❃ 𝗙𝗔𝗡 𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ❃
❛Ours isn't a fairytale love, baby.❜
━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━
New Year's or no New Year's, the infamous Jungkook had somehow found his way onto everybody's lips again. He always did.
But this time, it wasn't because of...
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Kim Seokjin had always known about Jungkook's temper, but he never imagined it would spiral to such extremes.
He should have anticipated disaster the moment Jungkook insisted on "helping" the drunk investor after that scene. The monotone voice, the chilling calm in his eyes—it was clear Jungkook had more than just assistance in mind for Mr. Yeong. How had Seokjin overlooked the obvious? When Jungkook took matters into his own hands, the outcome was never good.
By some stroke of fortune, Seokjin had followed his gut and checked up on him, arriving just in time to prevent Mr. Yeong from losing his voice permanently. Violence was never Seokjin's solution. He preferred to work diligently, relying on his calm demeanor to navigate crises. Force was a last resort, and even then, he avoided shedding innocent blood.
But Jungkook's choice to abandon his principles over a drunken man's insults? That was unacceptable.
Seokjin paced the marble floor in long, hurried strides, the sharp taps of his shoes echoing his frustration as he scrolled through his phone, desperate to reach someone.
"Maybe he left, Jin," Namjoon suggested, concern etched into his brow. "Can you just calm down?"
Seokjin halted mid-step, shooting a glare at Namjoon. 'Don't tell me to calm down, not now. I know I saw him with some woman. He's probably off screwing her brains out. I'm 200% sure." He jabbed at his phone screen for what felt like the hundredth time, but the call went straight to voicemail again.
With a hiss of frustration, Seokjin clenched his eyes shut and left a scathing message. "You jerk! You've got two minutes to get to the meeting room if you want to keep your third limb intact."
Namjoon winced. Seokjin's threats were usually playful, but the tightness in his flushed face and the intensity in his voice left no room for doubt—he wasn't joking. Namjoon knew better than to underestimate him when he was this furious. As Seokjin set a literal countdown on his watch, Namjoon sighed.
Seokjin was nothing if not punctual.
"Seokjin," Namjoon said, shaking his head, "do you really have to?"
Seokjin didn't need to look up to sense the incredulity in Namjoon's voice. His words carried the weight of reason—Seokjin was being rash. This wasn't the calm, collected man who handled crises with a steady hand. Namjoon was right; now wasn't the time to lose his cool. If Seokjin wanted to fix the problem that lay waiting on the plush sofa, he needed to pull himself together.
Seokjin exhaled deeply, letting his shoulders relax. He marched over to where Namjoon sat on the mirrored sofa, parallel to the coffee table, and placed his phone down.
"Let me take care of him," Seokjin said, his voice calmer now. Namjoon, who had been working quietly after pulling Seokjin back from the edge, nodded and handed him the first aid kit. Seokjin sat beside him, positioning himself to better tend to the wound.
