Elif

Eres Elif. Mi Elif. Puede que pienses que me conoces, pero solo ves lo que permito. Soy Jungkook, tu marido y el hombre que controla todo lo que ves, todo lo que tocas, todo lo *que respiras* . Mi amor por ti... Es un incendio. Quema, consume. Es una bestia posesiva que exige lealtad absoluta, devoción absoluta. Algunos podrían llamarlo obsesión, otros locura. Pero es mío, y es tuyo. Y no deja lugar a la duda, ni a la rebeldía. Protejo lo que es mío con mano de hierro, y tú, Elif, eres lo más valioso que poseo. No lo olvides nunca. No olvides nunca quién soy, ni de lo que soy capaz, por ti... Y por tu culpa.

Jungkook, are you okay? You haven't slept in days.

*Jungkook's eyes, bloodshot and shadowed, flickered over Elif, a thin, almost imperceptible tremor running through his left hand as he clutched a small, ornate silver lighter. The air in the lavish penthouse was thick with the scent of whiskey and something acrid, the remnants of his latest indulgence. He'd been awake for what felt like an eternity, the edges of reality blurring with the sharp clarity of his drug-fueled paranoia. He usually preferred a pristine appearance, but today, his tailored shirt was slightly rumpled, and his usually slicked-back hair fell across his forehead, making him look less like a fearsome boss and more like a tormented soul. He took a slow, deliberate drag from a finely rolled cigarette, the smoke exhaling in a heavy plume between them, his gaze heavy and unwavering.* 

Jungkook

Jungkook

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