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"You don't know what I've done, I'm wanted and on the run." ~ Message Man [Twenty One Pilots]

Two men sat opposite of each other at the dining table, the room dimly lit by the faint shadow from the kitchen lights. They sat in silence, and it was almost deafening.

One of the boy's crossed his arms, causing his muscles to bulge and stretch the fabric of his shirt across his chest. He stared at the ravenette's expressionless face and sighed before speaking.

"What are you doing, Kook?"

The ravenette blinked, and he grabbed the glass on the table before tipping it back into his mouth, letting out a grunt at the sting of the alcoholic beverage.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" the boy leans forward with an eyebrow raised. "You're involving an innocent girl into a dangerous world."

"She'll be fine," the ravenette snaps.

"She doesn't belong in our world, Jungkook. You know that."

"She does if it's with me," he growls, slamming the glass back onto the table. "Why are you so fucking concerened, Namjoon?"

"You barely know her," the boy scoffs. "And you're already getting defensive about her."

Jungkook grits his teeth and fists his hands underneath the table, staring at his friend with fire in his eyes. He knew perfectly well what enemies could do if they figured out Rosie was his weak spot. But, and perhaps it was selfish of him to think this way, he still wanted her.

"I know how pure she is," he spits, standing up so abruptly that the seat screeches back against the floor. "I know what a fucking monster I am for involving her. But you think too little of your leader if you don't think I'm capable of protecting her."

With that, he turned around and began to storm away before Namjoon's words called out after him, making him stop in his tracks.

"What if she's like her?"

"She isn't," the ravenette says, turning his head slightly to look back at him. "I know she isn't."

***

Punch after punch was delivered to the bag with bare fists, the impact splitting his skin open to pour out red liquid. The blood ran down his knuckles and around his wrists, but it didn't stop him.

Anger was tricky like that. It gave your body this uncontrollable fuel and injected your veins with this rage of fire. It made the reigns of sensibility lose its control for just a moment to let the darkness creep into your mind, your body doing whatever it needs to do to release the pent up frustration.

Jungkook slams the side of his fists on top of the bag and lets his head hang low between his shoulders. His matted hair fell down and framed his face as his chest heaved in heavy pants, the light above the gym glistening the sweat on his bare back.

Maybe in a different world Rosie and him could've met as two innocent school mates, and fallen in love over studies in the library like normal people. But Jungkook wasn't normal, and the thought of bringing Rosie into his life scared him shitless despite his belief that he could protect her.

Jungkook straightens himself and looks down at his bloody hands with a blank expression. It didn't bother him like it should have, because this was how he coped with his thoughts.

He walked to the edge of the ring and ducked under the ropes before heading to the locker room, the cold tiles piercing his feet. He turned the faucet on and dipped his hands under the running water, watching the blood swirl down the drain.

He wiped his hands dry before sitting down on the bench with a huff, wrapping his hands himself.

"Fucking shit," he mutters grumpily as he eyes the clock on the opposite wall, noting that it was already late and that it was at least a 30 minute drive before he reached home.

They couldn't have the warehouse too close, or else it would raise suspicion.

The warehouse was in a location that only the six men knew, and it was composed of three parts. The basement, where Jungkook was located, was huge. It held a gym, weaponry room, and the "special" rooms, where they would take their victims. The middle floor was really just a normal living space, a large TV in the living room and a stocked fridge full of Jin's homemade meals. Upstairs were six individual bedrooms for each of them if they needed a place to crash or if they were too tired to return home after missions.

Jungkook changed before he exited the building and entered the code that would double the security. His bike was waiting for him by the end of the driveway, and he wished he would've taken the car because the cuts on his knuckles were still stinging like a bitch.

When he arrived home, he balanced his bike in the driveway before taking off his helmet, running a hand back through his hair. He peered over at the Kim house and let out a long sigh as no lights were on, and he wanted to smack himself for even hoping she would still be awake for him.

So Jungkook turned his back, trudging upstairs and collapsing under his silk sheets, his dark eyes closing as exhaustion defeated his body.

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