"Watch me burn, right where you want me to."

~M.M

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I've waited about 2 hours from the start of my shift for you, Naomi, and so far, you're nowhere to be found. It makes me wonder what you could be doing; certainly not attending a lecture, since you don't have classes this late on Tuesdays. My neck is sore by the 50th time it snaps up to greet a customer, only lowering it again when I don't glimpse the peach-colored hair that goes so well with the recent autumn chill.

Fuck. I knew I should've had Jimin fill my shift today. I could've checked to see if you were home or not, but instead, I'm stuck here with quiet rage filling every part of unused space in my body, just imagining what you're doing instead of chatting with me in front of the counter.

What if you've blown me off for the bunny boy for a quick fuck, the sound of his name coming from your lips driving him wild, but not as much as me. The mind has a sick way of playing my worst nightmares over and over again until the dam breaks or I do, and this time, it taunts me with images of your hips on his, him sucking the skin on your neck and jaw where my lips should be right now.

The red haze is back again. It seems to happen more and more now, and it's your fucking fault.

(if you weren't such a dirty cocksucking whore who let anything fuck you I wouldn't be in this mess now would I)

My house is 10 minutes away. I can get a knife and be at yours in 25, accounting for traffic. Or maybe a knife won't do it. He might need something a little more... exciting, like a chainsaw. Teach you a lesson while I'm at it, too.

Yeah. That'll do it. I'll wait 3 minutes, then head out, maybe pretend to get some groceries-

I look up one last time when the door opens, and my heart deflates as I realize I won't be able to execute my plan soon.

He's the last person I need to see right now, but there he is in his full leather glory, blond hair unkempt and eyes darting side to side. Not with apprehension, but with a different breed of determination I've never seen in him before.

This should be interesting.

"Taehyung and I are going on a little walk," Yoongi tells my coworker Matt, who can't be bothered to look up from his phone once until it comes time for him to do some actual work.

He sputters, "But what about-"

"Figure it out," the blond growls, then grabs me by the collar to head out through the back doors. Through the curtains, the storage room, and finally, the exterior world, where he shoves me away from his grip with the same disgust that he might handle a crushed spider.

I recover with a spin and narrow my eyes. Give me some warning before you push me around, at least.

"What's this all about?" I ask.

"I know what you did," he says as he meets my eyes in quiet fury. They are different from our previous confrontation. Not as brazen, not as intent to intimidate. This is more contained and calculated. He has a plan in mind, and he doesn't seem like an easy walnut to crack.

But when there's something to break, I'm the guy to call.

"Not this shit again," I start with a roll of my eyes, but if only out of sheer boredom, I pause to let him talk.

He composes himself, then looks me dead in the eye as he says, "I want you to tell Jimin everything."

Give me a fucking break. This is really what he dragged me out here for? We could've just as easily duked it out right in the middle of the teashop with the same results; him looking like a coked-out maniac while I remain the mentally intact guy everyone knows me as the whole time. I don't have complete mastery over my emotions like my brother, but how hard can it be when he's started right off the bat like this?

I chuckle, "You're gonna have to be more specific if we wanna get this over with. Matt won't cover me for long."

Still the same, blank look. He's good. "Eun-jin. You killed her. Made it look like a suicide."

I swallow, then crane by head over his to study the premises. No cameras, nothing to record this conversation, and that leaves him as the only liability left.

"That's a heavy accusation to put on someone," I say coolly. I pummel my voice into even sheets, rich with the soul of an innocent. I mock what I used to be.

"You fucking..." Yoongi shakes his head, face scrunching up in effort. I patiently wait for him to come up with something, and he comes back with, "Bastard!"

I tut at him with a cockiness that only comes when the cat-and-mouse game is much too scrumptious to resist. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you. Don't want me telling Jimin anything, do you?"

He's unraveling. Slowly but surely, he takes a lighter out of his pocket, then a loose cigarette, all with shaking fingers he so desperately tries to hide behind his tattooed sleeve. Even he is overcome with the human need to condemn what he knows in his heart to be wrong, and I almost envy him for it. The thought of that fateful day only serves as a distraction from my new projects. The tinkerer must hoan his craft to make the perfect specimen, and I have a faith in you that I haven't felt in a long time.

(pick the ones you can tame and covet)

If you weren't the one for me when we first met, I will make you anew.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and lets it out in a narrow stream, eyes full of ghosts he will never share with me. I wonder if it tastes good, or if he doesn't particularly like the taste but still needs it to fuel his addiction. Maybe he resolves to quit every time he buys a pack, but he finds himself drawn back to the gas station next week with nothing but a few dollars less to show for it. He becomes immune to the failure, immune to empty promises, and eventually, he comes to live with himself and what he perceives to be his incurable addiction.

Hell, I don't know. I'm not a fucking doctor.

Yoongi drops the finished cigarette butt on the ground and says, "You need to tell Jimin."

"You shouldn't litter. Bad for the environment," I counter. When his face doesn't shift, I exhale loudly. "How about you tell him, then, if you're so confident about my crimes against humanity?"

"No."

"Why not? You'd rather live with this guilt than tell him yourself?"

"You're the one who hurt him in the first place. I won't be the person to do that, now or in the future."

I scoff as I press down the thousands of justifications I have in my head. It's not worth it to argue with people like him. He will never understand why I had to do it, how my heart ached as I observed the blood draining from her lips while her pulse slowed to a crawl. She would never be truly mine while she breathed, that was for certain.

In taking it, I held her raw spirit in my hands and had the wonderful opportunity to hold it to me for the rest of my life.

But I took no relish in formulating a plan—with the help of my brother, of all people—to get away from this, Naomi. If anything, it made me hate my past even more, including Seokjin. I somewhat blame him for turning me into this, into something that did the necessary even if it hurt others around me.

You believe me, don't you?

"But I can take it a step further," I say, a slow grin spreading across my lips. "You know what would really break him, don't you?" I breathe in deeply, savoring the way he shivers in the wind. "What do you think he would say if I told him why you were really in Austin?"

"Wha-"

"See? We all have skeletons in the closet. You're fucking him to discard later down the line, and I have some (demons?) mistakes from the past."

Yoongi's lips curl over his teeth in repulsion.

"You're a sick freak."

Real original, as if I haven't heard that same exact line a million times from my mother. I used to protest back when I was green and naive, always looking to my brother as the example of who to never become, yet here I am, knee-deep in my own mess with no safety net in sight. How would my childhood self look at me now? Would he be disappointed or proud that I've been able to keep that part of me chained up for so long?

When I look at myself, I see my mother in my reflection, wielding her fists and words that stung more than a switch across my back. Freak. I hope one of these days you stay down for good.

So, then, why be something different when that's the box everyone's put you in?

I exhale, then reply, "Is that all?"

"You killed his sister and made friends with him?" he continues on. Damn it. "Did you choreograph the whole thing just to, what, get off? Do you see her face every time you pretend to be his friend? What kind of sick human being could possibly do that?" Yoongi shakes his head, spitting at my feet. I can't tell if it's in the heat of passion or just from the tobacco. "Don't make it seem like we are the same in any way, because that is the farthest thing from the truth."

The red is coming back. Why couldn't you have just been here for me?

(hit me i deserve it i've been bad so very bad)

"As much as you like to point fingers, I care about Jimin, unlike you. Tell me, do you tell him you love him when you fuck him? How many times have you thought about Seokjin's blood on your hands? You're nothing but a narcissistic, manipulative hypo-"

That's enough to tip him over the edge as it sends him flying toward me, palms outstretched and aimed at my throat. I'm barely quick enough to duck to the side, but not before letting him shoulder-check me into the brick wall. Yoongi is there to grab me the second I'm caught off-guard, and he punches me once, twice, square in the jaw.

Hearing something pop in my mouth, I cry out in pain as I try to shake off the white flashes dancing before my eyes. I manage to get in a kick near the groin and successfully shove him off me before he can pin me to the wall again. I won't make the mistake of underestimating him again.

We stare each other down, tigers in a cage with nowhere to run. The sound of our heavy breaths fill the air while I evaluate just how tangy my blood tastes in my mouth. He sure knows how to do a number on a guy.

Yoongi smiles grimly, then looks me up and down. "I always thought you had nothing to do with Seokjin's contamination. Now I know you're exactly like him. You like holding life and death in your hands. It's about getting the control you never had," He doesn't take his eyes off me as he puts a new cigarette between his lips.

I dare to stride closer to him, then pry the lighter from his hands as I let my body language relax to show that I pose no threat this time. I raise it to light the cigarette, watching the cherry burn as his jaw goes slightly slack. The scarlet end grows brighter, then dull, then brighter again, and all the while, Yoongi is making tentative eye contact with me; from this angle, I can see the crease where the corners of his eyes meet in a singular point, stretching out over the canvas of his face.

The act slips away in those few seconds we are inches from each other, the cigarette our only barrier, and I believe I can peer into the inner depths of his soul.

"My brother and I are different breeds," I mutter once I've gotten my fill, and he stays mercifully silent. "He's been this way ever since we were children. I remember getting a call from a few neighbors about missing pets here and there, but of course, no one could find them.

"I caught him in the woods one time, back when we played these... games together. It was really an honest mistake that I stayed that long, but I couldn't unsee it. The corpses, all laid out to dry in the sun... Some of the organs were splayed out, too, like sick trophies. I thought he would kill me when I eventually saw that he was looking back. But he didn't. I don't know why."

I look out into the horizon, squinting in the melting gold of another dying day. It would be beautiful if I didn't have to share it with my brother or his keeper.

I want to be that fading sunlight. I want to float until no chain or unfulfilled desire of mine can pull me down anymore.

"You know what the difference between me and Seokjin is?" I ask with a grim smile. "He does it because he was born in bloodlust. I do it to stay alive."

Yoongi narrows his eyes at me and steps closer. "I don't care about your sob story. Tell Jimin the truth, or I will."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

I rip the cigarette from his fingers and steal his breath with my lips, rough and unforgiving as I lock his head in place with my hands. The rabbit can't run from the maw of the wolf, and it doesn't try, yet his lips are stiff against mine. I feel my own crack open as I exert more pressure on them.

The second I realize he isn't putting up a real fight, I flip him around to slam his body against the bricks, then press my thigh on his crotch. Harder and harder, until the blood begins rushing to his naval despite his mind screaming no. He makes a noise somewhere between a mewl and a moan, so pathetic I can't help a muffled chuckle, but it comes out to him grabbing onto my biceps in confused resentment, the waves of conflicted interest throwing me backward and forward, again and again and again. His eyes are screwed shut. The grip becomes tighter.

By the seal of a kiss, he has promised his subservience to me, for his waking thoughts are mine now. When he looks at me, all he'll be able to think about is his complete defilement, the taking of his free will.

I finish him off by licking my blood from his lips, slowly so I can feel the ghost of dignity, before squeezing his cheek, giving it a little tap, and pushing him away.

"You won't dole out justice here," I say to his petrified face, "so stop while you're ahead."

I leave him without another word, but when I glimpse the wicked shadow I cast on the pavement below me, I wonder how bloodied my hands will be by the time this is all said and done.

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안녕 여러분! Well, that happened...
I would like to give teaa_mi all the
love for suggesting that last scene for me. I think
it really put the cherry on top...
Thoughts about the chapter? Let me know!

QOTD: What's your favorite season?

Now that it's fall, I have to say I'm enjoying it a lot,
but not as much as summer.
There's something about summer
that makes me feel so free.
Maybe it's all the swimming I get to do.

Until next time, happy reading!

Love,
Haneul