𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓕⓘⓕⓣⓨⓢⓘⓧ

He snapped his head towards the club, eyes wide as he heard screams coming out of it. The beating of his heart was deafening, pumping constantly without a single pause. Air barely passed through his lungs as he heard more gunshots coming from the club, too many to be a simple accident. Too many and yet not enough thoughts stumbled through his mind, and it felt like his legs would melt into the wet concrete street with every step he took. He wanted to move quicker, to get there faster, but his limp legs barely had the strength to do so. The club was so far away yet it was at finger's reach; every gunshot that echoed in the dark street made it seem a mile further away.

Breathless, he finally reached the main entrance of the club. A putrid smell of gunpowder and blood seeped out of the open room, making him gag and instinctively put his hand over his mouth and nose. His hazed gaze glanced throughout the room, meeting shadowed, blurry visions of what seemed like people running and hiding. It was hell. He saw people he did not recognize, holding guns up, looking like hunters searching for their prey. They walked deeper inside of the club, away from his reach, and so he looked away. He had nothing to defend himself nor anyone, no gun at his hip. He never thought he would have needed one. A lump formed in his throat as his legs locked and his feet felt drilled to the ground, eyes locking on the glimpse of a face that had brought him such joy just hours ago.

Yoongi watched as the man he loved hastily and clumsily picked up a gun from the ground, fingers shaking, eyes wild. He wanted to speak, to tell him to run away, or even better to run to him, but his body was immobile. He wanted to jump on him and protect him from oncoming bullets, yet he was stuck there. Helpless. Useless. Nothing moved, nothing worked. His throat tightened and his eyes watered as Jimin raised the gun in front of him, eyes locked on a specific target. Through his lover's gaze he saw something he had never seen before. Something deep and dark that had never shone through the charming slanted brown eyes he had once adored looking into. Yoongi glanced to the side, meeting the destination of the gunpoint.

His mouth opened, mute, when the first gunshot tore through Taehyung's chest. Stop. He wanted to scream. Stop. Tears fell down Jimin's eyes as his still shaking heads held the gun steadily, not letting go of the deadly weapon that had just destroyed so many things at once in one single click. The sole movement of one finger had brought crumbling down someone's entire world, and he heard it clearly. The shrieking resonated through his head achingly, tearing and stabbing at his heart. He did not understand what was happening. He was completely and utterly lost, powerless and paralyzed in front of a scene that made absolutely no sense. He thought it must have been a nightmare. He was going to wake up next to Jimin, where he would tangle his fingers in his disheveled brown hair any moment now. He was sure of it. He wanted to believe it. Tears fell down his own cheeks, the saltiness reaching his open, silent mouth.

A second shot. Jimin's hands had stopped shaking. It had been a firm, determined pull of the trigger. In Jimin's eyes had been nothing more than pure hate and resentment, there had been no hesitation in that shot. Yoongi watched as the bullet pierced Jungkook's chest, right as he was holding his fiance's dying body, and sounds finally came out.

"Jimin!" he shrieked, the pain, anger, suffering, confusion and sadness echoing painfully through his broken sobs and breaths.

Jimin heard him and turned, his dull, dead stare glaring back at him. Yoongi did not recognize the man that stood before him, the man that he had once held in his arms so lovingly, had kissed until he giggled with flushed cheeks. He did not recognize the man that had just shot his two friends in the chests on purpose, clearly aiming at them and no one else. Yoongi's bottom lip quivered as he watched his lover point the gun at his own head and pull the trigger one last time. He fell to his knees. Crying. Screaming. Someone grabbed him. Pulled him off the floor. Told him they had to go. He cried. He screamed. The person told him to shut up. They put their hand over his mouth. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. The person dragged him out of the club and into the street. They'll find us. Shut up.