Nadir ◈ Seungjin

42 ◈ The Point of No Return

GET BACK HERE I'M NOT DONE FUCKING WITH YOUR HEADS YET 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

As the queens aespa say, buckle up and hold on tight (No because why does that song actually kind of hit/fit with Seungjin)

Forewarning: Unhinged Rage™

Somewhere in Seungmin's chest, his heart bled.

It bled, and bled, and bled.

As long as he was alive, he was cursed with being nothing more than the life he spilled time, and time, and time, again.

While a monster which waits to bare it's teeth clawed away at its chambered prison. A monster, a devil. An angel, maybe. A modern day animal which seeks freedom.It waits for it's restrains to weaken. For the chains holding it's wings to finally, snap. Rend themselves apart, dislocated as the restraints lose their grip on the wires suspending that warping creature critical to keep contained. And no matter how he tried to stop those talons from digging into his heart, their nais peeling skin off his bones to tear the thundering beats from his ribs, to not allow himself to surrender to it's discordant fantasies

It bled.

He picked up the revolver off the table, quickly pushing out the chamber to count each of the bullets. Eight bullets. All to be accounted for. Next moving to inspect the other parts of that silver weapon to ensure his revolver still worked, while the young man behind the desk cleared his throat, "Lieutenant, you're cleared. Your DNA wasn't found on either of the weapons."

"Either?" Seungmin peered up from the silver alloy, to the officer.

"I don't know if I can tell you this since you were a suspect in the case, but..." The officer glanced around the desk space, checking around the corners and behind the inlet he stood within before leaning over the counter. Close. Too close for the detective to be comfortable with as he wanted nothing more than to claw that face away from him. Elbows propped up as he gossiped lowly to Seungmin, "They found the Sergeant's revolver. It was in a building's basement, some building with an freezer in it on the other side of the old factory, and the revolver was missing a bullet. Only his prints, the Sergeant's, were on both of the weapons. His prints, and another set. But they're having trouble identifying who they belong to. Records aren't matching up."

Having trouble identifying them?

Seungmin scoffed to himself,

That's bullshit. Changbin is the son of a politician. If he or Jeongin get in trouble, his family can easily pull connections to avoid suspicion.

Against the searing of his skin, charing gently against the hot freeze of that metal, he gripped harder.

They know damn well who did it.

He pushed the chamber with a click into a place. Quickly aiming it down to the counter as he checked the alignment of his rear and front sights.

But they won't make the arrest to avoid the publicity and keep their funding from being cut.

"We're sorry," The officer shifted back from him. A frown coming about his burly features as he finished, "All of us at the department are. We know the Sergeant was a close friend to you."

Allowing that ignited fuse to burn brighter, Seungmin leaned into its warmth. Warming his hands, his heart, his throbbing headache as he allowed it to wave through him. For the first time, no longer able to hold their strength back. Shoving the cold metal of the revolver away in it's waist holster, Seungmin tucked his button up away, and snapped back, "You being sorry doesn't change anything."