Sunshine in her Shadows (Rosekook AU)

14

Chaeyoung POV:

The night I told Jungkook everything felt like I was finally able to breathe after holding my breath for years. I thought the truth would push him away, but instead, it brought us closer. Over the next few months, Jungkook became my constant—my confidant, my healer, my only real friend.

Every time my dad hit me, I told Jungkook. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I didn’t want to. And every time, he was there, treating me like his little patient. He would carefully check my bruises, applying ointments with the gentleness of someone handling something precious. He would tell me to report my dad and I always gave a firm no. He was my dad after all, somewhere in that drunk monster was the man who gave me a loving childhood. Jungkook sighed but never asked too many questions, and never pushed me to talk more than I wanted to. He just… cared.

It felt strange at first, letting someone take care of me. I’d been on my own for so long that I forgot what it felt like to have someone in my corner. But with Jungkook, it felt natural, like it was the way things were always meant to be. He made sure no one at school suspected anything. We were still the odd duo—the grumpy, mysterious girl with no friends and the sunshine nerd who somehow managed to stick around.

People probably thought he was crazy for hanging out with me, but he never seemed to care. And slowly, I stopped caring too.

One day, after another particularly bad night at home, I texted Jungkook my address and asked him to come over. My dad was out, probably at some bar drowning in his misery, and I needed help. I didn’t want to face the mess alone.

When we got to my house, I saw Jungkook’s eyes widen as he took in the place. It was a two-storeyed house, very big for a small family like us, but the state it was in, it could be a psychic ward. It was a disaster. I could see the way he noticed the cracks in the walls, the broken furniture, the way everything seemed to be falling apart.

But he didn’t say anything. He came running to me to check for new bruises, but that day I was lucky to miss the utensils thrown at me. He let out a huge sigh of relief, and squeezed my palm to assure me and himself that I was fine. And then he just rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

We started in the kitchen, where the sink was full of dirty dishes, and the counters were covered in the remnants of meals long forgotten. I showed him where everything was, and he started washing dishes while I cleaned the counters. We worked in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable like we’d done this a hundred times before.

After the kitchen, we went to the second floor to the living room, straightening up the clutter and dusting off surfaces that hadn’t seen a cleaning rag in who knows how long. Jungkook was meticulous, making sure every corner was spotless. I watched him as he worked, amazed at how easily he seemed to fit into this space, like he belonged there.

The more time we spent cleaning, the more the house started to feel like a home again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. It was ours, even if just for a little while.

As the weeks went by, Jungkook’s visits became more regular. He would come over whenever my dad was out, and we would clean, cook, and sometimes just sit together in the quiet, sharing a meal we’d made. It was simple, domestic, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… normal.

There was one day in particular that stands out in my mind. We’d just finished organizing the living room, and I watched as Jungkook carefully placed a few books back on the shelf. His hair was a little messy from all the work, and there was a small smudge of dirt on his dimple. But he was smiling, that bright, warm smile that always made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

And that’s when it hit me.

I loved him.

I loved this boy who was willing to step into the mess of my life and help me clean it up. This boy who never judged me, who treated me with kindness and respect, who saw past all my walls and loved me for who I was, broken pieces and all.

I loved him more than a friend, more than I’d ever loved anyone. And the thought scared me because I didn’t know if I could keep him. I didn't know if I deserved him. I didn’t know if I could ever be enough for him, with all the darkness that surrounded me.

But as I watched him that day, as he looked up and caught me staring, flashing me a grin that made my heart skip a beat, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to be enough on my own. Maybe, together, we could be more than enough.