As Jungkook made his way down the corridor, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of apology, he approached the studio door where he assumed Hoseok would be. He hadn't gotten a chance to properly apologize to the others, this was a chance to start.
But when the door cracked open, the light of the hallway spilled into the dimly lit room, casting long shadows across the expanse of the studio. Jungkook's eyes, filled with remorse and determination, scanned the room for Hoseok's familiar figure, Instead, however, it was Yoongi's silhouette that caught his attention.
The air in the room crackled with anticipation, as if every atom in the room held its breath, waiting for Yoongi's genius to manifest.
Jungkook's heart felt as though it would jump out of his throat. He had intended to slip by unnoticed, a fleeting specter passing through the realm of Yoongi's inspiration. But fate had other plans, and in an ill-timed twist of events, his foot grazed a stray cable, sending it spiraling to the ground with a resounding clatter.
The noise shattered the delicate bubble of Yoongi's concentration, jolting him from the ethereal realm of his creative process. His brows furrowed, frustration etching lines upon his forehead, as he turned to face the intruder who dared to disrupt his sacred space. His eyes, usually adorned with a glimmer of mischief, now held a glint of irritation that pierced Jungkook's heart like a thousand tiny needles.
"Can't you see I'm working?" Yoongi's voice cut through the air, sharp as a scalpel, dissecting Jungkook's sense of self-worth with surgical precision. The weight of his words settled upon Jungkook's shoulders, heavy and suffocating, as he struggled to find a response.
"Why can't you be more careful? You're not a child, Jungkook-ah, stop acting like one," Yoongi's voice was as sharp as a winter wind, piercing Jungkook with its icy bite. The weight of his words settled upon Jungkook's shoulders, a burden he had unknowingly stumbled into.
The room suddenly felt smaller, the once inviting space now charged with an unspoken tension. Jungkook's gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding the piercing stare that seemed to penetrate his very soul. He felt like an intruder in his own skin, an unwelcome guest in Yoongi's heart.
Yoongi's words reverberated through the studio, echoing in the hollows of Jungkook's mind. The weight of his own pathetic thoughtlessness bore down on him, pressing upon his chest like a heavy boulder. He wanted to apologize, to offer some semblance of understanding, but his words caught in his throat, suffocated by the weight of his guilt.
As Yoongi's frustration lingered in the air, a sense of unworthiness wrapped its icy tendrils around Jungkook's heart. Doubt seeped into his every pore, poisoning his already shattered confidence like venom. It was hilarious really, how broken things (like him), could be broken further. He yearned for acceptance; he wanted to apologize, to beg and plead for a place within Yoomgi's heart, for a place within all their hearts, but instead, he was left feeling like an intruder, an unwelcome distraction.
With a heavy sigh, Yoongi turned away, dismissing Jungkook with a wave of his hand. The gesture, seemingly small, carried the weight of rejection, leaving Jungkook feeling like an inconsequential pebble washed ashore amidst an ocean of talent. The studio's once warm and inviting embrace turned cold and distant, as if the walls themselves whispered their disapproval.
Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, the sound of the closing door a final punctuation mark on their encounter. The world outside appeared muted, its colors dulled in comparison to the vibrant emotions that swirled within him.
In the silence that followed, his mind became a minefield of castrophobic thoughts. He replayed the encounter over and over, dissecting every word and gesture, searching for a glimpse of something, anything that proved he hadn't fucked it all up. Once again, the guilt coiled around his heart like a constrictor, squeezing tighter with each passing moment.
He wandered through the corridors, his footsteps a hollow echo of his inner turmoil. Each familiar sight seemed foreign, estranged from the comfort it once provided. The world around him felt like an empty canvas, devoid of color and meaning, a stark contrast to the vibrant hues of Yoongi's creative sanctuary.
He felt akin to a forsaken voyager marooned upon a solitary vessel amidst the vast expanse of the ocean, his pleas for aid swallowed by the relentless depths. His voice, a feeble cry, lingered in the desolate air, knowing all too well that the formidable force of the unforgiving ocean would consume every semblance of sound, leaving him helpless and unheard.
As the world blurred, the weight of his guilt grew heavier, threatening to consume him entirely. The voices of doubt whispered in his ears, eroding his self-belief with their toxic tongues.
✩★✩
"Jungkook-ah?" Hoseok's voice pierced through the heavy silence, reaching Jungkook's ears like a lifeline in the midst of a storm. Startled, Jungkook turned to face his hyung, his tear-stained face a canvas of anguish and vulnerability. Hoseok's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and worry etched across his features like a fleeting brushstroke.
At that moment, time stood still, the air thick with unspoken emotions hanging between them. The raw intensity of Jungkook's tears glistened in the dim light, tracing delicate pathways down his flushed cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his shattered self-esteem.
Hoseok's voice softened, a gentle caress in the midst of chaos. "Kookie, why are you crying?" His words danced on the edge of understanding, a delicate thread connecting them. A thread, Jungkook knew, that would snap any moment now.
As attempted to form a coherent response, the dam within him broke, unleashing a torrential downpour of pent-up emotions. His tears flowed freely, giving in to the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had consumed him whole. The weight of his mistakes bore down upon him, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless pressure.
"Baby," Hoseok's voice enveloped Jungkook, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. The endearment, a cherished reminder of their bond, seeped into his wounded soul, tugging at the strings of a heart long starved for warmth. It was a bittersweet reminder of the love he could never reach, could never have; a love that lay dormant beneath the layers of frustration and disappointment.
The tears that stained Jungkook's face seemed to intensify, his sobs echoing through the room, mingling with the heartbeat of his pain. The weight of his failures and worthlessness threatened to consume him entirely, urging him to flee, to escape the clutches of his own mistakes.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook managed to utter, his voice trembling with remorse and regret. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken complexities, a plea for forgiveness wrapped in the fragility of his wounded pride. The ache in his chest propelled him forward, his feet carrying him away before he could witness the aftermath of what would surely be devastation.
With each hurried step he took, Jungkook's tears merged with the cool air, his breath hitching in his chest as he attempted to find stability in movement. The world around him blurred, distorted by the haze of his own shattered self-image. In his hasty retreat, he left behind a void, an absence that mirrored the ache within his own heart.
But even as he fled, one thing remained resolute within his trembling core—a flicker of hope. Hope that his hyungs would understand, could see beyond his mistakes and witness the sincerity in his tears, hope that he could get their forgiveness no matter how fleeting it would be, and hope that he could escape the circling vultures of his own failures.
And as he disappeared into the distance, like a patch of the night, the echoes of his apologies lingered in the empty corridors.
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YOU ARE READING
Candle Queen | OT7
FanfictionBeing the maknae, despite what people thought, wasn't just about being the youngest; it was about being the heart that beats at the center of their unity. And as everybody knows, in order to stay alive, the heart can't stop. ...
