The Shadows (Underworld 4) JH

32: The Confession

Jun barely made it through the door of his apartment before the rage consumed him. He kicked it shut behind him with a force that rattled the frame, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The image of Minghao's impending marriage played on a loop in his mind, each repetition fueling the fury that burned hotter in his chest.

He reached for the nearest bottle of liquor—a half-finished bottle of whiskey—and unscrewed the cap with trembling hands. The liquid sloshed as he poured it straight into his mouth, not bothering with a glass. The alcohol burned as it went down, but it wasn't enough to dull the pain stabbing at his heart. Not even close.

Jun hurled the bottle across the room, watching with a perverse satisfaction as it shattered against the wall, amber liquid splattering in all directions. The sound of breaking glass was cathartic, but only for a second. The agony in his chest only intensified, and he lashed out again, grabbing whatever he could reach—lamps, vases, picture frames—and sending them crashing to the floor.

"How could he?" Jun screamed into the empty room, his voice hoarse and desperate. "How could he just... marry her?"

He staggered, the room spinning as he reached for another bottle. This one he drained in a matter of minutes, his movements becoming increasingly erratic. The alcohol was making him dizzy, but he didn't care. He wanted to drown in it, to numb the unbearable pain that clawed at him from the inside.

But no matter how much he drank, it wasn't enough. The ache in his chest only grew sharper, like a knife twisting deeper with every swallow. When the alcohol failed to bring the numbness he craved, Jun's anger turned inward. His fists clenched, and before he knew it, he was punching the walls, the pain in his knuckles a mere echo of the torment in his heart.

His vision blurred with tears and rage as he stumbled out of the wreckage he had created. He couldn't stay there, in the confines of that room, suffocating under the weight of his own thoughts. He needed air, needed to escape the torment of his own mind.

Without thinking, Jun stumbled out into the night, his steps unsteady as he made his way through the empty streets. The world around him was a blur, his thoughts muddled by alcohol and despair. He wandered aimlessly, each step heavier than the last, his heart pounding in his ears.

As he neared a busy intersection, he didn't even notice the speeding car that came hurtling toward him. The headlights blinded him, but his reaction was delayed, his mind sluggish from the alcohol. The last thing he saw was the blur of metal and the screech of tires before everything went dark.

Jun's body crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his mind finally succumbing to the oblivion he had been seeking.

When Jun finally stirred, his entire body protested. Pain radiated from every muscle, and his head throbbed with a dull ache that made it difficult to open his eyes. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft beeping of medical equipment filtered into his awareness, bringing with it the realization that he was in a hospital.

As he tried to shift, a sharp pain shot through his side, forcing him to let out a groan. The sound was weak, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to rouse the figure slumped on the couch beside him.

Jun blinked, his vision slowly clearing, and that's when he saw him—Minghao. He was sitting there, asleep, his head resting uncomfortably against the back of the couch, his face drawn with worry even in rest. His presence sent a jolt of shock through Jun's system, making him question whether he was still dreaming, still caught in the haze of his alcohol-fueled nightmare.

But no, this was real. Minghao was there, close enough that Jun could see the faint dark circles under his eyes, the disheveled state of his usually pristine appearance. It was clear that he hadn't left Jun's side for some time.