Jungkook pov
"I've spent countless nights wondering what you'd be like," you said, your tone soft. "I've tried to envision you, to understand how you would feel after waking up and coming to terms with everything that's happened to you. I yearn to know you-every part of you. Not just the surface, but the depths of your mind."
Who do you like Y/N? Who do you want?
You.
Your words echoed relentlessly in my mind, each phrase a haunting reminder of everything I was grappling with. What was I doing here? What had drawn me back to this place? What was it that I was desperately searching for, hoping to find?
It was all because of you. The weight of your presence was impossible to ignore. I could no longer keep my eyes shut, pretending that everything would just drift away in the shadows. I couldn't allow your influence to dictate my actions, controlling my body like a puppet on strings. I had reached the point where I could no longer flee from the truth, no matter how unpleasant. This suffocating, wretched reality that pressed down on me felt unbearable.
All of this turmoil was a direct result of your existence in my life.
Hearing their voices-filled with admiration, envy, or whatever twisted emotions they felt for you-was like a dagger to my heart. Each word was a reminder of what I had lost and what I could never reclaim. It was excruciatingly painful, gnawing at my insides, and it left me with an unsettling sense of revulsion. The depth of their feelings for you made me question everything, and I hated the feeling it stirred within me.
There was a time when I found myself consumed by thoughts of wanting to kill you. To remove you from my life entirely. The weight of the conflicts inside me often pushed me toward that dark desire. Yet, amidst that turmoil, a deeper voice within me held me back, a voice that stemmed from the very core of my being. It was that part of me that I often loathed the most-the part that loved you fiercely, that cherished the moments you two shared, and that believed in the bond you had. Despite my anger and frustration, I couldn't bring myself to harm you in any way.
Because of him.
"She devoted herself to me in ways I never expected. The warmth of her care enveloped me as she prepared meals with a tenderness that made even the simplest dishes feel like home. I remember how she would carefully select clothes for me, ensuring I had what I needed and that I felt comfortable and confident in them". In that moment, as I watched him cry for the first time, a sound I had never heard from him before, a wave of confusion washed over me. I struggled to comprehend the depth of that emotion within myself. It filled me with a sense of anger and frustration because I couldn't grasp that part of my experience. That was the source of my greatest disdain-it was maddening to see him so foolishly naive, believing in something that felt so far from my reality. Believing that he was real.
"Please, just don't hurt her," he pleaded, the urgency in his voice rising. "She's the only one who truly cared for me, who has been there for me through everything. Don't take her away from me."
(It was the bad boy)
It was a dark and chilly night as I wandered aimlessly, without any clear destination. Even though it was late, the streets were bustling with people. Each time someone accidentally bumped into me, I felt a surge of irritation. I found myself pushing them away, letting my frustration towards everyone take over.
I kept walking until I found myself in a narrow, shadowy alley behind some buildings. Searching for a place to escape the chaos, I finally discovered a dark corner. I sat down on the ground and closed my eyes for a few moments. Suddenly, the entire street lit up, shining so bright that it was almost overwhelming. Annoyed, I decided I needed to find another shadowy spot away from the glaring light.
As I pulled the knife from my pocket, its cold steel glinted under the dim streetlight, casting a faint reflection on my face. I leaned against the rough, cracked wall of an old building just a few steps away, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on my shoulders.
Memories flooded my mind, each one sharper than the blade in my hand. I could see their faces vividly-the woman I had come to resent so deeply, her sharp tongue always ready to cut me down, an embodiment of everything I despised. The man who had torn my world apart loomed in my thoughts, his cold eyes filled with indifference as he wreaked havoc on the life I had tried to build. And that little girl, with her incessant laughter and carefree spirit, always flaunting the privileges she took for granted, the very things I had yearned for but could never grasp. She was a constant reminder of my own struggles, her happiness a sharp contrast to my pain, as if she relished in making me feel small and insignificant.
In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of my past, I couldn't shake the feeling of anger and sadness that churned within me, intertwining like a twisted knot that refused to unravel.
I yearned to erase the past, to bury the memories deep within me. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake them off. They tore apart the fabric of my existence, leaving behind a tattered and unrecognizable version of my former self.
I found myself devoid of a real life, trapped in a shadow of what could have been. They transformed me into a deviant person-an outcast burdened with feelings of abnormality. I was now a person swimming in a sea of disappointment, frustration, and simmering resentment.
Even now, as I sift through the echoes of my thoughts, the familiar waves of isolation wash over me, leaving me feeling utterly lost and alone. Curiously, despite the turmoil within, I felt a strange numbness; once again, tears refused to well up, leaving me adrift in a storm of unexpressed sorrow.
***
Your pov
After he left, I felt utterly powerless, so much so that I couldn't even summon the energy to flick on the lights in the room. I found myself sitting on the cold floor, the dim glow of twilight casting long shadows around me, as tears streamed down my cheeks in an uncontrollable flow. My mind was consumed with thoughts of him-where he could possibly be at that very moment. Was he feeling cold in the night air? Did he feel lost and frightened, like a stray wandering the streets? The weight of my worry pressed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I had so many things I desperately wanted to say to him. Thoughts spun in my head like a whirlpool, focusing on my bad boy-his expressive eyes always searching for reassurance, desperately asking me over and over if he was real. Each time I answered affirmatively, telling him with conviction that he was indeed real. But now, more than ever, I needed to say it again, to remind him that he truly existed in every sense. They were all real, every part of him, and I knew that he wouldn't be whole without them. Those pieces were part of him that I had grown to cherish and care for deeply. They weren't just fragments of his identity; they had their own sweet sides that unveiled new layers of him that I had come to love as well. I felt an overwhelming urge to convey this to them, to reassure them of their significance in my life.
In a moment of reflection, I couldn't shake the haunting image of my bad boy crying. It stabbed at my heart just to think that he might be hurting, especially now that Jungkook had awakened. I knew he was feeling the pain of the situation; I was certain of it.
Why couldn't I just hold him tight in my arms and tell him that everything would be alright? Why was I unable to convince him to remain by my side? The fear that gripped me was paralyzing. I could see the simmering rage in his eyes, a deep-seated hatred that was directed not just at me but at the world around him. It frightened me to think what he might do in that turmoil.
Before anything terrible could happen, I steeled myself, determined to find him, willing to scour every corner, every street, and bring him back home.
But for that daunting task, I realized I would need help-connections that stretched beyond what I could muster on my own. I resolved to speak to my parents. They worked in law enforcement and had valuable connections that could assist in locating him. I knew it wouldn't be easy; the thought of it made my stomach churn. I was aware that asking them for this would be significant, a departure from the norm since I had never requested anything from them until now. But deep down, I felt a flicker of hope-they were my only family, and as their only daughter, I had faith they would do whatever it took to help me.
The following day, I received a call from Mingyu that would send chills down my spine. He informed me about the tragic fate of the prison's director. It turned out that his family had found him lifeless in their home. The moment I heard the news, my mind immediately raced to Jungkook. A knot of fear tightened in my stomach, but I clamped down on my thoughts, choosing to keep my fears and suspicions locked away within myself.
Mingyu continued to explain the unsettling details. "You know, Jin had this room that was always kept under lock and key. Even his own family was kept in the dark about what was inside. He always claimed that the room housed important documents related to certain prisoners, which was why it needed to be secured for safety reasons. Despite all of this, after his death, the door was found wide open, and when we looked inside, it was completely empty. We're all puzzled about what he was so desperate to protect from everyone, even his family."
"What about Jungkook? Was he with you during all this?" He asked.
"Yes," I replied, and I felt a pang of guilt at the lie only I knew I was telling. Jungkook had never left my thoughts, and whatever happened with Jin had only intensified my anxieties surrounding him.
We had both harbored suspicions about Jin long before this terrible incident. Even though Taehyung couldn't find any concrete evidence against him, Mingyu and I felt a gut instinct that he was the one who had been abusing and drugging Jungkook while he was in prison. It was a horrifying thought, and now, in the wake of Jin's untimely demise, I couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook was somehow entwined in it all. Maybe, in his eyes, he felt justified in taking such drastic measures. But deep down, I understood that no matter what he had endured, taking a life only deepened the pain and darkness, especially for someone already wrestling with mental demons.
Now, an urgent sense of responsibility washed over me. I knew I had to find Jungkook before things spiraled beyond control. There was no room for hesitation, even though my heart ached at the thought of what I might have to do. As much as it pained me to imagine locking him away, I recognized the dire need for intervention. If it came down to slipping him into a straitjacket, I wouldn't hesitate for a second, even if that meant he would despise me for it afterward. My mind was made up: I had to protect him, even if it meant making decisions he wouldn't understand.