Speeding Into Trouble || Taekook

40

"Pick up the fucking phone!" Jeongguk snarled, every word laced with a dangerous edge, his voice breaking the stillness of his apartment like shattering glass.

For the hundredth time—maybe the thousandth—he jabbed Taehyung's contact and pressed the phone to his ear.

The endless, hollow ring echoed back at him, each tone dragging a nail across his nerves. He paced like a caged animal, bare feet pounding against the floor, one hand yanking through his hair so hard it hurt. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

Where the fuck are you, Taehyung?

The question burned in his mind, relentless and consuming.

Taehyung had walked out that morning without a word. No note. No text. No "I'll be back."

Just silence.

And now—hours later—it was evening, the sky outside stained in dying sunlight, and Jeongguk's calls had gone unanswered every damn time.

His chest felt like it was in a vice, squeezed between anger and something worse—fear. Raw, gnawing fear.

Was he angrier at Taehyung for disappearing like that? Or at himself for letting him leave in the first place? Or—God help whoever it was—at Taehyung's father?

Just the thought of that man's face made his blood throb hot in his temples. If he's touched him—if he's even breathed wrong near him—Jeongguk didn't want to think about what he'd do. Because he knew exactly what he'd do.

He grabbed his phone again with white-knuckled hands and stabbed at Yoongi's contact.

"Give me Jimin's number," Jeongguk barked the second the call connected. "No questions." His tone left no room for argument, his voice jagged with urgency.

Yoongi didn't waste time. He knew Jeongguk—knew that if his voice sounded like that, someone's life could be at stake. A few seconds later, the number pinged into Jeongguk's messages.

He didn't even take a breath before dialing Jimin. His pulse was a drumbeat in his ears, matching the rhythm of the ringing until—

"Hello?" Jimin said.

"It's me Jeongguk ," Jeongguk said, low and tight, every word strained. "Did you hear what happened last night? Is Taehyung okay?"

"I heard," Jimin answered, his tone dipping with unease. "Is Taehyung—?"

"He's not fucking here," Jeongguk cut in, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. "He left my place this morning and hasn't answered a single call since. Hours, Jimin. Hours." He paced harder, eyes scanning the room like he could will Taehyung to appear.

"If that old bastard has done something to him—" His breath hitched into a harsh laugh. "No. I won't say it. I'll fucking do it."

The silence on the other end was broken by Jimin's sharp inhale. "Jeongguk... I'll go to his house right now. I'll find out."

"Please," Jeongguk hissed, and that word came out raw, almost broken. "Call me the second you know anything. Don't make me sit here waiting. I'm climbing the goddamn walls."

"I'm on it," Jimin promised quickly, and the line went dead.

Jeongguk lowered the phone slowly, his hand trembling so violently he had to curl it into a fist. His lungs felt too small for his chest.

The air around him felt thick, suffocating. His heart was beating like it wanted to punch its way out, and all he could think was—

If Taehyung's hurt, I'll burn the whole fucking city down.