Minsung↪𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ☑

𝟏𝟎. 𝐖𝐡𝐲

Minho funds his thoughts back to work, as he leans to read the note stuck on the table.

He squints unable to understand the handwriting,

"I want to....?"

"Talk to you. I wrote it."

Changbin barges into the office, a fretting face and sweaty hands.

"Where were you? Why do you even look like that?"

Minho wrinkles his nose at the foul smelling sweat, wetting the brunette's shirt.

"I was looking for you. Shouldn't you be training the boy right now?"

"Well, I gave him a little break."

"Why? Also, do you know he isn't who—"

A ripple of knocks interrupts the conversation as Minho allows the person in.

"Boss, I've tracked Joseph. He's with Crystal and will be meeting with their boss tomorrow night."

Seungmin swipes his bangs, falling over his eyes, passing his tablet to Minho.

"Good job. Also, try to find out about Han's son. It wouldn't be long before he reports us."

Minho handed the tablet back, making Seungmin shift out of the room, quietly.

"Plan out a hunt tomorrow night, we need to get ahold of Joseph. He'll tell us about Han's son as well."

"Sure, but about that boy—"

"Let him be, don't go on about him all the time. He felt tired so I gave him a break, Alright?"

Changbin gruffs out a breath as the blonde sweeps his figure past him, out of the office.

"What's with him?"

~•~

Jisung sighs looking at the dusky evening sun slowly lowering over the horizon.

He caresses a pendant in his hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the picture planted inside.

His eyes water at the smiling image of his father, reflecting in his glistening orbs.

He was still reminiscing the incident in the morning training.

"I can't take revenge like this. I should kill anyone who is involved, if not Joseph—until I trace him down."

His mind wavers back to Minho, the leader of the mafia.

Shouldn't he also be involved? It could only happen under his orders.

He stands up and rushes to the training room, underground.

Memories of his first training session come back to him but he ignores them.

He opens a glass compartment, displaying all the arms, under blinding display lights.

Ranging from riffles, guns, bombs to all other ammunition he had only heard of.

But his eyes prop onto the knives, he tries to stop his hand, but he ends up reaching to one.

Grabbing the sharpest dagger, his heart still unwilling his mind instructs him to slide it in his pocket.

It wasn't big neither was it small. It just fit right in his hands and he felt quite comfortable with it, contrary to the gun.

His heart cramps, tears rushing to his eyes, blood pumping, not feeling what he was going to do was right.

"Is this right?"

He raises his bloodshot eyes up, trying to press the unknown feeling down.

Strolling back to his room he comes across Minho in the hallway.

Working his way up the stairs he catches up to him, puzzled at his early return.

"You're here early. No work?"

Jisung leans on Minho's door frame, eyeing the man slump in his bed.

"Oh! Not that—mmm...maybe? But whatever. Are you fine?"

"Mhm."

"Come here pretty boy."

Jisung hides the print of the knife in his pocket, jutting it into his palm through the cloth.

His eyes shook, not wanting his plan to be terminated if he was caught.

He stood in front of Minho, thinking he was caught. However, Minho just pulls him into the bed.

"Sleep. Don't move around so much!"

"You smell! Not right now, I just took a shower! Get off me!"

Jisung twists around in Minho's arms who gives up, tumbling into the bathroom to shower.

He quickly fumbles with the bed, shoving the knife under his side.

It was now just very common for them to sleep together.

Minho re-enters the room, his blonde locks rubbing against the towel.

He cushions himself in between the bed and the comforter, hand out for the other to cuddle.

Jisung rolls his eyes, not really wanting to stick to the blonde.

"Do we really have to cuddle?"

Minho flaps his hand, not speaking, eyes shut almost ready to drift away.

Sighing, Jisung lays into the embrace, hand circling around the other's torso.

Only an hour later Minho was snoring, seemingly asleep.

But Jisung wasn't. And neither did he plan to.

He puts Minho's arm away with some effort, fishing out the knife.

Swish.

He removes the sheath, placing it's pointy tip on Minho's chest, right over his heart.

His breath rides high, very much audible and his hand quivers.

Not out of fear, but something foreign. He could barely reckon what it was.

Even though it was a chilly night, Jisung was bathing in sweat.

Beams of moonlight stepping over the window sill and into the room, falling over Minho's face.

Jisung gawked at the blonde, his hand outright shaking now as he threw the knife on the bed.

He dusts the locks off the blonde's forehead, taking in his features.

"Just why can't I do it? Why? "

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