Call me HYUNG!

It hurts

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Jungkook’s room. But the brightness did nothing to lift the heavy weight that had settled in his chest. When Jungkook finally opened his eyes, the ache in his heart returned immediately, a reminder of everything that had transpired the night before. The events played back in his mind with painful clarity, and he found himself wishing it was all just a bad dream.

He lay there for a long time, staring blankly at the ceiling, not ready to face the day. The familiar surroundings of his room felt foreign, as if everything had changed overnight. His heart, once filled with the hope and excitement of being sixteen, now felt hollow. Even the prospect of the usual morning bickering with Taehyung brought no comfort—he wasn’t sure he could even face Taehyung right now, let alone joke with him as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook eventually forced himself out of bed, dragging his feet as he made his way to the bathroom. The reflection that stared back at him in the mirror was pale and worn. His eyes were swollen from crying, and there was a dullness in them that made him look older, tired. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to shake off the lingering sadness, but the effort was in vain. The water couldn’t wash away the deep sense of loss he felt.

As he went through the motions of getting ready, Jungkook's mind drifted back to Taehyung. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, about how easily he had laughed off Jungkook’s feelings, how casually he had mentioned his boyfriend as if it were nothing. The memory of Taehyung’s laughter, usually so infectious and comforting, now felt like a sharp blade twisting in his chest.

He tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on anything else, but his mind kept circling back to the same painful realization: Taehyung didn’t see him that way, and he never would. The boy who had been Jungkook’s first love, his first crush, his best friend, was now the source of his deepest heartache.

Jungkook knew he couldn’t stay in his room forever, so with a deep breath, he forced himself to head downstairs. He wasn’t ready to face anyone, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it either. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared breakfast, and the familiar scent of pancakes filled the air. Normally, it was one of Jungkook’s favorite smells, but today, it did nothing to lift his spirits.

“Morning, Kookie,” his mother greeted him with a warm smile, but her expression shifted to concern as she took in his appearance. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so well.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook mumbled, avoiding her gaze as he slid into a chair at the kitchen table. He wasn’t fine, not even close, but he didn’t have the energy to explain. Not that he could, anyway—how could he tell his mother that his heart had been shattered on his own birthday?

His mother didn’t press the issue, but he could feel her worried eyes on him as she placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. The sight of the food made his stomach turn. He couldn’t imagine eating anything right now, not with the knot of anxiety and sadness that had settled in his gut. But he forced himself to take a few bites, more out of habit than hunger.

Just as he was about to retreat back to his room, there was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of it creaking open. Jungkook froze, his heart skipping a beat as he heard the familiar voice calling out from the hallway.

“Morning, Auntie! Is Kookie here?” Taehyung’s voice was bright and cheerful, as if nothing had changed.

Jungkook’s blood ran cold. He wasn’t ready to see Taehyung, wasn’t ready to face him after everything that had happened. Panic surged through him, and for a brief moment, he considered bolting from the room. But it was too late—Taehyung was already stepping into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face.