𝙼𝚢 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 ٭ 𝚃𝚊𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ٭

٭𝟷𝟹٭

The mansion was enshrouded in a profound silence, pierced only by the distant murmur of the night. Taehyung was abruptly jolted from his restless slumber by the crushing weight of another nightmare. This dream, as vivid as it was terrifying, dragged him back to a traumatic moment from his childhood.

In the nightmare, Taehyung was once again a young boy, nervously clutching a report card with failing grades. He had come home, hoping for leniency, but instead was met with his father's unrelenting fury. His father’s anger was palpable, an explosive force that seemed to fill the room. The sight of the report card only served to incite his rage further.

“You think you can just bring home these grades and get away with it?” his father’s voice roared, cutting through the air like a blade. Without warning, he grabbed Taehyung by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The impact was jarring, and young Taehyung crumpled to the floor, pain radiating through his small frame.

The boy’s mother rushed in, her face a mask of panic and desperation. “Stop it! Please, he’s just a child!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. But her intervention only seemed to ignite her husband's anger further. In a cruel twist, he turned on her, striking her with the same brutal force. She fell to the ground, her body shuddering as she tried to protect her son.

Taehyung watched helplessly, tears streaming down his cheeks, as his mother was punished for trying to defend him. The scene was a nightmarish replay of helplessness and fear, the vividness of the memory making it almost unbearable to relive.

Tears streaming down his face, Taehyung awoke with a start. The nightmare had left him breathless and shaking.

He stumbled out of bed, his heart pounding with the residual terror of the dream. He made his way to the garden, a place he had come to view as his sanctuary from his internal chaos.

Settling onto a familiar bench, he gazed up at the stars, seeking solace in their distant, indifferent light. Lost in his thoughts, he was startled by a soft, familiar voice breaking the silence.

From the shadows emerged Jisoo, her face streaked with mascara, revealing evidence of her own distress. The sight of her, clearly having cried, tugged at Taehyung’s heart. Despite his own emotional turmoil, he offered her a seat beside him.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked, his voice wavering as he tried to offer comfort.

Jisoo took a seat next to him, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her fears. “I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I’m scared for Seokjin and for all of us. Even though we’re part of this world, it doesn’t make the danger any less real. It’s just… frightening.”

Taehyung nodded in understanding, his own fears mirrored in her words. “Seokjin is strong,” he reassured her, his tone gentle yet firm. “He loves you a lot and will protect you at all costs. Nothing will happen to him.”

Jisoo took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She lit a cigarette, its glow briefly illuminating her features. “And you? Why are you out here?” she asked.

Taehyung sighed deeply, the burden of his nightmares evident in his posture. “The nightmares never truly leave me,” he admitted. “I come out here to find some peace.”

Jisoo, aware of Taehyung’s struggle, offered him the cigarette. It was a gesture of solidarity, a silent acknowledgement of his pain. Although they all knew about Taehyung’s nightmares and his past, they had respected his need for privacy, not pressing him to talk about it until now.

As they shared the cigarette, Jisoo wrapped her arms around Taehyung in a comforting embrace. The warmth of her hug was a rare balm to his emotional wounds. They held each other, the embrace a silent agreement of mutual support and understanding.

After a few moments, Jisoo gently pulled back. “I should head back inside,” she said softly. “But remember, you’re not alone.”

Taehyung watched as Jisoo disappeared into the darkness of the mansion, her presence a fleeting but comforting relief. He remained in the garden a little longer, the night sky above and Jisoo’s warmth a temporary reprieve from the shadows of his past.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke and sighed looking up at the night sky. Taehyung lingered in the garden, the night air cooling his skin as he took his time finishing the cigarette.

His mind was a tumultuous sea of memories and feelings, but what stood out was the deep, almost primal need to protect Jennie. There was something about her that reminded him so much of his mother—her sweetness, her vulnerability, and the way she seemed to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders.

He thought back to his mother, a figure of grace and kindness, yet subjected to endless torment by his father. One vivid memory from his childhood surfaced: a particularly brutal evening when he came home with a failing grade. His father’s anger was swift and merciless. Taehyung had been beaten, each strike a painful reminder of his father's fury. His mother, desperate to shield him, had stepped in, only to be struck down herself. The sight of her, bruised and broken, her pleas echoing in his young mind, had carved a deep wound in his soul. The helplessness he felt back then was a weight he carried into adulthood. And even now he has nightmares. Almost every night he dreams of his father. Its a curse.

Like a trance he can't get out off. Every single night he saw his mothers face. Her look of distraught and pain, being hidden within a mask. She acted like everything was ok. That she was fine. Every single night he saw his father put his filthy hands on his wife. Taehyung could hear his mother's screams. How she would cry and sob loudly on the floor. Covered in blood and bruises. And his father's shouts. His cursing.

Since then, Taehyung had adopted a facade of stoic indifference. The emotional numbness became his shield, an armor forged in the fires of his father's violence. His training as an assassin, beginning in his early teens, had stripped away the last vestiges of innocence. The joy of a normal life was replaced by the cold realities of the underworld. Each kill,  act of violence, became just another task, another necessity in a life devoid of genuine emotion. His father's death had left him with an emptiness, a void filled only by duty and bloodshed. Yet, he had never truly felt alive, not until he met his friends.

His bond with the boys—Hoseok, Seokjin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook—was something he cherished deeply. They were his family, a chosen one that replaced the broken and fractured ties of his past. Through them, he began to reconnect with his lost empathy and love. Rosé and Jisoo, too, became integral to his newfound sense of belonging, with Jisoo being like an older sister and Rosé like a younger sibling. Their presence gave him a semblance of the warmth and affection that had been stripped away.

In a twisted way, Taehyung saw Jennie as a chance to right some of the wrongs from his past. Protecting her was more than just a duty—it was a way to redeem himself, to show that he could be more than the violence and the dark legacy he had inherited from his father. He finished his cigarette and, with a heavy heart but renewed resolve, headed back inside. His family, both blood and chosen, awaited him, and he would do anything to keep them safe.