Work Text:
Valentine's Day, 2027 Seoul
The snow fell with an unbearable calm over the city. Seoul shone with pink and red lights, with the bustle of the streets filled with couples holding hands, with the cafes spilling the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. But Taehyung didn't feel any of that, not in this place.
The gala hall was a work of art in decay. Men in tailored suits, women in splendid but discreet dresses, each and every one of these people seemed to have come out of the same mold. Refined laughter, hollow conversations, the clinking of glasses toasting successes that in the end meant nothing.
None of this is real, he thought, while his reflection in the window glass gave him the empty look that he was no different from anyone else there... but thinking otherwise gave him some peace of mind.
Then, the phone vibrated in his pocket.
He wasn’t expecting anything. But then he read the message.
“Hyung, please come.”
Three words. Small, insignificant. But Taehyung felt the floor beneath his feet give way, the air around him grow thick, his throat close up like something had been ripped out of him.
Jeon Jungkook.
The name hit his chest like an unexpected blow.
There were no more messages. No “how are you?”, no explanation. Nothing. As if Jungkook expected him to understand, to just know. And the sickest part of all this was that he did. He knew Jungkook was at rock bottom. He knew this message meant there was no one else. That Jungkook had called him only when he had no options left.
Like always.
His wine glass shook in his hand. His other hand gripped the tablecloth, as if he could hold on to something, as if he wasn't about to fall again into that abyss where Jungkook always ended up dragging him.
"Are you okay?" someone asked him, but his voice felt far away.
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
It hadn't been a year since he last saw him. It hadn't been a year since Jungkook turned his back on him for the last time, since he left him standing there with the goodbye stuck in his throat. It hadn't been a year since Taehyung accepted, with all the pain in the world, that they were nothing anymore.
But here he was.
Here he was, with his heart beating hard against his chest, with his hands shaking, with the damned certainty that his best friend had never appreciated him enough to stay, but enough to call him when everything was falling apart.
"I have to go." His voice was raspy, dry. No one tried to stop him. Although one of the organizers handed him their brand souvenir, it was a small box of chocolates with hearts on it, Taehyung held it and put it in his pocket. That was easier than rejecting it and making the organizer insist.
He walked towards the exit with mechanical steps, his ears ringing, his vision clouded by something that wasn't crying, but it wasn't relief either. It was just noise, his head too agitated to think.
He didn't think about it. He couldn't think.
He got into his car, started the engine.
Jungkook.
Jungkook.
Jungkook.
Like a cursed echo, like a wound that never closed, like the ghost that haunted him even when he himself tried to bury it.
He shouldn't go.
He should have ignored the message.
But he never knew how to do that.
He never knew how not to go when Jungkook called him, even when the only certainty was that, in the end, everything would hurt again.
(…)
April 2026
Seokjin's laughter echoed in the room since the group meeting started. Namjoon talked excitedly about a new project with Yoongi. Jimin’s eyes looked tired, although he and Hoseok smiled at Jin.
Taehyung didn't smile.
The restaurant was elegant, reserved only for them, with dim and warm lights. It was the first time in a long time that they were all together.
And yet, he could only see Jungkook.
He was on the other side of the table, sunk in his chair, with his jacket still on as if he was ready to leave at any moment. He hadn't touched his glass. He hadn't said a word. His hair, longer than before, fell over his eyes, hiding any sign that would tell Taehyung of his condition.
Taehyung remembered when Jungkook couldn't stop talking. When they were friends and everything was simpler.
When he leaned into him at dinner, whispering silly jokes, stealing food from him, laughing at things no one else understood. When their world was small and it was just the two of them.
But that world died a long time ago. Their world died prematurely, they went from being strangers to friends and from friends to best friends… Then strangers again.
Jungkook didn't look at him all night… Not once.
Taehyung tried to speak. He searched for his voice in the night, in the pain building up in his chest. But nothing came out. He had no right to say anything.
Because he was the one who gave up first.
The others talked about futures they would no longer share, about paths that now branched off in irreconcilable directions. And Jungkook just nodded. He just pretended to care.
Taehyung knew it in that moment.
Jungkook wasn't there.
Not in that restaurant. Not with them. Not in this goodbye disguised as a nostalgic reunion.
Jungkook was long gone.
When dinner was over and the goodbyes began, Taehyung waited. He waited even though he knew he shouldn't. He waited like he did so many times before.
But Jungkook didn't stay.
He didn't even look back as he walked out the door, as he disappeared into the night without a goodbye, without a "see you later," without the slightest effort to pretend he still cared.
It was at that moment that Taehyung understood that the history they shared, the friendship he thought eternal, was dead.
And the worst part wasn't realizing he lost it.
The worst part was realizing Jungkook never tried to save it.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
The car drove through the streets of Seoul like a wandering spectre. The lights passed by him, showing off to his dark loneliness the glow of other people's happiness. On the stereo, the radio was playing a melancholic song, but Taehyung wasn't listening.
He only heard the echo of that message in his head.
“Hyung, please come.”
His hands on the wheel were stiff, his knuckles white.
He didn't know exactly what he expected to find when he arrived, but he did know one thing: it would be fucked up… Because Jungkook never called him when he was fine.
He never called him, period.
But now he did. Now, after more than a year without a word, without even a damn “happy birthday,” without an apology, without an explanation. Now, when there was no one else left.
Because that was what Taehyung always was to Jungkook: the last resort.
The one that didn't matter until everything fell apart.
The one that wasn't worth it until there was no one left to turn to.
The one that stayed, always, even when all he got in return was the cold emptiness of rejection.
He clenched his jaw so hard he felt the pain rise to his temple.
He wanted to hate him.
God, how he wanted to hate him.
But he couldn't.
Because unrequited love is the slowest poison of all. It kills little by little, eats away at skin and bones, fills the lungs with despair and resignation until there's nothing left, until breathing is painful.
Because loving Jungkook had been his worst mistake.
And yet, here he was, driving towards him like a fool, like he always did.
As if he still had the right to save him.
As if he hadn't been the first person Jungkook decided to do without.
He looked at the time on the car's dashboard. 01:47 a.m.
There was no traffic. Just the sleeping city, with its lights flickering in the distance.
There were five minutes left until he arrived.
Five minutes to face the only person who could destroy him with a single look.
Five minutes to find himself, once again, in that vicious circle of sick pain that he continued to cling to.
Five minutes to remember what he should have already forgotten.
(…)
September 2025
“It was leaked that Jungkook is at a bar in Gangnam. The press is already looking for him. If someone can get him out of there before they get there, that would be better.”
Namjoon’s voice echoed through the car speaker as Taehyung turned at the intersection. He didn’t answer right away. Not because he was hesitant.
Because he knew he was going, whether the others knew or not.
“I’m going.” There was no immediate agreement.
A sigh came over the line. Jimin, probably.
“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked after a moment. His voice sounded like he already knew the answer.
Of course he was sure.
It didn't matter that he and Jungkook had barely spoken for months. It didn't matter that every conversation ended with Jungkook cutting him off before he could even get close. It didn't matter that he had already decided, or tried to decide, that he would let him go.
Taehyung was already on his way.
"Yes," he said, without further explanation… No one argued. Because why would they?
It was the same old cycle. Jungkook would get into trouble, and he would get him out of it.
He did it when they were teenagers. After the scolding of both of them became lenient, and he decided to stay in line to be a better example for Jungkook… What the fuck was the point of that now? Jungkook was now the one chasing conflicts and Taehyung was chasing him… getting him out of them.
He did it when Jungkook started going out at night more than once, which was not advisable.
He did it when the company begged them to keep him away from the kind of places that could cost them their reputation.
And he did it now. Because who else but him.
The bar was smaller than he expected, with low lights and music loud enough to stun. The terrace was full of carefree people in their own worlds.
Taehyung stood still, frozen in the doorway like a fucking idiot.
He didn't look for him for long. He didn't need to.
Jungkook was at the center of it all, leaning over the table with a cigarette between his fingers and a half-empty glass in front of him. He looked fine, as always. But there was something about the way he sank into his seat, the way his gaze slowly slid from side to side, like nothing really mattered to him.
And that was the worst of it.
Jungkook wasn't a mess.
He wasn't a scandal.
He wasn't yelling, he wasn't drunk, he wasn't doing anything that would make the news.
But he looked lost.
Like he didn't know exactly what he was doing here.
Like he'd just ended up in this place because he had nowhere else to go.
Cigar smoke hung in the air between them as Taehyung stopped by the table.
"We have to go."
There was no jump of surprise. There was no "what are you doing here?" Jungkook just looked at him. His eyes swept over him with the same indifference one would look at a street sign.
"Who sent you?"
Taehyung pressed his lips together.
"You know who."
Jungkook let out a sigh. Not angry. More like boredom. He didn't argue. Because Jungkook didn't argue when it wasn't worth it.
He just left the cigarette in the ashtray, drank what was left in his glass, and stood up.
As if going with him was just another part of his night… As if Taehyung was no one in particular.
The car was silent.
Jungkook had his head leaning against the window, eyes half-closed. The reflection of the lights on the road danced on his skin, but his expression didn't change.
Taehyung drove with his fingers clenched on the wheel. He knew Jungkook wasn't going to thank him.
He knew it was always like that.
That Jungkook would get into something and let him take him out without resistance, but also without gratitude, without recognition, without anything that could give him the illusion that what he did meant something. As if he always expected him to come, and Taehyung always came.
And so, Jungkook decided to destroy the dynamic… destroy it completely.
“Let it go, Taehyung.”
Taehyung’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. But he didn’t say anything.
“When the group splits up,” Jungkook continued, his voice low, calm, cruel, “there’s no reason for us to keep seeing each other.”
The laugh that escaped Taehyung was unexpected… Cold, empty.
“You think so?”
Jungkook turned to him then.
For the first time all night, he truly looked at him.
And Taehyung hated him for that. For only looking at him when he was about to rip his heart out.
“I know so.” And it was a fact. A verdict. Jungkook wasn’t asking, he was just making it clear that he had already decided.
That this wasn’t a relationship worth saving.
That, for him, Taehyung was not someone to keep in his life.
The traffic lights flashed red and green in front of his eyes, but Taehyung only saw gray.
And then, something inside him died.
It wasn't a scream.
It wasn't a fight.
It wasn't a dramatic goodbye.
It was silence.
An empty space in the chest.
The sound of a love fading away in the darkness.
Because if Jungkook had already decided that it wasn't worth trying, then maybe he was right.
Maybe, this time, it was Taehyung who had to let him go.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
The building where Jungkook lived now was a place where people disappeared, where faces were anonymous, where no one asked questions. A refuge for those who wanted to be forgotten. A refuge for someone like Jungkook.
Gone were the stuffed animals and heart-shaped balloons, on a day like that when what Taehyung wanted was to think about love.
Taehyung didn't recognize this place because he had never been here before. He didn't know when Jungkook had decided to bury himself in this corner of the city, when he stopped answering messages, when he stopped answering his calls. When he decided it was better to be alone.
He knew that Jungkook had been running away from the world for a long time. That the press didn’t give him a break, that the fans had crossed too many boundaries, that the cameras had become guns pointed at his face every time he went outside. But this… this was something else. This wasn’t just hiding. This was giving up.
He crossed the lobby with quick steps, the snow melting on his shoes as he made his way to the reception desk. The man behind the desk looked up in disinterest, but when he recognized his face, his eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Is it Jeon’s friend?” he asked, though it didn’t sound like a real question.
Taehyung nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t have the strength to explain himself.
The receptionist sighed and nodded toward the stairs. “He’s in 3B. He hasn’t been out in days,” the man said as he handed him some keys that Taehyung quickly took.
He hasn’t been out in days.
The words hung in his mind as he climbed the stairs two at a time, feeling the air grow thicker with each step. When he reached the third floor, he found the door with the numbering faded, the knob worn from use. He knocked three times, not wanting to break into his house, although he would do so if he didn't get an answer.
Nothing.
He knocked again, this time harder.
Nothing.
“Jungkook,” he called. His own voice sounded strange in his throat, as if it didn't belong to him.
Silence… A cold sweat ran down his back. He knew he was there. He felt he was there. Taehyung sighed and used the key, the worn lock stuck but after a push it gave way… The door swung open, revealing the dumpster Jungkook lived in.
The smell hit him like a punch in the stomach.
Sweat.
Stale alcohol.
Cigarette ashes.
The apartment was in shambles. Empty bottles on the table, cigarette butts scattered on the floor, plates of rotten food on the counter. The curtains were drawn, plunging the place into a suffocating gloom.
But Taehyung saw none of that.
Because on the floor, in the middle of the darkness, was Jungkook.
Shivering.
His arms were wrapped around his own body, his head bent down towards his knees. His skin was beaded with cold sweat, his shirt stuck to his back, his body shaken by involuntary spasms. His nails scratched his forearms, his breathing was a ragged gasp. His lips were dry, his eyelids swollen.
And the worst thing was the sound.
A low murmur, a trembling whisper between his clenched teeth. No words. No names. Just a sound that hurt Taehyung more than anything.
This was his fault, not because he had gotten Jungkook into this, but because he let him do it alone.
Because over a year ago, Jungkook told him to let him go.
And he did…
He took a step forward, and the creaking of wood beneath his feet made Jungkook lift his head with a visible effort. His eyes, swollen and dull, focused on him slowly, as if his mind was taking a while to recognize him. As if he wasn’t sure if he was real or just another specter in his hallucination.
Jungkook parted his lips, and his voice came out broken, tiny, devastating.
“Why are you still here…?”
There was no anger.
There was no surprise.
Just curiosity, as if he really didn’t understand. As if he really thought Taehyung shouldn’t be here anymore.
As if Jungkook had spent so much time alone that the idea of someone staying was absurd.
Taehyung knelt beside him, heart hammering in his ears. His hand shook as he ran it through Jungkook’s damp hair, pushing it away from his face. His skin was burning.
His own voice came out before he could stop it, soft, broken, with the truth that was always there.
“Because I care about you.” Even when Jungkook pushed him away. Even when Jungkook looked at him like it meant nothing.
Even when he told him to let him go.
(…)
October 2022
The stadium was packed. Crying, screaming, euphoria. Hundreds of thousands of lights flickered in the darkness like an endless sea of stars. It was their last concert as a group before military service.
It should have been a perfect ending.
But Taehyung couldn't think about that. Not when Jungkook wasn't there.
The dressing room was silent, save for the murmur of his own thoughts. The others were finishing changing, putting on the finishing touches before going on stage for the last time. But he was here, waiting.
Because Jungkook hadn't arrived yet.
Again.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to calm the irregular heartbeat in his chest. This wasn't new.
He'd been hearing the rumors for months, watching the leaked photos, the blurry videos of Jungkook leaving clubs with his eyes clouded by alcohol or whatever he was getting into.
Everyone knew.
But no one talked about it.
Because what could they say to him?
He was Jungkook. And he was an adult now. The same one who stood center stage with a dazzling smile and gave it his all like nothing was wrong.
But something was wrong.
And Taehyung knew it.
When the door swung open, the air in the room changed.
Jungkook walked in with wet hair, red eyes, and sweat beaded on his skin. Late. Too late.
The others stared at him, but no one said anything.
Because at this point, no one could say anything.
Jungkook just walked to his chair, grabbed a bottle of water, and drank it in two gulps. He didn't apologize.
Because he never apologized, not anymore.
Taehyung watched his jaw clench as he set the bottle down on the table. Dark circles under his eyes. Skin too pale.
The same damn pattern as always. And Taehyung couldn’t stay silent. Not this time. He took a step forward.
“Where were you?” he asked and Jungkook didn’t even look at him.
“I got here on time.” The indifference in his voice was worse than a slap.
“Jungkook, what the fuck is wrong with you?” The others tensed up. They knew this was going to happen at some point. They just didn’t expect it to be now.
Jungkook finally looked up. His eyes held nothing, no emotion, no anger. Just a dark, bottomless abyss.
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
“You’re not.”
Jungkook exhaled tiredly, as if the conversation was exhausting for him.
“It’s not your problem.”
The sentence was a clean cut in the middle of his chest.
Since when?
…Since when what?
Since when did Jungkook stop looking at him like he was someone important.
Taehyung felt his heart still hurting and not because of the goodbye. He couldn’t do this now. Not before he went up on stage.
So he did the only thing he could do.
He forced himself to let go.
He forced himself to pretend he didn’t feel like he was watching Jungkook disappear before his eyes.
But before he turned around, Jungkook muttered something else. His voice held no anger. Only defeat.
“Just leave me alone, hyung.” And Taehyung didn’t respond.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
Jungkook was frozen.
Taehyung could feel it beneath his fingers, that clammy skin, that ragged breathing, the subtle but constant trembling that ran through him as if his body was caught in a perpetual tremor. He didn't know if he had a fever or was in shock. Maybe both.
He stepped back and pulled his phone out of his pocket with clumsy fingers.
“I'm going to call Sejin hyung.”
Jungkook reacted immediately, his hand rushing out to grab Taehyung's wrist with weak, but desperate strength.
“No.”
The denial was dry, sharp, but his voice was so worn it barely sounded like a murmur.
“Jungkook.”
“No,” he repeated through gritted teeth, his grip shaky but firm. “Don't call anyone,” he said. Taehyung felt anger and helplessness churn in his stomach.
“You need a fucking doctor.”
Jungkook closed his eyes, exhaling through a clenched jaw. He didn’t say no. He didn’t deny it. He just let his head fall back, breathing deeply as if each word cost him more effort than he could allow.
His fingers slowly slipped from Taehyung’s wrist until they lay limp at his side. Taehyung reached for him again.
Jungkook didn’t want help. Not because he didn’t need it, but because he wasn’t willing to accept what it would mean.
An ambulance. A hospital. Headlines in the press naming Jungkook.
And this Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook anymore.
Because he was just ashes now and the world was waiting for him to fall so they could make a spectacle of it.
Taehyung closed his eyes and swallowed the anger building in his throat.
“God,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a fucking moron.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t need one.
He crouched down next to Jungkook and put an arm under his shoulders, carefully helping him to his feet. Jungkook let himself be dragged along without protest. That was the worst of it. He didn’t complain. He didn’t make fun of him for trying to help. He didn’t resist.
He just let it go.
He barely carried him to the bathroom, and each step felt heavier than the last. Jungkook’s body was limp, uncoordinated, his breathing uneven against his neck.
When they got there, Taehyung propped him up against the sink for a moment to turn on the shower. The water fell hard against the tile floor, and the sound made Jungkook let out a low, almost inaudible sigh.
The bathroom was freezing.
Steam began to rise, fogging up the mirror, distorting the image of two people who no longer knew each other.
Taehyung unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers. His knuckles brushed against his collarbone, and the skin beneath his hands was cold and clammy.
“Lift your arms,” he murmured, his own voice sounding distant.
Jungkook didn’t respond.
He didn’t until Taehyung tried to remove his clothes himself. That was when Jungkook reacted. His hands shot out, gripping Taehyung’s wrists with a grip that had no strength, only a desperate action.
“I can do it myself,” he murmured, his voice raspy, pride still caught in his throat. Taehyung stood still, breathing heavily, suddenly remembering things he wanted to forget, suddenly feeling like the shit he always felt.
He forced himself to let go, to step back, to let Jungkook grab onto the sink and finish it his way. Because Jungkook still needed to be in control of something, some security.
Jungkook kept his shorts on and then his body disappeared behind the screen. Taehyung heard the sound of skin meeting water, of a shaky sigh.
It shouldn't have come to this.
It should never have come to this.
He turned around, and leaned his forehead against the door, squeezing his eyes shut.
He can't handle this.
He can't watch him fall apart.
But he was already doing it.
He was already seeing it.
The water kept running.
The steam kept fogging up the mirror. And at some point, a broken voice came through the sound of the water, soft, barely audible.
“I don't want you to go…”
It wasn’t a plea, it wasn’t a beg. It was like Jungkook was simply reminding him of what had always been true.
And the worst part is that Taehyung would never have done it.
He would never have left him.
Jungkook was the one who pushed him away.
Jungkook was the one who closed the door between them.
But now he was here, in a freezing cold bathroom, his skin soaked and his gaze lost, begging him to stay.
Taehyung closed his eyes.
“I won’t,” he murmured.
(…)
July 2020
The coffee tasted bitter. Or maybe it was just his mouth. Maybe it was just him.
Jungkook was sitting across the table, black cap covering his eyes, fingers drumming against the table in a messy rhythm. He wasn’t looking at him. He hadn’t all night. Like he was easier to ignore. Like there was still something between them worth saving.
Jungkook laughed at something Taehyung said a minute ago, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. It was fake. All his laughs were fake now.
It wasn’t always like this, it used to be real before, before that night.
Before that happened between them and destroyed everything.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” Taehyung finally said, because the silence was starting to eat him alive.
Jungkook looked up for a moment, smirking.
“Why?” Jungkook asked as if he didn’t know everything was wrong. Taehyung clenched his jaw.
Why?
Because for years now, Jungkook has been avoiding him without even having to push him away.
Because even though he sees him sometimes, even though they talk, even though they try to pretend everything is okay, nothing really is.
Because Jungkook never looked at him the same after that night.
Because Taehyung could never remember everything clearly.
But he did remember one thing.
He remembered Jungkook pushing him away in fear.
His heartbeat became irregular. He shouldn’t be thinking about this.
But he did… Like he always did.
Like he had done every damn time Jungkook pushed him away, every time he put invisible barriers between them. He saw it again in his head, like a damn echo of something that never left him alone.
The alcohol burning his throat.
Jungkook’s laughter, loud and bright.
The bedroom lights. They spun slowly in his head.
He remembers his own clumsy steps, his own laughter lost in the noise. He remembers Jungkook holding him, helping him sit up.
He remembers a kiss.
Or he thinks he does.
Because what he really remembers is rejection.
The way Jungkook pushed him away.
The firm hands on his shoulders, pushing him away with contained panic.
The eyes too wide… The broken hearts. And then, the next morning… The headache. The weight in his stomach.
And Jungkook, looking at him uncomfortably, his mouth forming words he never wanted to hear.
“I don’t want this to ruin what we have… I’m not gay.”
Taehyung hadn’t known what to say. But after that, everything changed. Jungkook began to pull away, little by little. First in the texts that took longer to arrive, then in the calls he never returned. Then in the awkward conversations, in the smiles that didn't reach his eyes, in the way his hand grew clumsier every time he touched his.
Until one day, he stopped trying... Until one day, Jungkook left him behind. And now they were here, in this cafe, in this pathetic attempt to be what they once were. In this conversation that led nowhere.
Taehyung exhaled slowly, running his fingers along the rim of his cup.
"When did we start doing this?" he asked and Jungkook frowned.
"Doing what?"
"Pretending," Taehyung replied, Jungkook shrugged.
"We're not pretending."
God.
If only that were true.
But Taehyung knew it was a lie, the laughs weren't the same, the looks weren't the same. They weren't the same anymore and Jungkook knew it… But he would never admit it.
Jungkook looked down at his coffee, swirling the cup with his fingertips. And then he said it, quietly, like it was hard to get out. Like it was a secret that no longer made sense to hide.
"We tried, didn't we?" Jungkook blurted out. Taehyung felt something in his chest tighten.
Yes, they tried. They tried to act like nothing happened. They tried to laugh at the same jokes. They tried to go back to what they were. But the past didn't let them. Because sometimes, trying isn't enough.
Taehyung looked down at his cold coffee. He forced his face to curve into something that looked like a smile.
"Yes." But it wasn't enough… It never was.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
Jungkook was shaking. His body was still wet, skin burning under Taehyung's palms as he helped him out of the bathroom, his steps clumsy and heavy. He held him as best he could, feeling every shudder in his tense muscles, every ragged gasp. He was a mess. Taehyung handed him a robe, and Jungkook stripped off his soaked underclothes.
And halfway to the bedroom Jungkook couldn’t move any further. Taehyung sat him down on the floor of the hallway, leaning him against the cold wall. His eyes were glassy, empty, like he wasn’t even fully present. His breathing was erratic, and for an instant, Taehyung thought he was going to faint. Taehyung hurriedly took off his suit jacket and placed it over Jungkook’s shoulders. Then, Jungkook let out a low, raspy sound, and it broke.
First, his jaw began to shake… Then, a restrained sob, so fragile it was barely a whisper. And then, the tears.
He cried with his face hidden in his hands, his body curling up on itself, the despair built up over the years spilling out in an instant. Taehyung felt something twist inside him. He had never seen Jungkook cry like that.
Not when the group broke up.
Not when the world began to tear him apart.
Not when he left it behind.
But now… now he cried like he was dying. Taehyung choked back a sob because maybe he was.
“You should never have stayed,” Jungkook muttered, his voice dripping with resentment. Taehyung blinked, trying to process what he had said.
“What?”
Jungkook looked up, eyes swollen and red, chest heaving violently. He looked so fucking broken it hurt to look at him.
“I always pushed you away. I always treated you like shit, and yet, you always come back.” His voice cracked on the last word. Jungkook covered his face with his hands, as if he wanted to hide. As if he couldn’t even stand what he was saying.
“Jungkook…”
“You always come back, Taehyung. Are you stupid? Why do you do this? Fuck!”
Taehyung felt his throat close up. Because he didn’t know the answer. Because even though Jungkook slammed the door in his face time and time again, he always waited on the other side, he always came back, because Jungkook always knocked.
Jungkook let out a bitter, harsh laugh.
“I’m disgusted. I’m disgusted because you always do this, because you should always do the right thing and… all I did was ruin it… I’m disgusting… I’m disgusting… I’m repulsive.”
“Don’t say that,” Taehyung whispered, but Jungkook cut him off.
“Why not?!” His voice rose, raspy, desperate. His nails dug into his own hair, clenching his fists tightly. “I should have been the one to protect you, do you understand? I should have been the one to take care of you. But instead, I pushed you so far down, you’re so stained! What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing here? It doesn’t make sense!”
Because he couldn’t tell him it wasn’t true. Because Jungkook was at the bottom of a well and Taehyung jumped in after him, not even thinking about whether there was a way out.
Jungkook dropped his hands to his sides, breathing raggedly. His gaze was lost in the ceiling, as if he no longer had the strength to continue.
“I hate this,” he whispered, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. “Everything. This place. This life… Myself.”
Taehyung shook his head, his own breathing becoming heavy, and for the first time all night, he wanted to scream at him. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to force him to look at him, to see how much he had done for him, how much he had endured, how much he had waited for this moment.
But instead, Jungkook whispered the cruelest phrase of all.
“But I deserve it, don’t I?”
Taehyung felt a chill run down his spine. He knelt in front of him, taking his face in both hands, forcing him to focus on his eyes.
“No. No, Jungkook, you don’t deserve it.”
Jungkook stared at him, his expression tired, empty. He was about to let himself fall. Taehyung didn't want to leave him.
He rested his forehead against his, feeling his shaky breathing, feeling the desperation in every little spasm of his body.
Jungkook let out a shaky sob and whispered.
"God, Taehyung… why are you still here?" Jungkook repeated again.
Taehyung closed his eyes.
His voice came out in a murmur, because it was the only truth he had… and it was still embarrassing.
"Because I love you… why else?"
(…)
April 2018
Everything had changed. Not overnight, not with a fight or a shout. Not with harsh words or arguments. It just happened.
One day, Jungkook was there. And the next, he wasn't.
Taehyung didn't know when it started. Maybe at rehearsals, when Jungkook started to stay at the other end of the room, when their jokes became more scarce, when the small touches disappeared. Or maybe on tour nights, when they used to share a room and talk until dawn, but now Jungkook preferred to stay alone.
He left chats on read. He took longer to reply. And when he finally did, his answers were short, empty, without the warmth of before.
They had been inseparable for years, what changed?
Maybe that's why he waited so long before facing him. Maybe that's why he told himself over and over that it was just his imagination, that Jungkook was busy, that everything was fine. Until it wasn't.
Until it became impossible to ignore. Until he got tired of pretending it didn't hurt.
That's why, one night after a rehearsal, when Jungkook walked past him without even looking at him, he finally stopped him.
"Kook," he called and he stopped halfway, not turning around. Taehyung felt the air grow heavy around him. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Why are you treating me like this?" he asked and Jungkook fell silent.
Taehyung gulped.
"Did I do something wrong? I thought we said we'd forget about it… Tell me." His voice cracked unintentionally. God, he hated this. He hated feeling like this, he hated the way his own best friend was treating him like he was a stranger. As if everything they shared in their years of friendship had meant nothing.
Jungkook finally turned his head. But his face was blank.
“It’s better this way.”
“What?”
Jungkook looked away.
“It’s just better this way,” he repeated, his voice emotionless. As if he had already decided long ago.
“Do you hate me?” he asked like a fool, desperate, his voice a thread.
Jungkook clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. For an instant, just for a second, his expression changed. But it was gone so fast that Taehyung didn’t know if he imagined it.
“No.” That's all Jungkook said. Just that.
Not an "of course not," not a "don't be silly." Just a dry word, without any kind of comfort. Taehyung looked at him, waiting for him to say something more, to explain, to give him a reason for all this. But Jungkook didn't, he just stood there, lips pressed together and eyes empty.
So Taehyung did the only thing he could do.
He let him go. And he never did, at the same time.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
Jungkook clung to his clothes as if holding on to them could keep him from falling apart completely. His body was still shaking, wracked by involuntary spasms, his skin still cold and clammy under Taehyung's hands. He'd never seen him like this. He'd never felt him so broken, so exposed, so wretchedly human. Taehyung held him tighter, even though he didn't know whether it was to reassure him or to reassure himself.
This should never have happened.
Jungkook should never have gotten to this point, but he did. And the worst of all is that Taehyung let him.
He felt Jungkook's hot breath against his neck when he spoke, his voice barely a raspy murmur, soaked in guilt and desperation.
Jungkook clung to him with a desperate strength, his fingers clenched on his back felt like a shackle, like a damn chain that Taehyung had worn all his life without realizing it. He wouldn't let him go. He wouldn't let him even move. And even between agitated breaths Jungkook spoke.
"It was me," he said.
And the words fell heavy, deep. Taehyung felt his skin prickling, his body stiffening with a dry, suffocating shiver.
"What?" His voice sounded scared, too rough, too raw. Jungkook hid his face in his neck, as if he could run away from what he had just said.
"I was the one who kissed you that night. Not you… You didn't initiate the kiss."
No.
Taehyung felt everything rise up in his throat.
"No…" he whispered, his first instinct was to deny it, to shake his head, to push him away, to get away from that damn confession that had just torn him apart.
Jungkook held on tighter, his body shaking against his.
"I lied to you."
Taehyung felt a burning sensation rise up through his skin… anger… like he was being burned alive.
“I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. So I lied to you.”
"Let me go!" Taehyung struggled, but Jungkook held on tighter to him, in the exchange his jacket fell to the ground and Jungkook's body didn't care about the cold, Taehyung felt Jungkook's nails scratch his back as he didn't want to let go.
Fucking bastard…Fucking coward… Jungkook sobbed, his grip only getting tighter.
“Then I pushed you away.”
“Shut up!” Taehyung managed to push him away a little, move a few inches away, but Jungkook wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t let him. He held on so desperately that he pushed him back against his chest, squeezing him with a need that hurt. It hurt too much.
“I never wanted to let you go.”
Taehyung let out a frustrated, angry gasp, feeling the helplessness burn his eyes, his throat close with fury and pain. Wanting to cry.
“But you left me!” he screamed, feeling his own body shake now, feeling the rage consume him. He pushed him again, harder this time. Falling backwards and dragging himself with his arms away from him. He didn’t make it because Jungkook held his ankle, now on top of him, and they both fell to the ground completely. Taehyung’s back hit the cold ground and Jungkook clung to his body as if the last thing he had left in the world was in his arms.
“You made me believe it was me! You made me hate myself for so long, Jungkook!” The words came out with venom, with desperation, with rage, with a sadness so deep it hurt in his bones.
Jungkook let out a muffled moan, his face still buried in his neck.
“I was always scared… but I still wanted you close…”
“Don’t tell me that now!” Taehyung pushed him away again, but Jungkook refused to let go. He gripped his waist so hard it hurt, his fingers digging into his skin through the fabric, his entire body shaking against his.
“I hated you,” Jungkook said and Taehyung gasped. “I hated you because you confused me. Because you were always there, because you made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, because you made me think about things I didn’t want to think about.”
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, his own lips trembling.
“Shut up…” he whispered, but Jungkook didn’t stop.
“But then you left me. You went with the others, you laughed with them, you lived your life like I didn't matter. Like your world wasn't me, like I never existed… And my world was you, my world began and died in you,” Jungkook kept talking, “… After the kiss I lost you forever!”
“Because you pushed me away, motherfucker!” Taehyung exploded, pushing him with all his strength, managing to separate from him for an instant. For an instant he saw the grimace of pain and desperation in those eyes that used to shine like galaxies.
And Jungkook pulled him back.
He pulled him with a pain so visceral that Taehyung could barely breathe when his chest hit his again.
“You were always so fucking brilliant… and I was left in the shadows, watching you, loving you, but not knowing what to do with everything I felt.”
“Don’t tell me this now… Please,” Taehyung begged.
“I wanted you to be mine alone,” Jungkook whispered, and the words broke something inside Taehyung.
“If you weren’t mine, I didn’t want anything.”
Taehyung groaned, in pain… he felt his own breathing become erratic, his eyes burning with rage, sadness, and love… twisted love.
“You destroyed me.” His voice came out broken, resentful, deep. Jungkook shivered, his breath hot on his neck.
“I know… I never did it thinking, I never thought… I only acted out of fear… I never wanted to hurt you… I never-”
“You made me hate myself. You made me believe that I ruined everything.”
“I know…”
“No, you have no idea what you fucking did!” Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, his face still hidden in his neck, his body pressing Taehyung's in desperation, scared… like a child, like the child Taehyung adored for so many years, like the child he would never be again.
“I didn't want to lose you… I was scared that we'd lose everything, that you'd realize what I am… that you'd realize I wasn't worth it… that I'm not worth it.”
“You pushed me away anyway.” Taehyung laughed, but it was an empty, hurt sound… And then Jungkook moaned, the most heartbreaking sound Taehyung had ever heard. And he couldn't be cruel anymore, his pathetic attempt would hurt him more than Jungkook.
“I never wanted it like this… Never…” Jungkook whispered… Taehyung inhaled shakily, felt his own body give way. Because it was Jungkook. Because it was him.
Because despite everything, he still loved him.
He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and gave in.
He dug his fingers into his hair, holding him tightly, with anger, with love, with everything he had been carrying for years.
And when Jungkook sobbed again, clinging to him as if he was the only thing he had left in the world, Taehyung finally whispered the only truth that was always true.
“Me neither.”
(…)
March 2017
The bottle of soju rolled to the floor with a hollow sound, forgotten between their feet. The bedroom was dim, lit only by the weak light from the hallway that filtered through the half-open door. Too quiet for two people who didn’t know how to exist without filling the space with laughter and screams.
Taehyung was drunk. Very drunk.
Jungkook watched him from where he sat, his back against the wall, legs spread out on the floor. He hadn’t had as much as Taehyung, just enough to feel the heat in his body, but his mind was still sharp. Too sharp.
“Hyung, will you stop drinking already?” he murmured, watching Taehyung stumble as he tried to bring the glass to his mouth.
Taehyung laughed awkwardly, dropping his head onto his shoulder with a sleepy smile. That smile.
“You’re a lightweight,” Jungkook growled, gently pushing him away, but Taehyung just slumped on top of him again.
“I don’t mind,” he muttered, slurring his words. “I like drinking with you.”
Jungkook gritted his teeth. Of course he did. Taehyung always liked everything when they were together. He liked to laugh with him, to touch him without thinking, to look at him like he was all that existed in the room. But then he would forget, then he would walk away… Then he would find something better and more interesting and Jungkook would remain on pause until Taehyung came back and took him out of the trunk, played with him for a while and then put him back.
Taehyung smiled at him, and gave him one of those looks that Jungkook wanted to think were only his.
The same ones that Jungkook spent years ignoring, repressing, pretending they didn't mean anything.
But now, here, with the heat of alcohol running through his body, with Taehyung's scent so close, with his skin brushing his every time he moved…
He couldn't ignore it.
"Jungkook…" Taehyung whispered, his voice soaked in alcohol and something more.
Jungkook felt his mouth go dry.
Taehyung was staring at him. Like he was expecting something.
Like he knew something.
Like he was inviting him to do exactly what he should never do.
His brain screamed at him to get away.
But his body didn't obey.
God... God please
He couldn't stop staring at him.
Taehyung's eyes were dark, heavy, dilated from the alcohol
He licked his lips, and Jungkook lost it.
He didn't think. He didn't plan it.
He just felt the whole world shrink to that room, to that skin too close, to the way the air became unbearably hot.
And then, he leaned in.
Taehyung inhaled, surprised, but he didn't pull away.
Jungkook closed his eyes and kissed him.
The heat of his lips consumed him, the softness, the alcohol-numbed sweetness, the way Taehyung's body shuddered against his. It was real.
He was kissing him.
Taehyung tasted like oxygen, like everything he'd never allowed himself to touch. And Jungkook felt like he was drowning.
He clung to his shirt desperately, deepening the kiss, feeling Taehyung's skin burn beneath his fingers.
God, this was wrong.
This was so fucking wrong.
But how could he stop now?
Taehyung moaned against his mouth, a sound so weak, so vulnerable, so Taehyung, that Jungkook felt his chest explode.
And suddenly, it hit him… Every action has a consequence… Every decision changes something.
And Jungkook had just destroyed it all.
The kiss was still burning on his lips, but fear took over his body too quickly.
Panic rose in his throat.
What the hell had he just done?
He pulled away suddenly, breathing heavily, feeling his skin burn with terror and adrenaline. His hands were still in Taehyung's clothes, as if he had a hard time letting go.
Taehyung's eyes opened slowly, blurry from the alcohol, but confused.
"Jungkook...?" His voice was small, fragile. Jungkook felt a lump in his throat.
God.
God.
He had just made the worst mistake of his life.
He had just thrown his entire world away.
He had just aimed the bullet straight at his head and fired.
What the hell had he just done?
He didn't think twice.
He stood up so fast that the dizziness made him stumble, yet he ran away.
"Jungkook! He heard Taehyung's voice calling out to him, scared, but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
He couldn't look at him. He couldn't face him.
Because Taehyung had kissed him back.
Because Taehyung hadn't rejected him.
Because if he stayed one more second, he was going to kiss him again.
Because he could never hold on to it, because it would slip through his fingers… And then he would really lose everything.
(…)
Valentine's Day, 2027
The hallway was cold, but Jungkook burned against it. His skin damp, his bare chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his body still clinging to Taehyung's as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. Taehyung trembled, his breathing ragged, his vision blurred with tears. He'd never cried for Jungkook. Not like this. Not in such a broken, raw, desperate way.
But how could he not?
How could he not cry when everything they built, everything they destroyed, everything they denied each other, came down to this?
To Jungkook on top of him, half naked, half broken, to the confession that had changed everything. To the truth that was always there, waiting to be discovered, to a love that could never be anything but this.
Painful. Heartbreaking. Devastating.
Jungkook cried into his neck, shaking, his breath hot against his skin. He didn't dare move, as if he was afraid Taehyung would disappear if he did.
And for a moment, Taehyung hated him for it.
Because Jungkook always did this. He pushed him away when he was scared… He pulled him in when he needed him. He played with distance, with loneliness, with abandonment.
And Taehyung… Taehyung always stayed.
His lips trembled with the force of a sob he didn't want to let out. His fingers rose slowly, his trembling hand searching for Jungkook's cheek.
He touched him with a softness that hurt.
Because he understood.
Because, even though it broke his heart, he knew Jungkook could never be stronger than his own fears.
He knew that that night, even so drunk, he would never have kissed him first.
He knew that even though he loved him with every part of his being, there was always a fear in his chest that held him back.
Telling him that friendship was enough.
Telling him that it wasn't worth the risk, it wasn't worth losing everything.
But Jungkook did.
And then he ran.
And then he destroyed him.
“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…”
Tears wet Taehyung's collarbone, hot. Jungkook held him tighter, as if he could fuse with him, as if he could get inside his skin so he wouldn't have to lose him again.
“Don't let go of me,” he whispered against his neck, his voice cracked, raspy. “Please, Taehyung… don't ever go… please.”
Taehyung closed his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek.
He hated him for this.
He hated him because even now, after everything, he was still holding on to him.
He hated him because Jungkook always played this game, pushing him away and then calling him back when the silence became unbearable, when the guilt became too great to bear alone.
He hated him because even after he destroyed him, lied to him, made him doubt himself for years, Taehyung still didn’t want to leave him.
Tears burned in his eyes. He held him tight, his jaw clenched, rage stuck in his throat, twisted love clinging to his heart, his body, his soul.
“Don’t go.”
“It’s okay.” His voice came out in a broken murmur, soaked in resignation.
Jungkook inhaled shakily, his grip on his waist even tighter, his body still shaking.
“Everything will be okay,” Taehyung whispered, his own fingers digging into Jungkook’s hair, caressing it with the gentleness he never knew how to give before.
Jungkook moaned against his neck, letting out a shaky sigh. Clinging to his words as his only salvation. Taehyung held him close, right next to their trembling bodies the heart shaped box of chocolates was almost a mockery as it slipped out of his jacket. Nothing cute and pleasant was there, between the bottles of alcohol and the stacked boxes there was nothing that made him think of a sweet Valentine. But it was okay, today was the day of love, in all its forms, in all its twisted forms, even this one.
It wasn’t just Jungkook who couldn’t let him go.
It was him.
It was him who had never walked away.
It was him who, no matter how many times Jungkook pushed him away, how many times he hurt him, how many times he made him doubt himself, he always came back.
It was him who, even now, when everything was broken, when there was nothing left but ashes, he still held on.
It was him who never knew how to leave.
He never wanted to learn.