Jungkook's footsteps echoed against the cobblestone pavement as he made his way to Mr. Min's store, a small bag slung over his shoulder. He couldn't shake off the knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Taehyung had mentioned wanting some freshly baked bread rolls, and Jungkook was determined to make his wish come true.
He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Just the thought of his happy face pleased him.
Arriving at the familiar street corner, Jungkook paused, momentarily taken aback by the absence of Mr. Min's quaint little shop. Confusion clouded his mind until he noticed a signpost further down the main street, indicating the store's relocation. Adjusting his course, he followed the sign, his heart heavy with the memories he and Taehyung had shared at the old location.
He was right there before he saw Taehyung for the first time.
As he entered the bustling store, Jungkook was greeted by a warm smile from Amelié, Mr. Min's wife. The scent of freshly baked goods enveloped him, momentarily soothing his frayed nerves.
"Ah, good morning, Jungkook!" Amelié smiled at him. Jungkook had been to their place so many times by now that he was always greeted warmly.
"Hello, Amelié! I didn't know you guys moved?" the young man asked. She chuckled as she retrieved a cake from the shelf. "Got a better offer," she replied. Jungkook nodded. "I'd like some of those rolls... Taehyung wants some."
Amelié smiled mischievously. She had long known about Taehyung and Jungkook's relationship but never said a word. The two were perfect for each other. So, the blonde woman promptly packed a few rolls for Jungkook. "I'll have to close up later, too. I'm going for coffee with Annie," she happily shared.
Jungkook furrowed his brow. "Annie Kim? The florist's wife?" Amelié nodded. "Yes, we're very good friends." The young man chuckled. The two were also made for each other. He could imagine what it was like for them all the time. They probably chatted non-stop.
He exchanged a few more pleasantries with Amelié as he selected a handful of rolls, the simple act of choosing bread serving as a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.
With the rolls securely tucked away in his bag, Jungkook bid Amelié farewell and stepped back out onto the street. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones, but Jungkook's mind was elsewhere as he debated whether to take the scenic route back home.
Opting for a shortcut through a nearby alley, Jungkook quickened his pace, eager to return to Taehyung's side. However, his plans were abruptly derailed when two imposing figures materialized from the shadows, blocking his path.
Jungkook's heart lurched in his chest as a sense of foreboding washed over him. Before he could react, the men lunged forward, their movements fueled by malice and aggression. Pain exploded across Jungkook's body as fists rained down on him, each blow accompanied by a barrage of hateful words.
"Disgusting faggot!"
"Think you can get away with being queer?"
He felt hands all over him and moaned in pain. When he tried to scream, one of the people covered his mouth and punched him in the stomach at the same time. Jungkook felt the blood pooling in his mouth.
"Disgustig"
The words cut deeper than any physical blow, slicing through Jungkook's defenses and leaving him reeling. His mind screamed in protest, but his body could do little more than absorb the relentless onslaught.
Amidst the chaos, Jungkook's thoughts spiraled out of control, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. Images of Taehyung flashed before his eyes, a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder of everything worth fighting for.
As the assault continued, Jungkook's world narrowed to a pinpoint of agony and despair. He felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness, his grip on reality slipping with each passing moment.
Eventually, the onslaught ceased, leaving Jungkook battered and bruised, his body a canvas of pain. With great effort, he managed to raise his head, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
To his horror, he found himself in what appeared to be a makeshift police station, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows across the grimy walls. But what truly shattered his fragile composure was the sight of his own parents standing there, their expressions unreadable as they regarded him with cold detachment.
Jungkook's throat constricted with unspoken anguish as he struggled to form the words that hovered on the tip of his tongue. His gaze darted between his parents and his assailants, his mind unable to comprehend the betrayal unfolding before him.
"Mother... Father... You..."
His voice was barely a whisper, choked with disbelief and despair. He searched their faces for a glimmer of recognition, a spark of empathy, but found only indifference staring back at him.
The men holding him tightened their grip, their eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as they awaited confirmation of his identity. But before Jungkook could muster a response, his father spoke, his words like a dagger through Jungkook's already shattered heart.
"No, that's not our son. Our son is a respectable aspiring doctor, not a homosexual."
The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a crushing blow to Jungkook's fragile sense of self. His entire world seemed to collapse around him as the truth of his parents' rejection sank in.
In that moment of unbearable anguish, Jungkook's thoughts turned to Taehyung, the one person who had shown him unconditional love and acceptance. He clung to the memory of their shared moments, the warmth of Taehyung's embrace, the gentle reassurance of his words.
But even as he sought solace in Taehyung's memory, a sense of profound loss gnawed at Jungkook's heart. The realization that his own parents had forsaken him, had disowned him for simply being true to himself, was a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury.
As darkness threatened to engulf him, Jungkook felt a flicker of defiance ignite within him. Despite the pain, despite the betrayal, he refused to let go of the love he shared with Taehyung.
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