Shadows of desire : SVT

(83) Night&Mares

Yuri’s tears flowed uncontrollably as she sat curled up on her bed, the weight of her discovery crushing her spirit. She was a mistake. Those words echoed in her mind, growing louder with every breath.

Outside her room, Taehyung and Jin stood at the door, their voices soft but urgent. "Yuri, please open the door," Taehyung called, his voice cracking as he knocked again. Jin’s heart ached, his fists clenched by his sides. "We just want to talk, Yuri. Please..."

But Yuri remained silent, drowning in the revelation of her identity. A mistake, she thought again. A mistake my mother made with a married man. It all made sense now—the distance, the half-truths, the unanswered questions.

After demanding namjoon he let go  Seventeen with minghao. Seventeen tried to reach out to her, but their words fell on deaf ears. Yuri refused to meet their eyes, ignoring their calls their desperate pleas. She couldn’t bear to face them.

On the other Side, Seventeen members gathered, their expressions clouded with guilt and sorrow in the living room. Dino sat in the corner, his head buried in his hands. "She’ll never forgive us," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "She’s going to hate us forever."

Seungkwan stood by the window, staring out at nothing in particular. His thoughts raced, tormenting him with the same fear. "We killed her mother," he muttered, barely able to say the words out loud. "How can she ever look at us the same again?"

The weight of their actions bore down on them. Seventeen was not just dealing with Yuri’s heartbreak; they were grappling with the destruction they had caused in her life. The fire, the lies, the blood on their hands—it all came crashing down on them.

Yuri, once the girl they all adored, was now a reminder of their darkest past.

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Seungcheol sat in the darkened room, the only light coming from a small desk lamp, casting long shadows on the wall. In his hand was an old photo—one of him and his mother, smiling during happier times. His heart clenched as he stared at the picture, his vision blurring with unshed tears. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let the tears fall silently, memories flooding back.

Flashback:

A loud crash echoed through the house, followed by the sound of his mother’s sobs. Seungcheol, just five years old, peeked from behind the doorframe, terrified. His small hands clutched his blanket as he watched his father’s monstrous rage unfold. His mother lay on the floor, shielding herself from the blows as his father shouted cruel words, each one more vicious than the last.

"How could you do this?!" his father screamed, kicking her while she sobbed, curled up in pain. Seungcheol’s heart pounded in his chest. He was too young to understand why his father was so angry, but he knew one thing—his mother didn’t deserve this.

Seungcheol didn’t fully understand at the time, but he remembered the hospital visits, the hushed whispers. He overheard the word miscarriage one too many times. He would come to know that his father had caused it.

Now fifteen, Seungcheol stood tall with the rest of seventeen members, but inside, the scars from his childhood ran deep. He watched helplessly as his father’s violence consumed their lives. His mother’s face was bruised, her eyes hollow from torment.

Seungcheol clenched his fists every time he saw his father strike her, the rage inside him burning brighter. He wanted to protect her, to fight back, but he knew what would happen if he tried. His father was a powerful man—feared by many, including his own family.