No Going Back

32

In battle, there are not more than two methods of attack — the direct and the indirect; yet these two in combination give rise to an endless series of maneuvers.
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The Art of War
Sun Tzu

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Whatever happened within the next few minutes would mark the beginning of the end for Taehyung.

Well, that or maybe just the end.

After days of laying low, weeks of fleeing across the country, and years of questioning his safety, today was the final culmination of it all. The enemies of Korean National Oil had found and cornered him, and this time, Taehyung had to accept defeat. He had to recognize that his freedom, his future, and possibly even his life were over.

Over.

While his assessment of his circumstances might come off as overly dramatic to some, Taehyung knew there were no more opportunities to evade his attackers. There were no more chances to figure out who the hell was behind all of this. He had run out of places to hide, and he lacked the naivete needed to believe someone would swoop in to save the day. The outcome of this morning wasn't bound to be pleasant, and the sooner he came to terms with that fact, the easier his surrender would be.

That was, of course, if he was even afforded the dignity of surrendering in the first place. If the constant shriek of bullets tearing through metal was any clear indication, these people weren't here to engage in a civil conversation. They wouldn't settle into the sitting room, mildly discussing their demands while trading gossip over tea and rice cakes. No, these people would probably shoot him in cold blood just as they did his mother and Namjoon, using his death as a means to destroy his father's career.

Lovely.

There was no use in denying how bad - how really fucking bad - Taehyung's odds were. Judging by the increasing number of dents perforating the door leading to the garage, he most likely had under five minutes until things went up in flames completely. And when they did, when that door was forced open and shooters swarmed the bunker, all he once knew would slip through his fingertips.

All he held dear - everything he should have appreciated more - would be gone.

Gone and out of reach.

Surprisingly, the thought of meeting such a pointless and possibly even violent end didn't drive him to insanity. His legs didn't give out and he was still conscious; he wasn't down on his knees, praying to anything and anyone out there for help. And he wasn't cowering in the corner, rocking his body back and forth as he fell apart entirely.

No, none of those paralyzing responses overtook his senses when contemplating his inevitable fate. He didn't lose control or become inconsolable whatsoever. Instead, an overwhelming flood of acceptance relaxed his muscles and calmed his erratic heartbeat. His wild thoughts settled and turned introspective; his previously tear-filled vision cleared. All of those things happened because of one thing that went right:

Jungkook got away.

Jungkook. Got. Away.

Watching his sweetheart flee the bunker was simultaneously a stressful and serene experience. Part of Taehyung was reasonably terrified for what Jungkook could experience in the real world. In the event that something went wrong, he wouldn't be there to provide firsthand protection or act as a human shield if need be. He wouldn't be able to defend the younger in any functional capacity; all he could do was sit tight and hope for the best.

An even larger part of Taehyung, however, was so unspeakably happy that Jungkook wasn't here, waiting idly in a cage for someone to lock the door. A glowing warmth relieved the tightness in his chest once he understood that his love was going to make it out of this mess alive; Jungkook was going to live a long and full life away from this fucked up world, where he would discover his passions and find peace again.