P O I S O N || VKOOK

::FIVE::

               

05: Drowning 

  Taehyung dare makes a move or a noise as the cold muzzle of a gun pushes the back of his uncovered neck.

His hand stays raised in the stuffy air, immobile; so so still.

The muffled tones of Yunhae's cries in the background are nothing but small severed parts of a bitter aftermath.

Damning helplessness hooks Taehyung right at his jaw, eyes straining with blood rush and the weight of un-fallen tears.

Yunhae watches his movements turn to a halt with a pain that he has never seen in her eyes; a pain that liquefies and runs down her cheeks in rivulets of salty water.

"H-yungie..."

"Put your hands in the back of your head, boy! Now" The muzzle presses more tightly into his sweaty skin if it was possible. Blood catches on the stiff metal.

It's cold.

Taehyung follows the bark with robotic meticulousness.

"Now you're gonna do as I say and step the fuck away from her if you want to see her in one sweet piece again, son."

Yunhae-

"Do you understand?"

They have Yunhae.

"I said do you fucking understand?"

Taehyung sees Yunhae flinch at the man's voice and curl up more as her cries intensify.

He does what he's told. Barely anything left in him to fight back when these bastards have found her; his chink in the armour; his most precious chink.

His cheeks are warm with wetness as the man grabs his hands roughly from the back .

A soft clink echoes in the room.

Then he is pulled away from there; from Yunhae. From everything he lives for.

For everything he would have fought for; he fights for.

Sticky heat traps him again.

And Taehyung's definition of warmth changes overnight.

~

It's uncomfortable.

Taehyung is brought into a room where some men lounge uber comfortably.

One on the lavish sofa settee, two on the visitor's chairs which have the gall to look comfier than Taehyung's bed at home.

Peace coming from easy readable satisfaction glitching on their features.

And the other on a leather bound high back office chair; very vintage.

Taehyung might get sick. Be very sick.

It's very fitting with the decor of the expansive room with the loosened smooth looking ties and crisp cut linens.

The itch on his nostrils is back with full force. It smells like harsh colognes, heavy leathers.

With an underlying hint of copper; of rust and salt and iron---of blood.

"Tuan, what brings you here?" The red-head says casually, his tone loud with humour, "With that." He gestures loosely at the man who's still shoving a gun down Taehyung's back like it's the most normie thing to do to a practical stranger just after you've abducted them.