Yoongi drew his switchblade and flicked it into action. 

The movement came with such ease that his eyes kept scanning the room for opponents as he did so. Runners, mostly. A couple of yobs too, but no one above base level.

No one except Taehyung. Yoongi had seen his face what felt like 100 times before, but to Taehyung, Yoongi was just another Dal Pa scum who deserved no mercy.

Yoongi wasn't interested in fighting him though. He had been hunting for one thing and one thing only; Jin.

Witnessing the mess that Hana had gotten herself into, Yoongi had come to the realisation that none of this Pa shit mattered anymore. He wanted her and Jimin out of it; he wanted them to live freely. For Jimin, he wasn't entirely sure what that would look like, but for Hana, he knew it meant with Jungkook. For Yoongi? Well for Yoongi it was Jin. What was the point in him escaping, him getting out, if he had no one to share it with?

They had dreamt up the plan together. Head east to the boat, then even further east until they reached the island of Ulleungdo. They'd set up shop there, fishing for income, within every clause and verb of the law. Of course, they would have cleared the accounts first, giving them enough capital to buy Jukdo, the tiny island just off Ulleungdo. With the purchase, all the dirty money would be gone, and they would be free, in peace, for eternity.

Sure, it had been the pipe dream of two teenagers in the midst of a love affair, but why couldn't dreams come true?

All he needed to do was to find Jin and get out.

"I'm not fighting you kid, beat it," Yoongi warned Taehyung. He meant it, too. He wasn't fighting one of Jin's boys.

Taehyung said nothing, nostrils still flared from the punch up he had been involved in just prior to finding Yoongi in the bar kitchen. He had been waiting for his excuse to fuck with Dal Pa for what felt like years and revelled in every second of it. He'd knocked a Dal Pa runner out with his bare fists and wedged a 6-inch chefs knife into the shoulder blade of another. He had one more trick up his sleeve, though, and he had been saving the best until last.

Yoongi took a slight step backwards calmy as Taehyung reached into the waistband of his trousers. It didn't take a genius to work out what he had stored there.

"Jin never tell you not to bring a gun to a knife fight?" Yoongi laughed. The gun seemed out of place in Tae's hand, almost like a child playing dress-up.

"The fuck you know about Jin?" He snarled at his enemy.

"That he'll be really fuckin' pissed if you use that on me."

Taehyung liked his odds. He raised his arm. An eye squinted as his finger hovered over the trigger. Yoongi couldn't take him seriously, but was almost annoyed at how stupid he was being. "Pack it in, kid. You don't know what you're doing."

He moved his arm so fast that Yoongi could feel a breeze as Taehyung pointed the gun upwards, instantly pulling down on the trigger and letting a bullet ripple through the ceiling above them with no care for the consequences. The noise whipped Yoongi's ears but still, he didn't flinch.

It wasn't a threat, but a promise.

"This really how he raised you, huh? All cock, no balls?" Yoongi teased him slightly. Chest raising violently as his heart pumped blood around his enraged body, Taehyung was so close to making him shut the fuck up entirely.

From the ballroom, Jin was sprinting. The crack of gunfire had spooked him knowing that Tae had been heading in the direction the sound came from. None of their faction used guns. It was something Jin had been adamant on. It was weak, cowardly, in his eyes - bringing guns to a knife fight was never fair, and Jin didn't like easy wins. They felt shallow, contrived, false.

Pushing through the swing door into the kitchen, Jin feared the worst. Yeah, getting hurt was part and parcel when it came to their job, but bullets? They didn't hurt, they killed.

It was Taehyung he saw first. Slowing down, he sighed in relief and rested his hands on his knees to get his breath back. Jin's eyes followed the line of the young boy's body, up to the very tips of his fingers, where he finally clocked the black gun above his head.

Tilting his head involuntarily, Jin was confused as he watched Taehyung lower the gun and point it dead centre in front of him. He scanned the line of expected trajectory and halted as his eyes reached the target: Min Yoongi.

Jin stood still, time ceasing to tick over, just as it did every single time he saw Yoongi.

Except time was ticking, and with each second, Taehyung's finger was putting more and more pressure on the trigger of a Glock that could tear apart the Dal Pa scum in front of him. Jin's Dal Pa scum.

Yoongi had looked at Jin a thousand times over, but it had been nearly a decade since he had met his eyes like this. His mouth hung slack, brows softly raised, the delicate pink of his tongue resting on his bottom lip as if he was about to speak, yet he was speechless.

Taehyung didn't care what had distracted Yoongi. All that mattered was that he didn't have to look him in the eye as he finally pulled the trigger and sent a silver bullet into Yoongi's chest at 1500 miles per hour. It happened so quickly that neither Jin nor Yoongi noticed until the bullet had ripped through his lung and torn apart the flesh of his back, before resting in the concrete wall behind him. His body contorted as the velocity pushed his left side backwards and he stumbled to the ground in a state of shock. Thick red blood coated the wall as Yoongi's body slumped in agony, fire burning through his veins.

Autonomously, Jin's fingers tangled in Taehyung's hair and pulled with such force that he could feel the hairs popping from his scalp. The younger boy's body lurched upwards involuntarily and caused him to release his weapon as Jin threw him across the room.

Swiping the magazine from the floor, Jin held it by the barrel and struck Taehyung's nose so hard he could hear the bones crack.

He had never used violence on Taehyung before. The younger boy looked up at the man who had spent years raising him and saw nothing but rage. He didn't recognise him.

The feeling was mutual.

"Get the fuck out of here," Jin spat, far too aware of the wailing coming from Yoongi's direction. He thought that the sound could have shattered glass, just like it was shattering his heart.

Taehyung scrambled to his feet and darted for the door. He didn't understand the velocity of what he had done nor the fallout that would come from it, but he didn't care. He didn't care about Dal Pa fuckers, any of them. They were rodents that needed exterminating.

As he found himself back in the ballroom, Taehyung's lips broke into a smile. His own blood coated his teeth, seeping from his nose and dripping down his chin. He didn't care about Jin, or Hoseok, or Jungkook, or anyone else at this point. All that mattered was the warm wave of pleasure he felt after delivering a potentially fatal blow to a man he didn't fucking know; a man he would never know, but a man Jin knew like the back of his hand.

Jungkook took after Jin in many ways; running towards the sound of gunfire was just one of them. He found Taehyung first and asked him what the fuck was going on. To this, Taehyung just laughed. It was menacing and ugly, and Jungkook didn't recognise the sinister look on his face. Like a big red do-not-press button, Taehyung had been pushed over the edge. He was the catalyst to the demise.

"You raised a fighter," were the first words Yoongi said to Jin. He wanted to sound cool, unbothered, aloof, but it was pretty hard to sound confident with half a litre of blood gurgling in his throat.

"I raised a fucking idiot," Jin was by Yoongi's side now, unbuttoning his shirt to inspect the wound. The scent of burnt flesh and blood should have scorched Jins nose, but the only scent he could pay any attention to was Yoongi's aftershave. God, he smelt divine. He smelt just like he had all those years ago.

"I've been living on borrowed time anyways, J. You always knew that," Yoongi hissed as Jin started applying pressure to his injury. The bullet hole was small, but they both knew his back would be blown out from the exit wound.

Perhaps, if they pretended that his injuries were just cosmetic, it would trick Yoongi's body into healing properly. Yoongi was a realist, but he was also a romantic. He knew he had no chance, but it was nice to pretend.

"We wasted so much fucking time," Jin's hand were covered in Yoongi's blood. He wanted to scream, but his voice was soft and delicate as he cradled Yoongi's face. It was laced with sweat, his body falling into a state of shock.

"Duh-don't waste any more on me, okay?" Yoongi stuttered a little, breathlessly. One of his lungs had a puncture, and the other was slowly filling with blood. "Give 'em hell out th-there. Juh-just... Hana. She's got it bad for one of your boys."

"Jungkook," Jin nodded. He was well aware of the situation. It broke his heart.

"That's the one," Yoongi continued to wince, trying to battle through the pain that was overcoming his body. "If they're braver than us, if they do what we should have done, look out for her. She's family."

'What they should have done' was something they had both spent the last decade romanticising. They should have gotten out; They should have boarded the stupid fucking boat and headed to the tiny little island of Jukdo just like Yoongi had told Hana and Jimin to do without him. They'd have been safe there, secluded, free from the confinements of their Pa's. They could have built a life together.

"Who are you, Min Yoongi? When did you get so soft?" Jin was so fond of Yoongi. So incredibly, voraciously fond of him, still, after all this time.

"Ah-around about the time I met you." The feeling was mutual.

Yoongi's smile was growing weak. His body was attacking itself, and oh god, it was excruciating.

The only time he had felt this much pain was after his and Jin's final fight. They had god damn nearly killed each other, but it wasn't anything, it was nothing, compared to the emotional pain of leaving each other. It had been for the best, and they knew that, but it had been the worst fucking thing to live through.

And for what? It was ending in bloodshed regardless. They had sacrificed so much for so little.

Jin pressed his lips delicately to Yoongi's forehead, and it felt like he was 17 all over again. His hair smelt like apples and the promise of better things. It was beautiful.

The dull ache that had resided in Yoongi's head for several years now was suddenly better, as if Jin was delivering true loves kiss. It was a nice 'perhaps' to think of, but it was impossible to ignore the blood dripping down Yoongis exposed chest. He couldn't kiss that better, no matter how hard he tried.

A soft, sobering sob escaped Yoongi's lips.

His face was wet with sweat and tears, a salty combination that made him feel as if he was drowning. On a technicality, he was.

"I'm-uh," Yoongi struggled. "Guh-going."

He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He knew it was happening and that there was nothing they could do stop it.

"No fuck, I'm not losing you again," Jin hadn't even realised that he himself was crying. He wasn't paying attention to anything other than the love of his life losing his life. He couldn't go through this. He couldn't. "I'm going with you."

Jin picked up Yoongi's switchblade, the one that he had gifted him on his 17th birthday, and clasped Yoongi's hands around it. They were too weak to do it themselves, so Jin held them in place. Their thumbs rested on the joined sun and moon that Jin had engraved on it himself. It was where they belonged; together.

"Jin don't you fucking du-dare, don't you dare."

Yoongi had once strangled Jin so hard it left scars from how deeply his nails dug in. He had begged him to fight back. He had wanted them to suffer, but Jin refused. The pain he felt from loving Yoongi was never a choice; it was just a byproduct. To be loved so purely and inexorably, well, that countered the suffering. It made it obsolete.

"I can't lose you again, Yoongi."

Slowly, Jin brushed his lips against Yoongi's. He couldn't tell if Yoongi's lips were quivering from the sensation or if it was just his body going into shock, but the way he raggedly attached his lips to Jin's would have suggested it was the former. Desperate yet tender, their lips fit like the final pieces of a puzzle, made for each other.

Clenching his teeth, Jin's lips pressed harder into Yoongi's as he drove his hand towards him, puncturing his suit shirt with the blade. Instantly, it began to absorb thick red liquid as he pierced through his own skin. He wailed as it tore through his muscle and sawed against one of his ribs. Yoongi swore and cried and begged him to stop, but it was done now. The tip of the blade gouged into Jin's heart and, suddenly, he couldn't breathe anymore.

Shock had taken over his body. His head fell into Yoongi's lap, causing the knife to twist in his heart, letting his blood pool out beneath him.

Yoongi was spluttering now, blood covering his chin, consciousness failing. His functioning lung had slowly been filling up with blood and was reaching capacity. He couldn't cry now. He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything, for everything was numb.

His senses began to drown out around him. Sounds turned into silence. The light turned into darkness.

The man who stopped time sat perfectly still, cradling his timeless lover. Their still warm bodies would soon grow cold, for the sake of a love that burned them both.

They had flown too close to the sun.