𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ⁴¹

-Jungkook's POV-

It's been hard watching Tae struggle, that's for sure. I realize that I'm falling in love with him more and more every single day, and as cliche as that is, I can't help but to admit it.

I hate seeing him pain. I know he can't help it, but I just want him to get better. Hopefully now that his parents know, he'll start on his way to recovery.

I hope I hope I hope.

As for me, I have no idea what'll happen. Tae wants to help me as well, but what's it going to do? Nothing in my life never actually goes well, except for having Tae, and even that I almost fucked up completely. He almost died, for Christ's sake. It was my fault. My fucking fault.

I want to tell myself that I shouldn't be with Tae, not if I'm just going to screw it all up, but I just love him so damn much. So I'll just keep pushing though. I'll cross my fingers and hope to God that we can work this out.

I sigh, picking my bag up from off the floor of my bedroom. It's Saturday night, and I was hoping to go hang out with Tae, but that also means risking going past my drunk father who's passed out on the couch. Before you ask, he really doesn't get drunk that often. Just once in while, and then he usually sleeps it off. The thing is, he's been even worse then usual. I have countless bruises and scrapes all over my body; nothing too bad. It's just there.

I'm just scared that one day he won't stop. I tiptoe my way down the stairs in the dark. Unfortunately, I forget that my mother had placed a giant bag of old books that she had wanted to get rid of at the bottom of the stairs. Honestly, why the fuck would you put a pile of fucking books at the bottom of the fucking stairs?? Why?

I let out a loud yelp as I crash ungracefully into the blasted things, followed by a string of colorful curse words. I hop around, holding my injured foot and swearing like a sailor.

Although, immediately go silent when I hear rustling in the living room, where my dad is sleeping on the couch.

Shit.

My father quickly appears, rubbing his face and glaring from his little beady red eyes. "The fuck is going on here?" He growls, staring me down.

"Sorry, Dad," I say submissively. "I just tripped."

He looks me up and down. "The hell you did. Where do you think you're going?

I slouch further into myself. "Um. I was going to chill with the boys and stuff." He scoffs. "Yeah right. You mean you were going to see the little faggot kid, weren't you?"

I scowl at him. "Don't call him a faggot."

My dad laughs. Well, more like snorts unattractively. "You defending your boyfriend?"

"Yes, actually," I shout. "He's my boyfriend. I love him and you're going to have to deal with it."

He immediately goes red in the face and raises up a fist. I flinch back, suddenly aware of what I just said. Fuck, that was a mistake. My dad lunches at me, going right for a punch to my stomach. I double over, groaning in pain. He takes that as a chance to send some kicks my way as well.

"No. Son. Of. Mine," he says in between hits, "Is. Going. To. Be. A. Fucking. Faggot."

~~~~~~~