FALLING FOR YOU | KM [✓]°

2. Arranged Marriage

weeks had turned into months, and jungkook was no longer the same person. the warmth that once lit up his eyes had vanished completely. he now despised hanuel with a quiet, burning hatred that never quite left his chest. more than that, he despised the word “like” and everything tied to the idea of love. those words felt poisoned, fake, dangerous.

when they first met, jungkook hadn’t felt even the smallest spark of attraction or desire toward hanuel. the younger boy had been the one who chased him—always appearing wherever jungkook went, sending messages, showing up with small gifts, smiling too brightly, following him like a shadow that refused to fade. at first jungkook found it annoying, then tiring, and finally… endearing in a strange way. he gave in. he gave hanuel a chance. slowly, carefully, he let himself grow fond of the boy. he started to like him. really like him. and then came the heartbreak that ripped everything apart.

the apartment that once held their quiet evenings, their shared laughter, their late-night talks, now felt like a prison. every corner reminded him of hanuel—the couch they used to curl up on, the kitchen where they cooked together, the bed where they used to cuddle sometimes. he couldn’t breathe in that space anymore. so he moved back in with his parents. he listed the flat for sale without a second thought. he wanted it gone. he wanted every trace of that life erased.

day by day jungkook was changing into someone colder, harder, emptier. he became a workaholic who barely remembered to eat or sleep. work was the only thing that made sense anymore. it kept his mind occupied, kept the memories at bay, kept the pain from swallowing him whole. he didn’t care about his health, didn’t care about the dark circles under his eyes, didn’t care that his cheeks had grown hollow or that his once strong frame was thinning out. he just worked. work, work, and more work.

the jeon family watched their son fade right in front of them and it broke their hearts. in his place stood a quiet, distant man who spoke in short sentences, avoided eye contact, and spent most of his time locked away in his childhood bedroom with his laptop.

mrs. jeon tried everything. she cooked his favorite meals, left notes on his door, knocked gently to ask if he needed anything. most of the time he answered with a flat “i’m fine” or “i’m busy.” sometimes he didn’t answer at all. she would stand outside his door, listening to the faint tapping of keys, feeling helpless. it crushed her to see him like this.

one evening, after yet another failed attempt to get him to eat, mrs. jeon returned to the living room and sank down beside her husband on the sofa. she let out a long, tired sigh. her shoulders slumped and her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

mr. jeon noticed immediately. he placed a gentle arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“did he eat anything?” he asked softly.

mrs. jeon shook her head, eyes already filling with tears.

“he refused again. when i tried to insist, he just… locked the door and said he had to work on a new project.” her voice cracked as the image of her son flashed in her mind—pale skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones, eyes dull and tired, body noticeably thinner. “he looks so sick, honey. so tired. i can’t bear it.”

tears slipped down her cheeks. she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs, but they came anyway.

mr. jeon tightened his hold and let her cry against his shoulder. his own chest ached. he hated seeing his wife in pain, hated even more seeing his son destroy himself. they had always given jungkook everything—love, support, freedom to choose his own path. they never pressured him, never judged him. and now he was slipping away in front of them.