Chapter 114

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Now welcome to the chapter of suffering!! 🥲

Present time.

Hyunwoo’s voice was quiet. Measured. Like a man carefully carrying something fragile across a very long distance.

“When you lose someone you love the most…. You cry for them once like the whole world has ended and then you never cry again.” He paused. “That’s what happened to Kook. He cried so hard that night. And when hyung checked on him the next morning…. he was burning with fever and had fainted where he lay.”

No one spoke. Everyone was having tears. Jin just sat there. Still.

“When he woke up he didn’t cry. He didn’t speak. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room.” Hyunwoo looked down briefly. Then continued.

“Hyung and I tried everything we could think of to reach him. But he just…. Didnt say anything. One day passed. Then two. Then a week. Then a month.” He exhaled slowly. “He didn’t open his mouth. Not even a single word. He didn’t smile. He didn’t cry loud. If he was in pain he didn’t say so. If he felt unwell he didn’t say that either. He just became completely silent. Like something inside him had simply switched off.”

The room was absolutely still. Ha-ein was looking at him like he was saying some foreign words which was never familiar to get. No one. Not even a single person. All these years she believed the false and made up hope that Jungkook was soooooo happy with his dad.

“He didn’t go outside. He didn’t go to school. He didn’t go to the mafia. He didn’t go anywhere.” Hyunwoo’s voice dropped lower. “He locked himself in his room for almost a full year. Hyung tried everything therapists, doctors, specialists. Jungkook didn’t cooperate with any of them. He ate when he felt like it, which wasn’t often. Other days he didn’t eat at all just survived on IV drips. Sometimes an entire week would pass with nothing. Just the IV keeping him alive.”

“And he literally got severe panic attacks like every week! Sometimes 1 sometimes even more than 2!” Haein pressed a hand over her mouth.

Jin sat completely still.

“He was very depressed,” Hyunwoo said. Simply. Like the word alone carried everything that needed to be said. “And hyung…. hyung regretted everything. He tried talking to Jungkook every day. No response. He apologised genuinely, repeatedly. No response. And then sometimes….” Hyunwoo’s jaw tightened.

“Sometimes the silence made hyung lose control. He would yell at him. Beat him thinking that if the pain was bad enough, Jungkook would at least tell him to stop. Would say something. Anything.” He stopped.

He gulped and spoke “But Jungkook never said a word. He just…. took it. Until he fainted. Every time.” The silence in the room was a different kind now. Heavier. Colder.

“That entire year everyone in that house almost forgot what his voice sounded like.”

No one moved. No one spoke. Several faces were wet with tears that had fallen without anyone noticing.

Hyunwoo took a slow breath. “And then….” He stopped. Started again. “It was a week before his birthday ” He looked up.

“He attempted suicide.” The three words landed heavily.

The gasps were immediate sharp and involuntary, cutting through the silence like something breaking. More tears fell. Haein made a small, broken sound. Someone’s breath hitched audibly. Except jin. Who sat completely still.

Hyunwoo sat there and let it land. Because it needed to land.

Because they needed to understand fully, completely, without any softening exactly what that year had done to Jungkook. What all of it had done to him. And how close, how devastatingly close, they had all come to losing him before any of them even knew he needed to be found.

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Flashback#6

It was five in the morning.

Jungkook jolted awake from the nightmare gasping, his body already drenched in cold sweat before he was fully conscious. The hallucination faded slowly Suho’s face, bloody and still, dissolving back into the shadows of the room.

He sat there on the edge of the bed. Breathing hard. Pressing his fingers against his temples, which were throbbing relentlessly.

He slowly took the glass of water beside the bed with trembling hands, he slowly held it with both of his hands, he felt weak. He slowly sipped the water.

His whole body ached. Kim had beaten him yesterday. The bruises were still fresh deep and sore, running across his back and ribs in patterns he no longer bothered to counted.

Once calmed he looked around his room. It was dark except the faint yellow light which he didn’t on but his dad or samchoon.

He looked at the messy room, glasses shattered, papers tired, food trays on the side tables, clothes thrown. It was such a mess.

He slowly stood up wincing at how his legs ached cuz of the cane his dad used last night to beat him.

He walked to his study table. He slowly pulled the chair out and sat on it, he opened the drawer and slowly took a leather covered diary. He opened it slowly, the first page had his name neatly written in Italy.

He took the pen with trembling hands and wrote the date. 24th August. He slowly wrote something in Italian.

At last he wrote something in English. After completing it. He walked to the bed again. He reached for the drawer beside the bed and opened it. Inside the pills. The same benzos. His hand closed around the bottle and he sat there holding it, staring at it for a long moment He opened the bottle.

Some of the pills spilled scattering across the floor, small and quiet, rolling into the shadows.

There were a lot of them. He looked at them for a moment. Without hesitation. Not even a bit of hesitation. He took all of them at once. Swallowed them down with a glass of water. Then he set the empty bottle on the nightstand and lay back down on the bed slowly, carefully like he was simply going to sleep.

Like nothing had happened at all. He stared at the ceiling.

The effect began almost immediately soft at first, creeping in at the edges. A heaviness behind his eyes. A haziness settling over everything, blurring the corners of the room. His breathing grew shallow without him trying to make it so.

He felt it happening and didn’t fight it.

He pulled the blanket around himself curling inward, tucking his knees up, pressing his face into the fabric. His eyes closed. And everything went black.

Meanwhile with Kim

Down the hall, in his own room, Kim was pacing.

“I don’t know what to do, Hyunwoo!” His voice came through the phone tight and fraying at the edges. “You think I want to see him like this? I have tried everything! everything! He won’t open his mouth. He won’t respond. When I….” he stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. “Even…. When I hit him he doesn’t even ask me to stop. He doesn’t say anything. It just….” his voice cracked slightly with something that wasn’t quite anger and wasn’t quite grief. “It makes me lose my mind more than anything.”

“Hyung.” Hyunwoo’s voice on the other end was sharp and controlled. “It doesn’t matter what frustrates you. You don’t get to beat him for it. This isn’t about making him speak to you what you’re doing is abuse. He has had four severe panic attacks. He spent an entire week in hospital. He is deeply, seriously depressed cuz of you!” Hyunwoo spatted.

“YES! MINE!” Kim’s voice rose. “Mine! I know it’s mine! I know I made him pull that trigger and I know what that did to him do you think I don’t know that? But Hyunwoo, if I hadn’t made him do it that day, if those records had burned!” he stopped. Exhaled hard. “It was worth billions. Billions. We wouldn’t have anything left.”

“Oh, hyung.” Hyunwoo’s voice dropped not softer, but heavier. Weighted with something that had run out of patience entirely. “It is money. That is all it is. When did money come before your own son? He is traumatized. He is eighteen years old and he is completely broken and you are the reason for most of it.”

“Thanks for reminding me!” Kim snapped. “And I know how to handle my own son! Just come home quickly. He didn’t eat a single spoon yesterday. Not one.”

He hung up. The room went quiet.

Kim stood there for a moment phone in hand, chest rising and falling staring at nothing.

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Kim got himself ready. It was 6:21 in the morning.

He stood in front of the mirror for a moment and exhaled slowly. “Be calm,” he told his own reflection. “Even if he doesn’t say anything…. just be calm. He is just a child.”

He said it like a reminder. Like something he needed to keep telling himself until it stuck.

He walked to the kitchen and sent the maids out. Then he stood there alone and made a banana milkshake simple, quiet, hands moving through the familiar motions. Jungkook had always liked banana milkshakes. He held onto that small fact like it meant something.

He carried it down the corridor and pushed open Jungkook’s door.

The room was dim and dark as always, curtains drawn, the air heavy and still. Jungkook was lying on his side, back facing the door, completely motionless beneath the blanket.

Kim turned on the light soft, not harsh. He set the milkshake on the bedside table and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.

“Kook-ah….” His voice came out gentle. Measured. “Appa made your favourite shake. Just drink a little just a little, please.”

Silence. “Kook-ah…. I’m sorry about yesterday. I got frustrated when you wouldn’t eat, and I’m sorry.” He paused. “I’m sorry.” He said. Voice so soft. It wasnt Kim Yoonseong right now. He was appa.

Still nothing. Kim sighed quietly. He reached down and took hold of the blanket.

Jungkook didn’t fight back.

Kim stilled for just a second because Jungkook always fought back for the blanket, always, without fail, every single time but he pushed the thought aside and pulled it away slowly.

Jungkook was wearing a half-sleeve shirt and trousers. He was lying completely still, back still turned, face hidden against the pillow.

Kim placed his hand gently on Jungkook’s shoulder. The belt marks from yesterday were visible along his arm dark and fresh and ugly And Kim’s hand landed near them without meaning to.

He froze. The skin beneath his palm was cold. Not the ordinary cold of a room at night. Something deeper than that. Something wrong.

“Kook-ah….” He shook him lightly. “Hey. Please, just drink a little….” No response.

“Kook-ah.” He shook him again harder this time. Still nothing. Not even the smallest flinch or shift. That’s when he noticed the pill box which he strictly said no to. It was empty. He looked down the floor it was spilled a little.

Kim’s chest tightened. Panic rose.

He reached over and turned Jungkook toward him one hand on his shoulder, guiding him gently onto his back.

Jungkook’s head fell limply against the pillow.

Kim’s breath stopped. His son’s lips were blue.

Cold sweat covered his forehead, glistening in the pale morning light. His face was slack and grey and completely, terrifyingly still.

“K-Ko-Kook-ah—” Kim’s voice came out as barely a whisper.

He grabbed his son’s shoulders. “Hey… hey, baby! Kook-ah!” He patted his cheeks once, twice, faster. “Look at appa! Open your eyes come on hey…”

Nothing.

Kim’s hand flew to the side of Jungkook’s neck, pressing two fingers against the pulse point.

It was there. Barely. Slow and faint and terrifyingly weak like a thread pulled almost to its breaking point.

“Kook-ah!” Kim’s voice broke completely. He gathered his son into his arms limp, cold, weightless in a way that felt all wrong and held him against his chest, one hand pressing against his cheek, his own tears falling without him registering them. “Hey! hey baby! look at appa… please! what happened to you? appa is sorry please look at me kookah–“

The door burst open. Hyunwoo. Still in his jacket from the drive over, chest heaving, eyes scanning the room in one instant.

They landed on Jungkook.

“Hyun-ah” Kim’s voice was nothing now. Just broken pieces of sound. “He-he won’t wake up…. his pulse…. it’s so lowand he’s cold, he’s so cold…”

Hyunwoo crossed the room in three steps and dropped beside them. “Hey Jungkook-ie! Hey, baby look at samchoon!” His hands went to Jungkook’s face immediately, checking, assessing, his own voice cracking despite himself. “Hey Kook-ah”

No response. Hyunwoo straightened. His jaw set hard.

“This is because of you, hyung.” His voice came out low and shaking and absolute. He was already pulling out his phone, already dialling. “All of this because of you.”

He pressed the phone to his ear and spoke quickly, clearly, his other hand staying on Jungkook’s wrist fingers pressed against that faint, fragile pulse as if keeping contact with it could somehow keep it from disappearing entirely.

Kim sat there on the bed. Holding his son’s limp body against his chest.

Crying in a way he hadn’t cried in years quiet and completely undone rocking slightly without realising it, pressing his lips against Jungkook’s cold forehead, whispering things that weren’t words anymore.

Just sounds. Just a father, finally understanding too late, always too late what he had done

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They waited outside the ER.

Jungkook had been rushed in as an emergency the moment the ambulance arrived. The doors had closed behind the medical team and hadn’t opened since.

Kim paced. Back and forth, back and forth unable to be still, unable to sit, unable to do anything except move and breathe and try not to fall apart in the middle of a hospital corridor. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He pressed them together, then shoved them into his pockets, then pressed them together again.

Hyunwoo sat in one of the chairs against the wall. Hands clasped, head bowed, eyes closed.

Praying.

An hour passed. The ER doors opened.

Dr. Hwang stepped out. His expression was composed in the careful way of someone who had delivered news like this before and knew exactly how much weight each word carried.

“How is he?” Kim’s voice came out immediately tight and stripped of everything except the question itself.

“He’s stable,” Dr. Hwang said. “He had taken more than ten benzodiazepines. It was a significant overdose.” A pause. “He attempted suicide.”

The words landed in the corridor like something physical.

Kim felt the air leave his body completely. He stood there mouth slightly open, utterly unable to respond the sentence playing over again in the space where his thoughts should have been.

Hyunwoo rose slowly from his chair.

“He will regain consciousness within a few hours,” Dr. Hwang continued. “Please…. take care of him.” He held Kim’s gaze for just a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned and walked back through the doors.

The corridor was silent.

Hyunwoo stood completely still. Staring at the floor. Then at the ceiling. Then at nothing in particular.

The minutes passed. Then he spoke quietly, and with the unmistakable tone of someone who had already made their decision and was not asking for permission.

“I’m taking him to my apartment.” He didn’t look at Kim when he said it. “He will stay with me from now on. And if you want your son to have any chance at living a normal life….” he paused “don’t interfere with that.”

Kim said nothing.

He just stood there. Still shaking. Eyes fixed on the ER doors.

He didn’t argue. Cuz he couldn’t.

An hour later

Kim was inside the room with Jungkook. Sitting beside the bed, not speaking, not moving just there watching his unconscious son

Hyunwoo sat outside in the corridor.

He held his phone in both hands for a long moment turning it over, setting it down, picking it up again. Hesitating.

He searched the contact. JIN. He hesitated. He was trying to call him. Cuz right now jin need to know everything. But his heart was saying no. His heart said to not to break the already broken boy who just got recovered and smiled again. He just couldn’t.

But his brain was telling at him to tell everything at once. To make them know how their maknae was. How their beliefs is all a lie.

And that moment he listened to his Brain and called his nephew.

It rang twice. Then

“Samchoon!”

Jin’s voice. Warm and bright and completely ordinary the voice of someone having a perfectly normal day, completely untouched by any of this.

Something in Hyunwoo’s chest cracked open quietly.

“How are you doing, Jin-ah?” he asked. He kept his voice even. Steady.

“Oh, I’m doing great, Samchoon! Are you in Italy?” Jin asked.

“Mm,” Hyunwoo hummed.

“Mm.” A comfortable pause. “How is Kook doing? He’s in his senior year now, right?”

Still warm. Still easy. Like asking about the weather.

And the next moment he heard another voice “is it samchoon?” It was tae. As usual his voice all bubbly and warm. Jin hummed. “Ahhh SAMCHOON! TAE TAE MISSES YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!” tae yelled in the phone.

“Yahhh taehyungahhh!” Jin groaned in the other side.

Hyunwoo felt it move through him like something scalding from the top of his head down to his feet. His eyes filled instantly.

And he let his brain to not win. His heart won again. He can’t let them be disappointed. They can’t know about their brother’s miserable state for their own sake.

And his heart won.

“Miss you too bear…. and yeah# He’s fine,” he said. “And yes…. s-senior year.” The lie came out the same way it always did. Smooth. Practised. Completely convincing.

And again, he thought. And again, and again, and fucking again.

“Ahh my maknae’s birthday is next week! Is he tall? How may feet? Hyung do you think he will be taller than me?” Tae asked all soft just completely unaware of everything.

Hyunwoo chuckled through tears. “He is 5’6 tae! He’ll surely be your height some day!” He said through tears.

And just like that they spoke for a bit. Still warm and lively. Just like everytime.

“Take care of yourself, hmm?” Hyunwoo said voice soft.

“We are talking care of him soooo good samchoon don’t worry! Our alpaca is sooo good these days!” Tae spoke. “Yahhh stop calling me alpaca! I am not!” Jin yelled through the phone.

“And samchoon don’t worry! I am good! As he said they are here!” Jin said!

Hyunwoo closed his eyes. “Good,” he said softly. “That’s good, Jin-ah.”

He sat there for a moment after the call ended phone in his lap, eyes still closed listening to the silence of the hospital corridor around him.

Jin was doing well. Jin was happy.

And Hyunwoo would carry every single one of these lies alone for as long as it took because the alternative was them knowing. And them knowing meant them coming home (coming to know the truth all!) And them coming home meant all of this becoming real in a way that couldn’t be taken back.

He wiped his eyes quietly.

And sat there alone in the corridor, outside the room where his nephew lay unconscious from an overdose. From the suiside.

While on the other side of the world, Jin laughed about something and had no idea at all.

(End of flashback #6)

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