62
Third Person Pov
The car stopped in front of the Jeon Mansion. The night was silent, the air too still as if even the world knew it was holding its breath.
Taehyung sat in the wheelchair, the nurse gently opening the car door. The moment his feet touched the ground, he looked up eyes half-lidded, tired taking in the grand walls and the cold, familiar architecture that seemed to hum with ghosts.
The mansion was beautiful, yes, but it felt empty. Empty in a way that hurt.
Seokjin's car pulled in behind. He stepped out, holding Gyubin's small hand, the boy clutching his fingers tight as they followed behind the nurse.
Taehyung's eyes wandered... slow, uncertain scanning every corner of the place that once felt like home.
Everything reminded him of something, but the images were faint, broken, like a dream slipping through his fingers.
He knew this place. His mind whispered it quietly.... this is where you lived, where you laughed, where you cried but the memories wouldn't come, only fragments. So he stopped trying.
He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the nurse guide him forward.
When they entered the mansion, the air felt colder. The faint scent of sandalwood still lingered... his scent, maybe someone else's but it only made his heart feel heavier.
His eyes trailed upward to the grand staircase and something inside him twisted. He didn't remember what happened there, but his body did. His chest grew tight, his throat dry. There was pain attached to those stairs, pain his mind couldn't name but his soul recognized.
The nurse gently turned the wheelchair down the hallway, leading him to his old room. The corridor felt endless portraits staring from the walls, shadows stretching long and sharp.
Behind them, Gyubin walked quietly, clutching Seokjin's hand tighter as he looked around, wide-eyed and unsure.
"We're at Mr. Jeon's house again..." he whispered, a small, hopeful smile on his face.
Seokjin nodded softly, giving the boy's hand a reassuring squeeze, though his own heart felt uneasy.
Inside the room, the nurse helped Taehyung onto the bed. His legs trembled weak, fragile as she steadied him.
Taehyung's fingers gripped the sheets, the texture oddly familiar. He looked around at the curtains, the faint smell of jasmine and something inside him flickered again, faint and distant.
Then, the door creaked open and Gyubin walked in. Taehyung's eyes softened the instant he saw him.
He motioned weakly with his hand, a small gesture... come here.
The boy ran to him, climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Taehyung's waist..Taehyung smiled, tired but real, as he bent down and pressed a trembling kiss on the boy's cheek.
"m-mine..." he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost breaking.
Gyubin nodded, hugging him tighter.
Seokjin stood by the door, arms crossed loosely, his eyes softening as he watched the fragile scen... two people trying to remember warmth in a house built on coldness.
The nurse quietly stepped back, adjusting the sheets.
And though Seokjin didn't say it aloud, he felt it deep down that this mansion didn't feel like a home anymore.
It felt like a wound trying to heal.
The nurse moved quietly around the room, checking Taehyung's tubes and adjusting the IV drip. The scent of antiseptic filled the air as she gently cleaned the small wound on his forehead and began redressing it.
Gyubin stood near the edge of the bed, small hands clutching the hem of his shirt. His wide eyes followed every movement, the cotton swabs, the tape, the slow way the nurse worked but he didn't say a word.
When she finished, she turned to the little boy with a soft smile. "You're very brave, aren't you?" she said, and Gyubin only nodded before looking back at Taehyung.
At Jungkook's earlier instructions, she handed Taehyung his medicines. He took them silently, eyes distant, throat dry. His gaze then shifted toward Gyubin, whose lips trembled before he finally spoke.
"Appa..." Gyubin's voice was small, fragile.
Taehyung hummed faintly, a sound that barely made it out of his throat.
"Appa... don't you remember anything?" the boy asked softly, his eyes filling with worry as he shifted closer to the bed.
Taehyung's lashes lowered; he didn't answer right away. His gaze wandered to Seokjin, then toward the slightly open door, as if searching for someone... or maybe afraid that... that someone might walk in.
Seokjin understood. He stepped forward, closing the door gently before walking to the chair beside the bed.
Taehyung gave a weak smile, his lips trembling. "N-not... all," he whispered, voice uneven, words slow and broken.
Gyubin blinked, confusion clouding his little face. "You... don't?" he asked, voice small.
Taehyung shook his head a little, his fingers curling weakly on the bedsheet. "I-I do, B-binnie," he said carefully, pausing between every word. "I r-remember... you."
His voice cracked at the end, and Seokjin's eyes softened.
He leaned a little closer to Gyubin, speaking gently, his tone slow, like explaining something fragile.
"Your appa remembers you," he said softly. "He knows you're his son. But... he got hurt badly, so his mind forgot some of the things that happened before. It's not gone forever, he just needs time, okay?"
Gyubin blinked, his small face scrunching as he tried to understand.
He nodded slowly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Okay..." he whispered.
Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pressed a small kiss on Taehyung's hand.
Taehyung's breath hitched. His eyes softened, the corners of his lips curving into a trembling smile as his free hand reached out shakily - to carress boy's cheeks.
For a moment, the room fell into a gentle silence.
"It's okay if you don't remember anything, appa," Gyubin whispered, his voice so small it almost broke in the silence. "Binnie will make new memories with you."
Taehyung's eyes glistened at that, his lower lip trembling. He nodded faintly, trying to smile but failing as his throat tightened.
"I should go," Seokjin said quietly, watching the way Taehyung's fingers gripped the blanket as if holding on to something fragile.
Taehyung's head snapped up immediately. "D-don't..." he whispered, the word shaky, pleading.
Seokjin froze, his heart twisting at the sound of that broken voice. He let out a slow sigh, stepping closer to the bed.
Taehyung looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes, the kind that carried fear and longing all at once. Seokjin hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted his hand and brushed his fingers through Taehyung's hair. It was a small, gentle gesture.
Taehyung blinked at the touch, as if it was something unfamiliar yet warm.
Gyubin watched quietly, clutching the hem of his shirt, his small eyes darting between them.
For a fleeting moment, he looked toward the door.
.. waiting. Maybe waiting for Jungkook to walk in, to comfort his appa like Seokjin was doing.
But Jungkook didn't come.
The hallway beyond the door stayed silent.
Taehyung's throat tightened again. His eyes dropped to his hands, the weight of emptiness pressing against his chest.
"Nothing will hurt you anymore," Seokjin said softly, his tone steady but his heart heavy.
Taehyung swallowed, his eyes wet as he nodded faintly. "O-okay..." he breathed, the word trembling but pure, almost childlike.
Seokjin's heart ached at that innocence. He didn't trust himself to say anything more, so he just gave a small nod, forcing his voice to stay even.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "I'll be in the next room. Call me anytime, okay?"
Taehyung only nodded again, gaze fixed on the sheets as he whispered, "O-kay..."
For a moment, Seokjin stood there, his hand hovering as if wanting to comfort him again but he stopped himself. He slowly pulled his hand back, eyes lingering on the fragile boy in front of him, and then turned toward the door.
The sound of his footsteps faded slowly down the hall.
Taehyung kept his eyes on the door long after it closed.
Gyubin shifted closer, resting his head on Taehyung's arm.
But Taehyung's gaze stayed fixed on the doorway. The silence stretched until it hurt until the only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat, echoing the same question that lingered in his chest.
Who was he secretly waiting for?
.
.
.
It was night again.
The kind of night that clung to the walls heavy, restless, cold.
Taehyung slept quietly, his head tilted slightly to the side, IV still attached to his wrist, its soft dripping sound echoing through the room.
Gyubin lay against him, one arm wrapped around his waist, his little body moving up and down with each breath Taehyung took.
The room smelled of medicine and quiet hope.
It was peaceful. Until it wasn't.
Footsteps. Slow. Uneven.
They echoed down the staircase, breaking the silence one heavy thud at a time.
The figure that appeared was barely steady... one hand gripping the railing, eyes bloodshot, jaw tight. The scent of alcohol followed him like a ghost, thick and stale in the air.
Jeon Jungkook looked like a man who hadn't slept in days, a man who'd burned too many cigarettes, drowned too many thoughts. His shirt was half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, veins visible on his forearms. His expression , cold, and hollow.
He stopped outside that door.
The one room he couldn't enter freely anymore.
His hand reached for the knob, trembling slightly, but before he could twist it, a hand caught his wrist... firm, unyielding.
"Don't," a calm, steady voice said.
Jungkook's gaze flicked sideways.
Seokjin stood there, dressed in loose sweats, but his eyes were sharp, cutting through the darkness.
"Step back," Jungkook said, voice low, almost dangerous.
When Seokjin still didn't, Jungkook's restraint snapped. His hand shot up, fingers gripping Seokjin's throat, slamming him against the cold wall. The sound echoed... thud loud, cruel.
Seokjin choked, his back hitting the wall hard, eyes wide. Jungkook's grip was tight, too tight. "How many times do I have to tell you not to interfere in my business?" Jungkook hissed, his breath hot with liquor, eyes wild.
Jungkook's grip only tightened. For a moment, just a second... it really looked like he could kill him. His eyes weren't angry; they were empty.
"Jungkook- stop-" Seokjin croaked, his voice breaking as air caught in his throat. He could feel his pulse pounding beneath Jungkook's fingers. The younger man's breathing was harsh, irregular like he wasn't even here anymore.
And then Seokjin, in one desperate shove, pushed him back with all his strength. Jungkook stumbled a few steps, his chest heaving. Seokjin leaned against the wall, coughing, gasping for air.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Seokjin spat, rubbing his bruised neck, voice hoarse. "You almost fcking killed me."
Jungkook didn't answer. His eyes darted to the closed door... Taehyung's room his jaw ticking as if he was holding back something violent, something fragile.
"Don't you think," Seokjin said through gritted teeth, "before you kill people?"
Still silence. Jungkook just stood there, hands trembling, shoulders tense.
Seokjin sighed as he took a step closer, tone softer now.
"Don't do this," he said quietly. "He just got back from the hospital. He's scared, Jungkook. Of you. You'll only make it worse if you go in there like this."
Jungkook exhaled sharply. His fists clenched.
"I can't sleep without him." he muttered.
Seokjin froze, eyes narrowing, that wasn't anger anymore. That was pain.
"What?"
"I can't sleep without him," Jungkook repeated, louder this time. "It's quiet. Too quiet. I close my eyes and I see him... the way he used to look at me. The way he used to beg. And now he doesn't even look at me."
His voice was barely audible in the end but Seokjin heard it.
"When did you start seeking comfort like a loser from others?" Seokjin asked, voice not mocking but heavy.
Jungkook exhaled shakily, jaw tightening. "I'm not seeking comfort," he said. "I can't see him comfortable in my absence."
His next words came like a confession soaked in poison. "I want him beside me again, scared, trembling, eyes wide. I want him to remember who he belongs to."
The hallway went quiet. Seokjin's expression faltere... pity flickered behind his stare.
He stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "You've come a long way, Jungkook," he said, voice calm but laced with something sad. "But you're still standing at the same place."
Jungkook didn't reply. He only stared, eyes hollow, emotionless, as if everything inside him had turned quiet and dead.
Then his gaze drifted slow, reluctant to the door one last time. Beyond it Taehyung slept and Gyubin slept clinging to him.
His hand curled into a fist. For a moment, a dangerous moment... it looked like he would still go in. Like the monster in him would win again.
But then his shoulders fell. A long, empty breath slipped out of his mouth.
Slowly... painfully...he turned away.
He walked up the stairs, each step sounding like another heartbreak hitting the floor until his dark figure disappeared into the shadows above.
The quiet returned again.
Seokjin remained rooted in place for a moment longer.
His neck throbbed where Jungkook's grip had been, and he released a shaky breath as he pressed his palm against the bruising skin, grounding himself.
His body trembled, not just from pain but from the haunting realization of how close things had come to unraveling completely.
When he finally moved, his steps carried exhaustion.
He reached his bedroom and gently shut the door behind him.
Only a strip of pale moonlight filtered through the curtains, stretching across the floor like a cold ribbon.
The air was still, and the quiet felt heavier now, pressing against his ribs.
Seokjin walked toward the window and pulled back the curtain enough to stare outside.
The moon hovered above the world, watchful yet distant, as if refusing to intervene.
He closed his eyes, and for a brief second, he pretended that someone else stood beside him.
Someone whose presence always brought warmth, guidance, and unwavering certainty.
"Eomma..." he whispered, and the word broke somewhere inside him. His voice, usually strong and composed for the sake of his younger brother, wavered like a child lost in a nightmare.
"I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted into the quiet space.
His reflection in the window looked older than his years, worn down by burdens he never asked for.
"I try to keep everything together. I try to be the strong one.
The responsible one. The eldest." His throat tightened, and he swallowed the ache rising inside him.
"But every day I feel like I'm failing. I feel useless. "
His fingers released the curtain, and he pressed his hand against th windowpane instead, cold glass meeting warm skin.
"I can't keep watching him like this," he murmured.
His gaze lifted to the moon, hoping for comfort in its glow, but finding none.
"Years ago, Jungkook changed after that incident.
It was like someone flipped a switch inside him.
He stopped fearing consequences, stopped caring about anything or anyone.
That desperation that once drove him... completely disappeared. "
He paused, a painful memory dragging his breath from him.
"But now something has woken up inside him again.
" His words grew softer, laced with fear.
"He's desperate, but not in a way anyone can control.
He wants something he doesn't know how to love.
He is clinging to feelings he doesn't understand.
" His expression hardened with worry. "That makes him dangerous. "
The curtain fabric twisted tight between his fingers before he realized how hard he had been gripping it. He forced himself to let go and drew a slow breath that did nothing to calm his shaking nerves.
"I am terrified..." His voice cracked under the weight of that truth.
"Terrified that he'll hurt Taehyung again, not because he intends to, but because he doesn't know what to do with all this.
.. chaos inside him." His forehead pressed lightly against the cool glass, grounding him in the moment.
"Taehyung has already endured more pain than any person should be allowed to.
.. because of us. Watching him break again. .. that would destroy me."
He took a deep breathe trying to calm the chaos inside him.
"I just can't let that happen again," he whispered, barely breathing the words.
The moon hung quietly above him, its silence unmoving. The world outside offered no comfort. The walls around him did not soothe his fears. The night remained unbearably still.
Yet Seokjin sensed it, a shift in the air, an icy ripple of warning.
This wasn't the end of the storm.
The clouds had only retreated.
The next strike was coming.
And the house would not survive another hit unscathed.
.
.
.
Morning arrived gently. Sunlight spilled through the curtains in soft streaks, warming the quiet room where Taehyung sat bundled under light blankets.
The elderly nurse moved with practiced patience, helping him through the slow process of washing up and dressing.
Even small movements required time. His body still felt unfamiliar, as though he were recovering from a battle no one saw.
Taehyung leaned his weight against her arm as they made their way through the hallway. Every step felt like walking on tremors, his legs remembering too slowly what strength used to feel like. Beside him, Gyubin walked with tiny but determined steps, refusing to let go of his father's hand.
He had insisted.. adamantly that he would not go to school today. His little face had scrunched up with stubbornness, and his voice had cracked with worry as he said, "I want to stay with appa."
So now he remained right where he wanted to be, glued to Taehyung's side like a guardian much smaller than the one Taehyung truly needed.
"Appa... slowly," Gyubin murmured, eyes fixed on his father's feet as if he could protect him from falling just with his stare.
Taehyung's lips curved at the corners. His smile appeared fragile, but the warmth behind it was real. He gave a tiny nod, acknowledging Gyubin's concern. The boy held his hand tighter, his thumb brushing Taehyung's knuckles in absent reassurance.
The nurse guided them through the open doors into the backyard. Morning breeze greeted them first, cool and fragrant from the dew-touched garden. Leaves rustled overhead, sunlight blinking through branches as though nature itself welcomed Taehyung back.
"You're doing very well, Taehyung," the nurse said, her voice carrying the tenderness of someone who had seen too many people forget their worth. She steadied him as his knee shook, and her palm lingered lightly on his elbow.
"Th-thank... you," he managed. The words came slow, hesitant, each syllable fighting its way out. His tongue felt heavy, and frustration flickered in his gaze before he quickly hid it.
"Don't push yourself," she reminded gently, lowering her voice as if afraid to burden the silence. "The doctor said your speech will recover. Give yourself time. Healing isn't a race."
He nodded again. He understood, even if patience felt like another wound he needed to endure.
They reached the bench under a wide-branched tree. Taehyung eased onto it with a grateful breath, sinking into the support it offered. Gyubin, always alert, hurried to grab the small bottle of water the nurse had brought along.
"Here, appa," Gyubin said, stretching his arms high to place the bottle into Taehyung's trembling hands.
Taehyung accepted it carefully, the plastic cool against his fingers.
The bottle trembled along with his grip, water sloshing inside.
He pressed his lips together, trying to steady the shaking.
Gyubin watched him like a tiny sentinel, lower lip caught between his teeth, worried eyes much too serious for a child his age.
The nurse stood close but gave them space, pretending to busy herself with adjusting the blanket over Taehyung's lap, as though she couldn't see how hard he was trying to act calm for his son.
A faint breeze stirred Taehyung's hair. Gyubin shifted closer, laying his small head gently against Taehyung's shoulder, their hands still linked. The morning sun warmed them from above, wrapping the fragile pair in a quiet, golden cocoon.
For the first time in a long while, Taehyung breathed without fear chasing the air inside his lungs.
Yet just beneath that calm surface, a storm loomed quietly in the distance... a storm neither of them were prepared for.
.
.
.
Taehyung sat on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed, breathing as the nurse had taught him to.
Slow, steady, like the world wasn't constantly pushing down on his chest. His fingers clutched the bedsheet, the fabric warm beneath his palms from how long he had been sitting there.
The soft hum of mid-day quiet filled the room.
For a moment, he almost believed he could rest.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Measured, confident, too familiar for comfort. They echoed down the corridor with a rhythm his body recognized faster than his mind. His grip on the sheet tightened until his knuckles paled. The breath he had managed to tame slipped out of control.
His eyes snapped open.
No one was there. The room looked exactly as it had a minute ago. Bed neatly arranged, curtains half-drawn to welcome sunlight, the faint pleasant scent of flowers drifting through the open balcony door. It should have eased him, but the footsteps continued, drawing closer with every second.
He swallowed hard, throat suddenly too dry to form words. His heart stuttered painfully against his ribs.
The nurse was in the kitchen preparing lunch.
He could faintly hear utensils clinking, her humming a soft tune that usually soothed him.
Gyubin was in the garden, squeaky laughter mixing with the rustle of peonies as he helped the gardener again.
Sunshine and innocence lived outside. Safety lived outside.
Danger walked toward him now.
"B-Binnie..." he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of fear. As if his eight-year-old could transform into a shield and hold back the monster stepping closer.
The doorknob moved.
The door opened.
And Taehyung's stomach dropped so violently it hurt.
His breath froze in his chest. His eyes widened to painful stretch. There he stood.
Jeon Jungkook.
Dark blue shirt tucked neatly into black trousers, sleeves rolled to expose the ink coiling up his forearms. He looked composed, dangerously composed, like a calm ocean hiding vicious undercurrents no one could survive. His eyes didn't flicker, not even once, while they took Taehyung in.
Fear jolted through Taehyung so fiercely his legs reacted before his mind could catch up. He pushed himself straighter, trying to stand, forcing his trembling muscles to obey even as they threatened to give out beneath him.
"P-please..." he breathed out, weak and utterly broken. His voice barely existed.
The memories crashed into him with merciless speed.
The bathtub. Cold water swallowing him while Jungkook watched him, freezing every nerve until he could no longer scream.
The bedroom.
Jungkook's voice low and cruel as he forced Taehyung to crawl to him with his sprained ankle, each inch of movement carrying pain.
The bathroom again.
Stinging alcohol poured over wounds, Jungkook demanding... he stand there, tears silent, shaking for an hour.
The night he was left exposed.
No blanket, no mercy, Jungkook walking away without once looking back at the body he had broken.
Every cruelty he had endured fanned out like a deck of nightmares.
His breathing turned frantic, choppy and uneven. His fingers clawed the sheets. His knees wobbled, threatening collapse. Fear poured through him in sharp waves, colder than anything that bathtub ever held.
Jungkook stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him with a click that sounded too final.
Taehyung flinched.
His lips parted, trying to form words that wouldn't come. All he managed was a whimper strangled by terror.
Because the worst part wasn't just that Jungkook was here. It was the look in Jungkook's eyes. A hunger. A claim. A storm.
And Taehyung knew all too well what storms like him could destroy.