Step Brother ®

🦋☆. Rᴜɴ Bᴜɴɴʏ Rᴜɴ .☆🦋

༺𓆩Rabbit𓆪༻

The mansion's corridors seem to stretch into eternity, the carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps as if erasing my path as I go. I can feel the weight of Taehyung's earlier presence like a heavy cloak around my shoulders, the silence oppressive, amplifying the isolation in this grand mausoleum of a home.

I refused the help of my butler, too unnerved by the prospect of someone lurking silently at my elbow—a shadowy reminder of the unfamiliarity between myself and this gilded cage. Now I'm fucking lost.

The light fixtures cast a feeble glow, throwing ghastly silhouettes that danced mockingly alongside me. I continue, muscles tensing with the desire to turn and confront whatever phantom stalks my steps, but there's nothing—only the whispering silence and the soft echo of my breathing.

Finally, the door to my bedroom looms before me. With a shaky hand, I push it open. Something isn’t right. The room is awash in the pale moonlight that filters through the sheers, turning everything into a spectral version of luxury.

Stepping inside, I'm hit with a wave of foreboding, the air feeling cooler, heavy with expectation. My eyes slowly adjust to the soft light, and that's when I see it—a grotesque offering before me.

There, on the polished floor just at the foot of my grand king-sized bed, is a dreadful sight—a dead rabbit, its fur matted with dark, congealing blood, a violent rupture in the serenity of my sanctuary.

I stand there, petrified, my breath hitching in my throat, chest tight with fear. The acrid scent of death assaults my nostrils, and I feel a visceral urge to retch. The violation of my room with such a brutal symbol sends an icy dread coursing through my veins. But above all, it puts me in a terrible mood. What game is this? A warning? a threat? or some twisted welcome gift?

My mind races with dark possibilities, each more sinister than the last. This isn't just a dead animal; it's a declaration, a sign that the safety I sought within these walls is nothing more than an illusion—a cruel joke at my expense.

I come closer and find a piece of paper attached with a little red ribbon around the animal's neck. I take it and can read:   Run,   bunny.

The moon outside casts a geometric pattern of shadows on the floor, a chilling reminder of the bars of a prison. I realize, with cold certainty, that I may have escaped the shitty streets of Tokyo, but I've waltzed right into a trap far more dangerous and incomprehensible than any back alley.

I force myself to step back, my mind screaming to run and get out. The dead rabbit's unmoving eyes seem to bore into me, a silent witness to the night's grim revelation. I know who it is. It's so apparent, and he knows it. You want to play, brother, I'll fucking play.

The mansion's south wing is shrouded in silence, amplifying every heartbeat in my chest. With the weight of the bloodied rabbit dangling from my grip, I navigate the labyrinthine hallways. My resolve is a flame flickering in me. Adorn with dark portraits and heavy tapestries. The walls watch over my intrusion with silent judgment.

I find him, a vision of raw power and force, battering a box mannequin with focused brutality. Sweat glistens on the landscape of his bare back, each muscle outlined with the precision of a sculptor's chisel.

I stand transfixed momentarily, taking in his sight—this stunning, maddening enigma of a man. "He's so handsome but a complete psycho," I think to myself, my breath catching in my throat.

Fueled by anger and the need for confrontation, I launch the dead animal right at him, the sound of its impact against his skin echoing through the room. He whips around, his expression transforming into one of unadulterated fury.