Enthralled || Liskook

Chapter 47

Jungkook dropped his brother's family back home, then pulled into the familiar driveway of his rented place. Jiang Yang sprawled on the worn sofa, looked up with a gr that stretched from ear to ear.

Last night, Jungkook had promised a visit to the graves the next day, sending his brothers laden with wine boxes.

Only Namjoon, just back from a grueling closed training camp, had stuck around. The solitude had evaporated with Jungkook's return, and a silent hope flickered in Namjoon's eyes. Maybe this time, his jumor brother wouldn't be leaving again.

The third floor renovation, completed last month, stood in stark contrast to the unfinished second floor, held by the stubborn hot pot restaurant refusing to relocate.

Upstairs, bathed in warm light, the space unfolded like a personal haven. A pool table dominated the center, surrounded by plush armchairs that beckoned relaxation. Tucked away in the north corner lay two living bedrooms, each with a matching bathroom, creating a private sanctuary.

Namjoon, with his usual thoughtfulness, had already furnished one simply, yet with a touch of modern design, transforming It into a cozy haven.

Jungkook, restlessness etched on his face, sat hunched over on the sofa. He reached into his wallet and withdrew a notepad, the worn leather cover creaking in his grip. The corners, once pristine, were now marred by a web of black grime.

Namjoon shuffled towards the bathroom, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife.

As he reached for the switch, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned to see Jungkook clutching the notepad, his face pale and drawn.

"Are you hurt?" Namjoon's voice was a low murmur, barely audible in the tense atmosphere.

Jungkook remained silent, the only sound the strained rasp of his breath.

Namjoon, sensing the futility of pressing for an answer, walked towards the bathroom. He flicked on the high switch, a hollow click echoing in the room. Just then, a muffled voice drifted in from behind the closed door, laced with anger, "My health is already failing! Another outburst from you, and L...""

The rest of the trade was swallowed by the thin walls. Namjoon stood frozen, the weight of the unheard words hanging heavy in the air. He knew the teacher wouldn't have mentioned Jungkook by name yet again, the year spent in hiding had been exposed.

But unlike before, Jungkook only flinched, the pain in his eyes a silent plea for understanding Namjoon swallowed the questions churning in his gut, the unspoken bond between them a silent promise of support.

Their teacher, once a source of respect, is now a figure of summering resentment. Namjoon, despite the darkness, located the toilet by the faint moonlight and entered silently.

Jungkook remained on the sofa, the crumpled note clutched tightly in his hand. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he stuffed it back into his wallet,

He rose and wandered outside, drawn towards the familiar comfort of the billiard hall. Stopping by the nearest pool table, he paused.

This one was dedicated to Lisa, the worn blue flannel marked by the scattered spheres of reds, yellows, and a lone blue.

Last night, he'd played with Taehyung here, laughter and friendly competition momentarily pushing aside his worries.

Tonight, the atmosphere was heavy. Jungkook snatched the nearest ball, his grip far tighter than necessary.

With a violent shove, he sent it careening down the table. The white cue ball slammed into the black eight ball, the force echoing a silent scream. The black ball sank with a dull thud, the only sound breaking the oppressive silence of the vast hall.