Sunshine in her Shadows (Rosekook AU)

15

Jungkook POV:

It’s been months since Chaeyoung first opened up to me about her life—about the accident, her mom, her dad. Since then, I’ve tried to be there for her as much as I can. We’ve developed this unspoken routine. I accompany her almost everywhere now. During school, after school to our part-time job, and even back home. It’s like I’ve become her shadow, and I don’t mind it at all. If anything, it feels like the most important thing I’ve ever done. She is still the same firecracker at school. Everyone is still scared of her. No one knows the burden she carries on her shoulders. All they can see is a girl who argues with teachers, and bullies and doesn't have any friends except me. But she doesn't care about any of it. It makes so much sense now. Why she isn't scared of a few punches, why she is not scared of anything at all. She may seem brave but I can tell she is very scared.

Every time her dad hurts her, I’m the one she comes to. She doesn’t even need to say anything anymore; I can tell just by the look in her eyes, by the way she moves, as if trying to hide the pain. And every time, I do my best to heal her, to make sure the bruises fade as quickly as possible. But no matter how many times I treat her injuries, there’s always this gnawing feeling inside me, this frustration that I can’t do more.

“Report him,” I tell her every time. “Please, Chaeyoung, just report him. He can’t keep doing this to you.”

But she always shakes her head, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and resignation. “I can’t, Jungkook. He’s my dad.”

I hate that answer, but I’ve learned not to push. I know she’s torn between the love she once had for her father and the reality of what he’s become. All I can do is be there for her, even though I wish I could do more.

One thing I’ve succeeded at, though, is helping her with the guilt she’s been carrying. The guilt that’s been eating away at her since the accident. At first, she used to say things that broke my heart—things like “I killed my mother,” or “I should’ve been the one to die that night.” It was like she was punishing herself over and over for something that wasn’t her fault.

But slowly, over time, I’ve seen a change in her. It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual, like watching a flower bloom after a long winter. I kept reminding her that the accident wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t cause it, and that her mother wouldn’t want her to suffer like this.

At first, she would argue with me, saying I didn’t understand, that I didn’t know what it was like. And maybe she was right—I didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent, to carry that kind of guilt. But I did know what it was like to care about someone so much that their pain became your own. I knew that I couldn’t stand by and watch her destroy herself because of something she couldn’t control.

So I kept at it, day after day, conversation after conversation. I was relentless, but I had to be. I couldn’t lose her to this darkness. And slowly, I started to see the changes. She stopped talking about the accident as if it were her fault. She started to accept that it was just that—an accident. A terrible, tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless.

The self-harming talk faded. She started to talk about her mother differently, not as the woman she “killed,” but as someone she loved deeply, someone she missed every day. She began to remember the good times, the laughter, the warmth, instead of just the pain. Seeing that change in her… it was like watching a storm finally pass, revealing the sunshine behind it.

One of these days, I’m going to confess to her. I’ve been holding it in for so long, this love that’s been growing inside me ever since I realized just how much she means to me. It’s not just friendship anymore. It’s something deeper, something I’ve never felt before.

But every time I think about telling her, something stops me. Maybe it’s the fear that she’s not ready, that she’s still healing, and I don’t want to burden her with my feelings. Or maybe it’s the fear of rejection, the thought that she might not feel the same way. But then I look at her, at the way she smiles now, the way she’s slowly starting to let herself be happy again, and I know I can’t wait forever.

I’ll find the right moment, I tell myself. I’ll find the perfect time to tell her that I love her. That I’ve loved her for a while now, through all the mess, through all the pain. That I don’t care about the bruises, the scars, the broken pieces—because to me, she’s perfect just the way she is.

But until then, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing. I’ll keep being there for her, keep helping her heal, keep reminding her that she’s not alone. Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? Being there for someone, no matter what, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

And when the time is right, I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her everything.

A/N: I know you want them to get together as soon as possible, but sorry... that is all I can say as of now. Stay tuned for the next chapter... One that changes everything.