Taehyung, an orphan and mischievous young boy, fell in love at first sight with Jeon Jeongguk, promising that one day he would marry him.
Years later, Taehyung enrolls at Seoul National University, where his life intertwines with Jeongguk, a literat...
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The next morning, Jungkook searched for Taehyung in the room that was supposed to be his. When he didn’t find him, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. It didn’t take long for him to conclude that Taehyung must be in Jeongguk’s room, and he wasn’t wrong. There, on the floor, lay Taehyung, curled up in a fragile ball of sorrow.
Jungkook crouched down, gently brushing the hair away from Taehyung’s face. The tear streaks on his cheeks were stark against his pale skin, and his eyes, though closed, were red and puffy—a testament to the pain that had kept him awake. Who wasn’t crying? Jeongguk had left them all to grapple with their grief.
"Bokbunja," Jungkook whispered, the nickname slipping from his lips without thought. It was his favorite fruit, and coincidentally, Taehyung’s eyes mirrored the dark blue hue of those berries—a color that could pull a man under, just as it did with Jungkook.
Taehyung whined softly in his sleep, his brows furrowing as he stirred slightly. The sound was so faint, yet it tugged at Jungkook's heart, his eyes never leaving Taehyung's face, watching the small flickers of discomfort that played across his features.
Jungkook reached out, brushing a gentle hand through Taehyung's hair.
“Wakey, wakey!” Jungkook said, trying to inject some lightness into the moment. His heart swelled at the sight of Taehyung’s sleepy face, all innocence and vulnerability.
“Jungkook…” Taehyung murmured, and for a moment, Jungkook’s heart stopped. His insecure side worried that Taehyung would think of Jeongguk. But as Taehyung blinked awake, recognition washed over him.
“Yeah, uhm, wake up. Breakfast is ready. Everyone will be at the table,” Jungkook stammered, looking down. His gaze fell upon the dried tear drops on the page of Jeongguk’s book. Taehyung followed his gaze.
“Have you read this book?” Taehyung asked suddenly, surprising Jungkook with the conversation.
“I lost count after twenty-six times,” Jungkook admitted. “I remember each word, each prose.” The truth was, the story resonated deeply with him, echoing their own complicated narrative—he as Hugh Ridge, and Taehyung as the fragile blue bird.
“You must be missing your brother,” Taehyung sighed, and the weight of those words hung heavily in the air.
“Jeongguk hyung missed you so much,” Taehyung continued, his voice softening. “There was so much sadness in his eyes. He talked about you all the time. At first, I hated it when he did, but eventually, I found myself waiting for him to share those stories.”
Jungkook’s heart raced at the unexpected honesty. “Why did you hate it at first?” he asked, a mix of curiosity and sadness threading through his words.
Taehyung looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. After a moment, he sighed. “At first, I thought Jeongguk hyung had saved me that night at the party, but then we discovered it was you. Kang Chanyeol had drugged us again. I blamed you for that. I know it was irrational but I hated you and dreaded every story about you.”
