Inside The Devil | M.yg × P.jm✓

III

He saw himself; his body laying on a bed tied with ropes. Yoongi felt his face frost, a cold dread touched his spine; confusion wrinkled his forehead. He's asleep, eyes closed and lips holding tight to each other, motionless as a frozen leaf.

Yoongi couldn't move. Vines constricted his body like venomous snakes preventing him from moving. He was trapped in his mind like a disgusting rat in a cage waiting for the hunter to end his incredibly worthless life. It makes him tear up realizing he cannot do anything. The voice inside him screams, yelling to be free, yet he has no strength to break from the vines swaddling him. He's a slave of his thoughts. He was so lost that even his soul was gone, and his identity was taken from him.

He watched himself through the glass where he sees somebody else controlling his body. It is now awake, struggling, and fighting to break free from the ropes that refrain it to escape. A tear rolled down his cheeks. The emotions merged into a steaming volcano threatening to erupt and cause damage to anyone or anything around it. Yoongi felt it climb up his chest and shot right through his throat; the worst pain he ever felt in his whole life. It hurts thousands more than being burned alive, the pain that cleaving him apart. He's used to being mute to his feelings but it was painful when you want to say something but you're unable because your mouth is stitched and your voice is gone from screaming in silence.

He refused to fight back, not because he is weak nor a funk that runs and hides—considering it'll lead to nothing and will only make things worse for him, he stayed calm; as he relaxed, the vines slightly lose their tight grip.

He's alone, again, in murky darkness where even his shadow refused to show. The emptiness yet again surrounds him like a vicious haze and echoes with his painful past. Wishing to be alone and actually being alone are two different things, and neither will ease the affliction of great anguish. Having God grants your desire is never as dearing as you crave for it. It's completely the opposite, you'd rather wish you'd never speak any of those spontaneous words and had him deaf of your selfish self-desire.

____

He heard the loud tromp of their boots on the monochromatic white floor. The lulling sound of a key inserted into a hole clicked into his ears, and just as he anticipates—a bunch of men walks inside. Yoongi fixed his gaze on the unfamiliar face standing in front of him. He observed his features; thick eyebrows that draw attention to his exquisite hazel eyes, a beautiful pointed nose, and a pair of plump lips. He's indeed a pretty young man. He fits perfectly into the coffin he prepared just for someone as delicate as him.

Leisurely, his eyes slipped to his necklace. A boiling fury swelled inside of him. They can't do this to him. This is his home; nobody's throwing a devil from his throne.

A wide grin appeared on his malicious face.  "What a shame, bringing a worthless creature into my room. Do you think you can defeat me? I am not scared of you," he said and laughed.

Dr. Park searched his expression. He was unreadable, he couldn't find that spark that lay beneath his eyes. Yoongi still looks the same—but those eyes; those black empty malevolent eyes don't belong to the man he loves. He knows his man, his beautiful Yoongi. He has that something gleamed inside him whenever he looks into his eyes—and he couldn't see that gleam in the man he's staring at right now. He's not his Yoongi. He will never be.

"Shut it out, you know it's the end of your reign. Let him go or you're gonna watch me throw you out of there you wicked thing, " he demands whilst he took out the cross and the holy Bible. The boy snarled stubbornly in response; in rebuffed to grant his command. He didn't blink; he didn't budge; the lad still has that ugliest grin on his hideous face, sticking his long tongue and tittering like a stupid cow as though to provoke them.

They circled in his bed, and he was trapped inside their wagon like a lion trapped between a crowd of savage hyenas. Yoongi looks at them fiercely, smiling sheepishly as a disturbance. But he didn't think it would be as easy as plucking their heads off as a troubled look absorbed on their discomfiting countenance.

Dr. Park avoided contact with Seokjin; he could feel the hatred that sprouted like a growing tree of resentment inside him. Since he came back into the building, no one dare to speak a word as their glares dig daggers into their souls. He admits his wrong, and it's the guilt that drags him away from reaching his arm. If he'd been a man, then maybe he could have apologized for what he'd said earlier—but his adamant pride refused to acknowledge expiation.

He thought about sucking it up and letting it burn in his throat until all of these miseries are over, just then he'll talk to him, and apologize without expecting forgiveness he knew he doesn't deserve.