𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓣⓗⓡⓔⓔ

It was around 12 o'clock. Jungkook felt the welcoming dizziness take over his body as he moved to the loud music, swaying his hips and cheering glasses with strangers. The more he drank, the more his vision became blurry and his actions became reckless. He had cleaned up nicely, covering his bruises as best as he could. He looked like him handsome self once again. Dancing was hard with his leg but the alcohol made sure it felt numb quickly.

One shot, two shots, three shots, a cute girl paid for him. One shot, two shots, three shots, a wealthy-looking man paid for him. Why did everyone pay for him? Was he that attractive? Did they expect anything of him? Speech slurred, vision getting worse, footsteps clumsy, music getting louder, people getting weirder, time flew by...

A man stood in front of him. He was close. Too close. Who was he? Jungkook did not know. His back to the wall, the stranger's arm blocking his way next to his face. Jungkook looked to the side. Blurry figure. All black. He looked back to the stranger. He was getting closer. Jungkook could not push him back, his arms felt numb. Too close. Too close.

Swoosh, he was not there anymore. Loud music. Loud words next to him. Someone was shouting. The black figure.

"Get off," the black figure said. He seemed mad. Very mad. The black figure close to him. Protecting him. From who? Anoher stranger? Jungkook laughed.

"Who the fuck are you?" the stranger said in a playful tone. Who was he?

The black figure moved up to the stranger.He grabbed his neck. He looked familiar. A reflection on his hand. What was he doing? Jungkook tried to move. His Legs were numb.His knee hurt. Ouch.

"If you lay your hands on him again, I'll fucking kill you," the black figure said.

Woah. He was very mad. His voice... caramel... Nice. Soothing. Jungkook smiles. Why was he protecting him?The other stranger backed off, hands in the air.The black figure was holding something in his other hand. It was shiny. Jungkook liked shiny things. Speaking of,a shiny dress on a girl.A pretty girl. Go talk to her. No. The black figure grabbed his wrist. Where was he going? Jungkook did not know.

The outside sounds was buzzing in his ears. Not as loud as the sounds from inside.Nice. The black figure grabbed his face and snapped his fingers in front of him. Why was he doing this? The man was wearing a big black hoodie. It seemed comfy. He smells nice,warm hands,pretty eyes,inviting lips. Jungkook bit his own lips.

"Jesus fuck. You're close to passing out," the man says. "Come."

Why did he follow him? He didn't know.The man wanted to protect him. Good? Maybe? His leg hurt,and he fell down. The man picked him up.He is very strong,Jungkook thought as he drifted off.

Taehyung dropped the man on a dirty couch he found not far behind the bar, completely out of breath. He was way heavier than he had originally thought. He looked at him, his mind hazy. He had no actual plan of action. All he did was follow him around, and then he realized that this man wasted his life away drinking and getting into dangerous situations. Why was he doing this? What was he planning on doing? None of this made sense... Maybe that other man wanted to kill him, too. He should have let him kill him. No... If anyone was killing this man... it was him. It was Taehyung. No one else.

He sat next to him on the couch, observing him. He seemed to be passed out. He lightly tapped the man's cheek, seeing if he would respond. As he thought, no response at all. His chest rise and fell, a natural, reassuring rhythm. Why was this man occupying his every thought? Why couldn't he shake him off? His hand, curious, went up to his face. He brushed his cut lip with the tip of his thumb, his heart beating faster with every second. The surface of the scab reminiscing him of past cuts he had done on his victims. He took a deep breath and trailed his hand downwards as he noticed his stomach was exposed. There was another cut. A bigger one. All stitched up. He trailed his finger across the bumps of the stitches. The feeling of the uneven skin under his fingers made the hair on his arms raise in delight.

He could kill him. Right there and now. But something kept him from doing it. Was it because it was too easy? Was it because he did not want to kill him? Was there something more? Feelings towards him? No... no... impossible. All he knew is that no one else could touch him. No one else could kill him. The single thought of another person putting their unworthy, dirty hands on the man made him shake in anger. Taehyung bit his lip and looked away, rocking with his head between his hands.

He felt the man's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... thank you..." the man whispered softly.

Taehyung looked at him, confused. Thanking... him? A killer?

"I thought you were my Angel of Death, but you keep saving me..." he muttered.

Taehyung eyebrows shot up and his body instinctively stiffened. He was no hero. He did not save anyone. He killed. That's what he did. That's what he had always done. All of this felt so wrong. So, so, so wrong. Taehyung's hand slid towards his pants' pocket, reaching out for his pocket knife. He opened it, slid his middle finger against the edge of the blade; a habit. Jungkook's eyes were shut again. This was the perfect time. He was there, still, relaxed, beautiful... Yet Taehyung's hand did not leave his pocket. It stayed there, frozen in time. And as if he was reenacting the previous night, he left in silence, leaving Jungkook to the cold night's claws.