Six Evil Step Brothers - Yoongi X Jungkook- Yoonkook

19

The night air hung heavy with tension as Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung continued their frantic search around the school. Their footsteps echoed in the empty halls, but the only thing louder than the pounding of their hearts was the silence that stretched ominously between them. With every room they passed through, every corner they turned, hope slipped further away, leaving behind a growing sense of dread.

Jungkook's frustration was palpable. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with tension as they reached the back of the school. "He has to be here somewhere," Jungkook muttered under his breath, though doubt was beginning to gnaw at him.

Jimin's eyes darted around, scanning the area, and then they fell on a small, unassuming storeroom near the dumpster. Something about it caught his attention—perhaps it was the way the door was slightly ajar, or maybe it was the eerie stillness that seemed to emanate from it.

"Wait... what about that storeroom?" Jimin's voice was shaky, filled with both fear and a desperate hope that this might lead them to Yoongi.

Without waiting for a response, Jimin approached the door, his hand trembling as he pushed it open. The hinges creaked, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. He raised his flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness, illuminating the cold, grimy floor.

And then he saw it.

Blood.

Fresh, glistening blood smeared across the concrete, as if someone had been there mere moments ago. Jimin's heart plummeted, his skin going cold as dread washed over him in waves. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"Jungkook... Taehyung..." Jimin's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood, his mind refusing to fully register what he was seeing.

Jungkook and Taehyung rushed over, their hearts pounding in unison with the rising panic. When they saw Jimin's pale face and the horror in his eyes, they knew something was terribly wrong.

"What is it?" Jungkook asked, his voice sharp with urgency as he followed Jimin's gaze into the storeroom. The moment he saw the blood, it was as if time stopped.

"No... no, no, no..." Jungkook shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with disbelief. "It can't be Yoongi... It can't be..." His voice cracked as he desperately called out Yoongi's name, his voice echoing hollowly in the empty space. "Yoongi! Where are you?!"

Taehyung's knees felt weak as he entered the room, his eyes scanning every inch of it in desperate denial. "It can't be him... it can't..." he mumbled, clinging to the thin thread of hope that Yoongi wasn't the one who had bled here.

But that hope was shattered the moment he spotted something in the corner of the room—a small, rectangular piece of plastic lying amidst the debris. Taehyung's breath hitched as he picked it up, his hand trembling as he turned it over.

It was Yoongi's ID card.

The last bit of hope drained from Taehyung's face as reality crashed down on him. His hand clenched around the ID card, his knuckles turning white. "No... Yoongi..."

Jimin's composure broke entirely at the sight of the blood and Yoongi's ID. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he collapsed to the floor, his sobs wracking his body. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." he cried, his voice thick with guilt and despair. "This is our fault..."

Taehyung stood frozen, his mind blank as he stared at the bloodstains. He couldn't bring himself to cry, to scream, to do anything. The weight of their failure, of his failure, pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was losing himself to the panic and fear. He kept calling Yoongi's name, louder and louder, his voice growing hoarse as if he could somehow will Yoongi back by sheer force of will. "Yoongi! Please... please... answer me!" His voice was filled with desperation, with a raw, unbridled pain that cut through the night like a knife.

But there was no answer. Only silence.

Jungkook fell to his knees beside Jimin, his hands gripping his hair as he let out a guttural scream of frustration and anguish. "Where are you, Yoongi?! Where are you?!"

As the brothers grappled with their horror and guilt, somewhere far from the school, Minho and his friend drove through the night, the car's headlights cutting through the darkness. The tension in the car was thick, Minho's knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"We're not going to kill him... right?" Minho's friend finally broke the silence, his voice shaky with fear. The reality of what they had done was beginning to sink in, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him like a vice.

Minho remained silent, his jaw clenched. His mind raced with thoughts of what could happen next, of how deep in trouble he was. He knew there was no turning back now, but the thought of actually killing Yoongi sent a chill down his spine.

"Bro, I can't be a murderer... I'm too young for that!" his friend screamed, the fear in his voice palpable.

Minho shot him a dark glare, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "If you're too scared, then leave," he grumbled, his words laced with frustration.

His friend stared at him for a moment, terror and uncertainty warring within him. Then, without another word, he opened the car door and stumbled out, leaving Minho alone in the driver's seat.

Minho took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He knew he needed help—someone who could fix this mess before it spiraled completely out of control. His hands shook as he pulled out his phone, dialing a number he knew by heart.

The line clicked, and a gruff voice answered on the other end. "What is it, Minho?"

Minho swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Boss... I got into some trouble. I need your help."

There was a pause on the other end, and then the voice replied, cold and calculating. "Tell me everything."

As Minho began to explain, the weight of his actions pressed down on him, and for the first time, he truly understood just how deep the hole he had dug himself into was.