For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory.
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The Art of War
Sun Tzu

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What are you afraid of most?

That one question had an infinite number of answers, an endless amount of possibilities. All over the world, people harbored deep, dark - and sometimes silly - fears that trailed them like shadows. It was impossible to run or hide from those constricting feelings; one either learned to live with their fears or worked to banish them once and for all.

Many chose to tolerate the things that scared them shitless. Why? Because most fears were simply a product of one's imagination, an apprehension towards something that did not exist now and might never exist in the future. People understood that their fears were unlikely to ever come to fruition, that they probably wouldn't find themselves on a crashing plane or in a coffin filled with snakes. They realized that many of their fears were baseless and posed no active threat to their daily lives.

But the mind was powerful.

The mind was a superhuman machine designed to protect a person at all costs. It would do anything to eliminate even the slightest chances of danger, using a person's uneasiness against them. It would combine surges of dread and trepidation until a small worry - a fleeting concern or a brief flash of foreboding - morphed into a wild, untamable fear.

So people learned to be afraid . . . Not always because of past experiences, but because of the vulnerability created by their own minds.

But the funny thing was that people weren't really frightened by their fears on the surface level. No . . . They were terrified by something much more primal and instinctual:

People weren't scared of commitment or aging; they were scared of losing their autonomy.

People didn't dread the loss of friendship or the death of a loved one; they dreaded rejection, separation, and abandonment.

People weren't petrified of failure or public speaking; they were petrified of humiliation, shame, and worthlessness.

People weren't afraid of sharks, injections, or germs; they were afraid of physical harm and pain.

And people didn't fear the dark, heights, death, or disease; they feared ceasing to exist altogether.

So yeah, everyone had something - most likely multiple things - that they were apprehensive of. But when it came down to it, those fears weren't all that unique or individualistic. They were simple and mundane.

At the end of the day, every single person on the planet had the same exact fears.

To Jungkook, that was comforting in a way. He was just like everyone else out there. But if he really gave it thought, he realized a key distinction. Sure, he was scared of anything that would threaten his basic needs. However, there was an aspect he feared even more.

Jungkook was afraid of what came after.

He was afraid of what life would look like after he encountered his fears.

Would he be hurt? Alone? Would he lose the people he cared about most? And if those things were to happen, would he survive the aftermath? Would his soul remain intact, would his heart still beat as it had before?

Would he be okay?

No one could confidently anticipate the answers to those questions. It was impossible.

So what did Jungkook do most of his life? He avoided any uncertain and unpredictable scenario . . . He gave in to his fears. For years, he pushed people away so he didn't have to risk saying goodbye. He donned the mask of an insufferable and cocky brat so others couldn't judge the broken shards of his heart. He refused to show any part of the sensitive, soft, and caring boy he safeguarded deep down in his soul.

He protected himself.

But that was no way to live.

It took meeting Taehyung for Jungkook to realize that he wanted more. It took finding his angel for him to embrace every worry and doubt, to accept that those things represented what he valued most in the world. And it took loving that same man for him to decide that he would live, that he would enjoy life despite everything that made him uneasy.

So - even though he was surrounded by danger, instability, and death - Jungkook banished all that terrified him to the back of his mind. He never forgot those fears, of course, though he decided he'd no longer let them dictate his actions or consume his thoughts. And for once, he set his apprehension aside and embraced what the world around him had to offer.

And he found freedom.

He found acceptance.

He found love.

And his fears? Well, he decided they weren't as scary as he once believed. He chose to focus on the present - on what he could control - instead of avoiding each and every step forward. He chose to believe that he'd be okay no matter what, that he'd survive even if he met his fears face to face.

But he had been wrong.

So incredibly, absolutely, fucking wrong.

Because this moment - right here, right now - was the first time he'd ever met all of his fears head-on. They were no longer figments of his imagination, no longer a thin veil of awareness draped over his mind. His fears were real. They were tangible and alive.

And Jungkook, who had plenty of reasons to be afraid over the last few weeks alone, experienced a terror like he'd never known.

He and Taehyung had been so close to escaping, calling for help, and reaching safety. But when the opportunity to help Namjoon arose, they both knew they had to take it. They would forever regret it if they ran away and left their brother to the wolves, so they decided to stay. They decided to reclaim just one ounce of control so they could potentially save Namjoon.

They had been so close to accomplishing that feat, too.

When he'd located Namjoon's documentation - and then when his brother stormed into this very room - Jungkook's chest had swelled with hope. He had believed fate was finally on their side, that someone up above was looking out for them. And with that gentle caress of optimism warming his core, he'd sworn that he, Taehyung, and his brother were about to leave behind this nightmare for good.

The end had been within sight.

But then, in the blink of an eye, it had been ripped away.

And now there was no guarantee of safety, no promise of reaching the end. Because now they were staring down a crazed Bogum. Now they were on the other side of a loaded gun.

Jungkook's body tingled with an other-worldly awareness, keeping him hypervigilant of every blink, breath, and heartbeat. His limbs shook with poorly suppressed adrenaline, with the need to do something. But he fought that urge; if he so much as sighed too loudly, it could all be over. Just one impulsive move could cost Jungkook, Taehyung, or Namjoon their lives.

What are you afraid of most?

It was at this moment he realized this was it. This was the culmination of all his fears. This was what he was afraid of most.

Jungkook was terrified of losing everything, of being powerless to stop the worst from unfolding. He was terrified of finding himself hurt, without freedom, without his loved ones. He was terrified of the unknown, of being unable to predict the outcome of this terrible scenario.

He was so fucking terrified that this was the end for them all.

For all he knew, it was.

Just as the panic threatened to turn Jungkook into a breathless and inconsolable mess, Taehyung's voice broke through the fog in his head.

"You wanted us dead. The day Namjoon was supposed to fake my kidnapping, you sent in a man to kill us," Taehyung said to Bogum, his tone airy with revelation.

How his angel arrived at that conclusion, Jungkook wasn't certain. But he didn't doubt the conviction or confidence underlying Taehyung's words; he trusted him entirely.

But Bogum had a gun in his hands, a weapon that could fire if they weren't careful. They had to proceed cautiously to avoid any unintended consequences.

The socialite proved his volatility when his gaze darkened, burning with something feral and violent. "That's not true. That guy was there to act as a threat, as a way to get you and your mother to cooperate!"

Taehyung shook his head, speaking faster and harsher than before. "Then why did you give him your gun? If he was just supposed to intimidate us, why would he have your gun and shoot my mother and Namjoon?"

Jungkook inhaled sharply, his eyes fixating on Bogum's gun. Was that the gun referenced in the forensic report? Did Taehyung think Bogum planned a lot more than a false kidnapping?

If all of that was true . . .

Then this was worse than Jungkook thought. They weren't just dealing with a loose-moraled socialite, an arrogant asshole who lusted after power and prestige. No . . . They were confronting a deranged murderer, a person who planned to dispose of anyone who stood in his way.

Fuck. They had to get out of here now.

Bogum attempted to respond, but Taehyung cut him off immediately. "You saw your chance to take down me and my mom. You thought you could force my father to renounce his position by killing his family. And you figured you had the perfect person to blame . . . Namjoon. But he knew too much, right? You ordered that man to kill us all so you could get what you wanted and get away with it."

"No," the socialite snarled, the gun wobbling in his grip.

Jungkook peered over his shoulder, relieved to see the entrance to the tunnels just a few meters away. He stepped closer to his angel, hovering just behind his back and preparing to pull him into the shadows. Once they were under the cover of darkness, they could navigate the winding paths and flee from the house.

They were so close.

Pushing a stream of air from his mouth, Jungkook reached for his love's elbow, his fingertips grazing the sleeve of his shirt. But Taehyung didn't register the touch; he rolled back his shoulders, straightened his spine, and took an almost imperceptible step forward.

"It's over, Bogum," Taehyung said softly, a promise and a threat and a vow.

And for a split second, Jungkook breathed easily. The weight on his chest lifted, and his lips began to quirk up into a smile.

For a split second, he was no longer afraid.

But then Bogum lifted his gun, pointed it at Taehyung, and said, "It's not over yet."

And then the socialite pulled the trigger.

Jungkook's body acted on instinct, lunging towards his angel as the roaring gunshot pierced the air. He didn't process the movement until his hands wrapped around Taehyung's waist, catching the elder as he started to fall to the ground. The force of impact nearly brought them both down, but Jungkook managed to steady his feet just in time.

His eyes immediately scanned over every visible part of Taehyung, searching for a sight he prayed not to see. He was terrified to find red seeping through his boyfriend's clothing, red splattered on his angel's skin. But he swallowed down that hysteria and made himself look. He made himself examine his love for signs of injury and for pools of blood.

But there was nothing.

Taehyung seemed to realize the same thing, his hands flitting all over his body before coming to a halt. Jungkook nearly cried out, overjoyed that Bogum's attempt at murder failed. They were lucky, so incredibly fortunate that -

"Namjoon!"

The ragged scream caused goosebumps to erupt over Jungkook's arms and for an intense shiver to travel up his spine. It was a cry of pain, of heartache, of disbelief. It was a voice Jungkook knew all too well.

But why was Jin back in this house - didn't he leave? And why did he sound so distraught? Why did he sound so close?

A round of gunshots erupted from all around the house, a sickening explosion of bullets and metal. It was difficult to hear through the ringing in his ears, but Jungkook could just barely make out hostile yelling and screeching tires. Whatever was going on out there would definitely make their escape more challenging.

Before he had the chance to ponder that more, Taehyung rolled to the ground, unceremoniously pulling Jungkook along for the ride. He landed on his hands and knees, the blow sending sparks of pain throughout his body. However, that was nothing compared to the pain - to the closing of his airways and the stilling of his heartbeat - when Jungkook lifted his eyes and saw who was sprawled out on the ground.

His best friend.

His brother.

Namjoon.

Thick, sticky fluid stained Namjoon's shirt red, the blood dripping over his stomach and onto the carpet. It wouldn't stop trickling out . . . It wouldn't stop.

Taehyung was chanting Namjoon's name over and over, almost as if saying it would make the man open his eyes, smile, and assure them that everything would be okay. But it wasn't helping; it wasn't working.

How?

And then Jungkook understood what must have happened. When Bogum fired at Taehyung, Namjoon - his angel's bodyguard - protected him with his own life.

And he got hit.

And he went down.

"Namjoon!" Jin's voice blared from behind Jungkook, distress evident in his wavering pitch.

Jungkook barely registered his brother-in-law bursting into the room, barely noticed him drop alongside Namjoon. His mind was too busy drowning in red, too devasted by his brother's serene - and still - face.

No.

No, no, no.

This was his brother; this was his hero. This man was the only source of love Jungkook knew for years, and he . . . he was . . .

Jungkook tried not to let his agony show - tried not to give Bogum that satisfaction - but it was so obvious. His hands had somehow wrapped around his stomach in a feeble attempt to keep himself together; tears clouded his vision and drenched his cheeks. This wasn't real, this wasn't real.

"You," the socialite hissed through his teeth, clearly fixating on Jin.

Jin balled his jacket and held it over Namjoon's stomach, the edges quickly bloodying. His inflection broke as he addressed Bogum. "You're done. The Chief and his team are here. They're taking down your men and they're coming for you. It's over."

The sound of Jungkook's heart - erratic and brash and loud - was becoming too overbearing. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't even see through the tears. He couldn't even comprehend the words Jin spoke to Namjoon, the words Bogum spoke to himself. He couldn't . . . he couldn't . . .

He needed Taehyung.

Jungkook had to go to his love, to protect him from any other chances of harm. He had to feel his angel in his arms, to prove to himself that they were okay. He had to just be with Taehyung, to convince himself that they were going to be okay.

Because if they weren't okay . . .

If they wouldn't survive this . . .

What are you afraid of most?

Jungkook finally rose to his feet, hands wiping at his eyes then knotting in his hair. He was just a few steps away, so close to his salvation. As long as he had Taehyung, he would be okay. They would be okay.

"Angel . . ." He whispered, the word shattering on his tongue.

Taehyung's eyes locked with his for a millisecond, the shortest amount of time possible. But Jungkook saw it all - he saw every single moment they had shared together.

He relived their meeting in this very house, when Taehyung posed as the bodyguard and Jungkook impersonated the heir.

He recalled their endless bickering, their attempts to annoy the other, and their undeniable sexual tension.

He remembered when Taehyung admitted how much he wanted Jungkook, when he kissed Jungkook for the first time.

He reminisced on each time they made love, when they confessed their love aloud in the middle of an argument.

He looked back on how much they grew together, how much they learned, how much they changed.

And he reminded himself of the promises they made each other, of the pledge to always be by the other's side no matter what.

Taehyung's head turned to the side, his attention momentarily locked elsewhere. But that was alright; just five more steps . . . four more steps . . . until they were together again. Until they were holding each other again.

When they were three steps away, Jungkook watched as Taehyung - who was still focused on something else - pulled out his Glock and disengaged the safety. Jungkook barely had the opportunity to follow his gaze, to see Bogum aiming his gun at him, before two almost simultaneous gunshots fired in succession.

And while everything happened in the blink of an eye, Jungkook saw it all. He witnessed everything in clear and explicit detail. Maybe the universe wanted to ensure he'd never forget.

He never would.

A second before Bogum engaged his trigger, the corner of his mouth rose in a victorious smirk. The glint to his frenzied stare said it all; he was prepared to do anything to make it out unscathed. And judging by his complete and total insanity - that evaporation of all control - he'd use any means necessary.

Right as the socialite's finger pressed down, a thunderous blast sounded just one meter away from Jungkook. It was the first shot, a shot that ripped out of Taehyung's Glock and lodged into Bogum's upper chest.

Bogum's expression instantly crumbled, his smiling lips contorting into a snarl of pain and rage. The impact sent him backward, stumbling over his feet as the first blot of red colored his elegant suit. But before he went down, his finger finally completed its task of fully engaging the gun's trigger.

Jungkook didn't have time to scream; it probably wouldn't have been heard over the deafening gunshot anyway. He didn't possess the ability to move - to duck down, flinch, step away - as each one of his muscles decided to lock. He couldn't even close his eyes to block out what was coming for him.

But the bullet - the ripping of flesh and bone - never came.

Instead, a whirl of color filled Jungkook's vision. A soft breeze brushed over his face. And a heavy wave of understanding flooded his system.

Taehyung.

Taehyung closed those three remaining steps between their bodies as he lept in front of Jungkook. His torso twisted sideways, with his arms tightly pulling in against his sides and his hands protectively guarding his chest. And then, just as a startled gasp pushed through his lips, he lost his balance and went crashing to the ground.

Blood instantly soiled the side of his shirt.

"Tae!" The scream finally rolled off of Jungkook's tongue as he collapsed next to Taehyung, eyes surveying every inch of his love.

Taehyung's body curved in on itself, settling into an ungraceful and awkward fetal position. His shoulders were instinctively hunched forward and his knees were curled into his stomach. From this angle, the bullet's entry point was evident: it hit Taehyung just under his elbow, right near his ribcage.

"Angel, talk to me," Jungkook begged with a sob, his hands fluttering over his boyfriend but not touching. "Tae, please."

"It's okay. I'm okay," Taehyung responded as he rolled himself onto his back, a labored inhale audible in the suddenly quiet room. More blood soaked his clothing.

He certainly didn't look okay.

A sheen of sweat coated Taehyung's skin, subtly sparkling under the warm overhead lights. His chest was rapidly rising and falling, his breath hitching as he attempted to get more comfortable. But his eyes . . . His eyes were surprisingly clear, void of any fogginess or confusion as they focused on Jungkook.

"Tell me what to do," Jungkook pleaded, doing everything he could to blink back his tears so they wouldn't fall on his love. "I don't know what to do."

"Tell me what Bogum is doing. Does he still have his gun?"

Jungkook reluctantly tore his gaze away from his boyfriend, looking across the room to where the socialite fell. Bogum was also on the floor, hands clutching at his chest and mouth gasping for air. A trickle of blood dribbled from between his lips, a red trail smearing over his cheek and along his jaw. And - much to Jungkook's relief - his gun was several meters out of reach.

"He's alive but barely moving. He doesn't have his gun anymore either," Jungkook answered, keeping his voice low just in case.

Taehyung nodded, the movement small and lacking energy. "Does it look like he'll be able to grab it?"

"No," Jungkook said, eyes flicking back to the socialite to confirm, "but should I go get it anyway?"

"No," the elder rushed to say, lightly grabbing Jungkook's hand with his own. "It's evidence. Whenever help arrives, they'll properly take care of it. We don't want to risk disrupting anything."

An acknowledgment died on Jungkook's tongue as he once again observed the blood seeping from Taehyung's side, the fabric of his shirt completely wet and sticking to his skin. "Tae . . ."

Taehyung squeezed his hand, innately sensing what caught his attention. "Don't look. Okay, sweetheart? I . . . Can you take off your sweatshirt for me? I need you to press it to the wound. That will help with the bleeding."

Jungkook hastily pulled the piece of clothing from his body, nearly getting the thing caught on his head in the process. He balled it together as Jin had earlier, then carefully flattened it over Taehyung's side.

A muted whimper was his reward for doing that.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook sniffled, a tear rolling off his cheek and splattering onto the elder's neck. "Fuck, I . . . Does it hurt?"

Taehyung returned his hands to Jungkook's, though instead of intertwining their fingers, he helped him apply pressure to the wound. His jaw noticeably clenched, but his lips tugged upward into a faint smile. "This is nothing compared to your massive -"

"I need an ambulance immediately. Three people have been shot. Two are victims, and the third is the aggressor."

Jungkook whipped his head towards Jin, observing a phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. His brother-in-law's hands were fully bloodied, as was the fabric over Namjoon's stomach. And Namjoon . . .

His brother still wasn't moving.

"Hey, look at me," Taehyung ordered softly, speaking over Jin's hushed conversation. "Everything will be fine. Jin's calling for help. Yoongi is outside with backup. It's almost over, sweetheart."

Over.

Jungkook didn't even want to consider how many interpretations that one word could have.

"Angel . . ."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The elder asked, eyes wide as he scanned over Jungkook's face.

More tears trickled over Jungkook's cheeks. "I'm not hurt, thanks to you. Tae . . . Why'd you do that? Why . . .? You shouldn't have jumped in front of me. You shouldn't have done it, and now you're . . . You're so stupid, Tae."

A tender hum rumbled in the elder's throat, a sound that was a cross between amusement and love. "I'm your bodyguard, Kookie. That's my job . . . To keep you safe no matter the cost."

And maybe it was hypocritical - because Jungkook would've done the same thing for Taehyung in a heartbeat - but he shook his head. He would never have asked his angel for this; he would never have wanted his boyfriend to risk his life for him.

Taehyung continued speaking before Jungkook had the chance to debate that declaration. "I need you to remember something for me. Bogum's gun is the same gun that was used to kill my mom. It's evidence of his involvement. It's proof that Namjoon wasn't in this alone. You'll have to tell Yoongi and his team, okay?"

"You can tell Yoongi yourself." Jungkook tried to sound stern, but it was a failed attempt. His voice cracked around the edges.

"I know," the elder soothed, his deep tone smooth and melodic. "But just in case, I need you to remember."

Jungkook's stomach twisted as he processed those words. "Just in case . . .? No. We just found each other, Tae. I can't let you go. Angel, please. Please stay with me. Please don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here," Taehyung whispered, lifting a trembling hand to cup Jungkook's cheek. "I'm still with you . . . always with you."

"Tell me you'll survive this. Tell me, Tae."

A tear escaped the confines of Taehyung's eyes, rolling down his ashen cheek. "I'll be alright."

And while he appreciated that Taehyung was doing his best to sound convincing, Jungkook still heard it. He still heard the slight inkling of doubt.

Taehyung didn't know what fate had in store for him.

Taehyung couldn't promise that he'd live through this.

A sharp pang sliced through Jungkook's heart, causing him to bend forward and gingerly nestle his head in Taehyung's neck. He hiccuped once or twice, the only proof of his otherwise silent weeping.

"Sweetheart," Taehyung murmured, his hand shifting to knot in Jungkook's hair.

"We need more time together. We haven't had any time together," Jungkook argued, making sure to keep his hands secure over his boyfriend's torso. "We promised . . . We said we were going to love each other for the rest of our lives."

"And I'm not going to break that promise. I swear. I will love you for the rest of my life, Jeon Jungkook."

"Angel, please. I love you so much and I can't . . . I can't . . ."

Jungkook couldn't finish; he didn't know how to put what he felt into words. He didn't know how to convey his inability to go on without Taehyung by his side. He didn't know how to describe how bleak his world would be without his bodyguard, his angel, his love, his other half. He didn't know if he even wanted to put that sort of desperation and despair into words.

Luckily Taehyung didn't ask him for that. Instead, the elder asked for something that made more tears leak from both of their eyes.

"Know what you can do for me?" Taehyung asked as he pressed a kiss to Jungkook's head. "You can tell me all the reasons you love me."

That request brought Jungkook back to a moment he and Taehyung shared in the tunnels. It was during the first time they had attempted to escape, when they reunited after being hauled into separate bedrooms. He'd expressed how guilty he felt for loving Namjoon despite everything, and as always, Taehyung was right there to offer comfort and reassurance. The elder had gone on to list several reasons why he loved Jungkook, though when Jungkook had tried to reciprocate, Taehyung made him stop.

"You told me to tell you those things once this was all over," Jungkook recalled, pulling back to meet the elder's gaze. "We were supposed to wait until we were safe."

"I know, but I want to hear them now." Taehyung's lips stretched into a smile, the warmth extending to his eyes. "Can you tell me?"

Jungkook swallowed the painful lump that had formed in his throat, parting his lips to speak but unable to produce any syllables. He was so fucking terrified that this was it . . . that this would be the last time he'd ever share his love with Taehyung. He was scared that he'd wake up hours from now, devastated and alone. He was afraid of living the rest of his life in a constant state of heartache, of knowing what he once had and then lost.

And even though that fear was a constant presence in his mind, Jungkook did all he could to dismiss it for the moment. The most important thing right now was Taehyung - being with him, comforting him, loving him. And if this was truly it, if this . . . if this was the end . . . Jungkook couldn't miss the opportunity of explaining all of the reasons he loved his other half.

"Alright," Jungkook said, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. It felt raw and tender to the touch; he must have been biting at it all night.

Before getting into a more comfortable position, he quickly scanned the room. Bogum was eerily motionless, his bloodstained hands limp over his chest and his gun still meters away. Jin was whispering into Namjoon's ear, his words an endless litany of begging and praying. The standoff downstairs had quieted noticeably, with the series of gunshots transforming into people barking orders. And, somewhere in the distance, the shrill wail of sirens startled the night air.

Help for Taehyung and Namjoon would be here soon.

Keeping his hands - thankfully dry and unbloodied - over Taehyung's wound, Jungkook carefully laid down. He twisted so he could look into his angel's eyes, finding a small solace in the way their breaths fanned over each other's faces.

And then, with a shaky smile, he began. "I love that you can't sleep without hugging something -"

"Well, that's not a good enough reason," Taehyung cut him off, a faint chuckle getting caught in his throat. He was doing his best to lighten the incredibly somber and serious mood, to act like things weren't as dire as they actually were.

"Don't interrupt," Jungkook lectured mildly, waiting until the elder nodded his head. "I love that you can't sleep without hugging something, and that most of the time, you choose to hug me. I love how your eyes turn into these little crescents when you smile real big, almost like your joy takes over your entire body. I love how you're always licking your lips, how you prefer to be barefoot, and how you pout after drinking water."

"I don't pout after I drink water," Taehyung defended, his lips unconsciously pressing together.

Jungkook's heart clenched at the sight. "You do. It's adorable. Anyway . . . I love how you look at me, how you make me feel like I'm the only person in the world. I've never felt more like myself than I do with you, and that's because you always encourage and support me. You make me feel like I can do anything, that I can get through anything, as long as I have you next to me."

"You can," the elder affirmed, his hands reaching out to cup Jungkook's face again. "You can do anything because you're so brave. Because you're so strong."

"You make me braver. Stronger. You make me a better person, Tae. And I love . . . I love . . . I love that you've worked so hard to keep us safe. I love that you've never given up despite all of our setbacks. And I love that you've never treated me like I was some silly kid incapable of doing anything. I love that you've challenged me to think smarter and to do better. I love that you've become the first home I've known in years."

Jungkook's tears, which had subsided for a little while, returned full force. But he let them fall. He let them cover his cheeks as he continued.

"I love that your fingers intertwine perfectly with mine. I love that we can laugh together and play together. I love that you trust me to make my own decisions, even if you disagree with them. I love that you showed me the true meaning of hope and perseverance, that you helped me look forward to my future."

"You helped me look forward to my future, too, Kook," Taehyung said, his thumbs caressing Jungkook's cheekbones. "And for once, that future was more than being the heir to a fortune, of being a target on the run. It was bright and full of possibilities, all because I knew you'd be with me every step of the way. I had never been so excited to find out what came next."

"Your future is bright. It is full of possibilities. You're going to live, Tae. You're going to have such a long life ahead of you." Jungkook needed Taehyung to believe he'd survive; he needed Taehyung to hold onto hope. "We're going to have a long and happy life together."

Taehyung tightened his hold on Jungkook, guiding him closer and closer until their foreheads met. "Yeah? What's our life going to look like?"

Jungkook closed his eyes, seeing his fantasies so clearly in his head. "We'll go back to school and take lots of classes. And after we graduate, we'll get a house. We'll adopt a dog. And we'll travel. We'll go out and do things, explore and have lots of adventures. And when we're a little older, we'll get married. We'll get married and I'll spend every day of my life making you the happiest man alive."

A broken sob fell from Taehyung's lips as he repeated the word married. "Kook, you've already made me so unbelievably happy. You've already made me the happiest man in the world . . . You showed me a happiness I never knew existed. So no matter what happens, I want you to know that. I want you to know that you've made my life worth living. And that I'm so grateful to have had this time with you. It was nowhere near enough - fuck, I'd never have enough time with you - but it was perfect. I wouldn't change anything."

Jungkook understood everything the elder wasn't saying; he understood that this was Taehyung's version of a farewell. And that knowledge - that foresight - caused the hairs to stand up on the backs of his arms.

"Tae, no," he whispered, his voice physically unable to sound tougher. "Please don't say goodbye. Please. Just hang in there for a little while longer, okay? You're going to survive. You're going to be alright."

"I promise I'll do everything I can to hold on. But you have to promise me that, too. You have to promise -," Taehyung broke off as he attempted to move, a groan filling the space between their bodies. "You have to promise that you're going to survive, that you're going to be alright."

The sirens Jungkook heard before were louder than ever, announcing the arrival of help and aid. And sure enough, flashing red lights danced over the window panes.

"Sweetheart," the elder prompted when Jungkook didn't answer, "promise me."

"I promise," Jungkook choked out.

Taehyung pulled back as much as possible, meeting Jungkook's teary gaze with his own. "Good. Now kiss me. Kiss me like you know everything will be okay."

Those were Jungkook's words, the words he spoke prior to their final escape attempt. Little did he know how poorly everything would go. But rather than fixate on their current hell, Jungkook licked his raw lips and leaned forward.

And he kissed Taehyung.

Jungkook kissed Taehyung like it was the very last time; he kissed him like it was the very first time. Their mouths met in the softest of caresses, their lips locking together in a tender and yielding gesture. And all the while, he let his tears fall . . . fall over his cheeks and onto Taehyung's. But that was alright. Taehyung's tears had long drenched Jungkook's face as well.

Neither tried to deepen the kiss, but neither tried to move. Instead, they appreciated their shared warmth. They focused on their mingling breaths and the feel of the other's skin. They held onto each other like this was the very last time; they savored each other like it was the very first time.

They kissed like everything was going to be okay.

As heavy footsteps ran up the stairs, Taehyung pulled back and licked over his lower lip, smiling. "I love you, Jeon Jungkook. You will always be my brat, my sweetheart."

Jungkook tried to smile as normally as possible but felt his mouth twist down at the edges. "I love you, angel. I love you, Kim Taehyung."

A swarm of people ran into the bedroom, from paramedics to police officers to Min Yoongi himself. It was absolute madness, with multiple commands issued and questions asked all at the same time. The officers immediately got to work by taking pictures of the scene while pairs of paramedics brought stretchers and supplies deeper into the room.

Once two of the emergency personnel knelt beside Taehyung - assuring Jungkook he was in good hands - Jungkook gave them space to work. He watched over everything they did, from removing the blood-soaked sweatshirt to packing the wound with gauze. And even though he knew Taehyung was in incredible pain, his angel never cried out or flinched.

No . . . Taehyung kept his eyes locked on Jungkook the entire time, wearing the bravest face possible.

After that, things went by in a blur. Jungkook was only half aware of the paramedics working on Namjoon and Bogum; he barely absorbed how diligently the police combed the room. Yoongi came over to him at one point, asking basic questions to ensure he wasn't harmed. Other than checking in on Jungkook's general welfare, the Chief didn't demand explicit details on what went down. The older man seemed to grasp that he was in no state to share.

Jungkook did possess the good sense, however, to hand over Namjoon's documents. He also told Yoongi about Bogum's gun and explained how Taehyung had the forensic scientist's paperwork in his pocket. He shut up after that, leaning against the wall and doing all he could to think positively.

That was no easy feat at all.

A short while later, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Bogum had been loaded into separate ambulances. Much to Jungkook's eternal gratitude and relief, the paramedics - with Yoongi's approval - allowed him and Jin to ride in the front of the ambulances.

And while Bogum had no loved ones with him, someone did ride along in his ambulance: the personal investigator hired by Taehyung's father. Yoongi, who had to remain at the crime scene, asked that woman to accompany Jungkook and Jin to the hospital. She promised she'd look after them both and protect them in case anyone from Golden Oil Corp. showed up.

Jungkook didn't pay attention to much of anything during the ambulance ride. He tuned out the shrill scream of the sirens and let the world around him fade into a bleak haze. And he did all he could not to think about what was happening in the back of the vehicle, of how the emergency personnel were working to save Taehyung's life. Because if he allowed his thoughts to go down that path . . .

The tears started to sting his burning eyes once more.

Following the fifteen-minute ride to the hospital, Jungkook - along with Jin and the private investigator - was ushered into an empty waiting room. The space felt sterile and cold, with no furniture besides rows of uncomfortable chairs and tables stacked with dated magazines. And with the incessant tick, tick, tick of a wall clock, Jungkook was about ready to lose his mind.

In an attempt to preserve his sanity, Jungkook sat next to Jin and tried to talk. If he could have someone listen to his concerns and help him process the events of the night, he would regain a semblance of control. Everything would be more manageable if he could distract himself from thinking of the worst.

But Jin, understandably, was unwilling to provide him with a diversion. The older male quietly explained he needed silence for a little while, that he needed to be alone with his thoughts. And even though it was a struggle, Jungkook kept his mouth shut. He respected that Jin had his own ways of dealing with his worries.

So Jungkook stared at the blank walls, eyes unfocused as he heard every click of the second hand on the clock. He heard every sniffle from Jin and every page flipping from the private investigator's magazine. He heard all these little noises that made his head swirl with harrowing images, and he was about to explode.

He needed someone, anyone.

And it was then he remembered there was one person he could speak with, one person who would always listen.

Taehyung's mom.

For a lengthy period of time, Jungkook turned inward and talked with his angel's mother. Well, he more begged and pleaded than talked, but no one else had to know. No one else had to know how he implored Mrs. Kim to save her son, how he urged her to defy all odds so he could live. No one had to know how he pledged himself so freely and honestly, how he vowed to be a better man for Taehyung.

Sometime later, a doctor came into the waiting room to provide an update to the small group. All three victims - Jungkook scoffed when hearing Bogum referred to as a victim - were about to enter emergency surgery to better assess the extent of their injuries. There was no estimation for how long the procedures would take, so it would be a waiting game until the doctors knew more.

And while Jungkook knew there was nothing he could do, he felt so entirely useless and unhelpful.

As soon as the doctor went back into the operating wing, Jin shot out of his chair. "I need fresh air. I can't sit here any longer."

The private investigator hummed in warning as she set her magazine to the side. "It's not safe outside, Jin. We don't know if anyone from Golden Oil is watching the hospital. I'm not going to risk an ambush."

"Soomin," Jin turned to the private investigator, eyes red-rimmed, "please. I can take care of myself, I promise."

But the woman - Soomin - shook her head. "How about we go to the cafeteria? We can get something to eat and drink."

Jin stared at her for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Fine. Kook, you coming?"

"I'll stay in case the doctors have any news." Truthfully, Jungkook didn't trust himself to walk without collapsing. The combination of waning adrenaline, total exhaustion, and all-consuming fear reduced his legs to jelly.

Jin and Soomin nodded, then without another word, left Jungkook alone in that desolate waiting room.

And time crawled.

With nothing else to do but stare at the clock, Jungkook watched as the second and minute hands revolved around their circular prison. He had hoped that the monotonous ticking would lull him into a deep sleep, but his mind refused to surrender its consciousness. It rejected his attempt to shut everything off for just a little while.

So he sat.

And waited.

And hoped for the best.

He eventually grabbed one of the crinkly magazines, flipping through the pages without reading the content. It gave him something to do; it made him feel somewhat proactive. But his mind was still very far away, filled with memories of Taehyung and Namjoon.

In fact, Jungkook must have been so far away that he missed the loud footsteps running down the hall. But as soon as the door to the waiting room slammed open, banging against the stark wall, he snapped out of his daze.

His mouth dropped when he saw the man hovering in the doorway.

"Mr. Kim?" He asked under his breath, the words barely perceptible to his own ears.

Even though Jungkook had only seen Taehyung's dad a couple of times - on TV and in a photograph - he immediately recognized the man. Kim Chinhwa's face was so handsomely familiar, an older version of Taehyung's perfectly crafted features. He could even make out the beginnings of dimples on the man's cheeks as he ground his teeth together.

A sign of Namjoon.

The CEO's apprehensive and anxious gaze locked on Jungkook, moisture gathering in his lash lines as he fell into the seat next to him. "Hi. Are you here for . . .? My son -"

"I'm here for Tae, too," Jungkook rushed to assure him, not quite sure if he was ready to meet his angel's father. It didn't really matter if he was ready, however; he had no choice. "My name is Jungkook."

Chinhwa's eyes widened as he sucked in a short stream of air. "Jungkook. Chief Min told me about you . . . Taehyung told me about you. You're the young man my son is in love with."

Jungkook dipped his chin, his lower lip wobbling as he attempted to smile in acknowledgment. "Yes, sir. Taehyung loves me. And I love him. I love him more than anything in the world."

"I know. I realized how much you meant to my son when he and I spoke a couple of weeks back. He was so head over heels for you, so absolutely smitten. I'd never heard him speak about someone like he spoke about you," Chinhwa revealed, his body angling more towards Jungkook. "I . . . Do you have any news on his condition? Do you know how he's doing?"

"No," Jungkook breathed, eyes lowering and focusing on his clasped hands. "He's in surgery, though the doctors haven't given any other details yet."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Tae . . . He . . ." Jungkook broke off, tears leaking over his cheeks for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

Chinhwa gently placed his hand on Jungkook's tattooed forearm, the touch warm and steady. "It's alright, Jungkook. Take your time."

A new tightness settled in Jungkook's chest as he absorbed the older man's compassionate words. He didn't want to reveal his part in the shooting, to share that he was the reason Taehyung was fighting for his life. Because as soon as he admitted that this was his fault - that his angel risked everything for him - Taehyung's father would hate him forever.

But Jungkook had learned a lot over the last few weeks. He wouldn't lie to the man.

"Tae jumped in front of a bullet for me," he whispered at last, his voice cracking at the end. "And I tried everything possible to help. I tried my best to follow his instructions, but I . . . I don't know if . . ."

Very unexpectedly, Chinhwa tenderly grasped Jungkook's shoulder with his free hand. He didn't seem to mind that Jungkook wasn't looking him in the eyes. "I owe you a huge thank you, Jungkook. I . . . I can't explain how grateful I am to you."

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I'm the reason Tae's hurt."

"No, I don't see it that way. You're the reason he's still alive, Jungkook. He's still fighting - he's survived these last few weeks - because of you."

At that, Jungkook finally lifted his head and met Chinhwa's eyes. He took in the shiny paths decorating the man's cheeks, the sincerity in his timid smile. It was a kind and open expression, one filled with appreciation and hope.

Jungkook had rarely been on the receiving end of such a look.

"You protected him, watched over him, and stood by him when no one else could. When I couldn't. And for that, I . . . I'll never be able to repay you," Chinhwa said, refusing to wipe away his tears. No, he appeared proud to wear them.

"There's nothing to repay me for, sir," Jungkook tried to explain through his wobbly voice. "Tae is the love of my life. And I'm so scared -"

Chinhwa pulled Jungkook into a hug without hesitation, arms wrapping around him in a fatherly embrace. He didn't speak; he just soothed Jungkook by patting his head and letting him cry.

And Jungkook, too drained to do anything else, sobbed without remorse. He released every pent up emotion - each corroding feeling that tore up his insides - until a wash of contentment flooded his system. And when it was all over, he felt liberated.

With puffy eyes, sticky cheeks, and mussed up hair, Jungkook leaned back and attempted to pull himself together. While the opportunity to make a good first impression was long gone, he didn't want Taehyung's father to always view him as a blubbering mess. But before he could so much as wipe his runny nose, a doctor came into the room.

The unreadable expression she wore did nothing to assuage Jungkook's nerves.

"Hi folks, how are we holding up?" She asked, sitting across from Jungkook and Chinhwa.

Jungkook wanted to point to his face, to say how do you think I'm holding up, but kept quiet. His ill-timed sarcasm wouldn't help anyone at the moment.

"We're hanging in there," Chinhwa answered much more diplomatically. "Do you have any updates for us?"

The doctor nodded, her face giving nothing away. "We only have updates on Taehyung at this point. Are you his family?"

Chinhwa nodded in affirmation. "Yes, we're Taehyung's family. How . . . How is he . . .?"

"Right. So Taehyung sustained a gunshot wound to his torso, with a bullet entering through his side," the doctor began, pointing to a spot on her stomach just below her elbow. "The bullet ricocheted off his lower ribs, traveling up his side before lodging in his armpit. It made a messy path upwards, though luckily didn't splinter any ribs. If that occurred, bone fragments could have entered the organ cavity and we'd be having an entirely different conversation."

Jungkook needed to hear things in much plainer detail; his mind could only process black and white information in its current state. "What does that mean? Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor finally smiled. "Taehyung is going to be fine. There was a bit of bleeding, though nothing too concerning at all. We're removing the bullet and assessing any lasting muscle damage now, and then we will patch him up and send him to recovery. He might need physical therapy down the road, but beyond that, I don't foresee any other complications."

A breath Jungkook didn't realize he was holding pushed through his mouth in a silent whoosh. His body went boneless as he fell back against the chair, heart racing and eyes watering and hands shaking in relief. The sounds of Chinhwa and the doctor talking faded into the background, the white walls slowly started to close in, and a warm surge of hope thawed much of his icy fear.

And right before Jungkook passed out - before his overwhelming fatigue finally pulled him under - he found comfort in one last thought:

This was not the end for Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would survive.

Taehyung would live.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

》 V A L E N W R I T I N G 《

Reminder, I only write happy endings!

Even though I knew all would end well for Tae, it still hurt like crazy to write their emotional interaction. The uncertainty and loss and fear . . . It got me a bit teary-eyed! My favorite part of that interaction (while sad, in a way) was how Tae kept trying to lighten the mood/intersperse humor. He just wanted to comfort JK in any way possible. Did you have a favorite part of that scene?

I can't believe there are only 4 (plus or minus one) chapters and an epilogue left of NGB! It came up so quickly - even though I've been writing this story for months haha - but really, I can't believe how far we've come! This is going to be a story that sticks with me for a long, long time.

So much has happened since my brief break (I did not realize how much I needed that!) - my official one year anniversary of writing on Wattpad, 5K followers, the holidays/2021 . . . Wow! I just want to thank you all once again for taking this crazy ride with me. Your support is like the fuel to my fire - I couldn't have accomplished any of my personal milestones without you!