You Were My Love

Scene 95 - Frenzy

WARNING!

Mentions of violence and  bad language.

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Suddenly, the horrid thumping and whacking sounds stopped.

A new though partial silence settled that resonated in an eerie way in Jimin's ears.

Dark laughter rose, and the hoarse words that were uttered the next instant froze Jimin's blood in his veins.

"Is that all you've got?"

That's when he noticed them.

Two tall men in dark suits and ties.

They were standing a little further away from their mismatched group.

Sunglasses on despite the dim light of this eventful night.

Their hands were folded in front of them in this typical "stand to attention" pose.

Hae Wong's bodyguards.

Clearly on duty.

And they. Were. Standing. Still.

Jimin realized that they had not moved a single inch since all this had started.

Had not batted one single lash of their eyes.

Had not even flinched as their boss had been beaten.

Blows had been raining down on him.

And they had stood motionless.

It wasn't until Hae Wong raised his blood-trickling face up, and Jimin could witness the wrath in his eyes that the dancer realized the last sentence was his.

Sesange ...

Jimin had never seen his man with such a mad face.

His eyebrows were furrowed in the scariest expression.

And his eyes...

Eomeo, his eyes were blazing with what the dancer deciphered as some insane fury.

That suddenly made Jimin utterly frightened.

Not frightened of his man. No.

Frightened for the two bullies.

Despite everything they had done to him, now that he could see Hae Wong's face and his frenzied yes, he feared what would happen next.

He realized that after raising his head, Hae Wong's whole body had straightened up and his shoulders were not longer slumped.

They were now fully squared.

Before any of the other males could understand what was happening, the tall blond had dashed in front of the bulky Il Kwan and was throwing relentless straight and uppercut punches in his stomach and ribs.

He darted stinging jaws at his nose and eyes, and full-blow hooks at his jaws and temples.

All the hits were alternating, pouring down on him.

His body and neck were bending this way and that, their moves echoing the punches until it seemed that the only thing that was keeping him from crumbling down or falling was the next blow, which pushed him aside, or up, in the other direction.

The hits were chorused by a chain of pained moans and chokes and whimpers that were letting the other two know that the bully had not been knocked out – yet.