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It takes Yoongi less than five seconds to locate his target. He’s looking through the lense of his sniper, and he has it trained on the tall, blonde man.
It’s just a job, he reminds himself. In his line of work, Yoongi’s learned that nothing is ever permanent. People, relationships, life. You think you have it right within your grasp and then it just… disappears.
Yoongi had learned a long time ago not to bother with long-term relationships. He was always on the move, and the closer someone got to his heart, the closer they got to his secrets, so he keeps people far away.
He’s not one to be bitter, though. He’d lost his fair share of loved ones, and he had taken others’ loved ones as well. He didn’t beat himself up about it.
But for some reason, his hands shake as he releases the safety. Why is my hand shaking?
The blonde has his back turned to Yoongi. It’s probably better that way. He doesn’t want to see his lover’s face when he shoots him through the heart.
It was stupid to have fallen like that. Stupid to let his guard down, get attached. But he had, and now feelings were getting in the way of what should have been a relatively easy job.
Yoongi had so many opportunities to kill Namjoon. The man was transparent, trusting. He would curl his arms around Yoongi and tuck his nose into Yoongi’s neck and fall asleep after a heated night of passion. He’d make Yoongi coffee and kiss his hair and make him him feel alive.
If he had known that worming his way into the life of the president of South Korea’s life would be this easy, he would have made his move a long time ago.
It should have been easy to kill him. A clean shot through the head while he slept. Drown him in the tub. Slip poison in his tea. Choke him with his silk ties.
Too easy.
But it wasn’t actually that easy. Because Namjoon was always smiling at him. Tender, honest. He had a dimple. Just one. It drove Yoongi insane. He hates it. And yet. He doesn’t. He wonders if Namjoon hates him.
He inhales and exhales deeply, narrowing his eyes. This is his last chance. If he doesn’t pull the trigger now, it’s game over. He’s done. His contractor will have his head. He can’t let feelings get in the way of a job done and twenty million dollars.
Yoongi takes another breath. He holds it in for as long as he can, and right as he exhales, he pulls the trigger. He hears the shattering of glass, screaming, yelling, chaos. But he’s so far away, it doesn’t really affect him. He can see Namjoon’s body laying in a pool of blood.
“Excellent aim, Yoongi,” a voice drawls from behind him. His entire body freezes, toes curling, and he feels like he’s going to vomit.
Is this real? Yoongi turns slowly. Is this a joke? There are at least ten men in front of him, pointing their guns at him, and right in the middle, standing with his hair perfectly coiffed, hands in the pocket of him immaculately pressed pants, and that god damned dimple-
“N-namjoon?”