No Going Back

9

All warfare is based on deception.
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The Art of War
Sun Tzu

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Your uselessness would have killed someone. 

Those words repeated in Taehyung's head, each iteration hurting more than the last. The pain seeped into his bones, a dull ache that radiated throughout his body. He tried so hard to forget about what he did - or didn't do - but Jungkook's stunningly accurate words triggered the worst of memories. 

He remembered the weight of the loaded Sig Sauer, his hands anything but steady as he kept the gun trained on the unknown hitman. He remembered ordering himself to pull the fucking trigger; he recalled the paralyzing fear that rendered him motionless. He remembered people screaming - saying, don't do this. He remembered the explosive gunshots that pierced the air around him: one shot, two shots, three shots. He remembered the tears that fell to the floor: one drop, two drops, three drops.

Then he remembered running away like a worthless coward, the fear and anger and grief blinding his every step. When he was needed most, he failed.

Jungkook's words were correct. Taehyung's uselessness would have killed someone . . . again.

There was a lump in the back of Taehyung's throat, a hot and painful burning that threatened to cut off his air supply. His body begged to give in, to let the anguish overtake him so he didn't have to hold it inside anymore. The suppressed despair was slowly consuming him whole and would continue to do so unless it had a path out. But Taehyung physically couldn't let it out; he didn't know how.

So he chose to be numb instead.

That plan worked well enough over the last week, with each haunting memory pushed down further piece by piece. He became an unfeeling shell, with nothing on his mind except the need to find Min Yoongi. And once he found that man, Taehyung believed his future was set for the time being. He hoped once the initial shock of the last week passed, once he was in a safe place, he could process the events that brought him to this point.

But then he met the cause of his never-ending torment, and that plan went to shit. 

Nothing - no one - made Taehyung as angry as Jungkook did. The boy thought he was a fool, playing him every moment of the day since they met. And all Taehyung did was sit back and allow it, but for what?

For a stupid sense of obligation.

Surely, obligation should only go so far. Surely, guilt shouldn't be warped into a twisted sense of responsibility. Surely, Taehyung couldn't be expected to risk his own life in order to protect a careless brat. Right?

But that was the problem. Even though Taehyung had logic backing him, even though it was stupid to stick around, he would still do what he could to keep Jungkook safe.

Fuck, if Taehyung was smart, he'd leave now and never look back. It would be easy enough to disappear into the night, to fade into the shadows. He could avoid Seoul and all things linked to Korean National Oil. No one would find him. 

But at the moment, tucking his Glock into the waistband of his pants and exiting the hotel room, he was anything but smart. He had become the epitome of a babysitter, just like Yoongi described in his interview yesterday. 

Yesterday.

How the fuck did his world fall apart even more in just twenty-four hours? Sure, when he accepted the position, he knew his life wouldn't always be free from chaos and danger. But for so much to go to shit in such a short period of time . . . There was no way to predict such an outcome.