My Home

CHAPTER 3

Jungkook returned to his apartment after the session, feeling exhausted. He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, then collapsed onto his messy bed. Typically, Jungkook was a clean and hygienic person who didn't like to be lazy or neglectful. Despite being younger than all of his hyungs, he was the one who always reminded them to keep their rooms clean. He used to yell at them for being so unhygienic However, since his incident with Seong-Min, he had lost the motivation to worry about cleanliness. His mind was filled with negative thoughts and his heart was in turmoil.

Suddenly, he sat up and opened the beer can, chugging the entire drink in one go. The beer burned as it went down, and he coughed when some of it went up his nose. He felt a strong urge to feel something more, something stronger. Jungkook wanted to drink something stronger and escape his thoughts, even if just for a little while. He reaches for the bottle of Imperial Blue whiskey in the fridge and starts drinking it. Despite knowing that he is acting like a teenager, he is in too much agony to care. After he finishes the entire bottle, he feels like shit. He throws the bottle somewhere in his room and starts crying when he can't bear the pain anymore.

I wasn't enough, Was I? I wasn't fucking enough. I could never be. People will always choose someone else rather than me. This is the reality. It's the truth. I have to fucking accept it. I have to. I will never be good enough. No matter how hard I try.  I loved her. I fucking loved her and I trusted her. I trusted her with my heart. This is what I get in return? I should move on. I really should. It's been 3 months. But how? How can i? It hurts to even think about her.

Jungkook wiped away his tears, his emotions still raw and overwhelming. He knew deep down that drowning his sorrows in alcohol wasn't the answer, but the pain seemed unbearable, and he craved a temporary escape. As he sat there, consumed by his thoughts, a soft knock on the door interrupted his despair.

Startled, Jungkook quickly wiped his tears away and composed himself as best as he could, making his way to the door. He opened it to find Jin standing there, concern etched on his face.

Upon entering Jungkook's apartment, Jin couldn't help but notice the disarray that consumed the once pristine space. It struck him as peculiar, considering Jungkook's typically impeccable sense of cleanliness and hygiene. Clothes strewn across the floor, empty bottles scattered about, and an overall sense of neglect filled the room. Jin couldn't help but feel bad for the younger's condition. He decided to ignore the messy room as he knew it would be of no use to even ask jungkook to clean it. He will most probably send someone to clean it in the morning.

"Hey, Jungkook. How was your therapy appointment?" Jin asked gently, stepping into the apartment.

Jungkook sighed and slumped back onto his bed. "It was shit, hyung. I don't understand how talking to a stranger is supposed to help me. It feels pointless."

Jin's brows furrowed, and he sat down next to Jungkook, his voice filled with sincerity. "Jungkook, therapy takes time. It might not feel helpful right away, but it's important to give it a chance. Opening up to someone and letting them in can lead to healing. Taehyung is a professional, and he genuinely wants to help you."

Jungkook scoffed, frustration lacing his voice. "I don't need some therapist to tell me what to do or how to feel. I know myself better than anyone else. This whole thing is a waste of time."

In a moment of anger and desperation, Jungkook flipped Jin off, his emotions getting the better of him. Jin's expression shifted from concern to disappointment, hurt flickering in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Jungkook muttered, regret flooding his voice. "I didn't mean to... I'm just... I'm so tired."

Jin let out a heavy sigh, his disappointment evident. "Jungkook, I understand that you're going through a difficult time, but lashing out at others won't solve anything. I care about you, and I want to see you heal. Please, at least try to give therapy another chance. Your next session might be better."

Jungkook averted his gaze, a mix of guilt and exhaustion weighing him down. "Fine, I'll go to the next appointment. But I don't have high hopes."

Jin nodded, a glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. "Thank you, Jungkook. Just remember, healing takes time, and you don't have to face it alone. We're here for you."

With that, Jin bid Jungkook goodnight and made his way out of the apartment, leaving Jungkook alone with his troubled thoughts. As he lay in bed, he couldn't help but think that Kim Taehyung must have a perfect life. He couldn't help but think about their brief encounter and the impression Taehyung had left on him. Taehyung's bubbly demeanor and genuine care had struck a chord within Jungkook, even though they had only met once.

As he sat on his bed, lost in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if Taehyung's optimism and positivity meant that he had a perfect life. Jungkook imagined Taehyung surrounded by loving friends and family, who never had to experience the pain he was going through. It felt unfair, and a tinge of bitterness crept into his heart.

Jungkook knew he will have to go to the next session too. But he also knew that it wasn't going to hep him. The mere thought of letting someone know your deepest darkest secrets and showing them your vulnerability seemed daunting to jungkook. Scary, even. Jungkook lay in his bed, resentment building within him as he thought about Jin's insistence on therapy.

 He despised the fact that Jin was making him go through this, as if therapy held the key to magically fixing all his problems. Anger simmered beneath the surface, fueled by his stubbornness and the belief that he should be able to handle his own pain without needing anyone else's help. The thought of sharing his vulnerabilities with a stranger felt like an invasion of his privacy, a betrayal of his self-reliance. He wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, to reject the notion that therapy could offer him any solace. In that moment, the mere idea of opening up felt like a burden too heavy to bear.

With these thoughts and a tear stained pillow beneath his head, he drifted into sleep.Little did he know, in that moment of stubborn resistance, he failed to grasp the profound truth that awaited him: the realization of just how misguided his convictions were. If only he realised how wrong he was.