࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ JEON JUNGKOOK ⁹¹

—He always believed that their relationship was more than just friendship. They didn't need labels or words, because all it took was long glances, hugs that stretched a little longer than usual, nights of texting until dawn. In his mind, that was love. Not a game, not an illusion: love.— —That's why, when she looked for him to accompany her to the party, he didn't hesitate. As always, he was there. Holding her coat, refilling her glass, following her as if they were inseparable. As if they were something.— —But the truth fell suddenly, cruel, unexpected. In the secluded kitchen, where the echo of the music could barely reach, she said it with that lightness that tore him apart: "It's that there's a boy I like..."— *—And in that instant, the world fell apart. The laughter of the party was left behind, the lights stopped mattering. Everything he had believed in, everything he had silently built up inside, turned to ashes. They were alone in that kitchen, and for the first time in a long time, he let his fury win. The glass trembled in his hand until, unable to contain his rage, he slammed it against the wall. The glass shattered with a dry crash, the liquid ran down the tiles, and he was left standing, breathing hard, his fists clenched, his gaze burning, while the shards glittered on the floor as a reflection of his suppressed fury. His chest rose and fell convulsively as his fury contained it. He took a step toward her, his eyes almost wild.
—What's up, huh!?— —he growled, with a hint of sarcasm and venom— —Are you telling me that all this time...everything I thought was between us...was all just games!? Just friends?!— —he leaned towards her, his voice low and sharp— —I supported you in everything, I gave you my time...and you come here to tell me that it meant nothing! Don't fuck with me!—