SHOOT YOUR SHOT ;; TAEKOOK

18

Taehyung had woken up early, showered and dressed and prepared himself for a day at work. Two more days – and he would be free. No more Zeha's. Ever.

Taehyung almost felt like slaughtering a cow and making an offering at the feet of his own personal God, now known as Jeon Jungkook – his saviour.

Perhaps he would burn his orange vest on Thursday as well. The ladies of Woodstock were legendary for burning their bras; he could take a stand and mould his own meaning from that...

No, that was silly. Taehyung's would-be murder victim was scared senseless of fire. But still...

Taehyung was pacing about in the kitchen, drinking his second cup of coffee and grimacing with every sip. He liked his vanilla bean coffee; this regular stuff just didn't cut it. Unfortunately it had been packed, along with his coffee mug. He was making do.

Grammt had said he would be here at half past eight to collect the boxes, and he was avidly clock watching as the minute hand ticked passed thirty-five minutes to nine. At this rate, he would be late for work.

When he eventually heard footsteps clomping up the porch steps, he downed the rest of his coffee and quickly went to rinse out the mug.

But no knock came; instead, he heard keys jangling about as they unlocked the front door.

Taehyung felt his face pale.

"What the—" Jooan stuttered as the door was slammed shut, rattling every window in the house. "What in the name of God?"

Taehyung could hear boxes being kicked, his large feet tripping all over his things. "TAEHYUNG!"

Oh Lord... what was he doing here? Jooan was supposed to be at work until ten!

"TAEHYUNG!"

Crap.

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut tight, clenched his jaw and winced. "Yeah?"

"Get in here!"

Taehyung set the mug onto the side drainer and slowly walked through to the hallway.

Jooan was busy scratching his head and tearing his gaze all around the area, mumbling away to himself, as per usual.

His eyes roved to the other's. He looked as though he might start breathing fire at any moment.

"What the hell's this? I nearly died tripping over this lot!"

Wonderful. Angry Jooan.

How best to broach this...?

Oh to hell with it!

"I'm going to New York. The mover should be here soon to collect the boxes."

He narrowed his eyes. "Well call and tell him to hurry it up! I want them out my damn hallway!" He snapped. "They're a hazard!"

I'll miss you too.

Taehyung bit his lip. "He should be here soon. He said half past..."

He grunted out something about 'useless workers', but it wasn't very clear. Very little of what Jooan ever said was clear.

"Wait a minute... what's in New York?" His beady eyes were comically searching his face for answers, though he thought he must have already guessed it.

"College," Taehyung replied simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"And just how are you paying for it? How many times have we told you that there isn't any money for you to go? How many times, Taehyung?" Jooan demanded, his tone forceful.

More than he cared to remember...

"I got a... last minute sponsor." It wasn't a full lie. Jungkook was sort of, kind of, like a sponsor.

"How nice," Jooan bit out. "And exactly how are you going to support yourself? Because you know where your mother and I stand on this, Taehyung. You have been told no."

"I'm staying with a... friend. I've got some savings and I guess I'll get a job when I get there." That was easy enough to believe, right?

Why was he so angry? He wasn't asking him for anything. They had both been waiting for the day he finally left to come around for years.

A sudden tapping cut off whatever Jooan was about to say next and luckily, Grammy oy was on the other side of the door with a box lugging contraption, ready and raring to go.

Taehyung was all too happy to assist him in loading his twelve boxes into his van. When he finally pulled away, he realised just how late he was and sped inside to grab his bag and Jimin's car keys.

"You'll need to phone your mother and let her know," Jooan shouted from the living room. The TV set was already blaring.

"Uh... yeah..." Taehyung said awkwardly, not wanting to think about that particular conversation just yet. "My flight is on Saturday and my room's been cleared. I'll see you later."

Taehyung thought that was the longest conversation he had ever had with his father. It was unnerving to hear him talk so much.

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Work dragged by and for once, he was relieved. It meant that for nine glorious hours, he had managed to put off the dreaded task of making a phone call to her – the shampoo Nazi.

Unfortunately, the minute he arrived home – time sped up.

Every clock in the house mocked him as he made dinner, ate, put a plate in the microwave for Jooan, washed up, phoned Jimin to schedule a trip to the mall on Friday, and then cleaned some.

And all the while, the minutes kept on ticking by far too quickly, and eventually he had run out of things to procrastinate over.

He could no longer put it off. His minutes were up.

Biting his lip painfully hard, Taehyung picked up the kitchen phone and dialled a number he had not had the displeasure of calling for two years.

Taehyung's fingers were literally quaking. He felt ill.

He heard his cell phone ringing and cringed knowing who it would be, but knowing that he had to get this over with first – he ignored it.

He sure had a knack for calling at the worst flippin' times...

Taehyung was about to give up hope of getting through – he was inwardly doing the tango – when eventually, the dial tone cut off.

The female on the other end cleared her throat – even managing to make the sound dictate exactly how she felt about being called. She was obviously annoyed.

"Yes?"

Still as snarky as ever...

Taehyung felt really, really sick.

Shouldn't have eaten after phoning!

"Hi, it's... uh... it's Taehyung."

Silence.

Closely followed by a derisive snort.

"What do you want?" Her tone was glacial.

Apparently, the boy was still not forgiven. Such was his familial norm.