𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐒 [𝐓.𝐊]

Chapter 69

Infortunium

Misfortune

(Part 1)

The moment Yungsoo's phone rang in his office interrupting his talk with Evans, it had been 4:00 pm sharp. Monday the 16th of September, 2019, second week of classes.

A lot can happen in a day. But even if war began from one moment to the next, it didn't mean disputes started that same day. It could be war within the family, war between two friends, war between two kingdoms, war within oneself. But the problems had always been there. It's when one of the two has had enough of the other that the world could tumble upside down in one simple fight.

1 day, 24 hours, 1440 minutes, a blank canvas of endless opportunity where someone else could just stumble and smudge it with dirt or deliberately draw a little flower in golden paint. Everyone has 24 hours, everyone has a blank canvas to fill or leave untouched, and if one person decides to throw a bucket of red paint over theirs, the other paintings nearby will be stained with the same color. That's why, when you step back and see the bigger picture, the colors of many canvases seem to match.

The decision of one affects the rest by however mild or massive a fraction. That's why, in order to understand why certain things happen to one individual, the answer lies in stepping back to see the bigger picture.

Because... attacking Oliver... was not, in reality, a sudden decision. This decision was made because Jungkook had enough. But enough of what?

Rewind 30 min:

3:30 pm.

How many people had he met that pretended to be nice? How many people had smiled at him as if promising to be friends and then walked off to another on a whim? How many people, either young or old, had betrayed his trust? How many times had his feelings been hurt by other people?

Really, it was a miracle he could still trust at all. It was a miracle he had two friends. It was a miracle he was able to act even mildly normal after everything he's gone through. It was a miracle he was alive instead of laying next to Evans' child, and he knew it. He was grateful for it, every time he saw beauty in the world. But pain can come in different forms and it's always so ugly that his vision would be blurred, making it impossible for him to see even the slightest bit of beauty.

Pain was ugly. Like a sharp knife to the heart from behind him. It comes unsuspecting and holds on as tightly as a boa constrictor, making him cry until his lungs get squeezed to the limit and he can't breathe anymore, and he knows he'll die.

An argument he always has with himself sparks up when he thinks of pain. On one hand, he feels little and wants to cry, but on the other, he feels so angry someone else would hurt him that he could become very ugly indeed. The latter usually happened with his peers, and it was them that would try to hold him down by his wrists until the pain of their words or fists would be too much for him to let it all happen.