In a world where appearances often dictate social circles, Kim Taehyung stands out as a gorgeous-looking nerd, his charm hidden behind thick glasses and a shy smile. Jeon Jungkook, the charismatic jock, effortlessly commands attention with his athle...
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Chapter 7: A Father's Regret
The slam of the bedroom door echoed through the quiet apartment, a stark contrast to the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Jungkook leaned against the door, his chest heaving, the remnants of his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He had just gotten off the phone with his dad, a heated exchange that left him feeling frustrated and drained. He didn't want to bring his bad mood into their shared space, especially not with Taehyung.
He turned, catching sight of Taehyung sprawled across their bed, a book resting on his chest. Taehyung was still recovering from his recent surgery, his movements slow and deliberate. Jungkook hated seeing him like this, so fragile and vulnerable. He wanted to shield him from all the stress and negativity of the world, but sometimes it felt impossible.
"Why were you yelling on the phone?" Taehyung asked, his voice soft, laced with concern. He had a way of seeing right through Jungkook, even when he tried to hide his emotions.
Jungkook felt a pang of shame. He hated that Taehyung had heard him screaming, his voice raw with frustration. He quickly plastered a smile on his face, trying to appear nonchalant. "Oh, nothing. Just a little family stuff."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Really? It sounded pretty serious."
Jungkook cupped Taehyung's cheeks, his thumbs gently tracing the contours of his jawline. He leaned in, his forehead resting against Taehyung's. "Everything is fine, baby. Don't worry about it." He kissed Taehyung softly on the lips, a gentle, reassuring gesture.
Taehyung smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He knew Jungkook was hiding something, but he also knew that pushing him wouldn't do any good. He trusted Jungkook, implicitly and completely.
"How about we take a rest?" Jungkook suggested, his voice softer now, the tension easing from his shoulders. "You still need to rest after your surgery."
"Yeah, you're right," Taehyung agreed, his voice a little weary. "Let's sleep."
Jungkook giggled, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room with warmth. He ruffled Taehyung's hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands. He couldn't help but admire Taehyung, his boyfriend, his soulmate. He was so strong, so resilient, even when he was at his most vulnerable.
He pulled the covers over them, tucking Taehyung in snugly. He leaned down, kissing Taehyung's forehead one last time. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with affection.
Taehyung closed his eyes, a peaceful sigh escaping his lips. He felt safe and secure in Jungkook's arms, the world fading away as he drifted off to sleep. Jungkook watched him, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. He was so lucky to have Taehyung in his life, a constant source of strength, comfort, and unwavering love. He knew that no matter what challenges life threw their way, they would face them together, hand in hand.
Jungkook doesn't want anyone to intercept them; he is satisfied to be with Taehyung. He doesn't want anything else besides Taehyung. He could make sure that he could achieve anything, even from scratch, just to make Taehyung love him even more. He would prove that he doesn't need his parents.
The silence in the living room was thick, punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Junghyun sat slumped in his armchair, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a sigh escaping his lips.
Seonha, perched on the edge of the sofa, her gaze fixed on a magazine she wasn't really reading, noticed his sigh. "What did Jungkook say?" she asked, her voice flat, devoid of any warmth.
Junghyun shifted in his seat, his shoulders slumping further. "Nothing works," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "It failed. He doesn't want to come back home."
Seonha scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Of course, he doesn't. He hates us."
Junghyun flinched at her words, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "I'm trying to fix everything," he said, his voice strained. "I know I messed up, I know I fucked up so bad, but I care about him. I want the best for him."
Seonha rolled her eyes, her gaze returning to the magazine. "Even if you want to fix everything, it might work, it might not. It's your fault to begin with. You ruined our family and now randomly deciding to fix everything. It's insane. I understand where his hate is coming from."
Junghyun remained silent, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace. He knew she was right. He had been so focused on his own ambitions, his own dreams, that he had neglected his son, pushing him away with his constant demands and expectations. He had been so blinded by his own desires that he hadn't seen the hurt he was causing.
"I was sorry for everything, I realized everything too late. I am desperate to make everything right until I have time to do that." He stated.
"Maybe, it's best to let him decide on his own. Jungkook is not a kid anymore, he grew up even without you. He knew what he was doing to his life. So, maybe let's not just force him to do something he would definitely hate. We'll just make our situation even worse." Seonha told him.
The silence stretched on, a chasm of unspoken words and unspoken emotions. They were two people who had once been deeply in love but now felt like strangers, their lives intertwined by a shared past but their hearts growing further apart with each passing day.
Seonha finally closed the magazine, her movements sharp and deliberate. "I'm going to bed," she said, her voice cold and distant. She rose from the sofa, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor as she walked towards the hallway.
Junghyun watched her go, a wave of despair washing over him. He felt so alone, so lost. He had lost his son, he had lost his wife, and he was left with nothing but the hollow echoes of their past.
