TW: Violence, homophobia, dumb fucking parents
"Jeongin hear me out-" quickly he said.
Panic rose in his chest, seeing the younger storm towards him. Jeongin shouldered Chan as he pulled the door handle.
Chan stumbled. He was not expecting the impact. Worried, he slammed the door close from behind the younger. He enclosed Jeongin between his arms.
His voice soft and regretful, spoke, "Hear me out, Innie"
"What is there to hear out?! You took advantage of me and f-fucked Hyunjin at the same time?!" Jeongin shouted, pushing Chan away from him. Squaring up Chan, he seethed through gritted teeth, "I'm leaving"
An unwanted tear escaped his eye. Roughly wiping his face he attempted to turn away. He was in no mood to listen to excuses, not when angry.
No, no, no Fuck! It's just a misunderstanding! Fucking hell I should've deleted those fucking videos!
Chan gripped both of Jeongin's arms and shoved him against the door.
The younger felt his head hit the wooden door behind him, slamming the door close. He flinched and groaned at the grip Chan had on him.
Not again.
"I can explain! Listen to me Jeongin" yelled Chan, his breathing coming out heavy, unaware of the damage he caused.
The younger's body began shaking violently, eyes glued shut and his nails scratched the door. Everything began pixelating, shades of black cornered his vision. The darkness began enveloping him.
Nothing made sense. Why would Chan do this? First, he toys around with my feelings. And now he's hurting me?! Why?! Why!? Why?!
"Shit. Oh fuck. Calm down Jeongin. Can you hear me?" Chan's voice echoed around in his head.
Everything began spinning around. The floor seemed to be revolving, morphing into one of the past.
"Breathe, Innie breathe. Follow my voice"
"No! Please stop! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" He rambled on.
"You'll faint, just follow my voice" His rich voice distorted into a breathy, shrill one "You faggot! I told her you were a fucking cock sucker!"
"No, please don't!"
Slamming his eyes close, he covered his face with his arms, only to be struck with a harsh marble slab on his stomach. The material broke, and shards of it pierced into his flesh.
Impact after impact, he laid on the cold floor, unable to move. Trickles of red streaming down his body, staining the designer carpet.
With one last pathetic cry, everything stopped.
