"So... ask me, Y/N. What do you want to know so much?" Jungkook's voice was soft yet edged with a hint of impatience as he spoke, his body language betraying his restlessness. He had forced you to sit down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. With his hands shoved deep into the pockets, he leaned against the doorframe, his posture both casual and guarded, waiting for you to find the words.
You couldn't help but notice how he shifted from one foot to another, his movement betraying a nervous energy that filled the small room. His biting of the bottom lip, a habit he couldn't shake, only added to the tension hanging in the air. You could see it in his eyes that he was unprepared for the depth of your questions. Not all of them, at least. The silence stretched between you, thick and charged.
"Tell me your first memory," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. The moment the words left your lips, Jungkook's expression shifted, and he closed his eyes as if to shield himself from the weight of your inquiry. An unsettling silence enveloped the room, and you sensed him grappling with his thoughts, perhaps trying to piece together an answer that felt safe to share.
But deep down, you understood this was more than a simple memory. Jungkook had a history, a tapestry of moments that painted the complex picture of who he was. The truth was, he remembered everything, every moment etched into his mind with meticulous detail. However, he found himself tangled in the struggle of how to express it without inviting pity or overwhelming concern from you. He had built walls around his past, intentionally shielding it from others.
You watched as his brow furrowed and his gaze drifted, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. The realization that he felt incomplete-just a fragment of the real Jungkook-washed over him. There was a haunting awareness in his eyes, as if he felt he could vanish at any moment from your life, leaving you with nothing but a memory.
"Jungkook," you said softly, your heart aching at the sight of him withdrawing into himself, the darkening shadows in his eyes reflecting a turmoil you wished you could ease. You murmured his name gently, hoping to break through the fog of his thoughts, unable to bear his sudden descent into that painful place of introspection.
Jungkook lifted his gaze and locked eyes with you, an intense look flickering across his face. The rapid thudding of his heart echoed in his ears, a sensation that left him both bewildered and restless. It was as if the very fabric of his existence was unraveling before him, each thread tugging at him with an urgency he couldn't quite comprehend. Fear crept in, clawing at his insides like a relentless beast.
A swell of emotions began to rise within him, threatening to break free from the confines he meticulously maintained. It was a feeling he had fought against his entire life, and it filled him with an unsettling dread.
What would happen if he allowed it to surface? The thought alone sent shivers down his spine, and instinctively, he tightened his grip on his emotions, suppressing the desperation that bubbled beneath the surface. It was more than just desperation; it was something darker, something he had tried so hard to ignore.
To shield himself, he forced a smile onto his lips, though it didn't reach the depths of his soul. His eyes turned icy, the warmth fading as he regarded you, searching for any hint of understanding-or perhaps judgment. With a calmness that belied the tumult within, he spoke softly, revealing to you his first memory: the moment he entered the world. In that moment, he shared not just a recollection but a fragment of his very essence, a glimpse into the light and darkness that shaped him.
"The first thing I remember, is my father above me. His breath in my ear. His skin against mine."
Your chin quivered slightly, and you felt your fingers instinctively clench into tight fists as you steeled yourself to ask the next question, your voice barely above a whisper. "How do you feel about what your father was doing to you? Did it feel right to you, or did it feel wrong? Did you ever find pleasure in it, or did it fill you with disgust?"
"Sometimes it felt good, like a warm embrace wrapping around me. In those moments, I felt loved and wanted, as if I belonged somewhere. I thought, and I still hold onto that belief, that this is what love is meant to be like-something pure, fulfilling, and inherently normal."
"Yet, there were other times when everything felt off. A heavy weight settled in my chest, and I was consumed by despair, disgust, anger, and even hate. It was a deep-seated kind of hate-hate for myself and for everyone around me. These feelings felt like small, dark secrets hidden away in a confined corner of my heart, and I find it nearly impossible to articulate the depth of what I was experiencing."
"It isn't right, Jungkook. What that man did to you was deeply wrong. It's not something a loving parent should ever put a child through. Only someone profoundly sick can behave like that toward their own child."
"He told me he loved me, so... how can it be wrong?"
"That love you were given was twisted, a perversion of the true meaning of love. A parent who truly loves their child would never abuse them or allow harm to come to them. A real parent nurtures, comforts, and safeguards their child, offering a shoulder to cry on during moments of illness or sorrow, and providing protection from those who would hurt them. Can you grasp this, Jungkook? It's crucial to understand that your father was not just flawed-he was mentally ill, and that illness distorted his actions in ways that were incomprehensible and unacceptable."
"Just like me?"
You shook your head firmly, a frown creasing your brow. "No. It's not the same thing. You should never compare yourself with that man." Your tone was serious, a hint of desperation lacing your words.
"But my mind is sick too," Jungkook blurted out, his voice trembling slightly. "I know that. I'm self-aware about it, and I understand that I'm not normal. But what can I really do about it? This is me. This is who I am, and I can't change that. Everything I do seems perfectly normal in my mind. There's no feeling of right or wrong; it's just my reality. I can't control my impulses." As he spoke, he inched closer, closing the distance between you, his eyes filled with a mix of anguish and vulnerability. He knelt before you, bringing himself to your eye level so that the intensity of his gaze could pierce through the unease hanging in the air.
"I am bad, sweetie. Deep down, I know that. Trust me, I do. There's a part of me that understands the gravity of my actions. And I know you see it too. Yet, despite this awareness, you still chose to risk everything by keeping me here in your home. I can only imagine how frightened you must be. When I lose control, it's unpredictable; I could become dangerous. I don't want to be the cause of your fear or pain. So, I can't help but ask... why? Why are you willing to gamble your own life for someone like me-a stranger, a criminal battling mental demons? What are you thinking, you foolish girl? What are you doing with your life?"
A shy smile crept onto your lips, warming your cheeks as you gazed into his eyes. "You will not hurt me." Your voice was soft but unwavering, filled with a gentle confidence that seemed to soothe him, if only just a little. The way he expressed his fears only reassured you further; it was evident he cared-just a touch beneath the weight of his turmoil. The happiness bubbled within you. "And it's my life; these are my feelings. Even if this isn't deemed right by the world, at least I'm listening to my heart."
His eyes widened in surprise. Your words pierced through the fog of despair, an unexpected spark igniting something deep within him. With his gaze slipping down to your mouth, your heart raced-an exhilarating warmth flooding through your body that made you acutely aware of his presence.
"Why did you come back so fast?" you started, but the words faltered on your lips. The moment his intense gaze locked with yours again, all coherent thought flew out the window, leaving you trembling. You could feel the heat radiating from your skin when his fingertips lightly brushed against your cheek, igniting sparks of electricity beneath your skin.
"You're blushing again," Jungkook chuckled softly, a sweet smile illuminating his face at your startled and bashful expression. His laughter was gentle, easing some of the tension that had filled the air. He watched as your breaths became shallow, your heart thundering in your chest, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both speechless and vulnerable.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you. The way I left you behind, so disappointed after you told me that what I felt about you wasn't love, I couldn't take my mind off you. So I came back. You seemed hurt. I couldn't fuck anyone in these circumstances." Jungkook sighed before rolling his eyes.
And... he just ruined everything.
You pushed him away, a wave of frustration coursing through you as you stood up, ready to leave the room and slam the door shut behind you.
But Jungkook, instead of looking dejected, laughed-his laugh was warm and infectious. He reached out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into his embrace, his laughter ringing in your ears like a sweet melody. You could never stay mad at him for long, not when he had that effect on you. A smile crept onto your lips, and you found yourself returning his hug, feeling the warmth radiate between you two.
"Damn you for being this cute. I hate you," you muttered, half-heartedly as your heart betrayed your words.
"You love me," he replied, a teasing sparkle in his eyes that made your heart race.
"You wish. I hate you," you shot back, trying to maintain your facade of indifference.
"Are you sure?" Jungkook quipped, his hands sliding up your back in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze searched your face, penetrating and sincere. "Because I do love you. In my own way."
His words ignited a flurry of emotions within you. "And what does that mean?" you asked, your cheeks flushing under his intense, searching stare. Before you could brace yourself, he surprised you with a soft kiss on the side of your neck.
"You make me feel real," he whispered between lingering kisses, his breath warm against your skin.
You closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as his lips traveled tenderly to your cheek, your heart fluttering wildly in response.
"You make me want you more and more. I've never wanted anyone this much," he murmured, his voice laced with a longing that resonated deep within you.
In that moment, all your earlier questions evaporated, replaced by the warmth of his affection. As his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, you felt a rush of desire that left you breathless.
Yet, underlying the blissful moment was a tightening ache in your chest. You yearned for him, for his touch, his kisses, but there was an emptiness you couldn't quite grasp, a missing piece that left you feeling incomplete. The only thing you truly understood was that you wanted to delve deeper into his world, to uncover the layers that made him who he was.
And another realization washed over you: this version of Jungkook was born from his desperate need to escape the cruel reality he faced. He clung to the fantasy that everything surrounding him was just an illusion, a way to shield himself from pain and suffering.
A tear slipped down your cheek, mingling with the warmth of his embrace, as you felt his arms tighten around you. Your heart ached as you tasted the salt of his tears, spilling against your skin the moment his lips finally met yours.
You became aware of the longing within you, a desire to reach out to him-the real him. You yearned to wake him from his self-imposed stupor, to show him that life could offer something more vibrant, something worth fighting for. You wanted to embrace him fully, to share with him the depths of happiness you believed he had never truly experienced.
You envisioned protecting him from the shadows of his mind, healing him piece by piece, helping him believe in something greater than his fears. You wanted to demonstrate what real love meant-love that could cradle him without fear of betrayal or harm.
***
Meanwhile, in another corner of the world, Jin held an old photograph between his fingers, the edges worn and frayed with time. With his other hand, he tenderly caressed the image of a smiling little boy, his brown hair tousled by the wind, laughter echoing from another time.
Jin's heart sank as sorrow flooded his eyes.
"Where are you? I miss you so much," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he grappled with the weight of the memories that seemed to haunt him.