Jeongguk ran the background check on Jimin afterwards - all clear, no family or attachment in the world, just another young face lost in the abyss of the metropolis.

"Why me?" Jimin would sign out the question months later, curling into him, soft and pliant.

Why did you save me?

"I didn't. I gave you a choice, it was your own decision." Yoongi replied.

Jimin smiled, and never asked again. They both knew the answer dodged the truth - sometimes, things were best left unsaid, saved until the right moment.

And that's one of the many things Yoongi adored about their relationship, the way their minds synced wordlessly, beyond the clumsiness of words.

Yoongi never liked words. They are so... inadequate, a pale shadow of the myriad of emotions in his heart, their colors fading the moment they touch air. Actions speak much louder than words ever could, actions say it all.

Yoongi scoffs, as a jolt of pain snaps him out of the reverie. The fucking irony.

Just as he feels his consciousness slipping again, there seems to be a break. The men recede into the dark, as a figure steps down the stairs slowly.

Yoongi's blood boils, recognizing the familiar grace in the movement instantaneously.

His pink hair is tousled, a solemness washing over his pale complexion. Shoulders are drooped, and gaze cast downward.

With each step Jimin takes in silence, Yoongi feels the simmering frustration threatening to explode.

He tries hard to keep his voice flat, but it comes out as a deep rasp, "I was wondering where you were yesterday. Seems like I didn't have to worry."

Jimin pauses towards him.

"So? Anything to say?" Yoongi adds.

Tell me it's not true. Deny, lie, anything.

Jimin's lips are pulled between his teeth, but silence, no sign, no gesture.

"Well, then unless you are here to finish me off, i think we're done." Yoongi's voice snaps, iciness seeping through.

Jimin finally glances at him. Yoongi ignores the sorrow in the dark orbs, but cannot ignore the signs as his hand presses into his chest.

The fingers move rapidly, delicate flutters that blend into each other and are gone in a flash. It would've looked like nothing to a bystander, but Yoongi catches on right away.

Sorry.

There are a few numbers right afterwards, 09 something, but Yoongi's mind snaps at the sight of that first word, unable to move on.

He's fucking sorry.

Here he is, within minutes of death and at the mercy of a heartless enemy, and Jimin thought the simple five letter word would fix everything?

Why can't you admit to it - the love, the trust, the glances filled with unspoken thoughts, it was all fake.

And as Jimin turns away, he hears a whisper, like a ghost from the past that clenches his heart.

It's airy and hoarse, barely audible, yet Yoongi recognizes it. He's heard of it a thousand times, in the dark, in dreams, breathed into kisses and murmured by his ear.

Yoon...

He screws his eyes shut and feels his heart turn cold at the word.

No more.

You got what you wanted, no more.

Suddenly wariness washes over him, like a tidal wave that he can no longer resist. Anger and bitterness take root, as the last bits of life seep out of him.

When he opens his eyes again, something feels different in the room.

Jimin is gone, but nobody is coming back in. There's clamor upstairs, people talking and shuffling, noises echoing and reverberating back into the house.

Finally.

Yoongi can picture the crew rapidly surrounding the house, Jeongguk probably leading the direct assault and Taehyung backing up with sniper. A few dozen of their best men, and the cops already tipped off to turn a blind eye.

He feels restless, irritated. They've analyzed this house countless times before, and have never figured out a sure win strategy for attack. It's fortified over the years, every corner and entrance proofed for attack. This impromptu thing will turn bloody and failed in no time.

He sees a shadow by the stairs, and frowns at the thought of Namjoon's men finally coming to relocate him.

But only one person shows up, running in and flashing him a wide grin, "hey boss."

Yoongi hesitates but hums when he sees the flash of gold in the person's hand - a small glistening coin with embossed vines encircling the surface.

The insignia of his clan.

"What's your name?" Yoongi asks, and groans as the ties are loosened and his body topples onto the figure weakly.

"Oh, hold on." the figure drapes his arm around his shoulders and starts dragging him out of the room, movement agile and hurried, "and everyone calls me Hobi."

As they make their way up the stairs, Yoongi can hear the gunshots in the distance, and people shouting. The attack must be by the front entrance now, drawing all the men away.

"Ok, this is the fun part." Hobi inches towards the opening and Yoongi does a quick check - no one close by. "Here goes nothing. Ready?"

Hobi whips out of a handgun, and tightens his grip on Yoongi's arm. Yoongi gives him a quick nod, and they are off.

A quick left turn and they face a dark hallway towards the back door. They stagger towards it, breath hitched and eyes darting behind, scanning defensively.

There's a padlock on the door.

Hobi punches in a code, and the light on the lock turns red, "shit."

He tries another one, red, "fuck, I thought I had it for sure."

There's a noise by the other side of the hallway, Yoongi's head snaps back, and hears the blast from Hobi's gun.

A dark figure slumps to the floor quietly.

"Fuck." Hobi resumes his gaze back at the lock and raises his gun.

"Wait." Yoongi gestures and reaches in, trying hard to remember.

0912, Yoongi presses the buttons in order and the door opens. Hobi gives him an intrigued glance.

"What's the plan now?" Yoongi asks, wincing and taking a deep inhale.

Hobi points at a car twenty feet away. When they get to it, he lifts open the trunk in the back and lets Yoongi crawl in.

This better not be another trap. Yoongi sighs and listens, as the car starts moving.

They stop at the back gate of the mansion.

"Hey! I gotta go get more ammo." Hobi yells at the men guarding the exit.

"Fuck off." They don't sound convinced.

"Ok listen, it was a direct order from the boss, this is not the time for you to make a wrong call."

A sneer, "good luck with your 'ammo run'."

The car starts moving again, as Hobi steps on the gas and guns it. They probably figured he's a deserter.

"Well, I'm a deserter AND a mole, so the joke's on you, bitch." Yoongi hears Hobi mumble and turns on the radio.

Yoongi breathes out a heavy sigh of relief and closes his eyes.

When they finally get back to the base, Yoongi slumps into the couch as people begin to surround them, tending to his wounds and murmuring about the events that transpired.

He gestures towards Hobi, "ok, tell me what you know."

Yoongi is aware Taehyung planted someone within Namjoon's group half a year ago - Hope was his code name, never a real name or any direct contact. But he never thought the man would come to save his life.

"Thanks, by the way. For everything." He adds.

Hobi smiles, "just doing my job. And man, it's good to finally meet you."

Yoongi nods in acknowledgement, and swallows the pills handed to him, "so?"

"So I'm guessing you want to know about Jimin."

Yoongi's eyes darken.

"I only met him today, kinda freaked me out that he knew who I was, you know? He gave me everything - the car keys, the damn code that I fumbled with. He was the the on that convinced Namjoon to bring you back to the house instead of killing you on the spot, and he kept Namjoon distracted while I retrieved you. Man, if only I knew they were going to ambush you like that. All I could tell was something big was going down, but it was all so hush hush, none of us even knew Jimin was on Namjoon's side -"

Yoongi raises his hand to interrupt him, feeling overwhelmed by the words, "wait. Do you know why Jimin did all this?"

Hobi's gaze turns soft, "he tried to explain to me for a bit. It was all so hastily done, but I think maybe he did want you to know. There's someone in Busan I think, someone that took care of him back at the foster home. And Namjoon always had control over her. Jimin never had a chance right from the start, just a pawn tossed to you to see what happened, either killed by you or eliminated by Namjoon, nobody expected him to amount to much."

Yoongi fumes at the words. Jimin's soft glance flashes across his mind.

Why me? Why did you save me?

It all makes sense now, how afraid he was, and why he was treated so cruelly. Sympathy, it was all to gain Yoongi's sympathy, to draw the pity out of him.

Hobi gulps and continues, "Taehyung always says I talk to much, but, fuck, I just... I don't think Jimin had a choice. There are other moles in your clan, we've always known this, Namjoon would've mounted an attack on you sooner or later. I think Jimin tried to protect you as much as he could, I mean, he knew going back to Namjoon warrantied death. They'd never trust him again, especially now that they know someone helped you escape-"

"Stop." Yoongi growls, feeling his head swimming with all the overwhelming thoughts. "Just, stop."

His fists clench and shoulders square. There's an irritating tug on his heart, incessant, making him feel weak and out of control.

"He's a liar, a traiter. And that's the end of that." Yoongi speaks through gritted teeth, and Hobi's head lowers as he steps back.

"Absolutely, Mr. Min."

People are bandaging him up, and Yoongi hisses as the forceps and scissors prod into the wounds, retracting debris before stitching him up.

Shrapnels of the past, gotta rip them out before they kill you.

His head is spinning, thoughts and images blurring into one another. A beaming smile, a wordless hug into the night.

A hand that held onto a gun hesitantly -

"Focus."

Yoongi remembers holding onto both of Jimin's hands, face leaning next to his, the shiver of Jimin's breath hitting his skin in warm puffs.

"Sometimes, you only get one chance to defend yourself." Yoongi whispered, guiding his hands towards the practice target in the distance, voice quiet but assured, "so make it count. Line it up, exhale, remember everything we practiced."

"Yes..." a soft murmur that dissipated into the air.

"Don't ever give anyone the power to hurt you again."

Yoongi pressed his finger down onto the trigger. The deafening sound of the shot pierced through the air. They stood, watching as the bullet blew through the target, leaning into each other.

"Your hands, I could feel the tremble." He relaxed his grip, and commented, "don't hesitate. Your opponent won't give you a second chance. So turn it all off, whatever you're feeling inside, eliminate them or be eliminated instead."

Jimin's shoulders drooped, and Yoongi felt his torso shiver next to his.

Why didn't you tell me? Was the love not enough? Was I the ultimate target?

There's clamor nearby, snapping Yoongi out of his thoughts. Loud cursing, people yelling for help, feet stomping towards him. The crew making their way back.

A thought echoes on his mind, growing in urgency, pushing him to the edge of restraint.

Need to see him, need to hear everything from his mouth, and give him the punishment he deserves.

He sees Taehyung walking in, hair soaked with sweat and plopping up Jeongguk who's pale with arms slacked by his torso.

"Bring everyone here, we need to re-strategize." Yoongi's gaze turns cold and threatening.

-

Another three hours pass, and they are back.

Through the blasted gate of Namjoon's mansion, striding pass the front yard covered in debris and blood, Yoongi leads the pack, arms extended out with both hands gripping on the trusted pistol. Dawn is peeking through the horizon, casting everything in a faded glow.

There's a buzz in his ears, turning all the frenzy around him into a blur. The calls were already made to the other clans - 80% cut of Namjoon's turf, to be split between all those that send in reinforcement. On one condition: Yoongi gets a head start by half an hour.

Mine.

He's gonna make him pay for all this - putting all of his men at risk, getting him to within an inch of death, and above all, for betraying his fucking trust.

Ugh.

Yoongi growls and fires at an approaching figure. Taehyung next to him signals before kicking down the damaged front door.

Back at it again. Yoongi curses inwardly and charges in, adrenaline coursing through his veins, blocking out all the fizzling residual thoughts.

The few guys left in the house fall like dominoes at the onslaught of gunshots. There were multiple raids that started at all of Namjoon's key assets in the city about an hour ago - bars, clubs, houses of his lead capos. Yoongi threw every contact he had at it, even calling the police chief personally and bringing up, through gritted teeth, the incriminating photos they have of him.

They were assured Namjoon was away, back at the city defending his assets and resources.

Where the fuck is Jimin? Upstairs? Basement? Yoongi feels the rage culminating, spilling over and making his expression twitch.

His feet pause when he hears a chuckle from above the grand staircase in the lobby. Yoongi looks up to see Namjoon holding onto Jimin, arm locking him in a tight grip, the other hand pushing a gun barrel into his temple.

"You know, I always thought this one here was a throwaway. I mean, who knew, that sympathy would work on you, after all the threats and intimidation strategies failed over the years. But oh man, how beautifully it all worked out. Look at you, crawling back for more with wounds still bleeding, just couldn't even bear to be away from him for even a few hours."

Yoongi extends his arm out to stop the crew from making a move. He takes a deep breath and responds, voice flat and controlled, "Joon, it's over. They will all be here soon. Let's end this amicably, what do you say? It's nothing personal."

A contemptuously smirk, as Namjoon drags Jimin slowly down the stairs, eyes flitting between all the men in the lobby, gun staying squarely by Jimin's temple.

"Nothing personal? You're such a joke sometimes. You know as well as I do that everything is personal for us. One wrong move and here I am." They are at the bottom of the stairs now, and Namjoon gives Jimin's neck a good hard tug, "but maybe, just maybe, I could at least destroy something you love before I go."

Yoong looks into Jimin's eyes. Those dark orbs, always so expressive, filled with feelings that they both understand long before the words fall. And right now, they are dim, tainted by anguish. There are cuts and bruises by Jimin's face. He mouths a word silently, and Yoongi feels despair washing over him.

Ready?

Namjoon keeps talking, as he slowly heads towards the door, "so, what would it be? Do you want him dead right here, right now, or you'll let me drive away?"

Yoongi sighs, and drops his gun slowly, "alright, you got me, you know what, let's just -"

As Namjoon's eyes dart towards the door, hand loosening on the grip, Jimin's hands splay out subtle for the sign.

Now.

Yoongi's breath hitches. He wants to scream, to rewind time and erase the sudden sorrow on Jimin's face, but instead, he tightens his grip on the gun, and exhales as Jimin rips himself away from Namjoon, pulling his torso to the side.

In the blink of an eye, everything is over.

Yoongi fires two shots directly into Namjoon's chest. Namjoon's eyes widen, but his gun fires, barrel dipping lower and towards Jimin's neck.

Yoongi runs towards Jimin as he falls to the ground, arms reaching in to plop him up clumsily. He can hear Namjoon gasping for air next to them, and Taehyung and the crew charging in rapid succession, securing the house.

But none of it matters anymore.

The world fades away, time pauses, and it's just the two of them again. Alone and together.

Jimin's body feels warm in his embrace, his face pale and glistening with sweat. The scarlet bloom spreads by his neck, warm and thick, no matter how hard Yoongi presses down on the arteries.

There are creases between Jimin's brows, and his hand push into his chest, repeating the same feeble but insistent sign, over and over.

Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry...

Yoongi blinks away the mist in his eyes and rasps, "it's ok, love. It's all over. Let's go home, yes? Home. Just the two of us."

He holds on tighter, and watches as Jimin's glance soften. A faint little nod, and Jimin's wet lashes flutter as he closes his eyes wearily.

-

The lake is expansive and frozen in time, shrouded in suspended mist. Winter has faded out all the bright hues of the fall, leaving everything in muted grey and white.

Jimin walks on the pebble shore, tiptoeing between the dark rocks with icy frozen water sloshing in between.

The sun has already set, the soft afterglow painting the sky a vibrant navy blue. It all feels like a beautiful dream, how Jimin's silhouette blends into the darkness. He turns around, and the fringe of his ruffled hair blurs, making Yoongi blink hard.

A dream he never wants to wake up from.

Jimin whispers, there's no sound to the word but Yoongi hears it in his heart.

Yoon...

He walks towards Jimin, reaching into the vision, sighing at the heat of his touch. Bright inquisitive eyes, parted lips, scars by his neck peeking through the turtleneck sweater. Every shade is darkened by the dusky glow, etched on his mind like memories that refuse to fade away.

Why did you save me?

Because, some things are fated, meant to be. We love, we fight, ripping each other apart until only our true selves are left.

Yoongi dips down and closes his eyes, sinking into the lingering kiss.

Why me?

Because, no matter how undeserved, everyone yearns for a new beginning.