Hell'O' Brother 🔞

Chapter 9 : Brother love

Taejoon's grip on YN was possessive, his eyes glinting with an unhinged excitement as he guided her to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, shadows casting jagged shapes on the walls that seemed to move with each flicker of the lone lamp. The large mirror opposite the bed gleamed ominously, reflecting the scene with a warped clarity. He sat her down at the vanity, his hands surprisingly gentle as he tilted her face up, brushing a thumb across her cheek. YN's eyes fluttered open, still clouded with confusion and fear, but there was no strength to resist.

"Stay still, my love," Taejoon whispered, his voice low and commanding. He reached for the array of makeup products scattered across the surface, selecting a deep red lipstick and twisting it open with a practiced hand. The room filled with the faint, familiar scent of roses mixed with an undertone of something metallic and sharp.

YN's breath hitched as he leaned in, the tube gliding across her trembling lips with a delicate precision.

"There you go," he muttered, stepping back to admire his work. His eyes traveled over her features, drinking in every detail the flush in her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the subtle quiver of her lashes. He nodded, satisfaction darkening his expression. "Now you look like my queen. Perfect. Mine."

His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, and YN forced herself not to flinch at his touch. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to do something, but the terror had wrapped itself around her like chains, holding her frozen in place.

Taejoon turned her face toward the mirror, their reflections side by side. The stark contrast between their expressions was unsettling-his, twisted with a possessive glee, and hers, wide-eyed and lost. He leaned over her shoulder, eyes meeting hers through the glass. "Say my name," he demanded, voice softer now but with a razor's edge.

"Namj" The name died in her throat as his grip on her shoulder tightened, fingers digging into her skin. He shook his head, a mockery of a smile playing on his lips.

"Wrong," he said, almost playfully. "Try again."

Before she could muster another word, a noise from downstairs shattered the tension in the room-a voice, deep and familiar, calling out into the silence. "YN?" The sound was urgent, laced with worry. It was Namjoon.

Taejoon's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The playfulness evaporated, replaced by a raw, seething anger. His jaw clenched, muscles in his neck straining as he turned away from YN, eyes narrowing toward the door as though he could see through it.

Downstairs, Namjoon stood in the hallway, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath. He had run from the car, not caring about the suitcase he'd left behind or the bewildered looks of passersby. The house felt different cold, oppressive, like a trap waiting to spring. Something was terribly wrong; he felt it in his bones.

His suit, still crisp from the flight, was wrinkled at the collar where he'd tugged at it, trying to loosen the suffocating knot in his throat. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of exhaustion, but they were lit with a fire of determination. His hands, balled into fists, were shaking-not with fear, but with rage and desperation.

He took a step forward, the polished floorboards groaning under his weight, the sound echoing like a warning. The silence that followed was suffocating, every second stretching out like an eternity.

"YN?" he called again, voice breaking slightly at the end. The house remained silent, and dread coiled tighter around his chest. He moved toward the stairs, muscles tensed as he prepared for whatever he might find at the top.

Upstairs, Taejoon's eyes darted to the vanity where YN sat, her expression shifting from fear to a glimmer of hope. He saw it and snarled, a feral sound that sent a shiver down her spine.