clyde [2]

4 。lycaon

chapter 4 -
lycaon ★彡

"they fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce"

☆*:.｡. o♢o .｡.:*☆

Every voice was hushed by the eeriness of the confined space, not a word was spoken into the thick atmosphere which amplified any surrounding sound. The clock ticking in the corner, each thought coming with a tick and flashing away with a tock. The longer the silence drew on, the louder that ticking got, until it reached a peak where it was almost like every movement and thought was controlled by this eminently quiet sound now like a blaring scream.

The first person that took initiative of the silence was the out of place guest who sat at the end of the table, pushing the scraps of fat around his plate,

„This tasted good, Mrs Jeon." Sohyun looked up from her own plate, giving a gentle smile of gratitude as she thanked Taehyung for both the kindness and the attempt to soften the tense atmosphere. Then the silence returned and the blonde boy ended up dragging his eyes around the room so that he could take in the new space. His mind was whirring with thoughts which quickly dissipated when he noticed the small boy sitting stiff in his chair, hardly having touched his meat. The vegetables were gone, but now he was left staring at the white meat with a tight jaw and lidded eyes.

„Is everyone finished?" Sohyun continued to talk on the topic of the meal, checking each plate before stopping at her son's plate. „You didn't eat your meat baby." She commented, raising an eyebrow because it used to be the first thing he would finish when he was young. The way his body tensed up was unnerving, like a string pulled too tight and ready to snap.

With a slight movement Kook managed to shake his head, withdrawing his hands from the cutlery to curl up into fists in his lap. All whilst his eyes never left the plate. „Why not?"

„Cannot ..." his voice was slurred, words sounding mispronounced and muffled. Without saying anymore, Kook pushed his dinner away from him, bringing a hand to his head as he shuffled to lift his legs over the side of his chair. Before he could move further his father's booming voice stilled him.

„Jungkook, we want you to stay at the table." Kook refused to respond, slumped over his chair as he clutched his head in his hands and raked his fingernails over the sides of his thick black hair. Taehyung watched him in an apprehensive silence, heart palpitating with an unsettling sense of danger. „Sit back with us, Jungkook." Shiwoo rose his voice slightly, sharp and domineering despite trying to be calm. His fists were tight against the table, mind reeling with faded memories of the discord that his son had once created at the dinner table. Fifteen years later he didn't know what to do. In panicked fear his eyes flickered over to Taehyung who was desperately shaking his head and mouthing: Something's wrong.

„Kook ... are you feeling alright?" Taehyung worried gingerly, moving to approach the boy. The decision was regretted instantly when Kook began to growl at him; a low deep throat growl that was all too familiar to Taehyung as he pulled back quickly when the small boy stood abruptly. „Hey." He called, keeping himself distanced to watch the boy sway.

„Do not touch me. Do not come near me." Kook implored heinously, fingers dug into his scalp as he took one step towards the door, eyes squeezed shut and small stifled whimpers coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

„Kook wait. Please just tell me what's wrong." No additional word slipped the silent boy's lips, nothing further indicated he wanted to communicate with Taehyung. Yet as he went to bolt, his enlarged round eyes came into view with the slow rising of his head, and Taehyung felt his breath get caught as the bright elusive gold irises stared back at him with pleading fear. Then the boy ran away, stumbling down the hall and faintly the slamming of the bathroom door could be heard; the only sound in the stilled silence.