𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 || 𝐊.𝐓𝐇

𝟐𝟕 𖥸 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐍

⊱ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ • 𖥸 • ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⊰

When Taehyung is finished inflicting the last brutal hit to the lifeless body, he tosses the bloody, metal rod to the dirty ground and slams the trunk door shut. He yanks the driver's door open and settles inside. He doesn't say a single word, only wipes his sweaty forehead and cleans the specks of dried blood off his face.

I move from the scrunched-down position and sit in the passenger seat.

The tension is so thick I don't attempt to speak first. He's not himself—not himself in the slightest.

He murdered a man in cold blood because he didn't want to admit that Jungkook tried to kill himself, so he found someone to blame—someone who had no clue who Jungkook even was and was only doing his job. Even if I couldn't care less about the guy, he still died cruelly.

It's when Taehyung puts the car in drive and speeds away from the parking lot that I finally smell something that catches me off guard: cigarette smoke.

Taehyung's driving with one hand on the steering wheel. His elbow is resting on the rolled-down window, while he takes the cigarette out of his mouth. The smoke leaves his lips where it travels into the dark sky as he speeds down the empty, late-night road.

It's an oddly alluring sight.

The moonlight shines over his features, igniting his face beautifully. His black hair is damp with sweat, covering his piercing eyes which are hidden from me, but it makes the sight of him more attractive—even though he just killed a man.

His body is relaxed—too relaxed as if he didn't just murder someone moments ago.

"Why did you follow me?" His voice is low and dark, much darker than I've ever heard it.

He doesn't so much as turn in my direction. He faces the road the entire time.

I smooth out the blanket on my lap, running through the correct words to say.

He doesn't push for an answer—at least not right this second. It's concerning since he's acting so... different than his normal self... so inhumane.

"I was worried." I settle on saying, shifting my gaze to his hand that's on the steering wheel. It's covered in blood—dried blood from his earlier outburst at the house. "I was afraid you would do something reckless."

It's true. I had no idea where he was going, what his mental state was, and if he would do something as horrible as Jungkook attempted to do.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he flips the radio station on, a low tune flows through the small space.

After blowing two more puffs of his cigarette, he sighs.

"I don't need help from anyone, and I damn sure don't need anyone worrying about me." His words are sharp, but they have a malicious—almost poisonous—tone to them. I get the point.

His attitude reminds me of a snake. He's acting cool and collected, but if anyone would dare to look at him in the wrong way, he'd bite instantly. Snakes only attack if threatened... but Taehyung seems to always have his walls up, to always be on guard for a threat around every corner. There's no way of knowing when he'll finally strike.

I've been around people similar to him before and have witnessed them have violent hysterical outbursts. I've seen people lose their minds and lash out in the most ungodly and hostile type of ways.

Taehyung hasn't lost himself like that—at least not around me. Not fully.

He still has control and knows what he's doing, but I can only wonder how much longer he'll be able to hold back. Especially after tonight has brought him so close to fully losing it.