Unloved | tk

ch49

Jungkook paced back and forth, his mind a whirlwind of worry. He rambled on, voice rising with anxiety, as the terrible realization dawned on him: his father was probably in danger. Panic flared in his eyes, making him look almost wild with fear. Jimin stood nearby, trying his best to offer comforting words and a calming presence, but it was clear that Jungkook sought solace elsewhere.

Desperately, Jungkook's eyes searched for Taehyung. He longed for Taehyung's embrace, needing the reassurance that only his touch could bring. Was it too much to ask for comfort from the person you love? His heart ached with the desire to be held and told that everything would be alright.

Taehyung, sitting just a few feet away, watched Jungkook with a heavy heart. He wanted nothing more than to pull Jungkook close, to envelop him in a hug and shield him from his fears. But Taehyung was trapped by his own pain. The memory of how his feelings had been mocked and trampled upon still stung deeply. Someone he had loved had cruelly dismissed his emotions just to get to his father, leaving a wound that hadn't healed.

He couldn't simply forget the betrayal, couldn't just shove away the lingering hurt. Trusting someone to the extent of baring his soul had always been a rare thing for Taehyung. He had never allowed anyone to see his true self or confess his deepest vulnerabilities—not even his closest friends, Jimin and Yoongi, knew his most intimate truths.

But Jungkook, the man sitting right next to him now, had seen everything. Taehyung had stripped his soul bare for Jungkook, revealing his darkest fears and most hidden demons. And what had Jungkook done? He had stomped on Taehyung's trust without a second thought, as if it meant nothing. The betrayal had cut deep, leaving Taehyung reluctant to open up again, even though every fiber of his being wanted to reach out and comfort the one he loved.

The scene was almost comical in its irony: Jungkook, who needed Taehyung's reassurance, and Taehyung, who longed to give it, both paralyzed by their own past hurts. They sat so close yet felt miles apart, each battling their own inner turmoil while the absurdity of the situation hung in the air like an unspoken joke. Taehyung's hand twitched, wanting to reach out, while Jungkook's eyes darted towards him, pleading silently. And there they remained, locked in a silent dance of longing and regret, love and pain, both too stubborn and too hurt to make the first move.

As Taehyung sat beside Jungkook, a torrent of emotions flooded his mind, threatening to overflow in tears. He couldn't help but wonder where he had missed the mark in conveying his genuine affection for Jungkook. Hadn't he made it crystal clear how much he cherished him? Didn't Jungkook understand that Taehyung's trust, his vulnerability, was laid bare before him? Yet here he was, feeling neglected and unloved, questioning whether anyone in the world truly cared for him.

It wasn't as though Taehyung was solely fixated on his own feelings. He empathized with Jungkook's predicament, understanding the constraints that might bind the younger man to secrecy, even from Taehyung. But despite this understanding, the ache in his heart remained. He wasn't angry at Jungkook; he knew firsthand the challenges faced by those like Jongwon, who had to sacrifice everything for their duty. Perhaps Jungkook was similarly burdened.

Discovering Jungkook's true identity as Jongwon's son didn't weaken Taehyung's feelings for him; if anything, it intensified them. Yet, this realization only fueled Taehyung's frustration with himself. He couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook might have been playing a role all along, leaving Taehyung feeling unjustly treated. What had he done to deserve this? Why was he seen as the weakest link, a pawn to be sacrificed in some grand scheme against the underworld king? It just didn't seem fair.

Taehyung was engulfed by a profound sense of insignificance, as if his love, emotions, dreams, and desires were mere whispers in the cacophony of the world. His existence felt like a forgotten footnote in the grand narrative of life.