THE8 | Junhao

FORTY - FIVE

| CHAPTER FORTY - FIVE |

Minghao runs along the alley, breath caught in his lungs. He's heaving, a bit too heavily, and he hates the way his heart screams at him to turn around.

He's trying not to fucking sob. He hated doing this to Jun the first time, so the second time is wrecking him hard. Even as he's on a mission to kill, he still feels like a weak little bitch. A person who immediately melted in the hands of people he cared about.

He throws off his hood, hissing through the material of his mask. He shouts in frustration, throwing himself against the wall. He takes a break, back rested against the brick.

He takes off his mask and breathes heavily, looking down at his wrist, the flash image of Jun asking him to stay flickering through his mind again, and he wants to carve his fucking brains out for doing this to him.

Minghao throws his hood back on when he hears an engine, immediately sunk into a squat. He's hiding behind a stack of empty boxes workers had left in the alley, his head peeking over.

It was a black car, and Minghao stared at it in wonder. He looks around, checking his surroundings before looking at the car again.

Someone opened the car door then, and Minghao darted down, hiding even more behind the boxes.

Vernon climbed out of the car, gun in hand.

Soon, Seokmin followed, and a big wave of regret runs through Minghao. He grits his teeth in rage. He should've killed that fucker when he had the chance. both of them, honestly.

"Take left, I'll take right." Minghao hears Vernon's voice and panics, not knowing what the fuck to do in this situation.

It's quiet before he hears footsteps get closer to where he's hiding, the sound of a gun clocking making his bones brittle, making his blood run as cold as the chill in the air.

Minghao hides his hair with his hoodie, face sinking as far into his lap as it could. He shakes, arms hugging his knees in desperation.

This could be it.

Minghao feels a ripple of fear run through his body when the footsteps come to a stop right in front of him. He gulps, peeking through the crack between his arms.

A pair of black shoes stared back at him, and he felt the chills practically dance down his skin. The person clears their throat, and Minghao frozen. He watches the barrel of a rifle touch the ground, the person sighing.

"Minghao, get up."

Minghao head shoots up at his name, his eyes wide.

Seokmin stared at him with a look of sorrow, a frown on his face, his gun pointed low, "I'm not gonna hurt you." He shakes his head, and Minghao's confused on why he looks so defeated.

Minghao scoffs, "Not gonna hurt me?" He could fucking laugh, "You stabbed me half to death over a month ago, seokmin. I almost lost my fucking life because of you."

"It was an order," seokmin sighs, "I had no choice."

"But you did... That's the thing," Minghao chuckles, shaking his head, "You could've said no. You could've come up with another way to stop me, y'know? But no, you practically attempt murder and then have the audacity to tell me you didn't have a choice?"

Seokmin frowns, slumping his shoulders, "I didn't want to do it, Minghao. You know I didn't," Minghao sees the tears in Seokmin's eyes, and he almost feels a bit bad. Almost. "I never wanted to hurt you.... I really didn't. You're my best friend."