☆────⭑───☆

Jimin hit the ground with practiced grace, his landing silent as his boots met the gravel.

He didn’t stop to catch his breath; his legs carried him swiftly into the shadows as he clutched the torn painting close to his chest.

Every sense was on high alert, the adrenaline from his escape still coursing through him.

Static crackled in his ear. For a moment, there was nothing but garbled noise, and then—

“What the fuck?!” Tuna’s voice exploded in his ear, loud enough to make Jimin wince.

“What the actual fuck were you doing up there?! You think this is some kind of goddamn game?!”

Jimin hissed in frustration, tapping the mic to adjust it. “Would you shut the hell up for two seconds? I’m working, Tuna.”

“Working?!” Tuna’s tone was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. “You call that working? I’ve been watching the feed, dumbass! You looked like you were about to kiss that guy! What the hell happened?!”

“First of all, fuck you,” Jimin snapped, darting down an alley and pressing himself against the wall as headlights swept past.

“Second, I handled it. Can we not do this right now? I’m heading to the van.”

“You’d better be,” Tuna growled. “Because if you fuck this up any more than you already have—”

Jimin tapped the mic off before he could hear the rest, rolling his eyes as he muttered under his breath, “Idiot.”

He reached the van a minute later, yanking the door open and throwing the torn painting inside before climbing in himself.

Tuna was seated in the driver’s seat, his face set in a deep scowl as he turned to glare at Jimin.

“About time,” Tuna spat. “What the hell happened back there? You were supposed to be in and out. Simple. Clean. But no, you had to fuck around with some random asshole, and now the painting’s ruined!”

Jimin slammed the door shut behind him, his own irritation boiling over.

“That ‘random asshole’ showed up out of nowhere, Tuna. I didn’t exactly invite him to the party.”

“And you didn’t think to, oh, I don’t know, handle him? Instead, you let him—what? Flirt with you? Wrestle you for the goddamn painting?”

Jimin threw up his hands. “What do you want me to say, huh? He was fast, he was smart, and he knew exactly what I was there for. I didn’t have time to ‘handle’ him because I was too busy trying to get the hell out before the guards caught me.”

Tuna snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, great job with that, by the way. The guards almost did catch you. If I hadn’t looped the security cameras when I did, your ass would be in cuffs right now.”

Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin.

“Do you want a medal for doing your job? Or are you going to shut up and help me figure out what to do next?”

“Figure out what to do next?” Tuna’s voice rose, incredulous. He gestured to the duffel bag containing the torn painting.

“The next thing you’re gonna do is explain how the hell we’re supposed to sell a masterpiece that looks like it’s been through a shredder.”

“It’s not about selling it anymore,” Jimin said sharply, meeting Tuna’s glare head-on.

“It’s about figuring out who that guy was and why he was there. He wasn’t a guard, and he wasn’t working for the buyer. He was too... cocky.”

Tuna raised an eyebrow. “Cocky?”

“Yeah.” Jimin slumped back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Like he knew exactly what I was there for and decided to screw with me just for fun. He called me Vanilla, for fuck’s sake.”

Tuna blinked, then burst out laughing. “Vanilla? Oh my god, you’re not serious.”

“Shut up,” Jimin muttered, glaring at him. “He was a pain in the ass, Tuna. But he knew what he was doing. If I hadn’t—”

“Lost the painting?” Tuna interrupted, smirking.

“It’s not lost,” Jimin snapped, gesturing to the duffel bag. “It’s damaged. Big difference.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Tuna drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because buyers love damaged goods.”

Jimin groaned, pressing his hands to his face. “I hate you so much.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Tuna replied, grinning. “Now, are we done with the pity party? Because we still have a job to finish, and unless you’ve got some brilliant idea, I’m gonna have to call the buyer and tell him we screwed the pooch.”

Jimin sat up, his expression hardening. “No. We don’t call the buyer. Not yet. First, we figure out who this guy is and what he wants.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Tuna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimin said firmly. “Just... give me some time.”

Tuna sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. But you owe me. Big time.”

Jimin smirked, leaning back in his seat. “Add it to my tab.”

Tuna muttered something under his breath as he started the van, pulling away from the alley and merging into the quiet city streets.

Jimin stared out the window, his mind racing. The night wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

The van cruised through the dimly lit streets, its tires humming softly against the asphalt.

Jimin sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the passing cityscape, but his mind was far from still. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on his thigh as he replayed the night’s events.

Jungkook. That cocky grin. The way he’d held his ground like he had all the time in the world. Who the hell was he?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tuna said, breaking the silence.

His tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity. “Planning your next screw-up already?”

Jimin shot him a glare. “I’m thinking. You should try it sometime.”

Tuna smirked, clearly unfazed. “Thinking about how to salvage this mess? Or thinking about your new boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jimin snapped, his voice sharper than intended.

He turned to face Tuna fully, his eyes narrowing. “And you’re really not helping.”

Tuna raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Vanilla.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, his lips parting in disbelief. “You’re joking. Did you just—?”

Tuna chuckled. “What? He called you that, didn’t he? I think it suits you.”

Jimin groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Idiots who save your ass,” Tuna quipped, his grin widening. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Save my ass?” Jimin repeated, sitting up straighter. “You didn’t even know he was there! If anything, you’re the reason I was blindsided.”

Tuna scoffed. “You were blindsided because you got distracted. Don’t blame me because you couldn’t keep your eyes off Mr. Tall, Dark, and Smug.”

Jimin clenched his jaw, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I wasn’t distracted,” he muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Uh-huh.” Tuna’s smirk didn’t falter. “So what’s the plan, then? Gonna track him down and have a nice little chat? Maybe ask him out while you’re at it?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck. “I’m going to figure out who he is and why he was there. That’s it.”

Tuna hummed thoughtfully, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“He knew about the painting,” he said after a moment. “Knew enough to intercept you. That’s not just random bad luck, Jimin. Someone tipped him off.”

Jimin frowned, the thought sinking in. Tuna was right. Jungkook hadn’t just stumbled upon the heist—he’d been prepared for it. But how? And why?

“You think he works for the buyer?” Jimin asked, his tone cautious.

“Doubt it,” Tuna replied. “If he did, he wouldn’t have been fighting you for the painting. He’d have just waited for you to deliver it.”

“Then who?” Jimin pressed. “Another thief? A competitor?”

“Maybe,” Tuna said, shrugging. “Or maybe he’s something worse.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Worse?”

“Like a bounty hunter,” Tuna suggested, his voice dropping slightly. “Or someone hired to take you out.”

Jimin’s stomach twisted at the thought.

Jungkook hadn’t exactly been trying to kill him, but the way he’d toyed with him, the ease with which he’d kept up—it was unnerving.

“Well, whatever he is,” Jimin said firmly, “he’s not getting in my way again.”

Tuna glanced at him, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You sound confident.”

“I am,” Jimin replied, his jaw set. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Tuna smirked, turning his attention back to the road. “Alright, Vanilla. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jimin didn’t respond, his thoughts already racing ahead. Jungkook might have won this round, but Jimin wasn’t about to let him win the war.

☆────⭑───☆

vote and comment
☆────⭑───☆