Lots of Jungkook hurt/sick one shots. There will be many many triggers and I will put every trigger at the beginning of the chapters .
If you have requests , just text me and I'll write them as chapter .
My English isn't the best but I'll try to m...
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The city lights blurred under the pounding rain, blending into streaks of neon reds and blues against the darkened sky. Jungkook walked aimlessly through Seoul's empty streets, his hoodie pulled over his head, his shoes splashing through small, filthy puddles that gathered along the edges of the road. It was late, or perhaps it was early—he didn't really know, and he didn't care to check. The hour had lost its meaning somewhere between the thick emptiness and the shadows that had become his constant companions.
It was Black Friday, a day that meant sales and lines for many, but for Jungkook, it was just another day in a long stretch of lifeless days that had left him numb. He had found himself in a strange kind of isolation, surrounded by millions of people but feeling utterly alone. He was exhausted—not from work, not from the relentless pace of his career, but from himself. The expectations, the pressure, the need to always be something more than what he was... it had gnawed away at him until he felt hollow.
The rain beat down harder, soaking through his hoodie, but he didn't bother to shield himself. The chill of the night air settled deep into his bones, and he welcomed it. It was almost a relief to feel something—anything—that wasn't the overwhelming emptiness. Jungkook passed by a brightly lit convenience store, its fluorescent lights flickering intermittently. A young man ran out, struggling with an armful of snacks, his laughter echoing down the street as his friends called out to him. Jungkook looked at them for a moment before averting his eyes, feeling an inexplicable tightness in his chest. He had been like that once, carefree and full of life, but that felt like another lifetime—like it belonged to someone else entirely.
He wasn't sure when everything had changed. He remembered the joy he used to feel performing, the excitement that coursed through him whenever he was on stage. Those moments used to be enough—they used to make all the sacrifices, the sleepless nights, and the endless days of practice worthwhile. But lately, even the stage felt different. It felt like he was wearing a mask, playing a role that didn't fit anymore. The cheers, the applause, the love from millions of fans—it all felt distant, like it was meant for someone else.
He kept walking, moving automatically, his feet carrying him through familiar streets that had somehow become foreign. He passed by an old record store, its windows fogged over from the heat inside. A flickering sign hung above the door, and through the glass, he could see an old man sorting through a pile of vinyl records, lost in his own little world. Jungkook paused for a moment, watching him, a pang of envy hitting him. It was the simplicity of it all that called to him—the idea of losing himself in something without the weight of expectations pressing down on his shoulders.
But he couldn't linger. He didn't belong here, in this quiet world. He turned away, pulling his hoodie tighter around him, and continued down the street. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He knew it was probably one of the members, worried about where he was, wondering why he hadn't come home yet. He knew they cared, and he loved them for it, but he couldn't face them right now. Not like this. They had always seen him as strong, as the one who could do it all, and the thought of them seeing him like this—broken and lost—made him feel like he was failing them.
