Just Twilight-Chapter 61

His voice, low and guttural, scraped out from between his clenched teeth.

“You’ll never work out with that bastard. Sure, I get it. You need time. It’s been a while, so you’re probably caught up in the moment. I bet you’re already thinking about spreading your legs for him in your underwear.”

A sharp yank at her wrist made Junyoung let out a small gasp. A dull pain radiated through her bones. Seungwoon’s grip tightened as if he were ready to crush her wrist.

“Don’t get too filthy. Just have your fun in moderation. You need to be in a state where I can still take you back.”

“Let go of me, Na Seungwoon!”

She tried to wrench free, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled her even closer. Their noses nearly collided, and she could feel his breath against her skin. She struck his chest, but he only grabbed her other wrist, his words spilling out fast.

“You can only be so arrogant in front of me because I let you. You should know your place, shouldn’t you? Hm? Junyoung.”

“Let go of me!”

“Then listen to me properly, and stop making me lose my damn mind!”

His shout rang through the apartment, loud enough to shake the walls. Junyoung’s eyes widened in shock. The pain in her wrists no longer registered.

She had never once considered that Seungwoon might actually resort to violence against her.

It wasn’t that she had underestimated him. Regardless of physical strength, people either did or didn’t cross that line—and Seungwoon had always been firmly in the latter category.

But right now, looking into his eyes, she couldn’t be so sure. She had no idea what he might do to her.

The sharp chime of the doorbell sliced through the tense air like a knife. Both of them turned toward the entrance at the same time. The monotonous melody cut through the suffocating silence of the living room.

Junyoung felt the faintest loosening in Seungwoon’s grip. Seizing the moment, she forced her voice into a steady tone and murmured,

“It’s probably the neighbor. They must have heard the noise.”

“This conversation isn’t over. Let’s send them away and finish it.”

Still holding her wrist, Seungwoon strode toward the door. Junyoung finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The tension had locked up her shoulders so tightly that even the back of her neck ached. Her tightly gripped wrist felt like the blood had stopped circulating.

What should she do? Could she talk him down? Or should she call for help? But what if that only provoked him further?

First, she needed to get outside. Staying here alone with him wasn’t an option.

The doorbell rang persistently. Standing behind Seungwoon, her wrist still in his grasp, Junyoung slowly opened the door. The only person who ever came to this apartment was Na Seungwoon, so she hadn’t even considered who might be waiting outside.

She barely had time to register the dark shadow beyond the threshold before her eyes widened in shock.

Dressed in a black shirt and black pants, his tousled hair falling naturally over his forehead—Beomjin stood there.

“…How…?”

“Yoon Junyoung.”

He spoke her name in a quiet voice. His sharp gaze flicked past her and landed on Seungwoon. His already deep-set eyes narrowed into a dangerous line.

“Do you need a man?”

Before she could respond, the door was yanked open. In a swift, fluid movement, Beomjin stepped inside, planting himself squarely between her and Seungwoon. Seungwoon, caught off guard, instinctively released Junyoung’s wrist and stumbled back.

“Kw-Kwon Beomjin.”

“We keep running into each other. And always in the most unexpected places.”

Casually tilting his chin up, Beomjin positioned himself protectively in front of Junyoung. His gaze flickered over the apartment, assessing the situation, then honed in on Seungwoon’s face.

Seungwoon, his pupils dilated from adrenaline, struggled to steady his breathing before forcing out his words.

“Junyoung’s home isn’t one of those ‘unexpected places.’ I’ve always come and gone as I pleased.”

“Not anymore.”

Beomjin cut him off without emotion, his lips curling slightly into a smirk.

“You should be more careful. Unless you want me to misunderstand.”

His outfit was simple—a black shirt fitting snugly over his broad shoulders—but there was an undeniable weight in his presence. And yet, Seungwoon couldn’t just let the words slide.

Scoffing, he twisted his lips into a sneer.

“Misunderstand? Who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m—”

Beomjin cast a brief glance over his shoulder, then lazily turned back to Seungwoon.

“What am I, Yoon Junyoung?”

Junyoung didn’t answer.

The only thing Seungwoon saw was her arms extending forward, wrapping tightly around Beomjin’s waist. His eye twitched involuntarily, and Beomjin muttered in a low voice.

“If you’re done here, step aside. Even if you’re not, move. We don’t have much time.”

Seungwoon watched as the faint amusement in Beomjin’s eyes faded. It was clear now—he had been smiling on purpose, using it to mask something much more dangerous. A cold shiver ran down Seungwoon’s spine, and his mouth went dry.

“…Yeah. I was just about to leave.”

He forced the words out, stretching his lips into a lighthearted smile.

“See you next time, Junyoung. Be careful heading down to Busan.”

Knowing there would be no response, he didn’t wait. He stepped into the elevator and disappeared.

Silence settled over them in an instant.

Beomjin raised an eyebrow, still feeling Junyoung’s body pressed against his back. Her grip around his waist showed no sign of loosening. He tilted his head slightly.

“You feeling guilty for meeting Na Seungwoon behind my back? It’s not like this is the first time.”

He teased her, expecting an immediate reaction—a sharp glare, a snarky retort, maybe even a three-hit combo of complaints.

But Junyoung didn’t respond.

That was the first thing that made him frown. The second was the faint tremor he felt from her hands, still clutching him.

His voice dropped lower.

“Yoon Junyoung. Let me see your face.”

“No.”

Her voice was muffled against his back, but at least it sounded mostly normal. He raised an eyebrow and pressed again.

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“…My legs gave out.”

“…What?”

“I said my legs gave out.”

Junyoung’s face finally peeked out from behind him as she spoke in a blunt tone. Clicking his tongue, Beomjin gently tugged at her arms and turned to face her.

“There are plenty of ways to say you want me to hold you.”

“Hey, wait—what—!”

Beomjin bent down and hoisted her up with a push of his shoulder. Junyoung yelped, flailing slightly as she was lifted off the ground. But Beomjin’s grip was firm, one arm bracing her waist and the other supporting her thighs as he strode inside.

The door swung shut behind them.

“You’re carrying me like a damn sack—this isn’t ‘holding’ me.”

Ignoring her complaints, Beomjin walked over to the dining table and set her down. He wanted her at eye level so he could properly see her face.

Trapping her between his arms, he studied her closely. Junyoung’s eyes darted sideways, avoiding his gaze. Aside from the faint redness around her eyes, she looked mostly normal.

Still, she was being unusually quiet.

She pursed her lips under his scrutiny before muttering, “How did you know I was here?”

“Samdu.”

“Ah. Did you know Na Seungwoon was here too?”

“I saw his car.”

Even as he answered, Beomjin’s gaze never left her. When she finally met his eyes, he spoke slowly, as if waiting for her reaction.

“I heard shouting.”

“…We argued. You really couldn’t wait for me to call you?”

“Nope.”

Beomjin responded easily.

“I decided I’m not going to wait anymore.”

Junyoung’s eyes widened slightly.

Beomjin’s lips moved lazily. “Did you argue because of me?”

“It was about Na Seungwoon. Everything he kept shoving under the rug finally came out today. It’ll get sorted out eventually. …Did you put on cologne? You smell good.”

“Yoon Junyoung.”

Beomjin called her name quietly, then added in an even softer voice,

“You know you’re still shaking, right?”

Junyoung’s lips parted slightly. She blinked rapidly, then furrowed her brows in an exaggerated scowl.

“…And you’re just standing there instead of hugging me. What are you doing?”

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Beomjin saw her stretch her arms toward him. Her voice was steady, but her expression was on the verge of crumbling.

Na Seungwoon.

…That bastard. What the hell did he do to her?

The moment his hands touched her waist, Junyoung wrapped her arms around his neck without hesitation. The warmth of her weight settled against him. As she buried her face into his shoulder, the scent of her filled his senses, flooding through him.