Unspoken Vow [Namjoon FF] [SOF Prequel 0.3] ✔

Chapter 30

Joon did not answer. He stood there with his expressionless face, his eyes gleaming red.

The hand holding the burnt paper loosened its grip as Anya started shaking with the enormity of what things had progressed to. She had suspected, no. She had known.

She had known that this day would come, but she had equally prayed. Prayed harder, that it would not come to pass.

"Joon. . ." Anya took a step forward, hope colliding hard with fear of being right, "Tell me. . . please."

Joon tilted his head to one side, watching her approach. Observing her. His aura getting colder with each step she took, the red in his eyes gradually becoming deeper, more dangerous.

With each of his change she catalogued, the hope within her kept dwindling, her heart slowly getting encased in ice.

"Joonie. . ." she beseeched, as she took the last step to reach him, then clutched his Tshirt with both of her hands, clinging to it, "Please. Tell me you did not kill him. Please. Please!"

Cold hands raised to hold hers captive, keeping them against his chest as he spoke with a trace of icy curiosity,

"Why? Do you care that much for him?"

Fear swirling in her mind, Anya asked again, "Did you kill him?"

One of his hands let her go, to circle her waist, pulling her closer to him. The air in the house losing its warmth.

He held her to him but did not answer. His eyes becoming a swirling chaos of bloody scarlet hell, his gaze showing just a hint of his carefully hidden insanity, brimming on the stage of bursting forth.

"Joon," Anya shakily breathed out, unable to look in his eyes, "Please tell me you did not kill him. Please."

"You refuse to look at me? For him?" his voice was breaking up into pitches, his controlled rage cracking the surface of his gentle façade. He released her hands to slip his finger beneath her chin and tilt it up, "Your emotions, you allow him to enjoy it??"

His grip remained gentle but the fury in his being broke free in his voice which raised higher in multiple pitches, like that of a demon.

"NAMJOON!" Anya clutched at the tshirt and jerked him closer. With an anguished, desperate anger, she shouted at him, "DID YOU KILL HIM??"

Joon studied the anger in her bright eyes along with a profound loss of hope.

"He is not dead." His voice was still demonic, the house plunging into freezing temperature in summer, but he answered this time, "But I wish I had."

He thought of the bus already slowing down as it neared its stop. The most that human suffered would be fractures on different places and a severe concussion.

Hearing his answer, Anya felt the gushing fear dissipate all at once. She sagged against him, breathing heavily, as a whisper escaped her lips, "Thank God."

She concentrated on regulating the relief that flooded her, trying not to lose the sense of what it meant. Trying to remember to not give herself away. Shakily breathing out, she clung to him without care, his cold hard body her wall to steady herself again.

So it has begun. What I predicted would happen.

Anya thought to herself, an acute sense of loss clawing her as soon as the sense of relief slowly abated.

The beautiful dream life. . .it was just that, a dream being lived on borrowed time.

So lost in her emotions was she, that she failed to notice the desolate fury thrashing inside of Joon making him more unpredictable than he was.