Scarred(A Jikook x OC Werewolf AU)

Chapter 21

The day of Hak Chul's execution had finally come and Mimi had never been so chipper. The sun shone brightly that morning, slightly warmer temperatures melting the snow for now. She'd awakened to her soulmates with brunch in bed and a small bouquet of freshly picked snow drop and crocus flowers.

They were truly the sweetest, not outright saying it—but celebrating this day with her. She knows it may seem dark or immoral to some, celebrating a man's death day; but she'd suffered in one form or another at the hands of this man since she was old enough to comprehend words—maybe before then. She always knew that he hated her. It was always unmistakable from the malicious gleam in his eyes down to the derogatory way he spoke to her, his tone gruff even when he had to pretend to be cordial in front of others.

For that, she'd always hated him right back. His energy was like a plague, a dark cloud permeating the space before he even opened his foul mouth. Looking back, the times where she felt like she was ready to shift we're in his presence, triggered by something he'd say or do. He'd always pick up on it and snicker with amusement before fixing her with a taunting, knowing glare. She now knows that glare meant that he knew she couldn't shift because he and Dr. Seo were preventing it with those injections.

Hate is such a strong emotion, so strong that it's unmistakable once you feel it. Introduced to it at such an early age, it felt like second nature, especially when it came to him. That doesn't mean it felt good though. It feels out of place to her, in disharmony with who she is at her core. Thanks to Judge Min, today she'd get to let it go. Once Hak Chul would take his last breath, there was no use hanging on to any emotions concerning him. That's what she'd tell herself every day, just like she did after the death of her father.

Dr. Min was right. Affirmations work when you put forth the effort to believe in what you're saying to yourself. She was also fond of his scar analogy. When her father was alive, he was an festering infection in her life. Now that he's gone, she could heal. The only remainders of him lie in memories and the scars he left behind. They'll be there as proof of her strength, her ability to push through and move on. She'd think of Chul's death the same way.

"MiMi, are you almost ready? We've got to get a move on if we're gonna get good seats together," JK calls through the bathroom door, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Almost!" she calls back, hastily swiping some tinted lip balm across her lips and fluffing her braid.

She'd taken some of the flowers they'd gotten her and added them to the big French braid ponytail she'd done on one side of her head. It rested on her shoulder prettily, the little white flowers in her hair starkly contrasting with her all black ensemble. They were having a bonfire in the park later and she wanted to be dressed appropriately for both events.

One last look over her outfit and she opens the door, coming face to face with JK. He steps back to allow her some room, his jaw dropping as he takes in the entirety of her outfit. Never would he think he'd see his newest soulmate in a silk, black bustier top, black jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket altogether. As if that wasn't enough, the real beauty lie in the details—the braid littered with flowers that made her look like a goddess, the layering of little gold necklaces laying prettily on her collar bones that matched the thin collection of rings on her dainty fingers; and the shiny, red tint of her lip balm. Suddenly, he was a little weak in the knees, evidence of his innermost wolf in his eyes.

"I'm glad you like it," MiMi smiles, her eyes flashing gray, her wolf close to the surface as well with the anticipation of what was to come.

"Understatement pretty girl," he tsks, his tongue poking his jaw to stop himself from saying anything further.

"Kook, MiMi! We've got—woah," Jimin stops in his tracks at the door, his gaze sweeping over her.

Now it was her turn to go weak in the knees, shy from having both their piercing gazes on her. Butterflies swarmed in the pit of her stomach, making her look down at her feet to collect herself.