From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story [JJK]

✨UNSPOKEN DEPARTURES✨

The door slammed shut, leaving behind an echo that reverberated in my chest. Jungkook had left without even glancing back, his frustration spilling out like venom. I stood frozen in the dining room, the silence now unbearable. My legs felt like jelly, and I collapsed into the chair he had vacated moments ago.

Tears blurred my vision as the argument replayed in my mind. His anger, his sharp words, and the cold dismissal of everything I said cut deeper than I expected. I buried my face in my hands, muffling the sobs that shook my body.

Why couldn't we just talk without it turning into a battlefield?

I stayed there for what felt like hours, hoping against hope that I'd hear the door creak open and see him standing there, his dark eyes softened with guilt and regret. But the house remained silent, mocking me with its emptiness.

As the minutes turned into hours, I moved to the living room, curling up on the couch. My phone sat on the table, taunting me. I picked it up and stared at the screen, debating whether to call him.

He's busy, Y/N. Don't disturb him, a voice in my head whispered. But another part of me argued, He left in the middle of an argument. You have every right to know what's going on.

Without thinking further, I dialed his number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Until it went to voicemail.

"Jungkook," I whispered, my voice cracking, "please call me back." I hung up, my chest tightening with disappointment.

The hours crawled by, and I stayed awake until midnight, clutching a blanket and watching the door as if sheer willpower could summon him back. But he never came.

---

The next morning, I woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows, my body stiff from sleeping on the couch. My eyes felt swollen, my head pounding from crying so much. Jungkook's absence was like a weight pressing on my chest.

I called him again. No answer.

By the afternoon, my patience had worn thin. "Where the hell are you, Jungkook?" I muttered to myself, pacing the living room. My frustration warred with worry. He was usually so attentive, so present. This cold silence from him felt like a dagger.

Julia found me staring out the window, my phone clutched in my hand. "You're torturing yourself, Y/N," she said gently, sitting beside me.

"I can't help it," I admitted, tears brimming in my eyes again. "We fought, and he just left. And now he won't even answer my calls."

Julia pulled me into a comforting hug, stroking my hair like a sister. "He's probably dealing with something, something he doesn't want to burden you with," she said softly.

"But why doesn't he tell me?" I choked out, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

"Because men like Jungkook think they have to bear the weight of the world alone," Julia replied, her tone tinged with bitterness. "It's infuriating, but it's not because he doesn't care."

I nodded, though her words didn't bring the solace I craved. I wanted to see him, hear his voice, even if it was just to argue again. Anything to break this suffocating silence.

---

The next day dragged on like an eternity. I spent most of it in our room, trying to distract myself with books and TV shows, but nothing held my attention. My thoughts kept wandering back to him. Where was he? Was he okay?

By the evening, I couldn't hold back anymore. I called him again. No answer.

I threw my phone onto the bed, my frustration boiling over. "Why won't he just talk to me?" I muttered, pacing the room.

Julia peeked in, concern etched on her face. "Still nothing?"

I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from crying again. "He's ignoring me, Julia. It's like I don't even exist to him right now."

She walked over and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You mean the world to him, Y/N. You know that. He's just... Jungkook. He doesn't handle things the way normal people do."

"I miss him," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I know you do," she said softly. "But you have to give him space. He'll come back when he's ready."

---

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the empty space beside me. His side of the bed was cold, untouched since he stormed out two days ago.

I hugged his pillow, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne that still lingered on the fabric. Tears welled up again, but I didn't let them fall. I was too exhausted to cry anymore.

The silence of the house was deafening, each tick of the clock reminding me of his absence. My mind raced with thoughts of him—his laugh, his smile, the way he always held me when I felt lost.

Come back, Jungkook, I thought, closing my eyes. I need you.

And yet, the emptiness beside me remained.