Oliver
Amber was the strongest person he'd ever met in life. Filled to the brim with righteous conviction and with a heart-wrenching ability to forgive, pride danced thick in his gut along with a smooth dash of jealousy. He couldn't understand her, his thirst for vengeance and blood much stronger than most. But Oliver's need to protect was far more. They were Oliver's first real family and so the anger that throbbed in his chest, so painful and so wild, had been difficult to control and painful to experience.
It seemed that his brothers felt the same way, their anger overflowing as they bit the insides of their cheeks to keep their fury away from her already battered mind. The kiss Oliver exchanged with her that night was tender, hands cradling a delicate face, fingers tracing her jaw as if she were a treasured artefact.
The tipped ears, the full lips, the adorable little nose. He moved closer, tried to seal the fissures that lay between their souls as he delved upon her lips, deep and sloppy. His eyes never left hers, desperate to read every hint of sorrow, and every touch of discomfort. He would soothe them all if he could.
Of course, she couldn't.
The team held a meeting the next day in the studio, crouched in a circle right before rehearsals. They'd stormed into the building, emotions unlocked the moment they left the house. So damn fucking angry that their emotions had thrummed thick in the air, suffocating and ricocheting. It rebounded between them, sprung and reflected emotions that multiplied with each angry flush of their cheeks.
But they couldn't do much to the cockroach of their fixation with the tour beginning in mere weeks.
Rehearsal grew solemn when made-up scenarios were foiled by imaginary obstacles. They calculated and planned, desperation clouding judgement, frustration overcoming obvious defeat. Social media? More shit splattered upon Amber's name. Confrontation? Useless accusations with limited evidence. A deliberate move to kick her off the investor list? Contracts were broken, penalties ensued, more concerns that would inflict their darling's mind.
They were fucking pathetic.
She made it painfully clear that she didn't want their tour cancelled, even if their dreams were built upon her tears. She drew a damn line, straight as fuck and with no corrections. Told them that if they dropped it all for her, her body was incapable of walking away guilt-free.
Oliver stopped them from going against her wishes that night, his guts told him that they may believe the exchange to be fair. But to Amber? The consequences far outweighed what she would gain in return. It was love that boosted their anger, and it was love that would amplify her guilt. Love that held them all hostage.
So each dance step was an angry slam of feet upon sleek, sweat-stained wood, each lyric a growl through gritted teeth. Their eyes had been dangerous, dark and slit with no-fucks-given and desperate for an outlet. Even the usually terrifying directors, a trio that pushed them to the brink of muscular destruction, had strayed far from their path not daring to interject even when mistakes were made.
Oh, mistakes were fucking made. Oliver had the joy of pointing them out with an angry snarl, which MinJae added on with a snappy roar as he showed them the moves. They'd each responded with their own aggressive barks of understanding. Too much was achieved that day from their vexation. They didn't feel better about it that night when they went home to her sleepy, sweet smiles, the apartment smelling like the juiciest apple pie, but with that sharp tart sting of lemon.
Her sadness, the scent of an unhappy, depressed soulmate.
JieMi had gotten so worked up that he'd knocked down a cup, her favourite glass shattered into oblivion. He'd panicked, trembled and shook at her feet as he tried to sweep up the pieces. He'd been on his knees immediately, with tears swelling in his eyes without a care about the bits of glass that sliced into skin. Trauma still coiled around his heart, scars from his ex. She'd stopped him with a soft smile and a hug, so damn good despite her own pain and suffering. How was she so strong?
'I like you more than the cup, bunny,' she'd soothed, kissing away his tears and cleaning his wounds JieMi had blinked, embarrassed because his anger had only resulted in more problems for her, more disappointments. He made it up to her that night, gave her four orgasms with his tongue and three on his cock, until she was begging him to stop.
His soulmate was the kindest being on the planet
It was cruel.
Cruel, that she had to be concerned for their wellbeing when it came to justice. Justice, upon the person who'd hurt her so bad that she would wake up crying from nightmares. How fucked up was his world? How fucked up could this get? How much more must she suffer in their name? The lack of rage from her kind, sweet soul spurred them to burn from the inside out.
All his fucking fault in the first place. All Oliver's fucking fault.
But the law was like yelling at a wall. Fuck, what could they do? Nothing but petty demands from spiteful people. So was it their fault that they specifically told the director they didn't want anyone none staff near their skin? Was it their fault that they did act a little hostile when Claudia had stepped in for an investor's meeting with their co-CEO?
It'd all started from him, his concert, his sunglasses, his fan, his fucking fansite!
Oliver seethed between clenched jaws when she'd singled him out, a fact he now noticed with blood boiling through his veins. How had he not known with how emotionally connected he was? How had he not known that she was a snake? She'd reached forward, wanting to shake his hand and he regarded her wondering why the fuck his soul didn't sneer at the poison. Why the fuck he didn't see her as another worm in his fucking apples.
But no matter how friendly she seemed to Oliver. No matter how nice her aura seemed to feel. Her smile was too sweet, her teeth were too fucking bright. Her lips too damn red. And while she may be a stranger, a changed being from the time she'd hurt Amber, she should and damn fucking well be responsible for all her fucking actions. He'd smiled, too stiff, too fake, but he wanted her to know that.
Christ, he wanted her to fucking feel his anger. Maybe, maybe he should have squeezed her hand, tight enough for her to feel pain.
"Sorry we have weak immune systems, we won't shake your hand before tour," he'd said with a too sharp smile, and too angry eyes. She'd froze, dumbstruck smile, ugly fucking face filled with confusion.
MinJae, that fucking sneak had then moved to take their co-CEO's hand just to prove their fucking point that it was her they didn't want to fucking touch. They'd brushed past her without looking back, smooth, neutral smiles. Sieon had openly glared, too angry to give a fuck about politeness.
Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.