MVV | YG [✔]

09. Beomgyu/Yeonjun

Beomgyu

Love was a funny thing—this idea of giving someone the power to destroy you but trusting them not to.

I trusted my daddy bird... it was me I had less faith in.

There's always talk, this murmur of sorts, that excuses the lack of trust in others and makes it something acceptable.

Especially when you've been hurt...

... over

.... and over

... and over again.

But rarely does anyone speak about how difficult it is to trust yourself after a decade of condescending comments, minimized opinions, and undermined gut instincts by the one person who was supposed to be programmed for protection.

Daddy bird was resolute. Unshakeable. He was everything my father wasn't, and the clear juxtaposition between the two made it easy for me to run to him. Daddy's actions were kind, his tongue told no lies. His fists bled for me rather than because of me. He was the protector I'd been waiting for, and I recognized him almost instantly.

My father was a villain who acted as a hero, and Yeonjun was a hero who took the role of villain—a part he played just for me. While Haesoo fled Hell, feigning as though he wasn't its creator, Daddy let the flames touch his skin and learned how to survive inside of it.

I survived too, but I did it by hiding, and now that I was ready to fight, I wasn't sure I knew how to.

If Daddy was the hero, and Haesoo was the villain... then who the hell was I?

*****

Yeonjun

He was radiant—beautifully out of place in this sacrilegious prison. His skin was extra pale today, porcelain and ghostly in a way that made the tint of his lips look bloody. The bottom one was plump, swollen, and bruised as though he'd been gnawing it all day.

I wanted to suck it into my mouth.

Curls danced across the tight skin of his forehead, the ends tangling with his eyelashes. Nimble fingers flicked the wayward strands out of the way, and our eyes locked.

"Baby bird," I greeted.

He made an ugly sound, lips curling. With a violent swing of his foot, my office door slammed hard enough to shake the frames on my walls.

I lifted an eyebrow. "Hard day?"

He'd been... restless.

Fidgety.

Anxious.

He rarely slept unless he was tangled between all my limbs. Eating was a challenge, and when we were home, he refused to let me out of his sight. The neediness was fucking cute, but the rest of it made me want to vomit.

Beomgyu was suffering, and each day that went by without consequences for his father, his misery stained him a little darker.

The inactivity was practically killing him, and I died a little every night just to make sure he kept breathing.

Haesoo was competent—a skilled, capable criminal with an organization that typically took governments years to take down properly.

Lucky for us, I didn't care much for protocols and bullshit red tape.

I cared for Beomgyu... and would take out the man who'd hurt him.

"Forever."

My baby wouldn't have to pretend for much longer, and for every piece he lost during this process, I gave him one of mine.