trouble ¦ lee jeno (UNDER REWRITING)

ch ; 12

.・。.・゜⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ 12 ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅・゜・。.

They pulled away, a comfortable silence settling between them. Seojin couldn't hold back any longer. "So!" she blurted out, a nervous tremor in her voice. "Your performance out there… it was amazing! Seriously, Mark, who's the lucky girl?"

Mark's smile widened into a full-blown grin. He looked at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Why don't we go on a ride," he replied, extending his hand towards her. "Before I take you home?"

Seojin couldn't help but grin back, her cheeks burning even hotter. Taking his hand, she allowed him to pull her away. The backstage area faded behind them, replaced by the vibrant energy of the festival. They they walked hand-in-hand towards the parking lot.

-

A day ago...

The Sunday night air hung heavy with unspoken tension as Jeno sank another eight ball with a satisfying clink. Across the worn green felt of the pool table, Chenle, Donghyuck, and Jisung groaned in mock frustration.

Jeno's back throbbed with a dull ache, a constant reminder of his heroism a day prior. Yesterday, Jaemin had dragged him to a doctor's appointment, insisting the injury wasn't "nothing" like Jeno had claimed.

A quick glance at his phone revealed a message from his adoptive mother, fifteen minutes old and devoid of warmth. "We'll have a family dinner. Come not later than 8." Jeno rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone as his turn came around again. The familiar weight of the cue stick felt grounding as he aimed, the black ball sinking with a satisfying finality.

"Dude, you're on fire!" Jisung whined.

"Just lucky, I guess," Jeno mumbled, leaning casually against the table. He didn't wait for their reply, his mind already focused on the looming family dinner. He had a feeling it wouldn't be a pleasant affair.

The past few weeks had been a constant battle with his adoptive parents, their disapproval a dull ache that mirrored his physical injury. They blamed his recent rebellious streak on a lack of discipline, completely blind to the fact that their own strictness and lack of freedom were the root of the problem. Unlike his adoptive brother, Jeno was still caged in their opulent house, his dreams of independence constantly thwarted.

With a sigh, Jeno gathered his things and bid farewell to his friends. "Family dinner," he announced, already halfway out the door before their reply could reach him.

Jeno's sleek black car glided through the familiar streets, pulling up to the grand gates of his adoptive family's home. He recognized the other car parked outside – Mark's. Stepping out, he rang the doorbell, a practiced politeness masking the dread churning in his stomach.

The door swung open, revealing a familiar maid who ushered him inside. The air within the house felt heavy, charged with the anticipation of a coming storm. Jeno took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that had settled there.

He walked towards the dining hall, the clinking of silverware the only sound that greeted him. As he entered, the room fell silent, all eyes turning towards him.

His adoptive father, a powerful congressman with a perpetual frown etched on his face, sat at the head of the table. His adoptive mother, usually meticulously composed, wore an expression of barely concealed disappointment.