Butterfly's repose

"fly away and break"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..." Yoongi scrambled around in his trash, frantically looking for his cellphone. Turning his entire flat inside-out. Onyx eyes darted to every corner as sweat bullets trickled down his temple.

"Yoongi hyung? Wha- what are you doing..?" Namjoon sleepily grumbled.

"I-I lost my phone and I got work in like... a minute," Yoongi panted as he dug through his work bag.

"Hey, hey. Hyung, Breathe." Namjoon wrapped his arms around the shorter man and caressed his back. Salty tears that spiked in Yoongi's eyes trickled his porcelain face. Following Namjoon's words, he deeply inhaled and exhaled. They stood in comfortable silence until a faded ringing broke it.

"I think we found your phone," Namjoon smiled.

x+x

Rundown black hightops echoed down the alleyway and he approached a hooded figure leaning against the burgundy brick wall, "You're late Agust," He smirked with venom in his gaze, "Y'know, he's not gonna like to hear that... again."

"Shut up, Mark. Let's just get this over with." Agust's hand extended towards Mark and his fingertips waved, "Money first." Mark snatched a thick wad of cash from his pocket and tossed it to Agust.

Unfortunately for him, Mark had a different idea in mind. As they exchanged items— Agust giving the little plastic packet, and shoving the wadded money into his pocket— Mark smirked as he popped opened the bag and inhaled the snowy powder.

"Seems legit," He examined Agust, tracing every inch of his body meticulously.

"Of- fucking- course it is. I've been dealing with you for years, nothing's changed in the formula," Agust rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Suddenly, he grunted as the old brick wall collided against his spine. Shooting his glare up to be met with Mark's sinister grin and his hands gripping either shoulder.

"What the fuck!" Agust yelled, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. With great force, he shoved Mark and stumbled back, panting. "What the fuck dude! Just take your shit and go... fuckin' psychopath."

"Are you gonna run away? Are you gonna run away again, huh? Like all the times before, from your parents, from your life, from this very job? From Jimi-"

"SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up, shut up. Shut the fuck up!" Agust's fists clenched and his nails dug into his palms, imprinting red crescents into them. Heaving through his teeth and blinking back tears were helpless attempts to calm his nerves. "You don't know anything. You got your stuff, we're done here."

"No. You're sorely mistaken, kid," Mark spat in his face, "How 'bout a deal, hm? You give me this lil' guy for free, and I'll let you live." He shook the transparent packet before Agust's face, taunting him. Though, he couldn't quite put a finger on what for. "So, what d'ya say."

"No, like I said a million times before, you got your shit, now go."

"The hard way it is," Bloodlust burned embers in Mark's eyes as his stone fist— adorned with steel bulky rings— uppercut into Agust's stomach. He hurled over in pain as his organs churned and screamed in agony. Mark approached Agust, his ego rapidly rising, watching Agust's pained reaction to only one of his punches. Gripping his collar, Mark lifted the injured man to stand. Flying another fist straight into his face.

Blood dripped from his reddening nose. He spat out the viscous red fluid and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "weak." Agust scoffed, "Don't get too cocky now, we only just started."