Chapter 120

It was 7 PM.

Dr. Hwang entered Jungkook’s room with a nurse, moving quietly so as not to disturb the stillness. Hyunwoo was still there sitting in the same chair, Jungkook’s hand held loosely in his. He was visibly tired, the exhaustion written into every line of his face. But he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t left for a single second.

Hwang bowed to him. Hyunwoo nodded back.”How is he feeling?” Hwang asked, eyes already moving to the monitor as he began checking the vitals.

“A little better,” Hyunwoo said quietly. “Did he eat?” “A little.” Hwang nodded, reaching for his stethoscope and placing it carefully against Jungkook’s chest listening. “Any pain?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Hyunwoo said. “But he was uncomfortable.”

Hwang nodded again, finishing his assessment. “I’ll rebandage the wound and give him his medications.” He glanced at Hyunwoo. “I’ll be as gentle as possible.” Hyunwoo nodded.

Hwang began carefully unhurried, precise undoing the buttons of the hospital gown one by one. Then, with both hands steady and slow, he peeled back the old bandage. Layer by layer. Taking his time.

Hyunwoo watched Jungkook’s face the entire time.

Hwang began to clean the wound soft, careful movements, cotton against skin. Barely any pressure at all.

But still Jungkook whimpered. Small and involuntary, his brow knitting together even in sleep.

Hwang stopped immediately.

Hyunwoo leaned in, his hand moving to Jungkook’s cheek patting softly, rubbing slow circles against his temple. Waiting until the tension in his face eased before giving Hwang the quiet nod to continued.

Once the wound was cleaned, Hwang rebandaged it carefully with fresh dressing smooth and neat, securing it without putting any unnecessary pressure on the surrounding area.

“Hold him for me,” Hwang said quietly. “I need to give him two injections.”

Hyunwoo shifted moving closer, turning Jungkook’s head gently toward his chest, one hand cradling it there.

Hwang rolled up the sleeve and wiped the injection site carefully with an alcohol swab. Then he took the first syringe and inserted the needle with practiced precision.

Jungkook whimpered in his sleep. His eyebrows pulled together sharply face scrunching fingers twitching against the mattress.

“It’s okay,” Hyunwoo said softly, close to his ear. “I’m here. Just sleep.”

When Hwang withdrew the needle, Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open just barely. Drowsy and confused, blinking slowly, not quite understanding where he was or what was happening.

He felt the cold of the alcohol swab again the preparation for the second injection and tried to turn his head to look.

Hyunwoo was there immediately. Gently redirecting him. “It’s okay. It’s just Hwang samchoon. No one else. You’re safe.”

Jungkook looked at him glassy and unfocused and barely there and then whimpered again as the second needle went in.

“No…..” he mumbled. His voice hoarse and heavy and half-dissolved in sleep. “I’m here,” Hyunwoo said. “Almost done.”

Hwang withdrew the needle cleanly and immediately pressed his thumb against the site rubbing small gentle circles to ease the sting. “That’s it. All done. Its okay.”

Jungkook lay there tears tracking silently down his temples, eyes already falling closed again. Hyunwoo kept speaking to him in soft, low words nothing specific, just sound, just warmth until the tension drained out of him completely and his breathing deepened back into sleep.

Hyunwoo exhaled slowly.

“He can be discharged tomorrow evening,” Hwang said quietly, snapping off his gloves. “His vitals are stable and the wound is healing well. Just make sure he rests.”

Hyunwoo nodded. The nurse stepped forward and changed the IV line efficiently and without fuss. Hwang did a final check of the monitor, noted something in his chart, and then bowed once more.

The door closed softly behind them. The room settled back into quiet.

Hyunwoo looked at Jungkook’s sleeping face tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, brow smooth now, breathing slow and even and let himself sit back fully in his chair for the first time in hours.

He was so tired. But he didn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand.

The door opened slowly. Tae stepped in pausing just inside the doorway for a moment, eyes moving straight to the bed. “He’s asleep?” he asked quietly. Hyunwoo nodded.

Tae walked over. He stood beside the bed and looked at Jungkook’s face at the stillness of it, at the way sleep had smoothed everything out and left only the quiet peace underneath. He looked younger like this. He always had.

“The doctor said he can be discharged tomorrow,” Tae said softly. “He can,” Hyunwoo said. “Don’t worry. He will be fine.”

Tae didn’t respond to that. He just reached out slowly, carefully and let his fingers move gently through Jungkook’s hair. Just once. Just lightly. Like he needed to feel that he was actually there.

“I hope so,” he murmured. Barely sound.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Neither of them speaking. Just the quiet of the room and the soft beeping of the monitor and Tae standing there with his hand resting lightly in his brother’s hair.

Then Hyunwoo spoke. “Tae-ya.” His voice came out low. A little rough at the edges. “I’m sorry.” Tae didn’t respond immediately.

He stayed looking at Jungkook for a long moment still, quiet, processing something before he finally spoke.

“I understand that you were with him, Samchoon.” His voice was measured. Not angry. Just honest in the careful way of someone who had already spent their anger and was left with only the truth underneath it.

“I know you were there for him when none of us were. I know you did everything you could.” A pause. “And I am so grateful for that. More than I know how to say. That you were there that you took care of him more than we did, more than his own father did….” his voice caught slightly. “I will never stop being thankful for that. Not ever.”

Hyunwoo looked at him. “But….” Tae exhaled slowly. “You could have told just one of us, Samchoon. Just one person. That’s all I keep coming back to.” He finally looked over meeting Hyunwoo’s eyes directly, his own carrying something quiet and immovable. “Not everything. Not all at once. Just one word. One call. Just enough for one of us to know he needed us.” He looked back at Jungkook. “That’s the only thing I got angry about. That’s the only thing I couldn’t understand.”

He finished speaking. And the room went quiet again. Hyunwoo looked down at his hands.

The guilt which had lived in him for years, which he had learned to carry quietly and keep out of sight shifted under Tae’s words. Pressed deeper. Settled into somewhere it hadn’t quite reached before.

Because there was no argument to make.

He had told himself every reason. Jin was still healing. The timing was never right. Jungkook needed protecting. The truth would break more than it fixed.

He had believed all of those reasons. He had chosen to believe them. But underneath every single one of them  quiet and unanswered and sitting there still He could have said something.

He sat there in the dim room beside his sleeping nephew and held that truth without anywhere to put it.

He could have. And he hadn’t. Why?

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The next evening. Kim Mansion.

Both of them the oldest and youngest Kim had been discharged.

Jungkook was in his bed wrapped entirely in his blanket like a cocoon, only the top of his head visible, his silky hair spilling out across the pillow in soft, dark waves. His face, what little was visible, was completely relaxed. Peaceful in the quiet way.

Jin stood near the bed. Not sitting. Just standing looking down at his youngest brother with an expression that was difficult to name. Not grief exactly. Not relief exactly. Something that lived in the space between the two.

Tae sat at the foot of the bed, eyes fixed on Jungkook’s sleeping face. He hadn’t said anything in a while. He was just watching. Like he was making sure. Like looking away for too long felt dangerous.

Hyunwoo placed a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “He’s calm now,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry.” Jin nodded once. His eyes didn’t move from Jungkook.

After discharge, Jungkook hadn’t screamed or cried or panicked. He had just existed quietly beside them. Looking down at the floor mostly. Not speaking to anyone unless directly asked something and even then, just a nod or a small shake of the head. Nothing more than that. He had eaten a little in the afternoon, obediently and without tantrums, after returning home his body had simply given out. Sleep taking him before he had even fully settled into the bed.

The room was soft and dim. The curtains drawn against the evening light, letting only a thin warm line of gold through at the edges.

“Is he….” Tae started. Then stopped. Then tried again, his voice careful and a little hesitant. “Is he still scared? Of us?” Hyunwoo looked at him. A small nod. “A little,” he said softly. “Still a little.” Tae looked back at Jungkook.

Nobody said anything after that.

They just stayed Jin standing, Tae sitting, Hyunwoo nearby all of them looking at the boy wrapped up in his blanket in the middle of the bed. The boy they loved most.

And they just stayed with him Because that was all there was to do. And it was enough.

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Somewhere.

Jungkook stood in the middle of a room.

Around him nothing. Just black. Stretching in every direction, endless and heavy and pressing in from all sides. He turned slowly, looking for something familiar, something solid.

There was nothing. Then he looked down. His hands were visible. Suddenly it started bleeding. Lot. Many. Jungkook’s breath hitched “no….” He started scratching his hand crying, “noooo!” He cried but the blood was more. It only bleeded more. Scars stared spreading. He breathed heavily.

Suddenly the blood vanished.  Instead….. The gun was in his hand.

He hadn’t picked it up. It was just there. Cold and heavy and already familiar in the worst possible way.

He looked up. Jin was standing in front of him.

In the exact same position Suho had been in, years ago. Same distance. Same stillness. Same inevitability hanging in the air between them.

And beside Jin Tae. On the ground. Not moving. A bullet wound on his head. Another on his chest. His eyes closed.

Jungkook’s whole body shook.

“No….” he whispered. Broken and barely sound. “No….. not my hyungies… please” he started taking steps back. Crying.

“Come on.” Jin’s voice but wrong. Distorted. Furious. “Kill me. Just like you killed Suho Hyung. You know how. You’re good at it.” His eyes were cold. “You’re a killer.”

“No…..” Jungkook shook his head frantically, taking a step back. “No…. I won’t…. I didn’t….”

“KILL HIM.” Emilio’s voice from somewhere in the dark, surrounding him on all sides, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Jungkook spun around.

Kim stood behind him. Standing completely still. Looking directly at Jungkook with empty, expressionless eyes. Like he was looking through him. Like he wasn’t there at all.

“Appa….” Jungkook’s voice cracked. “Appa, please….” Kim didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t turn.

Just stood there and looked through him.

“FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY!” Jin’s voice screaming now… Suddenly without jungkook’s will his hands were rised up. The gunshot rang out. Jin fell with a loud thud.

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“HYUNGG” Jungkook jolted upright.

His whole body lurched with the force of it gasping, hands flying out to catch himself, the scream still echoing somewhere between the nightmare and the room. He sat there chest heaving, sweat running down his neck and temples and soaking through the back of his shirt.

He looked around.

His room. His actual room. The familiar walls, the furniture, the soft amber glow of the lamp in the corner casting everything in warm, quiet gold.

He was here. He was awake.

He pressed his hand against his bandaged chest feeling it rise and fall, rise and fall and tried to slow it down. Tried to remind himself.

“It’s j-just a nightmare,” he mumbled. His voice came out hoarse and trembling and barely convincing. “It’s just a nightmare…. It’s nothing…. It’s not real….”

But the image of Jin standing there in Suho’s place, with Suho’s stillness, waiting for a bullet wouldn’t leave. It sat behind his eyes and refused to dissolve the way dreams were supposed to.

His hands were shaking. “Not them…. Not my hyungs…. Please…” He mumbled lowly. Tears fell.

He sat there for a few minutes hunched forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in both palms and just breathed. Just tried to breathe. Tears fell through the gaps in his fingers, dropping silently onto the blanket below.

“No….” he mumbled into his hands. Small and exhausted and impossibly tired. “No…. Not hyungs…. I am sorry”

Not a word directed at anyone Just the only sound his body knew how to make right now.

After a few minutes of trying to steady himself, Jungkook slowly extended his right hand toward the glass of water on the bedside table.

His hand was trembling. His wrist ached from the injury a deep, persistent throb that flared with every movement. His fingers found the glass and closed around it….It slipped.

The glass hit the floor with a sharp, loud crack and shattered.

Jungkook flinched at the sound hitting him like a gunshot in the quiet room and then went completely still. His hand was still outstretched, hovering over the empty space where the glass had been.

He looked down at the broken pieces scattered across the floor.

The tears that had been flowing slowly just stopped. Like something had been switched off. He stared at the glass.

“Fucking kill me already.” Jin’s voice. From the nightmare. Still echoing.

“Just kill me just like you killed Suho hyungie.”Another voice layering over it.

“You. Killed. Him.” Jin’s real voice this time calm and angry and certain, from that day in the mansion that felt like a lifetime ago and also like five minutes ago.

Jungkook stared at the broken pieces on the floor.

“I am a killer,” he mumbled. Flat. Empty. Like he was simply reading something that had always been written there.

And then the voice inside his head not anyone else’s voice this time, just his own began.

You will kill them too.

You are a curse

You are a selfish

You know you will kill them too.

They will figure it out eventually.

They will be ashamed to call you their brother.

A killer as a brother.

You will destroy them the same way you destroyed everything else.

You will kill them too.

You will kill them too.

You will kill them too….

“I will kill them too….” he whispered slowly. His eyes still fixed on the glass. “Only If…. If I’m still alive.”

The words sat in the room.

Then, “I don’t want to.” Barely a whisper. Cracked and small and desperately sincere. “I don’t want t-to b-be a k-killer anymore.”

He just sat there in the lamplight staring at the broken pieces just like how his heart is. Completely alone with the wreckage.

Slowly, Jungkook leaned down.

His fingers found a piece of the broken glass on the floor and he picked it up. The edge caught his already injured hand immediately, slicing clean through the skin. He felt it. He just didn’t care.

He held the piece steady in his palm. Looking at it. Turning it slightly in the lamplight.

Then he looked at his left wrist.

At the vein there. Pale and visible beneath the skin.

“I shouldn’t be alive, I don’t want to kill anyone…. Not my hyungs” he mumbled. His voice was completely flat. No tears. No trembling. Just the quiet, certain voice of someone who had thought about this for a very long time and had finally run out of reasons to argue against it.

He held the glass tighter.

Blood was already running from his palm slow and dark, dripping onto the blanket below. He didn’t look at it.

He positioned the glass against his left wrist.

No tears. Just numb. Just still. Just the lamp burning quietly in the corner and the sound of his own shallow breathing and the glass pressed cold against his skin.

He pressed down. A small line of blood appeared thin, immediate.

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