Tae focus

Taehyung ran up the stairs to the floor with their private rooms. This morning, while forcing the white-haired out of bed, he had found out one of the truths of Yoongi: The man indeed possessed a fucking dolphin tattoo. On his hip, close to the right hipbone. It had been so hilarious that Taehyung had promised to tease him about it forever. But the scene at the shooting range just now had revealed the second truth: Min Yoongi was a murderer.

"Tae!" he heard the husky voice of his colleague call out for him. "Would you please stop?"

"Leave me alone!" he growled. He needed time to process this. In all his time at the military force on his planet he never had killed anyone. He had shot one or two legs to hinder men from running, and he had thrown some ugly punches as well as choked some people unconscious, but he never ever had killed someone. For him, even self-defense must not end in death. There was always another way.

"Kim Taehyung! Stop right now!" he heard Yoongi again, accompanied by an all too well-known metallic click, that sent a gush of adrenaline through his body.

He instantly stopped in his tracks. His heart had decided to beat twice as fast at the familiar sound and the knowledge that a muzzle was pointing at him. His eyes darted through the plain hallway hoping to find a way out of this situation, but he doubted the doors were thin enough to kick them in. Yoongi would have shot him anyways in the time he needed to kick in a door. And from what he just had seen, it would be a perfect head shot, if the other aimed for it. So, he just lifted his hands and waited for the elder's next move.

He heard slow steps coming closer from behind him and his breath became short and hard. Yoongi would not shoot him, never. The man was way too... well, what was he? Had his co-pilot not just proven that he could be a perfect killer-machine. And he was a Switcher. What if his emotions were turned off right now. Was he still Yoongi in this state? Was he still his sugar?

When he felt the other's breath on his nape, he stopped breathing.

But instead of hard metal getting pressed against his back or head, he felt the haft of the gun in his left hand, and then the other stepped back, leaving the weapon to him. Stunned, he turned around, meeting a pair of pleading ebony eyes in a pale face.

"Please listen," the older said and waited for his response.

Taken aback by the soft tone and how small the other looked, he lowered his arms and nodded slowly. After all, everyone deserved a chance to explain themselves. He just wished he could have had this talk a little later. "Follow me," was all he said, his voice still shaky from the adrenaline. There was no need for Bang to hear this.

When they had entered his private room and he had turned the switch under his nightstand to off, Yoongi looked at him perplexed. "You turned it off? Why?"

"Do you remember Jimin's words?" Taehyung asked. "Bang is still learning by observing. And if you have a grown-up talk, you should cover his ears, just like you do with kids when someone uses foul language."

Yoongi's wrinkled forehead smoothed and he looked like he had understood something very important. It was cute. And Taehyung cursed himself for being so soft for his co-pilot. He had just learned that the man in front of him had killed someone, but all he could think of was how adorable the white-head looked with the widened eyes and the softly parted lips. And of how he hated the room when it had white walls. And of how that crinkle in his bedsheets annoyed him. And of how heavy the gun in his hand was. His brain sometimes was a pain in the ass.

But then he realized something else that amazed him. "You noticed I'm lefthanded."

Yoongi stared at him like he had just said the dumbest thing in the whole universe.

"What?" Taehyung asked, "Barely someone notices."

"We're here to talk about me killing a guy, and you're happy I know you're lefthanded? Are you serious?" the older rasped and his eyebrows tried to hit the hairline.

For a moment they just stared at each other, both flabbergasted by the situation. This was absurd.

Taehyung grinned widely, not knowing what else to do. "Well, start talking."

But the doorbell interrupted them. Confused both looked at the door, but Bang was turned off and could not display them the video feed from the hallway. Taehyung tapped the green circle and opened the sliding door. A panting Hoseok and a Jungkook who was bent over and held his side stood in front of his room.

"How can I help you?" he asked the two, confused by their exhausted appearance. This scene became more peculiar with every second.

"You're both alive?" the captain asked relieved when he saw Yoongi who had stepped closer.

"Alive and perfectly well. What happened to you?" Taehyung asked them casually.

Jungkook looked like he was about to punch someone in the face. Hell, this bunny could be intense!

"My gun," the raven just said and held out a hand.

Now, he understood. Well, they almost had been right. After all, Yoongi had threatened to shoot him in the hallway. With an especially wide grin, he handed the weapon to the soldier and hid his hands behind his back like a kid that had been caught while doing something forbidden.

"What's wrong with you two?" Hoseok asked irritated. "You're the weirdest people I ever met. What happened down there?"

Now, that the captain mentioned it...

"Thanks for reminding me. Would you give us a moment?" Taehyung asked and closed the door into the soldiers' faces.

Yoongi stared at the white glossy material. "You just closed your door into the captain's face," he mumbled shocked. "He'll kill you."

"Wouldn't be the first one to try, ay?" the V retorted and grabbed Yoongi's shoulders to make the older look at him. "Talk!"

"Well," Yoongi took a brief look at the floor and breathed in deeply, "I know how to work a gun since the age of fifteen." The older made a pause to let him calculate this into his own planet's time. It was sweet how Yoongi knew what was going on inside his head, just like with the lefthanded thing. "My father was a police officer and he showed me how to assemble them. We made it a competition. Who's faster. As you might have guessed, I became better than him. But that's not the point. I knew where he stowed his gun and how to use it through many private lessons on my dad's station." Taehyung could feel the small body vibrating under his hands. "So, when one night when my parents were out I heard someone rummaging in the living room, I got my dad's gun and went down to check who the intruder was."

Taehyung suddenly was unsure if he wanted to hear the story. A nauseous feeling made his stomach cramp and he wanted to stop the other from talking, but his tongue was knotted.

"This was the first time I felt nothing. I didn't know though, I just didn't feel nervous or jittery like I should have. I was calm and sharp. And when I saw the gun in the man's hand in the dark, I shot first."

Yoongi's head was lowered and his eyebrows were furrowed in sorrow. The pale body trembled heavily, and Taehyung was concerned the other would break down, so he grabbed the slim upper arms to steady his friend.

"Shit, Yoongi. Just tell me!" he growled from between gritted teeth. He could not stand this tension any longer. He could not stand the pain on the pale face he held so dear. "Just tell me," he whispered.

"I shot my older brother," the white-haired said quietly and looked up to him. The ebony orbs were blank, the body steady. Yoongi had switched. He had left him alone with his emotions and had chosen the soothing blanket of emotionlessness.

"No, no, no," Taehyung brabbled and cupped his colleagues face, "You can't leave me alone with this. Come back! Please, Yoon, come back!" He felt the painful knot in his throat and bit his lower lip.

Yoongi just looked at him with cold eyes. "He had come back from military training for vacation," the hollow voice said.

Taehyung shook his head as if that could change anything about the information he had just heard. How was Yoongi able to hold a gun? How was he able to even look at one? This was the most awful thing he had ever heard. Without thinking he pulled the other against his chest. But the body against his was stiff and motionless.

He so wished he would have been wrong with the Switcher idea, but here he was holding a man who should be crying, but instead he did. This was so fucked up.

He let go and looked at the white-haired man. "Let's talk when you're back," he whispered and left the room.

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