When someone's life becomes the movie they can't direct, it becomes the wellspring of uncalled-for drama; it changes one's roots radically; it brings the worst out of individuals whose characters often were closer to angels than human beings.

Life could have been much easier if problems remained about toys a child couldn't get no matter how much of a big scene they pulled in front of a games' gondola or if it was about a missing or late allowance; Had it been about a forgotten present on a valentine's day or a birthday how much simpler it could have been. Even if the matter was about falling out of a love that was supposed to last for infinity, it could have been less complicated; one could face it and move over, with a certain amount of pain for sure, but definitely less excruciating than being pulled gravitationally toward a person you can never have. It kills slowly and daily until the grave welcomes you with open hands.

Covering the truth with a ray of lies is difficult; it takes a certain level of acting and creating fake scenarios to lie right in front of one's face; it requires a person to be in total control over their emotions, to hide and mask them at times with ones that are complete opposites. It requires talent to deceive another person, a prowess we all acquire at a certain point in life.

Jimin never wished for such a flair, never sought it, for he was too lazy to pull on an act to please others, no matter how harsh the truth he was willing to tell.

It was all fun and games; it was life according to his own plans, following his upheld principles until one day, it wasn't any longer.

When he'd become a professional liar, the secret keeper.

It was a hefty weight he was carrying over his shoulders; it hunched them.

Jimin regretted bitterly the moment he let the flood inside his house; he could've avoided the headache had he stayed in his little cloud of oblivion.

But life couldn't do with sparing some drama.

Jimin lost count of the shots he downed; the only thing he was still aware of was his drowsy stupor; it was impossible to sit straight and even harder to force his head from leaning against the oak counter.

Meeting Taehyung wasn't ideal, especially after his encounter with Yoongi.

Dammit, I fucked up royally again.

Alcohol wasn't helpful either; it made out of his brain a player for a recording he'd saved in his head, conversations that ignited penitent guilt only a few steps away from driving him insane.

"Why so curious about it, Yoongi? What will my answer add to your life?"

"To mine? Nothing at all, to his, it could become everything or take away everything."

"Free up your head then; it has nothing to do with him."

"Enlighten me; how's that possible?"

Jimin was usually very collected; he always dealt with his emotions rationally; he never allowed them to play him around or make him vulnerable in front of others, especially with his anger; he'd always been in the saddle.

However, the edge Yoongi was driving him into was frightening; it led to a total loss of control; the usually calm Jimin slammed the small table with his hand causing the glass sitting on its corner to meet the floor with a thud; his high pitched voice became more of a growl as the words came out tearing the restrictions they had been put behind, " she was at the obstetrician because of me, I was dealing with the shit I made does it satisfy you?"

It was undoubtedly the alcohol playing games on him; it must have been remixing his memories. Having flashbacks from two critical conversations wasn't healthy; it was noxious.

"See, it had always been standing between two far edges; it had always been about two opposites; it has never met a middle ground, that feeling I have toward that woman." Taehyung's voice was still vivid in his ears as the words repeated and fainted, giving place to others to replace them.

Oh, shut the fuck up. Stop it, please.

"Was it love? Or was I obsessed?" Taehyung's pained voice haunted him, his thoughts, "did she feel the same?"

There wasn't much left in that bottle of Russo-Baltique in front of him, only two or three shots before finally looking at its bottom. Jimin discarded the glass; it was time to sip straight from the source.

Bad call. The more he drank, the louder the voices in his head became.

"Am I supposed to believe such nonsense?" Yoongi questioned, eyes full of scrutiny, "and supposedly I do; you know what it means, don't you? It's betrayal, Jimin, on a large scale."

Jimin quickly left himself up; he'd cast a deadly glare in Yoongi's direction before completely enclosing the distance between them, "and I don't recall asking for your opinion Yoongi."

He led his way toward the door, ready to leave the damned house whose owner had a liking for digging into other's personal lives if not for the words that halted his tracks, "such a shame, he lost yet another person, one he considered a dear friend."

There are different types of problems; the majority only affects the directly involved persons, and then we have those considered more notorious, those who could create chaos in the concerned individual's life and the one of those surrounding them; these are on the list of the most dangerous viral diseases, the most contagious ones.

Jimin tested positive; he has been exposed to that disease.

And it was when Taehyung left the hospital and withdrew from being your doctor in charge; had he refused that position, he would have stayed at bay from such illness.

Your situation deteriorated after Taehyung's disappearance, which distressed Miss Baek and pushed her to seek help from Jimin, who couldn't refuse after Taehyung's little confession about your steamy encounter.

At first, it was a challenge for him to get you back on track after reaching rock bottom yet another time; it meant proofing himself as a capable doctor and an aspiring professor. He couldn't be happier or more satisfied when your situation started improving.

But that soon changed, and the selfishness that had overtaken him disappeared when you started having regular sessions; you were more open when the medicines wore off, which was how Jimin got involved in your life more than he ever wished for, it was when you opened your heart more than necessary that your words and tales become the contamination source.

Jimin sympathized with you after learning what led you to become the person you turned into; he wholeheartedly did to the point where he pondered several times about telling you the truth he had kept hidden: Taehyung's secret identity.

However, he didn't, and when he fully mastered the art of withholding truths, he also started exercising it on Taehyung.

Jimin barely held himself upright; he barely managed to walk; Alcohol had done wonders on his body but forgot to numb his brain; instead of keeping buried the truths he wished to fail, it led them to float on the surface and to get more explicit with each added drop.

Perhaps it was the weather; it had been gray often, and many were content with the mere absence of rain; one of them was Yoongi, whom the weather played with his brain and awakened emotions he thought were dead.

Albeit acknowledging the importance of concentration, Yoongi couldn't help but be distracted; his problem-solving mode was on but faced some malfunction; instead of focusing on where it was critically needed, it kept targeting other subjects that were supposed to wait for their turn later in the day.

Later, in private.

Yoongi had been preoccupied ever since he put his hands on Jungkook's files; the discovery brought him more worries than his dangerous lifestyle filled with action; he'd been contemplating which one to share with Taehyung without compromising their deals, which one could serve as a rage trigger to boost the younger's will of revenge and keep the fire beneath it lit, and how to discard others that could lead to a loss of a partner and the longly awaited for vengeance.

"That's how you were supposed to handle it, Yoongi; you screwed up big time," Taehyung ranted as he kept rocking back and forth; his annoyance only grew when he figured out that he was talking to himself; Yoongi's carcass was there, but his brain and soul were elsewhere running errands.

"Min," Taehyung screamed desperately while standing akimbo and throwing killer glances at the older man.

"Stop yelling, would you?" Yoongi spat, brows furrowed and hands clasped; he broke off the eye contact with the wall to lock it with Taehyung maintaining the same position he'd been in for the last half an hour, elbows resting on his thighs and body propped forward, "do you think I'm deaf?"

"It seems pretty much the case to me; what the fuck were you thinking about when we need to find a solution for the shit you caused?" Taehyung questioned, voice louder than his usual style, one hand busy slamming the desk while the other remained in the warmth of his pocket.

"Stop being a dramatic ass Tae, he won't be able to connect the dots, and supposedly he did. Do you think he would just sit back and watch?" Yoongi retorted, his voice covering the loudness of Taehyung's one, "grow some balls if you wanna make him pay for his deeds; you're not a doctor anymore; this shit doesn't tolerate softness."

Taehyung scoffed; with a slow pace, he made his way toward Yoongi's seated figure towering over it, "softness, you said, huh? Growing balls?" The mocking tone got more prominent with how he rolled his eyes before resuming his words, " let me watch you celebrating your so-called revenge when the covers about me blow, and the plan sinks. Your problem is that you keep thinking highly of yourself, and believe me, it will take you nowhere, you weren't and won't be able to get back at him without me, without my brain, and you wanna know why? Because you keep employing your fists when all you need to do is putting your brain to work a bit more."

Yoongi rose from his place to level up with Taehyung, hands both resting in his trouser's pockets, emotionless traits expressing the anger he succeeded in imprisoning, anger that could be bigger than being shown or could also express unfazed feelings as he wanted for it to be displayed, " you're done now? Cause if so, I'll excuse myself to get the job done; whining isn't and won't become my style or way of getting things sorted."

For actors, stress and nervousness are repeated occurrences and states of mind; For they're constantly under pressure, disparately trying to keep the mask they wore from falling; there's no difference between actors and people who hid truths, liars.

Yoongi was suffering the same fate.

The knuckles turned sheer white from the excessive strength he was putting on the steering wheel; the air inside the car got heavier and slowly became suffocating; Taehyung couldn't care less about the speedometer indicating that he was beyond the speed limit, nor did he mind the icy weather outside when he opted for opening the window kicking outside the heat that has been doing it utmost to keep him safe from freezing, in fact, for a second, he wished to face every problem in his life with the same blazé comportment.

He'd kept changing lanes and making waves between traffic, honking in frustration to push other vehicles out of the way; he'd no time to lose; his case could be considered as urgent as ambulances on rescue missions, and how could it not be, you needed his help, not some other person, but you. Therefore, the breakdown lane should have been cleared for him.

Taehyung, at this point, wished for the worst highlight of his day to remain the dispute he had with Yoongi; he deeply regretted having cursed his life when anger reached the summit; had he known that the worst was yet to come, he would have refrained, and perhaps, would have been content with what he has been served and announced that he was full; there was no need to give him more.

But he was forced to stay at the table, to eat more; the extra dish he had been served was the text message he received from an unknown number that contained only two words, 'help her' paired with a screenshot of a conversation that stated no names of people he loved, but only one of a person he wished to wipe from this world.

The screenshot demonstrated the way you were complaining about the miserable state you were in because of Jungkook; you weren't asking for help or anything like that, no, not at all; you were close enough with the person you have been texting that you were divulging your feelings to them, not only about Jungkook but about Taehyung as well.

He needed to help you and maybe keep up with his punishment later; he wasn't sure about it yet, so he decided to see into it later.

He needed to get you out, but how to do so without exposing himself? He wasn't sure and couldn't give less of a fuck.

In all cases, nothing has ever mattered more than you; he was revolving around you; you, his sun; be it hatred or love, everything that held importance in his life was about you, and that was enough for him to drive toward the unknown, with a gun he had purchased lately when he mastered how to use it from Yoongi fully loaded, ready for the worst case scenario, ready to end or be ended.

"Sir, please stop; you cannot meet with Mr. Jeon if you don't have a prior appointment." The security man stood in front of Taehyung, halting his steps after running behind him since he entered the building, pushing other workers aside and catapulting toward the elevator leading to the general manager's floor.

"Listen, I'm in a hurry; call and inform him that Kim Taehyung is downstairs; he will give you clearance." He ordered, eyes still sprinting around the elevator area as if he was finalizing a breakthrough plan.

"I have Mr.Kim in the lobby; how shall I proceed?" The security guard spoke on his earpiece, informing what seemed to be a colleague who worked on Jungkook's floor.

The man bowed and motioned Taehyung toward the elevator, expressing a silent apology conveyed with his gaze, "You gotta be more flexible; this stiffness may break you." Taehyung deadpanned.

It wasn't the right time to meet Jungkook; Taehyung knew it very well, not with what Yoongi had done.

The odds were split in two: Either Jungkook found out who was behind the disappearance of one of his faithful dogs after finding Yoongi's necklace in the man's car, thus establishing a link between the two partners, which in itself was a clue to further truths, or he was still in the dark in case Yoongi had done his much-loved job.

Yoongi had played a lousy card recently, but it was a sort of survival instinct that rushed through his veins when he figured out, courtesy of his vigilant eyes, the fact that Jungkook's man landed hands on the camera surveillance videos that documented the breakthrough he had carried on Jungkook's server-house.

Yoongi had planted ears and eyes between Jungkook's men, literally everywhere, starting from the company to the house; out of ten of Jungkook's men, there were three that worked for Yoongi, so when the man bragged to his colleagues about the valuable evidence that could lead to his promotion, Yoongi decided to throw for him an in advance congratulatory party at the port of Incheon, in which the buffet consisted of high-quality human's meat served to the starving fish that were the VIP guests.

We can call it a kink, that pleasurable feeling he had whenever a tormentful event occurred; Yoongi always had the urge to witness and supervise those scenes. Thus, his necklace had been left behind in the guy's car due to a small carrel.

A necklace Jungkook knew very well.

The cords of a violin were less stiff than Taehyung's muscles; stress scored a point in his goal, a tragic scenario displayed in full HD in front of his eyes courtesy of the producing company, his brain.

But unlike his anger, everything else seemed to fade at a certain point, his distress included; as he was about to twist the doorknob leading toward the battlefield, a text poured a bucket of relief over his tense body. Yoongi took care of the untamed edges.

"Taehyung, fancy seeing you here at this time," Jungkook welcomed, pace full of confidence as he walked toward Taehyung with open arms, ready to array immense affection.

Taehyung decided to stretch his hand for a handshake refusing to be further touched by the enemy, "how are you doing, Jeon, I'm sorry for the disturbance, man, but I have something to discuss."

"Please take a seat. Coffee or tea?" Jungkook questioned.

"Thank you, but I'll skip."

At that moment, Taehyung figured he came unprepared; he indulged in his anger more than necessary, leading him to ignore other diplomatic tactics he could've used.

He'd been advising Yoongi about the importance of using one's brain instead of fists; Yoongi should have been there to watch as he grabbed the gun from the safe without second thoughts, discarding his own advice.

But it just sat in his pants' waistband, not helpful in any way, just a kind of embellishment.

"So, what brings you here, don't get me wrong, though; you're always welcome, you know that," Jungkook questioned, his hands curling into fists, his nails digging deeper into the skin of his palms from the overflowing rage inside him that kept being triggered by Taehyung's relaxed behavior.

Jungkook realized that one's aplomb could be more than a sufficient reason for murder; the more he looked at Taehyung, he empathized with those men who appeared in the news for having committed crimes of passion.

"Work, actually," Taehyung had cleared his voice before speaking, but it came out shaky, nevertheless. " it's not in my nature to tattle tale, but Y/N has been slacking off; work has been severely impacted due to that; you know that smooth deals need a negotiator as much as they need money, and she's our leading lobbyist.

Thankfully, Taehyung's voice found back its standard octave that oozed confidence; deep and husky.

If Jungkook wanted to play dumb, Taehyung didn't see why he shouldn't match with him; if the strategy was missing before, well, work was the answer to that riddle.

"Don't be so harsh on her, Kim; she's been under the weather lately; she will resume her tasks soon, though."

"I'm afraid I can't this time," Jungkook definitely wasn't expecting such a retort; Taehyung was insisting and borderline demanding.

But all Jungkook focused on was Taehyung's patronizing voice, which led him to ignore his hands that were typing a short text to Yoongi.

"Sorry, work-related," Taehyung explained, receiving a dismissive nod from the man across.

Someone needs to nominate Taehyung for an acting award; he deserves winning with the outstanding skills he got.

Taehyung was prepared for the worst and set up to wage war. Actually, he even was ready to start counting casualties and marked his first.

Before revving the engine to life and speeding toward Jungkook's company, Taehyung called Yoongi and requested backup around Jungkook's house; explanations were missing on the table, he'd no time for those, no matter how much of a nagging person Yoongi was.

But he'd made himself clear; it was a matter of life or death.

Jungkook, though, had different plans; war wasn't one of them, which was why Taehyung had sent a message to Yoongi, requesting him to stay low until further notice.

"I'll check on her and see if she's able to resume work," Jungkook's eyes started failing him; they started exhibiting an annoyance he wished to maintain hidden.

And he succeeded, for rendering the situation barren wasn't his aim at all; it was the opposite. Taehyung's presence in his office was beneficial to Rachel, who was turning Taehyung's office upside down, looking for any document or information that could be the lead for the investigation he was raring to carry.

Jungkook wasn't one to let opportunities slip from his hands; it was such a sunny, beautiful day when Taehyung fired his assistant and started looking for another; it announced an easy infiltration.

Thus, Jungkook became the HR department responsible for hiring Rachel as Taehyung's assistant. She didn't even request a fat salary in return; a good fuck with Jungkook was more than enough; she had a thing for his charisma and tattoos.

Jimin booked a multi-destination trip from his window to the door back to the couch, in which he threw his weight, sighing desperately, trying to lessen the weight in his chest; the repeated motion, however, halted with the bell's ringing.

"It took you long; I thought your office was at the corner; what happened? Jimin questioned a soaked Taehyung, who had suffered quite the fate between rain and endless problems.

"Well, that's because I wasn't in the office," Taehyung informed as he led his way inside the house, pushing Jimin to the side, "what's up? Why you called me here?"

Jimin closed the door and grabbed his hoodie from the hook, throwing it in Taehyung's direction, "for dinner, what else could it be."

He wasn't lying; he made dinner and even opened a bottle of Taehyung's favorite wines; he'd prepared the perfect bribe to obtain information about the bait he'd thrown to execute his plan, which started with a simple text.

Jimin's uneasiness, however, took the best out of him; it masked shiny facts about Taehyung, which are the man's high alcohol tolerance and zipped lips.

It was awkward to build a conversation, it almost felt as if they were strangers, and each had a reason behind the discomfiture; Taehyung's was mainly from last night's subject.

It didn't last long, though; they were both eager for a talk; they both needed liberation.

Taehyung especially, which is why he removed the seal on his lips and freed his chest.

"And? Spill it, Tae. What's with the suspense; where is she now? Don't tell me you just left her with him?" Jimin was like someone who couldn't speak for eternity and just discovered his voice; his questions were in a queue, waiting for their turn.

Taehyung leaned back, discarded the cutlery, and looked inspectingly at Jimin; he sought his glass of wine for a quick sip to swallow his doubts before stirring in the wrong direction. "Why so worried, Jimin? Easy there, I've got and had enough competition." He deadpanned.

"Try again, Tae; your sarcasm is very ill," Jimin retorted, eyes glistering from the focus he was putting on everything but the man across, "I'm curious because I care about you; you're my friend, remember?"

Taehyung shook his skeptical thoughts with the help of some nicotine, but those newly thrown thoughts got replaced with blazing anger as the conversation deepened.

"It's time you tell her the truth Tae," Jimin ignored his friend's threatening gaze; he decided to grow bold, "there's nothing to your gain from this; she at least needs to know who she's dealing with; you can't keep her in the dark forever Tae."

"For fuck sake Jimin," Taehyung spat, his fist landed on the dining table harshly, "what do you want me to tell her about, huh? Maybe the fact that she fucked her ex-husband's little brother? The husband she killed with her own hands."

Taehyung didn't consider lowering his voice as he stood up, throwing the chair behind him; he'd been triggered consecutively, and there was just this much patience; He lashed at Jimin, albeit knowing that he had nothing to do with his lack of luck.

The words meant to be heard by Jimin only ended up being shared with the woman at the doorsteps and maybe a few neighbors; truths that should have been explained in a better light have been exposed atrociously. 

And the shoulder you've used to cry over and considered shelter suddenly turned into a stranger, just like how your world became a distant reality you knew nothing about in the blink of an eye.

No, no, no stop. This can't be, no, please.

A/N

Here's the trailer I prepared for this book, and yes, I should have prepared it way before publishing the first chapter, but ...

I hope you will like it; it's actually my first attempt.

Anyway, how's the read going so far, folks? Is it to your liking? Any theories?

Comments and votes are highly appreciated; keep them coming 😘💕💜

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