Hi everyone!
I made this to all you BTS FF lovers out there! The story containes a man (Jeon Jungkook) and a girl (Lee Y/n), who met at a college in South Korea. They both fell in love at first sight, but they didnt quite have a good start at their...
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//Heads up: The opening of this story contains scenes that some readers may find disturbing. If you are sensitive to depictions of violence or blood, I recommend skipping the first section. It will be clearly marked in italic text, like this: ABC.//
Across the World
Blood was everywhere: thick, dark rivulets stained the walls, pooled on the cold concrete floor, and fell from the ceiling in slow, morbid streaks. Nothing was left untouched: neither the shredded fabric which clung to bodies nor the pale, sweat-slicked skin of the man who was the centre of it all. Iron and death—a stifling smell—impregnated everything.
A guttural scream tore through the silence, raw and animalistic, but it carried no words—only the boiling rage of a man who had lost control. It echoed off the bloodied walls, a haunting sound that faded into an eerie quiet. Then, there was nothing but the wet, sickening sound of blood splashing onto the slick floor and the sharp, grinding crunch of bones breaking under relentless pressure.
The body beneath him—once a person—was unrecognizable now: limbs twisted at unnatural angles, the face reduced to a mangled pulp. Life had long since fled, leaving behind only a grotesque shell. Yet the man continued, his movements erratic, driven by a storm of hatred and despair.
"Why. Did. She. Choose. Him?" he growled, fractured and hoarse, a word forced through gritted teeth. The knife, shining with blood, crimson running along its length beneath the dim light, was plunged into the lifeless corpse over and over again. "Why did she go to him?"
The words hung there in the air, echoing for an answer.
Then came the silence–thick, heavy, and deafening. His chest heaved with each breath, a ragged gasp that seemed to fill the room. Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the blood smeared across his face. His hands shook, not from exhaustion but from the overwhelming weight of his rage.
Slowly, he straightened, still straddling the ruined remains of his victim. His eyes, bloodshot, gleaming with madness, scanned the scene. His fists kept on clenching, white at the knuckles from strain, until a cruel smirk twisted across his lips. The smile of a man who stepped beyond the boundaries of sanity and revelled in the chaos he had created.
He leaned back, looking down at the shattered corpse beneath him as though it were some sort of puzzle he had just solved. A low chuckle escaped his lips, hollow and chilling.
The body was a mangled ruin: the face smashed beyond recognition, the torso battered and torn, the limbs scattered like discarded toys. A dark, viscous pool of blood spread outward, painting the concrete floor in shades of crimson.
It was over.
And yet, as he sat there in the midst of another man's blood, fire was hotter inside his eyes–an inferno of unyielding hate. His mind stirred, one thought after another storming inside him louder and more venomous, screaming for chaos, pain, the world to be under the same torment as what had consumed him.
