𝑵𝑶𝑰𝑹 • BTS

• NOIR •

In the world were strong survive and the weak falls, world whom people called vicious and cutthroat.

The seven of them, they're all weak.

Fallen.

They used to be afraid, having depressive fear to themselves. They're voiceless, kept their agonies to oneself. Dubieties were once filled their uncertain minds, having theirselves in the world of darkness.
Left, cursed, have their lone souls shot dead.

***

Their deadpan gaze were into mirror, their reflections was staring back at them. They glared at it like a ferocious beast, stalking its puny prey on witching hours.

Their reflection were slowly changing, grinning widely at them.

"Weak."

The nuisance mirroring of themselves said, still shooting a threatening glance at them. Those seven boys remained nonchalant, giving their honed look on their other selves.

"You people acting like you're strong huh? Well, stop that shitty hogwash of yours. You're weak."

"No, we aren't." The boys answered, still continue to stay unaffected to their reflections' words.

"Just go back to where you belong, frail fuckers like you are linked to burning hell."

Said their mirrored selves with full certainty. Their broad smiles grew wider as their iluminating crimson eyes twitched. On the other side, still have their pacific comportment, but their eyes were shouting undeniable rage.

"We won't." Namjoon replied shortly, his fist clenched, like his nails are about to be buried onto his palm.

"Weak."

"Weak."

"Weak."

The voice of those mirrored individuals chanted, with their infuriating sounds.

The seven boys felt deaf, irritated by the encircling ceaseless speech of their evil mirroring. Ire and hate are about to burst from them.

They got angry, fury and blood boiling wrath filled their once phlegm selves.

They hit the mirror, causing it to splinter. Red-shot blood dripped down onto the gaps of their fingers. Mirrors were cracked, also have it blood stained.

The voices stopped, leaving the room in a deafening silence.

They let out a few heavy exhales, still have their hands red in thick blood.

They saw theirselves on the broken mirrors, looking irate and furious. From their reflections, they saw something on their back.

It's wings. Black wings.

It was widen, they're like a huge bird who's ready to soar through the sky that's boundless.

They hung their head low, they whispered to the wind that'll rang in the ears of someone.

"We aren't weak. And will never be."