«𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩?» 𝘑𝘪𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

| Control : to order, limit or rule something, or someone's actions or behaviour. |

(P.S English is not my first language. Forgive mistakes, please)

"Was it possible that I gave you a month and a half to find anything, any lead and you found practically nothing?" he asked the raven-haired boy in a calm fake voice, clutching the phone between his shoulder and his head, continuing to read one of the many papers he had in front of him and examining them while he spoke on the phone.

The table in front of him was full of papers, some scattered on the floor and others piled up or in piles in one part of the table or in the corner of the room.

The door creaked as it opened softly. Jungkook quickly turned his head towards the source of the noise, putting a hand behind his back, ready to extract the gun held by the leather belt he was wearing, looking intently at the door. But once he noticed who the person was, he relaxed, taking the phone in his right hand and holding it close to his ear.

He raised the index finger of his left hand and showed it to the boy who had entered as if to say: "One minute and i'll be there."

The guy nodded, used to it.

"It's not my fault, sir, it seems that the earth has swallowed him up. There is no trace of his passage anywhere." said the person on the phone trying to justify himself.

Jungkook clenched his jaw. "And what am I paying you for then? Forget the payment, you didn't help me. " He said before disconnecting the phone and literally throwing it on the table. He wanted to punch the table in front of him but stopped in time, his hand suspended in midair. He sighed heavily and almost grunting angrily as he walked away from the table, nervously running both hands through his hair.

Contain the anger. He had to contain the anger, know how to manage it.

But it was fucking hard. Each time he thought he was one step away from finding that man, that fucking person moves further and further away from him. So much so that Jungkook sometimes stops to "look around" and no longer recognized where the hell he was.

Jungkook stepped away from the table and walked to the right side of the room where there was a large punching bag hang from a very large iron chain from the ceiling. He got into position and started hitting the punching bag with harder and harder punches.

To release the tension, the anger.

Because anger makes you do things that no one could ever get to do. It makes you screw everything good in you, it takes you on the path of revenge, of regret, and it forces you to be limited by that anger.

"Jungkook," the boy began whispering, approaching him with a firm but at the same time calm pace. "You must-" but the raven boy wouldn't let him continue.

Jungkook increased the frequency of his punches and the force with which he punched them.

"Namjoon don't-" A punch. A very strong punch. "- don't even try." He said in a voice perhaps too high and hoarse with anger and with a final punch stronger than the others. As if it were possible.

The noise of the chains, for a while, was the only sound that was in that room. In addition to Jungkook's wheezing. That he had stopped just to catch his breath.

Namjoon ignored him though.

"You have double-checked these documents four times today alone and none of them have been of any use to you. For almost seven years you have been trying to find even the smallest track to get to the end of this matter but you can't. Just give up. Go on with your life. Give up this hopeless manhunt and build a life for yourself. It's not safe for you to do this, especially in your situation- "