Hustlers || Taekook

Chapter 34

Jungkook gripped the gun with both hands, curling his finger around the trigger.

There was a brief moment of silence before-

Jungkook exhaled, deflating as he lowered the gun, arm swaying by his side, grip loosening so it dangled from his fingers. He clicked his tongue and glanced away from Taehyung's hypnotising, tired eyes. He gritted his teeth and blinking a few times, scowling at nothing as he gathered his composure, squashing down the pulsing knot of inner turmoil in his chest. He closed his eyes and took in a slow, controlled breath of the cool, biting night air, just taking a moment, before flicking the safety back on and shoving the gun into his pocket. Taehyung gazed up at him, in a confused, uncomprehending way, lips parting a little, and Jungkook breathed in, feeling heat prick at the corners of his eyes, and straightened up to his full height again, clawing a semblance of an air of decisiveness and control back together.

"Who am I kidding. Get up. You know I can't kill you." Jungkook muttered, addressing the night sky, words airy, light and unsubstantial, merging together in a sigh. He hated himself for it. He was so weak, always so weak when it came to Taehyung. He hated that his weakness was displayed for all to see, radiating off his curled in form in that moment of defeat. Taehyung didn't reply and didn't move from his position, gazing so intently up at Jungkook who exhaled shakily and gripped Taehyung's upper arm far tighter than necessary, hauling him up to his feet. Taehyung didn't resist, just letting Jungkook do whatever he wanted. Jungkook could barely look at him, like if he did it'd be admitting his own weakness.

"Why can't you kill me?" Taehyung asked softly, and Jungkook gritted his teeth at the question, which felt like a punishment, mockery at him not being able to pull the trigger. He grabbed Taehyung's collar, yanking him forward violently and baring his teeth in Taehyung's slack face, fingers trembling in the effort to stop himself from - something. He searched the depths of Taehyung's eyes with his own, trying to read the answer there. But he already knew it. He wasn't sure if the shine captured in Taehyung's eyes was the roaring flames or the bright starlight gazing down at them from the inky blue night sky. He let go of Taehyung roughly, eyes cast down to the concrete, glaring down at the small, dark splatters of blood like they hadn't been caused by him, hands shaking.

"Because I love you." Jungkook replied quietly, like a mere breath escaping his lips, so quietly he wasn't sure if Taehyung had even heard him. He turned abruptly, sharply, and drew himself together, letting authority and power bleed into the air around him with ease now that he wasn't faced with Taehyung's soft, listless gaze anymore. He gestured at Changjung waiting patiently a metre or so away, gaze averted, obviously protecting Jungkook's pride and dignity.

"Put him in a car with the Blank Card." Jungkook muttered, striding past without a second glance, running a hand through his hair and brushing the caked dust and dirt off his blazer. Most of his men had piled into the black sea of vans and sleek cars, several still waiting outside, holding down the escaped Bangtan members. Not many had made it out of the fire. He spotted Namjoon and Seokjin with their hands bound, kneeling some metres away, and made a sharp flicking motion with his hands to Minjun and Geonwoo holding them there. They were dragged into cars, and Jungkook turned back to the remaining Bangtan members, bleeding and bruised, some snivelling, some cursing and spitting. He had no use for them.

One glanced up at him, eyes widening, incomprehension crossing his wretched, desperate gaze. He was likely one of those fools that still hadn't figured out that this massacre had been orchestrated by one of their own executives, the one he was grovelling towards right now. He scrambled forward as far as he could with the hands restraining him, fiery, desperate hope seizing his eyes. "Red Ace!"

Jungkook paused, grinding his teeth slowly at the jarring name, almost like a brittle, shameful label. That name belonged to the previous stage of his life, the name of his past self, someone he didn't know now. He was moving on now, and never would anyone call him Red Ace again. He stared directly at the guy, speaking after a tense moment of silence. "Who?"