just pretend.

40.

Minho stood frozen, staring at Jisung with a pounding heart, barely able to breathe. The bullet had missed him by inches, but the weight of what had almost happened bore down on him, mercilessly squeezing his chest. His heart hammered so hard it felt like it might burst through his ribs. His whole body trembled uncontrollably as he whispered, “Hannie”, his voice cracking with fear and desperation. But his whisper was lost in the chaos, drowned out by the commanding voice of the man who had nearly shot him. The man muttered orders, his eyes dark and cold as he raised the gun, now pointing it at Jisung. Minho’s heart seemed to stop entirely, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Every nerve in his body screamed to move, to act, to save Jisung. But his feet felt glued to the ground. Suddenly, the sound of squealing tires filled the air as a van screeched to a halt beside them, its door flinging open with violent force. “Get in the car”, the gunman ordered, his voice sharp and devoid of mercy. Jisung hesitated for a moment, his wide, terrified eyes locking with Minho’s in a fleeting glance. Minho could see the fear, the resignation, and the unspoken plea in Jisung’s eyes. Then, before he could react, one of the men pushed Jisung forward, shoving him toward the van. Minho’s chest tightened painfully as he watched Jisung climb into the vehicle, his movements slow and reluctant. The van was the same one Minho had parked behind just minutes before, a bitter irony twisting the knife already lodged deep in his heart. Desperation flooded him as he took a cautious step closer, straining to hear what the men were saying to Jisung’s father. His gaze shifted to the older man, and for the first time, Minho noticed that Jisung’s father had collapsed to the ground beside the coffin. When had that happened? It must’ve been while Minho’s attention was on Jisung. One of the masked men grabbed the older man’s hair, yanking his head back violently. A pained groan escaped his throat as the man pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple. “Listen to me now, old man”, the gunman growled, his voice low and venomous. The sound of it sent a shiver down Minho's spine, chilling him to the bone and yet, he found a familiarity in that voice. “This is the last time you fuck someone over just because you’re greedy.” Minho's breath caught in his throat as he watched the terrifying scene unfold before him. The gunman's words echoed in his ears, his threat hanging heavy in the air. He wanted to help Jisung’s father, despite everything the man had done. He didn’t deserve to die like this, not in front of Jisung, not in the middle of such chaos. But Minho was powerless – he couldn’t take on these men, and any sudden move could mean Jisung's death too. Jisung’s father whimpered, barely managing to nod, his lips parted as he gasped for air. His groans of pain were weak, pitiful, and Minho could almost feel the humiliation radiating from him as the gun pressed harder against his temple. “You’ve already lost your first son and your wife”, the man continued, his voice dripping with malice. “Your punishment is losing your last son too.” Minho’s heart skipped a beat, horror flooding his veins. He tried to move, tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, his body frozen in place. His mind raced, desperate for a solution. They were going to kill Jisung. They were going to murder him, and he couldn’t stop them. The thought was unbearable. He couldn’t lose Jisung. Not like this. Steeling himself, Minho forced his legs to move, taking a tentative step forward, his mind scrambling for any plan, any way to intervene. His breath was shallow, each inhale burning his lungs as he took another step closer. The gunman hadn’t noticed him yet – maybe there was a chance. But Minho knew he had no weapons, no strength. He was running on pure adrenaline, injured and helpless against these armed men. And yet, he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “Stop!”, Minho finally managed to croak out, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but his eyes were fixed on the man holding the gun to Jisung’s father’s head. His vision blurred with tears, but he blinked them away, determined to stay focused. The gunman turned his head slightly, acknowledging Minho's presence with a squint of his eyes. But Minho didn’t back down, even though every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, to save himself. He couldn’t. Not when Jisung’s life was on the line. “Take me instead”, he pleaded, his voice trembling but firm.