where do we go from here?
kim taehyung | maybe barcelona? or venice? it was really nice there in the warmer months. assassin!au. | 1.1k words. | angst, romance. mentions of blood, death, and killing.
a/n: “the meaning of the ending is entirely up to you.” I tell you, in a totally not suspicious tone of voice.
“Hey,” busted lip meets busted lip in a tight smile, “can’t we talk?”
You’re both looking at each other but not really, maybe because you can’t count it as really looking at him down the barrel of a gun. You’re only able to make out what is in the projected line of sight, where your bullet will meet flesh and perhaps something vital. His gun is raised exactly to meet yours to make that difficult. Depending on who shot first, you’d have either a shattered hand or a shattered skull. You needed to shoot first.
Taehyung realizes you’re not going to answer him. Why would you? What else did you have to say to him that you couldn’t fit in a bullet? “You used to like talking to me.”
You just move closer, so close that now your gun is about to bump against his own. He shifts back to avoid it and you follow. “Four fucking years. I loved you. You should’ve killed me our wedding night like you planned.”
“I was going to,” and Taehyung bothers to look exasperated with you, letting his wrist slack a bit with the casual flair of his tone, “I keep saying that. Why do you think all this was deliberate?”
By “all this”, he is referring to the whirlwind love you’d found yourselves swooped up in for almost half a decade. Your eyes narrow, “Because it’s your job and you’ve never failed. Not once. I saw the papers. Your handler told me everything.”
Min Yoongi had told you everything. When he’d ominously texted you from your husband’s phone Monday morning to meet for coffee, your entire world had died the moment he showed you the papers. Everything. Every detail of your life, documented for his organization. You had always had nightmares about it but never thought it would actually happen... with him, at least.
Your old handler would be yelling their head off at you right about now, telling you how stupid you were for falling for the oldest trick in the book because “pleasure is not in the cards for you once you sign yourself away”. Never. Not even with Taehyung.
You were standing in the strawberry field you’d found him in all those years ago, a man barefoot in God’s green earth and offering you some of his handpicked strawberries in exchange for a conversation. The whole reason you’d moved here was to get away from the connections and the knowing. You should have known they’d follow you even here.
The blood from his broken nose dripped down his laugh lines like the strawberry juice from a time when you still didn’t know.
“Yoongi doesn’t know shit.” Uncharacteristically, he growls out the expletive with a piercing glare, smiling faltering just a tad. “Yoongi hasn’t seen me in years.”
“Since you moved to the berry farm. Since you started your mission to kill me.”
“He knew from the first year with you that it wouldn’t happen!” He cries, hand shaking. Just as quickly as the outburst leaves him, he’s collecting himself once more to steady the gun at your own again. If he just raised it an inch higher, he could end your life right now and be done with it. And yet, you dragged it out.
Yoongi had only told you so much, but a lot of it came from Taehyung’s messages. All the information he collected on you and sent in texts (“To my friends in the city!”), letters (“To my grandpa. He lives so far away now.”), or napkins left behind in the trash had accumulated into a hefty document that told you everything you needed to know. The only reason you were even told is because their contract had been voided, officially. Taehyung was now just a loose end.
And you were left to cut it.
“You know as well as I that this isn’t the kind of work you can just forget about, Tae.” Your voice is but a whisper over the summer wind. The wind chime you’d both crafted out of collected sea glass clinks above the porch.
A stray tear escapes his eye at the same time that his smile comes back, though much more broken. “It worked for a while.”
Yes, it did. “If you’re not going to kill me, I’m going to kill you.”
His fingers continue to tremble, gripping the gun tight. His mouth begins to tremble as well. “Peaches,” he tries to argue, gun lowering just a hair, “I-“
A gunshot sounds throughout the farm and then you’re setting off, running, refusing to look. You had never entertained such a habit when you were still in your line of work, but you couldn’t bear it anymore than you could hearing him say he loves you. God, that would have made you actually aim for his head. To put him out of his misery.
He’s only allowed a sharp cry before he falls to the grass, gasping in dirt because you actually shot him. After a few seconds, Taehyung’s breathing slows. At this point, they’re only concerned with you now.
A pair of agents exits the overgrown brush nearby with a body bag in tow. There’ll be a car to come pick up the body in a few minutes, and if they were lucky, the other agents stationed in the area will have gunned you down in time to clean up two messes in one day.
One walks up to Taehyung and lightly kicks his side, chuckling, “Can you believe he used to be one of the top dogs? Had a perfectly good shot and couldn’t even take it.”
The other laughs along as well. Lays the bag next to Taehyung, open. They wouldn’t bother picking him up even.
The agent with free hands leans down and grabs him by his shoulder, pushing so that he’ll turn over and into the bag with ease. Lifeless eyes stare back up at him, at the sky maybe. It’s kind of chilling being so close to one of the untouchables. The agent shivers. This one’s eyes were particularly cold-
but blood splatters across the grass once, then twice, and then the retired assassin lets himself lie there in the grass to stare up at the sunset sky. There are similar gunshots in the distance. They keep missing. A little laugh leaves him as he reaches up toward his burning shoulder where your shot grazed him. He’d have to catch up with you later. Maybe Barcelona? Or Venice? It was really nice there in the warmer months. He could have another farm there. Maybe grapes this time.
You both had managed for four years. He bet another four wasn’t so far-fetched.