🥀 Love is pain 🥀 ' Junoon ❣️ ' ( ✓ )

41 .

As time passed, Yoongi’s resentment toward Jimin only deepened. He couldn’t shake the bitter feelings that gnawed at him, replaying Jimin’s cold words over and over in his mind: "Jack is more handsome than you." It stung every time he thought about it, like a blade twisting deeper into his heart. How could someone who had once loved him so passionately turn so heartless in the blink of an eye?

Yoongi tried to convince himself that he hated Jimin now. He tried to numb himself with alcohol, with meaningless distractions, but nothing worked. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of Jimin—the way he laughed, the way he used to hold him close, the way they shared quiet moments that made the world feel small and safe. But those memories were now tainted by betrayal, and Yoongi couldn’t forgive him. He wouldn’t forgive him.

The worst part was seeing Jimin every day, living under the same roof. Every glance at Jimin stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, confusion, longing, and hurt. He avoided Jimin at all costs, but in those rare moments when their eyes met, Yoongi’s heart broke all over again. His love for Jimin hadn’t disappeared, but it was buried under layers of bitterness and mistrust.

Jimin, on the other hand, was crumbling. The façade he had put up, pretending to be cold and unfeeling, was falling apart. Every night, after everyone else had gone to bed, he would lie awake in the darkness, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him like a heavy blanket.

He missed his brother. He missed Yoongi. But he couldn’t reach out to them, not when they both thought he was a heartless monster. Jungkook’s words replayed in his mind constantly: "I don’t recognize him anymore." His own brother—his closest family—had turned his back on him, and Jimin didn’t blame him. He had done this to himself.

The panic attacks started soon after. At first, they came in waves—subtle, creeping feelings of anxiety that would wash over him when he was alone. His chest would tighten, his breathing would become shallow, and his thoughts would spiral out of control. But over time, they became more frequent, more intense. He couldn’t breathe. His heart would race uncontrollably, and he felt like he was suffocating, trapped in his own mind.

But Jimin kept it all hidden. He didn’t want anyone to know how much he was struggling. He had to appear strong—at least on the outside. So, every time he felt a panic attack coming on, he would retreat to his room, locking the door behind him. He would sit on the floor, clutching his chest, gasping for air as tears streamed down his face. He would bite his lip to keep from crying out, not wanting anyone to hear him.

One night, the weight of everything became too much to bear. Jimin sat on the floor of his room, curled up in a ball, his head resting on his knees. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his vision blurred as the tears fell faster than he could wipe them away. His body shook with sobs, and the panic attack hit him like a tidal wave.

Why did it have to be like this? he thought, clutching his chest, trying to calm the storm inside him. Why did I have to lose everything?

He thought of Yoongi, of how much he missed him, of the warmth they used to share. He thought of Jungkook, the brother who now looked at him with disgust and disappointment. Every part of him ached, but he had no one to turn to. No one to comfort him.

Yoongi, meanwhile, was nursing his hatred. He didn’t care what was going on with Jimin anymore—or so he told himself. He would stay out late, avoiding the mansion and the painful memories it held. He’d throw himself into work or go to the bar, trying to drown out the voices in his head telling him he still loved Jimin.

But the more Yoongi tried to bury his feelings, the more they festered. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jimin ever thought about him—if he ever regretted what he had done. But Yoongi didn’t want to be the fool who held onto a love that was no longer reciprocated. He wanted to move on. He needed to move on, but the anger kept him tethered to the past.

As Yoongi spiraled into his own darkness, he began to avoid everyone in the mansion, including Taehyung and Jungkook. The once warm and lively home had turned into a cold, silent place where no one spoke to each other anymore. The tension was palpable, and it weighed heavily on everyone.

Jimin, isolated in his room, could hear Yoongi come home late at night, stumbling through the hallway. Sometimes, he would listen at the door, wondering if Yoongi would knock, if he would say something. But the knock never came.

He would hear Taehyung and Jungkook whispering in their room sometimes, talking about him, no doubt. Jungkook still refused to look at him, and every interaction they had was filled with bitterness. Taehyung had tried to reach out at first, but even he had grown distant, unsure how to navigate the growing rift between them.

One evening, after another sleepless night, Jimin sat at the kitchen table, staring into his cup of tea. The steam curled up into the air, but he didn’t take a sip. He was too lost in thought—too lost in his guilt, his regret, his pain.

Yoongi walked in, still reeking of alcohol. He glanced at Jimin, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t say a word. Jimin could feel Yoongi’s resentment radiating off him, but he didn’t dare speak. He knew whatever he said would only make things worse.

Yoongi grabbed a glass of water and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jimin alone once more.

And so, they continued like this—Yoongi burying his pain in anger and alcohol, and Jimin drowning in his own loneliness and silent panic attacks. Both of them hurt, both of them broken, but neither of them knowing how to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them.

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