𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 || 𝐊.𝐓𝐇

𝟐𝟔 𖥸 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍

Recommended Song:

Lucidity - Californiacation

⊱ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ • 𖥸 • ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⊰

It was one of those things sneaky teenagers do. The occasional sneaking out past dark and coming home early morning-type-of-shit—the scenes in movies and such.

That's what was supposed to happen, but it didn't end up that way at all. It's just now dawn and cold as hell outside. It's been a wild night—scratch that—week, and it continues to grow crazier leading into the new day.

Right now, I'm leaning out of the passenger-side window of a stolen, black Mustang, firing off rounds at the men chasing us.

"Shoot the tires!" Taehyung shouts ferociously. He speeds down the dirt road, ducking his head when bullets aim his side of the vehicle. They fly through the broken back window, shattering the front windshield and missing our heads by inches.

We're in the middle of nowhere. These bastards could easily kill us, and no one would know until weeks or months later when people pass by one of these rocky trails.

"I'm trying!" I aim for the tires as the men close in on us. It's three cars in total behind. "Shit, it's not working!" I curse, sitting back in the seat with my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

My entire body is covered in marks—cut up from the rough week since I decided it was a good idea to follow Taehyung that night.

Taehyung is the same; he's just as beat up but worse. I've spent this whole week doing all kinds of crazy shit with this man: fighting together, ignoring each other... touching one another. Our relationship is constantly hot and cold; some would even dare say it's toxic.

But now all I can focus on is this moment because it's going to be hell to get out of this mess—if we get out of this mess.

My eyes shift to Taehyung. He's concentrating, trying his hardest to think of a plan.

"There's only one way out of this. We might not survive." He looks at me with a grave expression—one that reads once he does this, there's no going back. "We'll have to wreck." He knows the outcome of surviving a crash out here is slim, but it's the only way out of this alive and that might not even happen.

We're screwed either way, but any plan is better than speeding until the gas is dried up. I reach behind and grab the seatbelt, buckling myself in while he follows and does the same.

"I don't care. If there's even a slight chance, then we have to try." I stare at him, and he holds our intense gaze. He keeps his foot on the gas pedal, not letting up. "I can't die yet," I say, keeping my eyes on him.

He grabs my hand, bringing my cut knuckles to his lips where he places a kiss on them. He remains silent for a second, almost wanting to say something—to admit something, but he doesn't and forces his eyes ahead while still holding onto my hand.

A warning look passes between us in silence, then he does it. Within a moment, Taehyung's turning the steering wheel too fast. The Mustang starts flipping over the dirt road. The rocky ground.

It flips for eternity. During the crash, our hands are ripped away from each other. What feels like forever is only seconds—seconds until the vehicle stops moving—seconds until we land roughly. The world stops spinning.

Opening my eyes, I groan in pain. I cough hard, spitting out blood from the way the seatbelt yanked my chest back into the seat after we stopped moving.