LETTERS||Jungkook ff|| mature 21+

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟿: 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢

*****

In days that stretch with silent plea,
He strives to change what she can see.
A monster's mask he tries to shed,
For love's soft light to be instead.

Her heart, once cold, begins to warm,
Though shadows of the past still swarm.
A jealous friend, with feelings torn,
Bears witness to a love reborn.

In Daegu's streets, a search unfolds,
A call that secrets darkly holds.
Paris-bound, the lover's flight,
In shadows deep, prepares to fight.

Trust and doubt in hearts collide,
As love and truth no longer hide.
A tangled web of feelings spin,
The battle for a heart begins.

Redemption sought in gentle ways,
A love that fights through darkened days.
In jealous hearts, a storm does brew,
As fate decides what love must do.

******

Chapter 9: Rising Jealousy

Jungkook's POV:

Days passed by, and each one felt longer than the last as I dedicated myself to the impossible task of winning back Y/N's trust. The regret of my actions weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I could see the pain I had caused reflected in her eyes. It was a constant reminder of the monster she believed I was, and I was determined to prove otherwise.

Every morning, I would wake up with a renewed resolve to show her that I was different. I started with small gestures—preparing breakfast, ensuring she had everything she needed, and giving her space when she seemed overwhelmed. It wasn't just about the grand gestures; I wanted to show her through the everyday moments that I genuinely cared.

I remember the first time I brought her breakfast in bed. The look of surprise on her face was mixed with suspicion, and I couldn't blame her. I had orchestrated a web of lies and deceit that had led her here. She accepted the tray with a hesitant smile, and I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could make amends.

Conversations with her were still stilted and awkward. She would respond to my attempts at small talk with short answers, and the silence between us was deafening. Yet, I persevered. I shared stories from my past, hoping to give her a glimpse of the man behind the mask. I told her about my childhood, my struggles, and even the moments of vulnerability that I had hidden from the world.

There was a sincerity in my actions that I hoped she could see. I was trying to rebuild the bridges I had burned, one small step at a time. I noticed how she would watch me when she thought I wasn't looking, a mix of curiosity and scepticism in her gaze. It was a start, and I clung to it desperately.

The hardest part was dealing with my own guilt. Every time I saw her flinch or hesitate, it was a reminder of the pain I had caused. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay bare my soul and beg for forgiveness, but I knew it wasn't that simple. Trust had to be earned, and I was prepared to fight for it.

One evening, as we sat in the Park enjoying the lovely sunset before us, I showed her a photograph of my parents, taken years ago. I saw a softness in her eyes, and I took the chance to share more about them. I told her about my parents, about the values they had instilled in me, and how far I had strayed from them.

Y/N listened, and for the first time, I felt like she was truly seeing me. It was a small victory, but it meant the world to me. I wanted her to know that the man who had written those letters, who had manipulated her, wasn't the real me. I was flawed, yes, but I was also capable of change.