"If I wanted to die... do you think I could do it?" Jin asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, trembling between fear and resolve.
Namjoon looked at him, eyes dark with something deeper than rage - obsession, perhaps even love twisted beyond r...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧ ✰ ✦ ⋆ ★ 𓇼 ᚐ҉ᚐ ✵ ✯ ✪ ⚝
Years had passed. Jin had turned 20. Today was Namjoon's birthday. He was celebrating it at his private club. He had told Jin to join them - but he hadn't mentioned that this night would mark a terrifying turning point in Jin's life.
The air in the club was thick with smoke and dim lights. Strobe lights flickered through the shadows, high-volume music shook the ground, and occasional screams from teenagers turned the place into a kind of frenzy. On the dance floor, bodies collided and moved in wild freedom - everyone letting loose in their own way.
Namjoon stood beneath the red lights, a glass bottle in his hand, smiling at his friends. He had just turned 18 - a symbolic step into adulthood - and everyone had gathered here to celebrate. As always, his loyal and cheerful friends - Jackson, Seungcheol, and Chris - were by his side. Each was enjoying themselves in their own way; some came to dance, some to flirt, and some just to forget.
"This - this is freedom! Look around, this night is mine!" Namjoon shouted, raising his hand to the rhythm of the music, facing the crowd swaying around him.
Jackson laughed and bumped into him.
"Namjoon, you're the only star here tonight, man!"
Just then, the sound of a phone ringing came from Namjoon's pocket. Annoyed, he took out his phone. The caller's name flashed on the screen: Jungkook.
For a moment, Namjoon's face darkened. The clarity in his eyes vanished, and he stood silently. His fingers froze, eyes fixed on the screen. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned off the phone with one motion and returned to his drink on the table.
Seungcheol had noticed. He looked at Namjoon quietly and asked in a low voice:
"That was... Jungkook, wasn't it?"
His tone carried gentle curiosity - but also a touch of disappointment, as if it had taken courage to say the name. Despite the surrounding noise, the question was perfectly clear under the music.
"Yeah. How'd you know?" Namjoon finally replied, his tone cold. His gaze was on the lights across the room, but all his attention was on Seungcheol.
"Because you're only ever this indifferent to him. Namjoon, he's your brother. What would it hurt to show just a little care? Just a little..." Seungcheol's voice trailed off.
Namjoon put the glass back on the table. Slowly, he turned his eyes to Seungcheol - but there was no warmth in them. Only ice-cold, unyielding hardness.
"Shut your mouth, Seungcheol," he said in a low, threatening voice. "He's not my brother. He's just some bastard my father made with a street whore. So don't call him 'my brother'. He doesn't belong to this family."
Seungcheol opened his mouth, wanting to respond, but the words wouldn't come. He lowered his head and sipped his whiskey - every drop burning more than the last.
