If Only I Was A Little Braver | Park Jimin

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shots were fired as if machine guns were thrown all over the world.

as if it was a playground with confetti threw around, it was almost wrong to watch blood glide down the slide that the young boy once had fun with.

but there it was, causing the chaos made by the few people they never knew would come together.

the strongest, but they were against stronger.

they would smile as they watch the crowd panic, and run, run as far away as possible.

and there were footsteps of boots running in to save the chaos.

those men, suited in black, holding guns like professionals, all against them.

there he was, standing in the middle of the armed silhouettes.

Jimin didn't know what to do next, or what to expect of him.

As he saw his own father smirk, his eyes wandering around as the ball grows emptier and emptier.

Jimin lost confidence in whatever they thought was the perfect plan.

because who would actually be able to stop him?

He found himself fidgeting with his gun when the man stood forward, glancing at the eleven of them.

"Oh no. I've been exposed." the old man laughed, sticking his hands into his pockets.

there was no remorse, no guilt, and never was there love.

"There's so much more, Park. We've just started."

That was when Park Jimin realised where he was standing.

Eleven kids, grown up mentally abused, forced to accept blood as it's negativity.

There they were, standing right beside him.

And he glanced at his left, suddenly all he saw was her.

He knew she was afraid, as afraid as he is.

But the way her eyes lit up in orange flames the moment Park Dowoon appeared.

The way she had her teeth clenched.

He wasn't doing this for himself.

He was doing this for her.

For everyone who has been tortured by this man.

And he forgot everything about the plan, because all he remembered was them.

Standing by him.

And that he was not alone.

Never was he.

"Father." Jimin smirked, all his fear running out of his fingertips the closer he got to Park Dowoon.

He played with the gun in his hands and looked back up with pouted lips, almost as if he was mocking the army around his father.

"You know, I grew up with this gun you gave me." he hung the gun around his index finger and glanced at the man.

"I thought maybe this was a way to express how priceless I am as your son. But you know what? This fucking gun, too heavy, too loud, too slow, and you know why I don't ever use it?" he smiled.

"Because I don't deserve the gun of a killer." he stood right in front of his father, looking directly into his eyes.

The guards around Park Dowoon raised their guns at Park Jimin, but Jimin looked at them once, just once, and they felt their arms quiver.