Jungkook Hurtfics / BTS

Silence within

I always thought that being strong meant keeping my troubles to myself. Growing up, I learned that expressing my feelings was a sign of weakness, a chink in the armor that should protect me. So, I built my walls high, convincing myself that I was invincible as long as no one could see through them. My brothers in BTS, my second family, had come to accept this about me. They respected my boundaries, knowing when to push and when to let me be. But the past few days had been different. I could feel their eyes on me, sensing the growing concern and frustration. I was spiraling, and they knew it.

The pressure was mounting. Our schedules were relentless, the demands of the industry unyielding. It wasn't just the physical exhaustion; it was the emotional toll that had begun to weigh me down. Every smile felt forced, every laugh hollow. I could feel myself drifting, becoming a shadow of the person I used to be. My heart felt heavy, burdened by thoughts and feelings I couldn't articulate. And so, I retreated further into myself, seeking solace in solitude.

The guys tried to reach out, their voices laced with worry. Namjoon would ask if I was okay, his eyes searching mine for any hint of truth. Yoongi would quietly offer his presence, a silent reassurance that he was there if I needed him. Jimin, with his boundless energy and compassion, would try to lift my spirits with his antics. But it was Taehyung who couldn't hide his frustration any longer.

"Jungkook, what is wrong with you?" he snapped one evening, his voice echoing through the dorm. We were all gathered in the living room, a rare moment of respite in our hectic lives. I looked up from my phone, meeting his fiery gaze. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension.

"Nothing," I replied, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was the same answer I'd given countless times, a rehearsed lie that no one believed.

"Don't give me that," Taehyung said, standing up. "You've been acting like a ghost for days. We're all worried about you, but you won't let us in. Do you even care about how we feel?"

His words stung, piercing through the numbness that had enveloped me. Of course, I cared. I cared more than I could ever express, but I didn't know how to let them in. The fear of being judged, of appearing weak, held me back.

"I'm fine," I repeated, my voice strained. "Just drop it, Taehyung."

"No, I won't drop it!" he shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. "We're supposed to be a team, a family. But you're shutting us out. Do you think you're the only one who feels stressed? We're all in this together, Jungkook. Stop acting like you're alone."

His words struck a chord deep within me, igniting a spark of anger. How could he understand what I was going through? How could any of them?

"You don't understand," I said, my voice rising. "You have no idea what it's like to be me."

"Then make us understand!" Taehyung yelled, his eyes pleading. "We're here for you, but you have to let us in. You can't keep doing this to yourself, to us."

The room was silent, the tension palpable. The other members watched, their faces a mix of concern and helplessness. I felt a surge of guilt, knowing that my behavior was hurting them. But I couldn't break the cycle. I couldn't let them see the cracks in my armor.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I can't."

With that, I turned and walked out of the room, the weight of their eyes heavy on my back. I headed to my room, closing the door behind me. The silence was deafening, the darkness a comforting cloak. I sat on the edge of my bed, my mind racing. Taehyung's words echoed in my head, a relentless reminder of my own failings.

Hours passed, the darkness outside deepening. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep eluded me, my thoughts a tangled mess. I replayed the argument over and over, my guilt and anger intertwining. I wanted to reach out, to tell them how I felt, but the words wouldn't come. It was easier to hide, to keep my emotions locked away.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of laughter and chatter from the living room. The others were up, preparing for another day of practice and schedules. I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion. As I stepped into the living room, the conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to me. I could see the concern etched on their faces, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

"Morning," I mumbled, heading to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Namjoon replied, his voice gentle. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said, the lie slipping out before I could stop it. I hated how automatic it had become, a reflexive response to any inquiry about my well-being.

Namjoon nodded, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He knew me too well. They all did.

The day passed in a blur of rehearsals and meetings. I went through the motions, my body on autopilot. The others tried to engage me, their attempts at conversation falling flat. I could feel the distance growing, a chasm I didn't know how to bridge.

That evening, I found myself on the rooftop, seeking solace in the quiet night. The city stretched out below, a sea of lights and life. I sat on the edge, my legs dangling over the side. The cool breeze was a welcome relief, the only thing that seemed to penetrate the numbness.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Jimin approaching. He gave me a small smile, his eyes filled with concern.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

I shook my head, and he sat down beside me, his presence a comforting balm.

"You know," Jimin said after a while, "it's okay to not be okay."

I glanced at him, surprised by the simplicity of his words. He met my gaze, his expression earnest.

"We all have our moments," he continued. "Times when we feel lost or overwhelmed. It's part of being human. But you don't have to go through it alone. We're here for you, Jungkook. All of us. You just have to let us in."

I looked away, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. "I don't know how," I admitted, my voice cracking. "I don't know how to let you in."

Jimin placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm yet gentle. "Start by talking to us. Even if it's just a little. We want to help, but we can't if you keep shutting us out."

I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. I knew he was right. I had to try, for my sake and theirs.

The next few days were a struggle. I forced myself to open up, to share bits and pieces of what I was feeling. It was uncomfortable, like exposing a wound that had long been hidden. But with each conversation, I felt a little lighter. The others listened without judgment, offering their support and understanding. Slowly, the walls I had built began to crumble, replaced by a sense of connection and belonging.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, we all gathered in the living room. There was a sense of camaraderie, a bond that had been strengthened by our shared struggles. I looked around at my brothers, feeling a surge of gratitude. They had stood by me, even when I had tried to push them away.

"Thank you," I said, my voice filled with emotion. "For not giving up on me."

Namjoon smiled, his eyes warm. "We're a team, Jungkook. We're always here for each other."

Taehyung, who had been quietly listening, gave me a small nod. "Just remember, you don't have to carry the weight alone. We're stronger together."

I nodded, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded me for so long. I knew there would still be tough days ahead, moments when the darkness threatened to return. But I also knew that I wasn't alone. I had my brothers, my family, and together, we could face anything.

As we sat there, sharing stories and laughter, I felt a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead might be challenging, but I was no longer afraid. I had learned that true strength came not from hiding my pain, but from facing it head-on, with the support of those who cared about me. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe again.