The world had fuzzed out into static, and Taehyung had disconnected from it. His brain fell out of touch with reality — it lagged, as if there were a wiring problem, obstructing him from giving orders to his body.

Those three words still squashed his most sensitive parts, the parts that kept him sane and functioning. They swished through his mind, reverberating against the crippled walls of his consciousness, trampling over its ruins. The room around him seemed to warp and twist, the shapes and colors sintering into one another, creating a cloudiness that he couldn’t navigate.

Until a new voice tickled the wreath of his suffocating torpor. “Baby,” it called out; a woman’s voice, sickly sweet and chirpy. The silent tears dribbling down his cheeks glaciated on his skin. The smog flickering in his eyes disintegrated, permitting his vision to center in on the scene in front of him.

Jungkook’s arm, which once encircled only his waist, now rested over the lower back of a gorgeous woman in a sparkling dress. He remembered how Jungkook’s arm felt around him, the warmth it brought. The security. The possessiveness. But now that warmth was being shared with someone else, someone who seemed to fit perfectly into the space Taehyung had once occupied.

The realization was a fresh tsunami of agony, knocking over Taehyung, pulling him under so easily. It was a knife to his already bruised heart, a gruesome image that taunted his torment.

The woman’s laughter pounded on his ears, a sweet melody tinkling like fragile glass, but it was sickening to him. It sliced through the thick fog in Taehyung’s mind, bringing a sharp clarity to his pain. His rationality returned in its full ascendancy as the duo sauntered away, and his features twisted achingly with spurts of pure rage.

Every step they took together, every shared smile and whispered word, fed into the all-consuming emotion until it scorched his stomach. He could feel the heat swarm up to his face, a fiery mixture of disbelief, anger, and the most atrocious of all — jealousy. It was as if his entire being was on the verge of combustion.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, demand answers, confront Jungkook about all the wrenching lies he had told him. But he couldn’t move with the aftermath of his wrath. Of his heartbreak. Of his stupidity.

How had he allowed himself to even want to see him again? To want to crush him into his embrace? He was so stupid to believe for even a second that Jungkook still loved him.

The pain was almost physical, a gnawing twinge in his chest that refused to be ignored. A strangled sound escaped his throat, a tangle between a huff and a growl, as the two blended with the crowd but stayed within his line of vision.

Jimin and Hoseok could only observe, mute and frozen. The harshness that had now engulfed every inch of Taehyung’s face, though, alarmed them more than anything. “Tae,” Jimin breathed out. He dared to place a hand on his iced up shoulder. “Talk to us.”

“That fucker,” Taehyung snarled with bitter gorge, so intense he could feel it boil in his bloodstream. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

“Do you think... he meant it?” Hoseok asked, a tentative hue affecting his voice.

Taehyung’s head whipped to the side, nailing him with the viciousness of his gaze. “What? That he missed me?” A booming scoff spewed from his lungs as he positioned his eyes ahead again. “Yeah, he seems to miss me so fucking much,” he muttered, scrutinizing how that woman was clung to his side, whispering into his ear. “He clearly moved on. Why did he say he missed me? What the fuck does he want?”

“You moved on too, though. Right?” Hoseok asked.

Taehyung cast him a series of glances, brows harshly puckered. “Of course. Of course I did. And I like Kristian.”

“Come on, Tae,” Jimin sighed. “I didn’t say anything in the car, but fuck. You don’t like him enough to fall for him. Stop lying to yourself. Admit it.”

“I’m just not used to being in a relationship since it’s been so long.”

“Fine, fine, feed yourself more lies,” Jimin said, an edge of frustration vibrating in his murmur as he rolled his eyes. “Maybe you can fool yourself, but you can’t fool us. As Hoseok said before, you can find someone else. It’s okay if Kristian isn’t the one.”

It was like Taehyung could hear nothing anymore as his vision took in the sight of that woman kissing Jungkook’s neck, her hand wandering over his shoulder and down his arm and around his chest — places only Taehyung once caressed. “Look how he’s clinging to her. Disgusting. He’s drooling over her.”

The two twisted their attention from their friend to Jungkook, and a similar frown carpeted their foreheads. “Um, it’s the other way around, actually,” Hoseok said.

“Whatever,” Taehyung snapped, folding his arms over his chest with a sharp, jerky motion. His scowl was so deep the muscles of his face started to ache, along with his head. “He’s enjoying it.”

“Tae. Did you hear anything I said before?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I need to get out of here.” Taehyung snatched a glass of champagne from the table, drained it, and took off, not forgetting to wear his coat on the way. The walls of the room seemed to close in on him, the air thick and suffocating. The laughter and music of the party faded into the background, replaced by the roaring of his rage in his ears.

He needed to find a place where he could breathe, where he could process the whirlwind of emotions tearing him apart. He stumbled through the crowd, barely registering the concerned glances thrown his way, and burst through the doors and into the night, the icy air hitting his flushed skin like a slap.

He gulped the refreshing air down, trying to steady himself. He advanced to the right, away from the people lingering near the entrance. He leaned against the wall, his head spinning with the multitude of emotions he experienced in such a short time. He closed his eyes, willing the world to stop tilting. But even with his eyes shut, he couldn’t erase the image of Jungkook with that woman, couldn’t silence the echo of her laughter, couldn’t force out the way she kissed him.

Jungkook had disposed of him like a used tissue, with no words, no explanations, no mercy. And there he was, perfectly happy with another person, as if their love never existed. As if their love didn’t shape Jungkook as it had shaped him. As if their love didn’t even graze Jungkook.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, eyes closed, trying to piece together his shattered composure. Seconds, minutes — time had lost its purpose. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes, the world seemed a little darker, a little heavier. And he felt like a wrecked void, haunted by the ghosts of a love that existed only in his head now.

“Taehyung.”

He turned at the call of his name. The distress surrounding him lessened a notch as he smiled back at Kristian. “Hey.” He neared him, hoping Kristian wouldn’t notice the quiver in his steps.

Kristian, with sky-blue eyes and jaw sharper than a razor, nestled him in his embrace. “Sorry I’m late. Did you have fun without me?”

Taehyung looped his arms around him in a loose knot. He felt nothing in the enclosure of his hug. No palliation, no warmth, no joy. Nothing. He swallowed and pulled back, avoiding his eyes. “The party is boring as usual. I think I’ll head home.”

Kristian curled his fingers around his wrist, bringing him flush with his body again. “Don’t leave now that I’m here, baby. I missed you.”

The words blitzed his being with another explosion of depression. They spiraled through the soothing quietness and galloped along his head, his nerves, his core, in Jungkook’s smoky voice. They triggered an illuminating realization, striking him like a stripe of lightning that threw a vivid glow into the darkest room.

He couldn’t fall in love with Kristian, no matter how much time would pass. He wasn’t even sure... if he could ever fall in love with someone else.

Taehyung set his hands on his shoulders and pushed him lightly, creating a comfortable distance between them. “Listen, Kristian... I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I... I’m really sor—”

“Taehyung.”

There it was. That voice again. It slashed through Taehyung’s words like a smooth blade through silk. It was deep, resonant, with a timbre that commanded attention without even raising its volume.

Taehyung felt his heart make little leaps at its sound. A trail of goosebumps marked its way to his skull, tingling it. It was as if the world had paused, trapping him at a standstill. The sobering squeeze on his waist by Kristian opened up his airways, allowing the air to flow through them again. He swallowed dryly. “I’m busy.”

“It won’t take long.”

All the torment Taehyung went through, the endless tears, the deception, the mockery of his poor heart, melded into a fireball of rage that gained full control over him. The muscles along his jaw tightened with resolve, a cruel glimmer in his eyes, even though he didn’t dare turn his head in Jungkook’s direction. “I said, I’m busy. Leave me alone.”

“Who is this, Taehyung?” Kristian asked.

“No one important. A nobody who’s bothering me when I’m busy talking to you.” Taehyung could sense Jungkook’s presence behind him, a steady source of intensity that only seemed to amplify with each passing second. Taehyung’s grip on his emotions firmed up as he struggled to maintain his lucidity. But then the unbearable fierceness swirling through the air tempered.

“He left.”

A quiet breath stuttered out of Taehyung, dispelling some of his tension along with it. “Good. Because I have to talk to you. Look. You’re amazing. And I like you. You’re a good guy. But I don’t see a future with you. I’m really sorry, Kristian. I can’t give you what you want. I don’t feel what you feel. I’m sorry.”

Kristian’s hands lost their strength, withering to his sides. “You... You don’t want me anymore?”

A new sort of anxiety meandered around Taehyung’s face as he espied a glint of hurt in his gaze. “I like you, but it’s not enough to fall in love with you. You’re not meant for me. And I’m not meant for you.”

“But maybe—maybe you’ll love me with time.”

“If it were love, we would both know it. It’s not, Kristian. We’re not in love. We’re just spending time together. We should end this here. I’m sorry.”

“But I love you, Tae.” A low, dangerous edge crept into Kristian’s voice as he reached out, holding his cheeks with disturbing force. “I love you. And you’ll love me. You’ll see.”

“Kristian. Don’t do this,” Taehyung said, a shakiness bleeding through the crevices of his pitch, as he laced his fingers around his wrists. He pulled, struggling, but the grasp didn’t budge. “Let me go, please.”

“No. I will never let go. I’ll make you love me.” Kristian forcefully girdled his form with unyielding arms, clutching him, squashing him against his chest.

A knot of apprehension formed in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach at the bruising grip as he wrestled against him with ferocious thrusts and pulls. He had trained to fight during his dream of becoming a bodyguard, but it had been five years since he used his skills and Kristian was double his size — a combination he couldn’t triumph over.

“Let me go, Kristian. Now,” Taehyung demanded, body still thrusting against him in his efforts to unshackle himself.

“Don’t worry, Tae. I’ll make you happy.”

“Let me go!” Taehyung cried out, pleaded, feeling the constrictive hold affect his breathing. He twisted and turned, trying to find an opening where he could regain control. But Kristian was relentless, his grip like iron, every attempt to break free met with equal force.

Among the ragged bursts of Taehyung’s grunts and the dull thud of bodies clashing, a distinctive click pierced the jumble of sounds. A sudden chill bristled in the air, followed by a bloodcurdling voice. “Let him go.”

Every inch of Kristian’s body crystallized at the cold feel of the gun’s barrel pressed  against his skull. His muscles clenched, and his breath froze as the vile reality of the situation settled in. With painstaking slowness, he dragged his hands upwards, each movement considered and controlled, lifting them next to his head.

“Taehyung, go inside.”

Taehyung panted in shallow huffs as he stared at the base of the gun, its black surface gleaming under the surrounding lights. His stomach lurched, as if something wrenched it, then pummeled it. An ocean of questions flickered through his head alongside the existing, harrowing ones, just like a stinging wetness shimmered in his featureless eyes.

Jungkook acknowledged his presence with a slight tilt of his head, honey molten eyes, speckled with a sooty tone glinting with hardness, set like concrete. “I said go inside. Now.”

The second harshly spoken order jolted Taehyung out of his standstill, breaking the mist of his paralyzing shock. It coerced him to focus and act despite the twitching of his muscles. “Why the hell do you have a gun?”

“Leave, for fuck’s sake!” A flame of desperation ignited in Jungkook’s gaze, the heavy, the destructive kind, that rooted in bottled-up grief, pretentious smiles, and mashed desires. His vigilance fractured at its emergence.

In a split second, a ruthless force knocked the gun from his grip, sending it clattering to the ground. Before comprehension could settle, a feral body pounced on him with startling strength. The impact drove the air from his lungs, and he lost his footing as he was pinned down with Kristian mounting him.

Kristian’s fist flew to his face; the first blow landed squarely on his cheek, snapping his head to the side. “Who sent you?”

Pain exploded through Jungkook’s skull, but he was too high on adrenaline to care about it. “Your worst nightmare, fucker.” Jungkook shrugged his shoulder, bringing his arm up, to take the next punch on it.

He continued deflecting his attacks, twisting his torso, swinging his elbows, his face screwed into a frown of absolute concentration. He hunted for an opportunity, a mistake Kristian would do as he exhausted himself to give him the upper hand.

“How the fuck did you find me, huh?” Kristian growled, feeling the strain in his muscles with each flailing swing of his fists.

“You’re not smart enough to hide from us. No one can hide from us.”

Jungkook found the opening he craved when Kristian slammed his fist into his stomach, leaving his face unprotected. Jungkook landed a shattering punch right where his jaw narrowed under his chin. A solid bone-to-bone contact that had Kristian’s head convulsing and screeching. Seizing the moment, he clawed at his shoulders and flung him over his head like a sack of potatoes, muscles flexing with the effort.

Jungkook heard his agonized grunt as Kristian crashed into the ground behind him. He rolled to the side in a fluid motion, landing on one steady knee and his right foot. He assessed the damage swiftly in his coiled stance, finding Kristian limp and disoriented, clutching his head. Continuous whines erupted from Kristian’s mouth, a muddle of pitiful sounds that confirmed Jungkook’s victory.

He fished an injection from the inner pocket of his jacket and discarded its metallic case with a downward flick of his wrist. Lunging forward, he grasped Kristian’s shoulder, forcefully yanking it to the side to reveal his neck. He shoved the needle into his skin, the sharp point perforating the surface with ease. The content of the syringe emptied with an effortless jab of his thumb, the liquid quickly dispersing into his bloodstream. He straightened his posture with a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing a notch.

Taehyung’s frosted eyes, tinged with a burning sheen and a twinkle of shock, held fast onto Jungkook, just as they had throughout their fight. Every strike delivered, and every word spoken, had been observed with a horrendous confusion that bordered on consternation.

The muscles at the back of his throat felt too constricted, making him think they wouldn’t move as he unfolded his mouth to speak. They did, though his voice was scarcely audible as it squeezed out of him. “Did you kill him?”

Ignoring Taehyung’s wrecked voice and torturous presence, Jungkook pressed the single button on his earpiece. “I got him,” he spoke into the mic, his tone steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “Come quickly.” Tapping the button again, Jungkook reached for the metallic case of the injection and searched for his gun.

“Jungkook...” Taehyung murmured, his body still frozen stiff, as if stuck in the maze of his brutal befuddlement. “What the hell is going on?”

Jungkook still refused to recognize Taehyung’s presence or any question he had at that moment. He spotted his scattered gun near the wall, its steel gleam catching his eye with ease. He holstered the weapon, his movements smooth and practiced, hinting at his exceptional training.

He sensed a wavelet of something liquid drip down his cheek, its warm feel unsettling against his skin. As it pooled under his chin, he patted the stained spot before the drop could tumble down. He lowered his hand and inspected it, finding a stain of blood smeared across his flesh. “His fucking ring...” he said in a seething murmur, a voice used when talking to himself. He stretched and clenched his fingers, feeling the stiffness and slight ache linger from the force of the punch he had delivered. He shook his hand, a failed attempt to alleviate a fraction of the throbbing sensation.

“Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s voice flowed through his senses in an imposing wave, with its strength now fully recovered. He tossed a glance his way, identifying the deluge of questions whirling in his stern eyes. His attention rushed to the approaching sound of shoes pounding against the ground, and he darted his view towards the garden to his left. At the sight of his two cherished friends and work partners, Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief.

Namjoon and Seokjin heaved Kristian’s unconscious body, each draping one of his arms over their shoulders. The weight of his lax form pressed against them as they stared at Jungkook. “Let’s go,” Namjoon said.

Jungkook gave a firm nod. He managed only a single step before Taehyung’s enraged voice thundered behind him.

“Jungkook! What is all this? Who are you?”

Jungkook felt a familiar clench at his heart, a sensation akin to a tight strap laced around it, each squeeze inflicted with brute fierceness. “No one important. Just a nobody who’s bothering you when you’re busy talking to fucking scumbags,” he said, his bitter anguish apparent in the low, rumbling timbre of his voice.

“Yah! Explain what’s going on. Now.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“You do, you ungrateful prick,” Taehyung spat out through gritted teeth, his balled fists at his sides shuddering with a sudden tide of wrath. “You owe me a ton of explanations.”

The words hovered heavy in the air, laden with frustration and sorrow that seemed to seep into every syllable. Taehyung’s expression projected the mayhem within, his brows puckered and jaw taut in a blend of rage and pain. The surrounding atmosphere seemed to darken dangerously, as if urging upon the gravity of his words and the unbearable load of their implications.

Taehyung swallowed past the scorching lump lodged into his throat, commanding the glimmering wetness in his eyes to stay put. “But I don’t want to hear them anymore. I only want to know why you did this to Kristian.”

As if a veil of black melancholy fell over Jungkook’s being, his shoulders slumped with poignancy, clawing at his heart that sank it into a gut-wrenching abyss. Darkness enclosed his features that marred them with rueful rigidity. “Guys, leave. I’ll come soon.”

The two crept around and shuffled off, hauling Kristian’s body into the night. The air they left behind crackled with a pronounced strain, dense and suffocating despite the cool breeze scraping their forms.

Jungkook stayed rooted, his back turned to him. The thought of facing him was insufferably poignant; it dredged up a tsunami of memories that pinwheeled around his mind like tattered ghosts drifting through the air. Although the said memories weren’t that deep-laid. They haunted him relentlessly, their presence an everlasting companion over the past five years that blackened his heart. A stirring conviction that always brought tears to his eyes. A savage reminder of the pain he had caused.

“You don’t want to hear me out?” Jungkook’s grave voice floated in a muted ripple, destroying the deafening silence. “You only care about Kristian?”

Taehyung curled his fingers into tight fists, as if steeling himself for the lies he was about to hurl. “Yes. I only want to know what this was about. I don’t care about anything else.”

“You do,” Jungkook whispered, a faraway look embedded in his clouded eyes. “I can hear it in the tremble of your voice. I can feel it in the intensity of your anger. I know you better than anyone, Taehyung. You can’t hide from me.”

“You don’t know me anymore,” Taehyung said, voice laced with the same aching ferociousness that etched into every line on his face. “We’re strangers now.”

“Strangers?” Jungkook echoed, delicate yet bitter. “We can never be strangers.”

“We are. Strangers with common memories. That’s what you made us.”

The words felt like a catastrophic blow to Jungkook. Each one carried the weight of years of shared lives now tainted by harrowing distance and crippling devastation. Despite their history, an unbridgeable void had widened between them, leaving them standing as mere vestiges of the love they once cherished.

Jungkook twisted in a faltering, slow rotation. His sunken eyes lingered on Taehyung’s form, as if accumulating courage to ascend and merge with his. “I want to explain, Taehyung. Can you let me?”

“No,” Taehyung said, the resonance of his growl vibrating in the stifling air. “I don’t want to hear anything about that.” The cruelty cloaking him fractured with the familiar tingling he sensed around his nose, followed by a burning in his eyes. His chest juddered lightly with the sobs climbing up his throat. He clenched his jaw, swallowing them down.

“You told me it’ll be just for a while.” Nothing feral survived in Taehyung’s voice; instead, there was an involuntary drawl in his words, ponderous with agony. He maintained his pain-filled gaze on the ground, convulsing only at the thought of meeting his eyes. “You told me you’ll come back. I believed you because you often traveled for three or four days. But you never did. You didn’t reply to my messages. You didn’t accept my calls. You changed your number a day after you left. I never heard from you again. And now you appear after five years and tell me you missed me? And that you want to explain yourself?”

Taehyung drew in a stuttering breath, feeling the chilly rush of air brim his lungs, a necessary intake to steady himself and continue. “You lost your chance. It was three years ago when I managed to find your new phone number. When I called you and begged you to give me a reason. To tell me something. But you just let me cry and beg for you and then you hung up. And I couldn’t get in contact with you ever since. That was your chance. And you screwed it up. Like you did to me and our love. To our happiness. To everything we lived.”

An endless ocean of tears drowned Taehyung’s eyes, cascading down his pale cheeks with no awareness, no movement, no sound. Anger flared in his gut at the realization, an exhausted type of turbulence. He brushed the wetness from his face with rowdy palms and swiveled in the opposite direction. “I hate you,” he declared, shattered voice struggling to come out as stable and resolute. “All those years I thought I still loved you, even if you broke me. But now that I saw you... I only feel hatred towards you. I lived with so many torturous questions. Now I don’t want to know anything anymore. I’ll find out on my own about Kristian. Don’t appear in front of me again.”

Jungkook soaked in his unsparing words silently, submissively, with no intention of opposing or refuting. He deserved them. He deserved Taehyung’s barbarous treatment. Even a few jaw-breaking smacks. The enormous mass of guilt and regret dropped heavily upon him, pulping his existence. It threaded excruciatingly with the ache of his betrayal and its consequences.

He stood there, resigned, beaten, lifeless, gazing vacantly at the spot Taehyung occupied moments ago. Wanting to tear his heart to pieces by the violent squeezes he felt around it. Crying with the riptides of downtrodden frustration and injustice. Ravaged body and soul. A ruin of nothingness. A nobody. Alone.

───⭒───༺🖤༻───⭒───
Just a heads up, there will be a lot of crying! Try being in their place. I'm sure you'll understand why.

Jungkook is suffering too, as we found out in this chapter. You'll soon know the reason he left, but I would like to see your theories first ☺️

I hope you enjoyed it! 💜