I Think I'm Ready For Only You And Me (THE END)

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 I Think I'm Ready For Only You And Me (THE END)Summary:

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 I Think I'm Ready For Only You And Me (THE END)Summary:

AUTHOR DISCLAIMER!

Everything here is fictional and written for the purpose of the plot

There are references and mentions to sexual content in this chapter but nothing is explicit in nature. Also, lots of crying and cheesiness so be warned.

Viewers' discretion is advised.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for .)

Chapter Text

A mess. Everything before him was a mess. Fragments of broken glass were strewn over the linoleum floors. A shattered mosaic offered a distorted, warped reflection of himself as he peered into it. Tables had been flipped over, lounges slashed into, and the most exorbitant glassware smashed. Sharp shards of glass blanketed the bar counter and shelves like a layer of course snow.

Win's body trembled. A strange concoction of rage and fear pumped through his veins as he stood and stared at the disastrous state of his nightclub. Infuriated yet saddened at how quickly things could change as if he wasn't his happiest hours ago cuddling the man of his dreams.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in this morning to set things up and the place was already like this! I couldn't reach you so I called MJ and Ren hoping they could", his bar manager explained frantically.

"I've called the police, they'll be here soon. We'll definitely find whoever's responsible for this so don't worry", Ren said as he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, a grounding touch.

"Who is insane enough to do this? It'll take millions to repair everything", he heard MJ swear from somewhere beside him, his exasperated tone exemplifying the amount of anger Win had felt internally.

Win didn't have the answers. Not until his phone vibrated in his pocket. He hastily fished it out. Its screen lit up with a single text message from the one person he dreaded to hear from most. His father. It simply read 'Come to the office now'. The message was blunt, straightforward, and threatening just like the person who'd sent it. Yet for some reason he stood there and read the words once; twice over, attempting to digest their meaning. He had a strange gut feeling that there was something more behind the simple message.

"Guys, I'm sorry but think I gotta go", he spoke up abruptly, startling the men beside him.

They gave him knowing looks and nodded their heads as if to say go ahead. It was enough for him, he trusted them with sorting out the mess, so turned on his feet and left the place.

Win ignored the blatant stares, hushed whispers, and judging eyes. He could sense them, could feel them on his skin. He hated it. However, he kept his head high on his shoulders with feigned confidence as he walked hastily past the many office cubicles. The atmosphere was stifling and all he wanted to do was run out of the building the second he'd set foot inside. Regardless, it was too late to turn back as he'd soon reached a familiar set of pale, oak doors. A sweat-soaked palm reached for the brass handle; pushing it open without much hesitation. Beyond the doors, he immediately caught sight of his father's rigid form. His back faced him, hands clasped behind his back as he stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

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