Mafia's Pious Addiction|| KTH FF📕

✿ Ep 4: Storm behind smile

Jungkook's POV:

I took my Mercedes-Benz and picked up Taehyung from his mansion__the kind that it looks like it could swallow half of Seoul. We drove in silence, the streets humming under the wheels, until we finally reached the private section of the airport__ the place where jets land and private guests arrive with protocols as sharp as the bullet we dodge.

From the driver's seat, I glanced at the rearview mirror.

There he was. Taehyung.

Dressed in black fitted suit that hugged his tall frame like second skin, His black shirt was unbuttoned just enough to leave half his chest exposed__ reckless, dangerous and untouchable. making his chest almost naked...His pitched black sunglasses, shielded his eyes, hiding every trace of emotion. A cigarette rested lazily between his lips, its ember flicking like the devil's whisper.

Emotion? That word doesn't belong to him. Even when he scoffs, it's impossible to tell whether he is amused or disgusted.

If this man ever smiled, I swear it would mean the end of the world.

His idea of fun? Blood, sweat and bodies hitting the ground. His life? Guns, dead silence and scent of gunpowder. His fury? An active volcano__ silent but always on the verge of eruption. They say he's made of fire but i know he IS fire. A walking disaster, clocked in silk and shadows.

Even fear would leave the town then face Taehyung Kim__ the devil, made of fire and dressed in a man, who calls himself satan.

He sat silently, looking down at his Tablet. Probably checking mission files or staring at blueprints__ he's always working. Always five steps ahead.

Even as his best friend, getting close to him feels like playing with Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun.

"We're here Boss" I finally made a voice, breaking the silence.

My voice pulled his attention. He didn't speak, just took a slow drag from his cigarette. Then came the smoke rings__ elegant, deadly and theatrical.

The cars interior was fogged up, filled with that dizzy scent I've never liked, but always have to carry the burden of this a$$hole's dirty habits.

He glanced outs of the window.

A private jet gleamed under the sun__ sleek waiting. A smirk curled on his lips, something about that plane had already sparked his interest.

Without a word, he closed the  tab, opened the door and stepped outside.

I followed him, unaware that someone's arrival was about to change everything.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in fiery shades of orange. The wind picked up, wild and sharp, whipping through the open space of the airfield. My hairs flew with it, the cold biting into my skin. The rain had fallen earlier, the still smelled of it__ clean, damp and electric.

But what caught me off guard wasn't the weather It was Taehyung__soaked.

I've  been with him for seven years...
I used to visit him monthly when he moved to Italy, right after taking oath on his father's mafia seat.
And even in the two weeks since his return to Seoul. Never once had i seen him like this. Wet hairs. Damped shoes. No umbrella.
He hates rain. He hates mess.
Taehyung lives for dry, clean precision.
So how did it happen today?