Yoongi's POV
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Everytime the thought of that boy past through my mind, I was automatically annoyed.

The fact he was alive, ticked me off so badly.

If he won't die himself, who else will help him?

It would be better for both me and Jimin.

My poor baby shouldn't have to suffer because of him.

I hate you, Taehyung.

As I sipped my coffee from the cheap cafe, I slid out my samsung phone from my red jacket pocket, sighing before calling a familiar number.

"hobi?"

"wassup, yoongs"

"i know things got awkward between us, but I really need your help"

"with...?"

"I'm commiting murder again."

"again?!? I thought you said you were done!"

"I... This will be the last time, I promise."

".... promise? If dad finds out... You know what he did last time."

"hobi.. I promise. And... Don't worry about dad, I have this under control."

"alright, what do you need?"

"One of those weird handkerchiefs that make people pass out, the ones that kidnappers use"

"chloroform?"

"Yeah yeah whatever you scientists like to call it"

"'kay!..anything else?"

"yup, get me an expensive diamond ring, I'll pay you the cost, I just really need one at the moment"

"ooooookhh~~ whose the lucky man~~~ yoongs has a little cRUSHH--"

"h-hobi! take this seriously."

"right, hehe..."

"anyways, that's it. thanks hobi, I really owe you one."

"don't worry, anything for you."

"thanks, bro"