"Life is about give and take; you know this better than anyone; the deal is clear, either you take an in, or war it shall be.
"It's indeed give and take, so why do I feel like the only one who gives without receiving anything in return?"
"Because th...
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At night, emotions are expressed; feelings such as love are clothed and demonstrated with what words cannot deliver; others, such as sadness, weakness, and tears, are released in the comfort of darkness; night is the shield, the harbor; night is the camouflage that hides emotions from lurking eyes.
But there are also nights that know no silence, nights that defy their original setting of privacy and speak several decibels louder than they should; nights when we know full well that a quiet morning would see no light; instead, it would be littered with chaos and conflict, drawing difference with strong contrast from a quiet yesterday.
A few miles from Incheon, on the outskirts of Seoul, events that would stain a tomorrow happened during the night; it was a well-decorated warehouse that could have been mistaken for a small chalet if one didn't know better, immaculate, decorated with soft beige tones and gold accents, mixed with the majestic addition of the king of colors; black. Sconces brought threads of light to the dark forest; the place was rural, inhabited due to the fact that it was far from the city and didn't offer basic necessities for people to opt for deposing their money on a house that excluded them from civilization and its benefits. Yet, it was the best place that offered the necessary privacy.
Meetings for business of great importance needed a quiet environment and, above all, secrecy; that is why Jungkook called the deputy Mr. Cha to the cabine; that's how they referred to their meeting place; nothing but a signature was needed to conclude the deal, had it not been for the stubbornness of Mr. Cha. How much different the night could have been if he had just let the ink hit the paper; it could have been a quiet dawn, with the birds chirping in the trees, if he had put a sock on his mouth and refrained from rubbing salt on a wound that hadn't quite healed.
Damn, it could have been a night that wouldn't change anyone's tomorrow had he given in.
Bottles of Scotch were sat at the table with empty glasses surrounding them, as if they were keeping them company in silence, as if they were sharing their grief over the broken one whose shutters were strewn across the floor, its liquid staining the marbled pavement as much as the crimson liquid pouring from Mr. Cha's skull.
The puff of cigarette swirled in the air as Taehyung nervously waited for the person he was desperate to reach on the phone to pick up the line while Jungkook watched the fruits of his erratic action warily.
It wasn't supposed to turn out like this; heck, it was supposed to be an ordinary night; Jungkook wanted the night to be as calm as possible, had planned to leave after his work was done and sleep between the arms of the person who drove his mind to the brink. Jungkook was a boy in love who believed that his thumb could hide the sun, thought that if he gave, he'd one day be on the receiving end, had faith that his immense love would one day revive the heart of his beloved.
How foolish.
See, Jungkook was the type of person who refused to let his partner know that her feats were overt, looked at her and her lover every day without burning them with the fire in his heart, refused to allow a mistake to tarnish his and her reputation, which was bound by vows and signature, felt ambushed when Mr. Cha exploited this weak point of his in a bargain that should've remained professional, and in seconds, the fire in his heart exploded like a booby trap that the deputy had carelessly touched.
