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『—𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃—』 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧
• • •
JEON JUNGKOOK faced the transparent window, sunbeam's rays complimenting the room with enough radiance to expose his reflection on the compact glass, providing sufficient light for glass to morph to a dwindling mirror, for him to see his impassiveness as his reflection showed and scintillated. Hence, drained and accustomed to the ruthless pain, he's gone numb.
With his arm up and his phone dangling on the edge of his palm, he dropped the call, ignoring the questions thrown by Myungdo with his voice fading in the background, words indecipherable, though he caught on how his assistant asked whether he was prepared for the outcome of his plan.
It seemed simple. It was one thing. It was the only impediment after all. He had the upper hand.
Mere deceits were those sentences that toyed with his mind. Because exactly as those thoughts corrupts his muddled lucidity, he knew that the raven beauty wasn't at all prepared. He's rather clueless, about what Jungkook was risking to do, but the chestnut haired male knew that he was sure. This is the last step, what he could do to meet the older in the end, and the only thing he'd hope is for the other to wait.
From almost half an hour of traveling back to his house with melodies of downcast songs on the blaring radio, fifteen minutes in delaying himself inside his car to release his woes and frustrations, a few more to submerge in his dark, soul-stirring regrets, a minute to compose himself at the front door, and a second for him to become vacant, empty with a vast and fathomless void within when he finally realize that he left.
Instead of clinging like those rare wisteria vines that latches and persists to grow in partial shade, chocking and only being a burden to the ravenette who was in torture, he chose to let go. But he'd come back, much better, much safer, to have him in his embrace, to have nothing of a hindrance.
However, speaking of the devil and the blockage itself, she have arrived. He reacted with an emotion of anger roaring, teeth clashing against teeth in a menacing grit, and his gaze moving to wait unto the cream colored double doors of the living room. He could already hear her curses towards their poor, panicked helpers and the notable shuffle of her slippers, then in a matter of passing seconds, the doors bursted open with a booming thud and he met her glare, "You were with him again, weren't you?"
She stood between the doorframe, dark hair bedraggled from numerous tugs and wrestle with her fury, skin paler than of moon's tone, and eyes dark and sunken from sleepless nights of worries— it could've been hollow from crying but strangely she didn't, her rage more overpowering than her miseries and it was inconsequential for her, it was weak and a waste of time.
