MVV | YG [✔]

10. Beomgyu/Yeonjun

Beomgyu

I was afraid of my own heart... of all the things it hoped for but never got...

... of its never-ending longing for a touch of kindness—something that could fill all its empty spaces.

It was bleeding for something it'd never have, thumping anxiously and precariously.

Searching.

It wasn't until I'd met Yeonjun that I realized those stilted beats and periods of yearning were just my heart readying itself for the one getting ready for me.

I think maybe it waited my entire life for this day... the one dedicated to honoring love. The day it could praise the universe and whatever deity was living inside Yeonjun's head, whispering the steps he needed to take to bring him straight to me.

Instead... my heart was quaking. Dripping with blood and tears. It'd spent years waging a war within itself, battling opposing sides of love and grief.

Love should've been triumphant.

Every day, but today especially, love should've been the victor... yet all it beat for was grief.

... and a sliver of anger that made me want to scream.

"You didn't come when I called for you."

I solidified.

Agile, icy fingers draped themselves over the nape of my neck, squeezing my pulse point until tears filled the corners of my eyes.

"Beomgyu."

He always did this... came at me from behind, as though my fear was some kind of twisted game. As a child, I used to believe he lived in the shadows, but I knew now that he controlled them.

It's why I'd never been able to escape.

"I don't like being ignored," he seethed.

Drops of his spit dotted the back of my neck and the curve of my jaw. The liquid was warm as it slid across my skin, but still, I shivered. It made me feel... unkempt. Unclean. Utterly and impossibly gross.

"Do you know who I am?"

The headmaster?

My sperm donor?

I couldn't be certain which answer he sought... so I waited, bones rigid and muscles unmoving so as not to agitate the hand he had around my throat.

"Did you not receive my message?"

Oh, I'd gotten the message my English teacher placed in the corner of my desk—the one from the headmaster's office, demanding my presence at his desk.

I simply... disregarded it.

It was almost fortuitous that I was incapable of speaking in his company, because what was I even supposed to say?

My daddy told me not to go anywhere near you, you abusive, murderous son of a bitch?

I didn't imagine those words would bode well for me or my seizing windpipe.

Nostrils flaring, I grappled with my breaths. My fingers twitched anxiously at my sides, my eyes pinging from one corner to the other, perilously searching for a human my father respected more than me. One that would force his mask back in place.

I found no one.

Not a soul.

These halls were as desolate as ever, concealed by the darkness he'd crafted under greed and malice.