Strawberries and cigarettes

28-Jungkook

He had to admit that for once in his life, he was actually having fun.
Jungkook didn't know how to explain it but in a way, the adrenaline that ran through his veins made him feel more alive than anything ever had before. No high was better than this burst of energy that made him run faster than he ever did, throw punches like a martial arts perfectionist, and smile in the process. The black-haired couldn't feel the pain anymore that had started a while ago, when one of the kidnappers had hit his jaw, making his lips bleed. All that reminded Jungkook of this though was the salty taste in his mouth, it didn't even hurt. Nothing hurt. Not his ankle, not his fist, not his face. He loved it.
Finally, he could feel absolutely nothing.

It was around fifteen minutes after they had split up and entered the building, him and Yoongi forming a team while Namjoon and Seokjin stayed at the entrance door, and Hoseok and Taehyung trying to sneak through to get Jimin. Jungkook's job was to punch his way through and be the distraction for the kidnappers so that they would let their guards down and leave Jimin alone. With a bit of luck, he was going to survive this. IF not, it wasn't like Jungkook actually cared. This was a nice place to die: to save someone else. Taehyung's friend. For Taehyung. He was all the reason he needed in order to risk his life like this since he was a decent person and had so much potential in life. Being honest, Jungkook didn't really know why he felt this way about the former-blonde. He just suddenly had this urge to help him even though before, he'd near cared about anything or anyone else in this world.

Yoongi was standing next to him, breathing heavily and holding onto his upper arm.
"You okay?", the younger asked while pulling up his eyebrows. He looked like he got hit but Jungkook hadn't really been very attentive about what Yoongi had been doing while he himself was fighting one of the guys. One of the two that were now lying on the ground next to him. Unconscious.
"I'm fine. Not like those two...", the older responded to his question and pushed a strand of hair back. It was already damp from the sweat that was dripping from his forehead and Jungkook smirked at Yoongi. That guy really surprised him. Normally, he seemed like a lazy piece of lazy but right now, he was putting in all the energy he had in order to save the pink-haired who he didn't give a shit about in his own words. He was really caring after all. Jungkook had guessed that – just like with himself – he was just putting on a façade.

A loud squeal broke his line of thoughts and Jungkook's head snapped around. The high-pitched scream was coming from the direction Taehyung and Hosoek had run to and it only took the two one look into each others' eyes to start following their ears.
What if something happened to Taehyung?
What if he was badly injured?
Or maybe he had found Jimin, dead or unconscious, and lost his mind.
Wait, was that even Taehyung?
The shouting got louder and louder the more they ran down the hallway and since they didn't stop, Jungkook could concentrate on who they belonged to, and sighed in relief: Jimin. It wasn't Taehyung's screaming but then what was going on?
What if there were others back there and they were attacking Jimin?
But wait, why would they if he was still-

Fuck!

Something inside Jungkook's mind snapped and he increased his speed immediately, not caring about the fact that he was leaving Yoongi far behind while taking a turn to the right – through the changing rooms and showers.
Taehyung and Hoseok must have found Jimin and freed him, but he didn't recognize them and screamed in shock. It was understandable but at the same time, Jungkook couldn't be madder at the pink-haired right now.
What was he thinking?
The screaming would only show everyone where they were right now and if they were unlucky, the kidnappers would get to them before Jungkook did. Hoseok didn't have the guts to shoot or fight them for real and Taehyung was busy with Jimin so there was a 1:100000 chance that they'd survive or even win an encounter with the opponent.
The black-haired cursed when he slipped due to the wet floor, crashing into the hard tiles with a force he didn't think possible. His head was spinning as he forced himself back up on his feet, now feeling all the stinging pain at once: His jaw, his bleeding lips, his ankle, and now his pulsing head just as well. Hopefully, he didn't have a concussion, that would be more than useless in this situation. He had to get to them in time.