A chance

"Let me go! I hate all of you! Let me go!"

The frantic shouts of Jungkook echoed from behind the stark white door, each word laced with raw desperation as soon as he awakened.

My mother stood beside me, her face etched with concern, yet she remained silent for a prolonged moment, absorbing the weight of his words. Finally, she broke the stillness, "You will not go inside and talk to him?"

I shook my head, a wave of guilt crashing over me. "I can't. I can't bear to hear him say how much he hates me."

We were trapped in the sterile environment of a mental institution, an unsettling reality that I had thrust upon Jungkook. I was the one who initiated this nightmare, the one responsible for injecting him with that potent drug, the one who secured him in a straitjacket, effectively robbing him of his freedom and autonomy.

But what choice did I have? How could I possibly let him out into the world when he was spiraling deeper into self-destruction? I couldn't bear to watch him dissolve, piece by piece, as he slowly faded away before my eyes. He was so lost that he didn't care for his existence. Days could pass without him eating, and I often wondered if he would have remained alive if not for the occasional sip of water- an increasingly miraculous act.

With a heavy heart, I pressed my forehead against the cold surface of the door, hesitating at the threshold that separated us. My body shook at the mere thought of facing him and hearing the venom in his voice that articulated his hatred for me. He had once trusted me completely, allowing his guard to slip just enough for me to breach the barrier he so carefully built around his heart. I felt like a traitor for betraying that trust when it mattered most.

Memories flooded back the way his eyes had searched mine right after the serum took hold, wide with a mix of confusion, pain, and utter disappointment. In that moment, I recognized the torment within him; I saw the realization dawn that his faith in me, in our bond, had been shattered. He was sure that I had deceived him and been manipulative all along. No amount of reassurance from me would change his mind now. I could feel the crushing weight of having lost him forever. No second chances were on my horizon.

"You're the only one he knows, Y/N. He must feel utterly terrified with all these unfamiliar doctors surrounding him. They can't keep him sedated forever. Just try and talk to him," my mother urged gently, her voice a lifeline amidst the storm of my emotions.

As I stood there, conflicted and anxious, I could only hope that stepping through that door would somehow bridge the chasm of mistrust and despair between us.

***

My hand trembled uncontrollably as I reached for the doorknob, the cold metal shattering my spine. I hesitated for a moment, gathering my courage before finally pushing the door open.

As I stepped inside, my gaze locked onto him, and a wave of despair washed over me, making it feel like the air had been knocked from my lungs. There he was, bound to the bed, each of his legs securely tied, struggling against the confines of the straitjacket that enveloped him like a prison. His movements were frantic, an unsettling mix of desperation and fear painted across his face.

Witnessing this tore at my heart; I knew it was for his own safety. The last thing we wanted was for him to injure himself, and handcuffs would only exacerbate his turmoil. Instead, this was meant to keep him safe, to shield him from himself, but the sight was almost unbearable. I could only stand there, feeling utterly helpless as he fought against the restraints that held him captive.

"Jungkook... Please... Stop." I whispered as I approached him with trembling knees. You will hurt yourself. "

At my voice, he stopped struggling. And what I feared most happened.

"You. It's all because of you, " he said in a low voice. "I hate you. I hate the moment our paths crossed.

You wait until I get out of here. I will make you regret ever being born. "

His words should have hurt me more than anything.

But his tears hurt me the most.

Why were you crying?

Why were you looking at me like that?

"I hate you," his voice trailed off, tears leaving his eyes one by one.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry. If I say I did all of this for your safety, would you believe me? "

"No."

"If I say I love you in my way, would you believe me? "

***

He didn't utter a single word. Jungkook felt a suffocating weight in his chest; it was as if the very act of speaking had escaped him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, their salty warmth blurring your face into a hazy silhouette. Each blink only brought more frustration as he struggled to focus on you, the person standing before him in this moment of raw vulnerability.

Yet, despite the turmoil within him, he was still capable of a resolute shake of his head, a silent rejection of the words you had just spoken.

A soft hand brushed through his tousled hair, a gentle gesture that seemed to cut through the heaviness of the atmosphere. "I know a part of you cares about me," you continued, your voice laced with both determination and a hint of desperation, hoping to break through the wall he had built around himself.

Jungkook's eyes sparkled with defiance. "You wish," he retorted, casting a scathing glare that betrayed an underlying pain. The intensity of his gaze was fierce, yet it was marred by the unshed tears that continued to fall.

"Then why are you crying?" you pressed, your concern evident. His tears felt like a hurricane of emotions, one that he couldn't seem to reign in, swirling uncontrollably as he grappled with the conflict in his heart.

***

His Pov

It was indeed a profound and challenging question, one that echoed in the depths of my mind.

Why am I crying?

Why does it hurt so deeply?

I struggled to recall the last time tears had rolled down my cheeks. It felt like a distant memory, buried under layers of unexpressed emotions.

But now, I could not hold back the flood that had overtaken me.

It hurt in ways I couldn't articulate. A nagging ache lodged itself in my chest, tightening like a vice, leaving me gasping for release.

You took away my freedom-the one thing I desperately craved.

And here I was again, trapped in this cycle of despair. Bound and drugged, I felt completely at the mercy of others. Once vibrant with promise, my life had slipped through my fingers like sand. It never truly belonged to me; it was like a puppet on strings, manipulated by those who believed they knew better than I did.

They dictated what was right and wrong for me, assuming control over inherently mine choices.

I wanted back my stolen life, the one that had been so recklessly taken from me.

I yearned for the unbearable pain that consumed me to dissipate, for a reprieve that would allow me to breathe freely again. But it lingered, a constant weight upon my chest.

Your presence only intensified the agony.

"No one will ever hurt you," you promised, your voice laced with an earnest conviction.

"But you are hurting me," I shot back, desperation creeping into my tone.

I watched as your eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"I am so sorry." The softness in your voice reverberated through me as you enveloped me in your arms, offering a fragile comfort. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I've made mistakes, but I can't let you destroy yourself."

But this was my life. If I chose to wander towards the edge, to leap from a precipice, I believed I had the right to make that choice, to forge my path. Why did you have to intervene in my fate?

"I want a chance for you," you insisted, a fervent plea in your tone. "I want to show you a world so different from what you know. There's so much beauty out there that you've never had the opportunity to experience. I want to see you smile... just once."

"Why?" I asked, frustration mingling with sorrow. "Why can't you just let me be?"

"Because I can't." Your voice trembled with emotion. "Because I have to try. Because I love you and don't know how to convey that to you."

As I closed my eyes, new tears spilled down my cheeks-hot and unrelenting, stinging as they fell. Damn him. This vulnerable side of me was always on the verge of breaking, always compelled to cry. Damn him for igniting those feelings I'd tried to suppress.

(He referred to the playboy)

I shifted closer to you, turning my head to find you pressing your face into my cheek, and for a fleeting moment, I couldn't decipher whose tears were streaming down-yours or mine.

Who would ever want someone like me?

Why did it seem that everyone gravitated toward unconventional people who didn't fit perfectly into the mold?

What was it about me that drew you in?

Didn't it wear you out-caring for someone as lost as I was?