WILTED | SEOKSOO FF

PART 03

Jisoo stood frozen at the dinner table, his fingers trembling as he arranged the silverware with surgical precision, each piece lined up like soldiers in formation.

The air in the apartment was thick—thick with the kind of silence that was more dangerous than any argument. It was the kind of silence that screamed all the things no one dared say.

Then, like thunder cracking through a calm sky, Seokmin’s voice sliced through the tension. “Is this how you think I like it?” He was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest like a judge ready to pass sentence. His eyes were sharp, cold.

“I—I thought—” Jisoo stammered, his voice barely audible, as if saying the wrong thing might make the air explode.

“You thought wrong,” Seokmin snapped, slamming the door behind him with a deafening crash. The apartment seemed to shudder at the sound, and Jisoo’s heart skipped a beat.

Seokmin stormed toward the table, yanking a chair out so violently it scraped across the floor. The shriek of it made Jisoo flinch. Seokmin’s gaze narrowed as he surveyed the meal Jisoo had painstakingly prepared. “Where’s the wine?” he demanded, his voice an ominous growl.

“I—I’ll get it,” Jisoo stammered, his legs unsteady as he rushed toward the kitchen. It felt like everything was spinning out of control.

“Hurry up,” Seokmin barked, like he was giving orders to a subordinate.

Jisoo fumbled with the corkscrew, his hands slick with sweat. The bottle slipped from his grip and crashed to the floor in a symphony of breaking glass. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

“Useless!” Seokmin’s voice erupted like a volcano, and Jisoo froze, his skin prickling with dread.

“I’m sorry,” Jisoo whispered, lowering himself to pick up the pieces. His hands trembled, and a jagged shard of glass cut through his finger, the sting sharp and immediate. Blood welled up, but he didn’t dare flinch.

Seokmin was at his side in an instant, his grip like iron as he yanked Jisoo to his feet. “Look at you. You can’t even clean up your own mess and you want to live without me.” His voice was venomous, as if Jisoo’s mere existence was an inconvenience.

Tears burned in Jisoo’s eyes, but he bit his lip to keep them in check. Crying never helped. It only made Seokmin more furious.

“You make me do this,” Seokmin hissed, his grip tightening painfully on Jisoo’s arm. “You make me this way.”

Jisoo shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Please, just—”

Seokmin’s hand shot out, slapping Jisoo across the face with a force that sent his head spinning. The sting bloomed across his cheek, and he stumbled backward, his vision blurring.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Seokmin sneered. “You’re pathetic. Pathetic enough to not be loved by anyone except me.”

Jisoo crumpled to the floor, clutching his burning cheek, fighting the wave of dizziness threatening to knock him out cold. He wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and never come back. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Seokmin loomed over him, his chest heaving with rage. “Clean this up,” he spat, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Jisoo nodded, his body moving like it had a mind of its own. He gathered the shards, ignoring the sting of his finger as the blood kept flowing, pooling in his palm. But all he could hear was the taunting echo of Seokmin’s voice, the mocking tone from earlier.

As he cleaned, Seokmin’s phone rang. Without missing a beat, Seokmin answered it, his tone shifting instantly. “Hey, Soonyoung hyung,” he purred, all sweetness and charm.

Jisoo couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of it. How easily Seokmin could hide his true self behind a mask, making everything seem fine to the outside world. If only people knew the monster lurking underneath that charming exterior.

When the call ended, Seokmin gave Jisoo a quick glance, his eyes flicking over him with nothing but disdain. “Hurry up. I’m going out,” he said, already grabbing his coat.

Jisoo didn’t speak, not trusting his voice. He simply nodded, his body moving on autopilot as he finished cleaning the mess.

Seokmin paused at the door, his eyes narrowing. “And don’t you dare think about calling anyone. No one’s going to help you.”

The door slammed shut, and Jisoo was left alone, drowning in the silence that followed.

For a long moment, he just sat there, tears streaming down his face. The pain in his cheek, the blood on his finger, all of it seemed trivial compared to the ache in his chest. His heart thudded in his ears, and he felt like he was drowning in his own misery.

But as he sat there, amidst the wreckage of the evening, a small voice deep inside him whispered, louder than ever before:

This can’t be your life. This isn’t love.

Jisoo wiped his tears and stood up, surveying the apartment. The shattered glass. The overturned chair. The blood. It all painted a picture of a life he was too afraid to admit he was living.

The voice inside him was no longer a whisper. It was a shout.

And Jisoo restricted, restricted himself to hear it.