Pandora ✔️

What's The Story (Part 1)

The touch of the cold metal scraping against his wrists made him shift violently in the backseat. They slammed the cuffs on, manhandled and shoved him inside their vehicle.
To say that he was royally pissed off would be an understatement of the century. He wanted to punch something. Fire kept spewing out of his eyes as his chest tightened.

Enraged, baffled.

When he got to the police station, his fingerprints along with a mugshot was taken before he was thrown in an isolated room; artificial light, the mono aesthetic, and a large, one way, mirror to his side. Scoffing, he stared down at the handcuffs binding him to the table.

An interrogation room.

He'd been in a few of them during his intern days but after practicing family law, these walls were as foreign to him as his own mother.

The sound of the shackles scraping the table legs made him shift as irritation overcame him. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting, awaiting any form of conversation or interrogation.

The death of Chungha.

The officer who read him his right said he was being arrested for her death. He couldn't quite make out why the police would assume or rather what possible proof they had. Sure, he'd been on a small banter and having some much needed time to himself.

Those drinks at that club he visited did taste great, he ordered at least five of them and the bartenders there were so nice and friendly, he should visit more often. Perhaps have you join him next time. Despite your homebody and good girl demeanor, he was sure that you could party like no other.

The door opened and a heavyset man entered with a file in his hand and soon after a petite woman followed him with a plastic cup.

"Water?" she slid him the cup as the other officer closed the door behind them.

"Mr. Jeon Jungkook," the heavy man spoke, his tone softer than what he'd initially expected, "Sorry for the wait," they took the seats opposite him, "Let's see here," he opened the file and began flipping the pages but his eyes remained solely on the female detective.

Her gaze was alluring but slightly intimidating. Flipping her blazer to the side, she exposed the gun that neatly was placed in its holder. When his eyes fell back onto hers, she shot him a little smirk.

She wanted him to know she was in charge.

The heavy man kept looking at the pages, no words were spoken as he was having a stare competition with the female officer. Although the man appeared physically bigger, he guessed that she, indeed, was the superior one and ranking higher than her partner.

It was his gift.

Ever since he hit puberty, he had a way of instantly figuring women out; from their insecurities to their tics and mannerisms, and their emotions.

He was a sensitive child as his mother often referred to him as.

That was probably the reason why he grew infatuated with you. Those many evenings he used to observe you from the comfort of his apartment, he simply admired your physical attributes but the evening you shared at the wine aisle made him in awe of you.
For some reason, you were hard to read. In some cases, you still were but he prided himself in he was getting to know the only woman who could make him feel special.

"How's your head?" the stern voice of the female asked, "You were in a car accident."

"I was hit by a car," he calmly spat as he matched the intensity of her gaze.