Disappointment

Your pov

I went to my parents' house, my heart heavy with the weight of everything I needed to share. As I entered their familiar living room, the warmth and comfort of home surrounded me, but I was far from feeling safe. I took a deep breath and began to pour out my heart. I shared every detail about Jungkook-his struggles, the darkness he had endured all those years, and the isolation that had engulfed him.

Tears welled in my eyes as I recounted how he had fought his battles alone, desperately trying to hold himself together. I found myself crying uncontrollably, collapsing into my parents' arms as I begged them for help. I talked about the astonishing love that had blossomed in my heart for a person who, by all standards, was considered 'not normal.' But that label didn't matter to me; what mattered was Jungkook's warmth, kindness, and the beauty of his heart that I had come to know so well.

I explained to my parents that it wasn't his fault he was suffering in this way-it was a consequence of circumstances beyond his control. I was fiercely determined to do everything I could to help him. I wanted to reach out, to stand by him and try to alleviate his pain, if only for a moment.

But the heaviness of my love was mingled with the darkness of suspicion. I couldn't ignore my gut feeling about Jin and how I suspected Jungkook might have been involved in his death. It was a burden I needed to share; my trust in my parents and their judgment compelled me to confide in them. Despite their flawed parenting, I believed in their kindness and sincerity, and they always took their roles as guardians seriously.

They promised to search for Jungkook, but I couldn't wait. Anxiety pushed me to stay at their side, wanting to accompany them and their colleagues during the search. My mind was racing with worries-not just for the safety of my parents but also for Jungkook. I was painfully aware that I was the only one who understood how to approach him, to get close enough to administer the medication he desperately needed. The thought of multiple injections was daunting, but I knew they were essential. Delivering the drug directly into his neck would ensure it reached his brain quickly, providing effective relief before anxiety and fear took over him completely. I couldn't lose any time.

But something neither of us had anticipated unfolded.

The following day, in a rage he could no longer contain, Jungkook stormed to the doctor's house. With every ounce of anger he had pent up inside him, he unleashed a torrent of hostility toward Mingyu, pushing him past the limits of reason until the doctor ultimately collapsed, unconscious on the floor.

When I raced to the hospital, my heart pounding with dread, the sight that greeted me was chilling. Mingyu lay in a stark white bed, his condition dire and frail. I could hardly recognize the man who had always exuded strength and compassion. The beeping of machines filled the air, and a heavy sense of uncertainty hung around me like a dark cloud. I was terrified that this was it-that I might lose someone so precious, and I felt utterly helpless.

As I sat there, my mind spiraled with questions I couldn't answer. What had led to this violent confrontation? What on earth had transpired between Jungkook and Mingyu that could drive anyone to such extremes? I felt an overwhelming frustration at my inability to piece together the events that had brought us to this point.

Jungkook's actions baffled me; how could he lash out at Mingyu, who had always been in his corner, advocating for his well-being? Mingyu had consistently tried to guide him and had only ever wished for Jungkook's happiness and health. This revelation left me in tears.

Jungkook, you are so gravely mistaken. Please come to recognize the truth of the situation and the harm you've wrought.

***

After four excruciating days of searching, we finally found him. He was curled up and sleeping on one of the worn seats of the Seoul subway, his face barely visible beneath the shadows cast by the flickering overhead lights. A passing stranger had noticed the telltale signs of trouble-a stain of blood marring his clothes-and promptly called the police, initiating a frantic race to locate him.

I desperately pleaded with my parents and the two stern officers accompanying us, begging them to grant me a moment alone with him. I understood the risks involved, yet my heart raced with an urgent need to confront the situation myself. The thought of him being chased down, captured in handcuffs, or-God forbid-being shot sent a wave of dread through me. I couldn't bear to watch it unfold.

As I turned to face him, my parents and the officers discreetly stepped back, ensuring Jungkook wouldn't catch sight of their presence. With my heart pounding in my chest, I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around my father, seeking comfort even as my insides churned with a mix of fear and frustration. "Please, no matter what happens, don't hurt him," I implored, my voice trembling with urgency. "I'm begging you."

My father's expression softened slightly, revealing the conflict in his eyes. "You are my daughter, and I love you. I am doing all of this because of you. But if your life will be in danger because of this boy, I will not hesitate to hurt him. I prefer your hate to see you dead. No matter how sorry I feel for him. "

I shot him a withering glare, feeling a surge of frustration. Even though he was a parent, I couldn't shake the resentment that bubbled beneath the surface, a deep-rooted anger aimed squarely at him for being so insufferably right.

***

Jungkook stirred, blinking awake just as your fingertips were about to reach him. It was as if he sensed your presence before he fully registered it. His instinct to remain guarded had been ingrained in him since that fateful first day you met; he couldn't afford to let his defenses down.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he turned his gaze toward you, sitting beside him. You were careful to keep some distance-close enough to show you cared but far enough not to invade his personal space too abruptly.

"How did you find me?" His eyes widened slightly, scanning the surroundings for signs of anyone else. He wanted to ensure the two of you were still alone, away from prying eyes.

"I promised I wouldn't leave you alone," you replied softly, your tone laced with genuine warmth. You had searched for him tirelessly, feeling an unbreakable connection that compelled you to seek him out.

Jungkook frowned, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability swirling in his gaze. "I am not one of those idiots," he said defiantly, his voice carrying an edge of defiance. "So this won't work with me."

Your heart ached at his words. Understanding the depth of his hurt, you took a deep breath before responding. "But they are a part of you, Jungkook. So if you're calling yourself an idiot, then..." You let a soft smile breakthrough, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. Seeing him like this pained you, yet you maintained your warmth, determined to reach him.

Jungkook processed your words in silence, his expression shifting as contemplation washed over him. Instead of answering, he pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, seeking comfort. To your surprise, he leaned his head against your shoulder, a gesture of trust that felt fragile and profound. It was a small victory, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings.

You felt a profound wave of vulnerability wash over him, a deep loneliness that cut through the air like a chilling frost. Tightening your grip on the syringe hidden at your back, uncertainty gnawed at you. Your heart ached, torn between the instinct to act and the moral weight of what you were considering. The truth settled heavily in your chest-he couldn't remain free, not like this.

As a tear slipped down your cheek, it was as if it marked the beginning of an emotional flood. Soon, your eyes brimmed with tears, blurring the reality before you. You were engulfed by a sense of powerlessness, questioning your ability to help him. Countless thoughts raced through your mind, circling back to the same gnawing fear: no better way for him, no safer place where a soul burdened like he could find solace.

Your heart and mind wrestled with the weight of communication. How could you make him understand? How could you explain the delicate balance between right and wrong, the shades of gray that often blurred the lines in a world so cruel?

"Why did you hurt Mingyu, Jungkook?" Your voice broke through the heavy silence, echoing the confusion and hurt you felt. "Do you feel better now?"

He shifted, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face, and then his voice emerged, heavy with pain. "I remember him coming to that house when I was little, like a ghost from the past. I think I saw him only three or four times, yet here I am, haunted by those fleeting moments. I confided in him once and told him everything happening to me, what that man was doing-what he had taken from me. But he didn't believe me.

"Instead, he sought out my parents. I remember his uncertainty, his face falling as they dismissed me. They told him I watched too many dramas and was prone to making things up. How could he take their word over mine? They were the adults who belonged to this world, while I was just an orphan, a stray picked up from the alleys. I was invisible to them, a mere afterthought.

"And then, the day came when I stood at his doorstep again, only to find him crying-begging me for forgiveness. It felt suffocating, that pity. I didn't need his apologies. They felt hollow and worthless, too late for me. He should have believed me when it mattered. Now, it was all just noise."

With that, the remnants of his pain hung in the air, a testament to the lost years that had shaped him, leaving both of you unmoored and yearning for a way to bridge the chasm between what he had endured and what lay ahead.

"So killing him was the answer for you? "

"Yes. But I don't think I killed him though."

"Almost." You said. "He didn't wake up yet."

"Good."

"He cares about you."

"Not enough it seems."

"I will not say that I completely understand you," you began softly, careful with your words. "Because I am not in your shoes. I can't begin to grasp how hard it has been for you." You paused, letting your words sink in, then continued, "But sometimes, people can change. There are still some who love you."

"Like Mingyu. Like my father. Like Jin," Jungkook whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he came closer, seeking warmth and comfort in your presence. His eyes remained shut, as if he feared the painful reality lurking behind them.

"Your father and Jin didn't love you for real," you replied, your gaze fixed on him, noticing the small tremors in his jawline. "That was a sick love. They were only thinking about themselves, oblivious to your feelings," you stated, trying to convey the depth of your concern. His face, so strikingly close to yours, filled you with an overwhelming urge to reach out, to caress his hair, to soothe him. But you hesitated, unsure if your affection would be welcomed.

"But Mingyu wasn't faking it,"you continued, a flicker of determination flashing in your dark eyes. "He left everything behind just to make sure you were safe. He acknowledged his mistakes and the weight of his guilt. Even if it feels too late, he's still fighting to bring you back. And he's not the only one who cares about you."

At those words, Jungkook finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. "I don't believe you," he declared, the bitterness evident in his voice. "From where I stand, love is just disgusting. I don't want it."

"You feel that way because you've been hurt by so many who claimed to love you," you insisted, your heart aching for him. "Those people didn't truly care for you. They didn't understand what love really is."

"And how am I supposed to know that?" Jungkook shot back, frustration evident on his face. "The love you speak of is the only kind I've ever known. Even if it was fake, it's all I recognize. So no matter what you say, I will not believe you."

"What about me?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, a plea hidden within your words.

"What about you?" he echoed, confusion crossing his features.

"Do you believe that I want to hurt you? Do you think I have something to hide from you? Did it feel like I was trying to take advantage of you while you're like this?"

Jungkook hesitated, the weight of your words wrapping around him like a vice. He pulled away slightly, searching your face for answers, his expression torn. "But you are attracted to me!"

"Yes, I won't deny that," you admitted, your voice steady yet softened by the vulnerability between you. "But it's more than just attraction. I want you safe and happy, regardless of what that may mean for me. Right now, you're not happy. This path you're on will lead to nowhere good. This revenge, will not change how you feel. It will only plunge you into a darker place-one where you'll feel forever lonely, lost, and terrified."

"And what other choice do I have?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a heavy weight in his tone.

"Come with me," you urged, raising your trembling hand to gently caress his cheek, desperate to connect with him. "Let me help you. Just let me in for a moment. If you feel that I'm just as bad as everyone else, then push me away. Throw me out of your heart."

"No," Jungkook murmured, shaking his head as fear overtook him. "I won't let that happen. I don't want you close to me," he whispered, pushing your hand away, a mix of desperation and vulnerability clouding his expression.

You sensed his urge to escape, to flee from the emotions brewing between you. In a moment of instinct, you grabbed his hand tightly, willing him to stay. "Alright. I promise I will leave you alone and never get in your way again. But only if you let me hug you one last time. Please? Just this once?"

As your tears began to fall, their warmth spilling onto the fabric of your clothing, Jungkook could no longer ignore the impulse rising within him to embrace you. He felt it vividly, a familiar yet foreign feeling, and knew that it was the bad boy giving him hard time. Biting his lips, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, his head resting against your shoulder.

That moment felt surreal; he had experienced moments like this before, being engulfed by warmth and comfort whenever he was close to you. It felt safe, and he couldn't help but inhale your familiar scent, burying his face into the curve of your neck.

You held him back with all your strength, sharing tears as you both found solace in each other's embrace.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice trembling with sincerity. "And I am so sorry." Your apology lingered in the air as you pressed the serum to his neck, your heart racing with the weight of what you were about to do.