who am i?

Chapitre 4

Living with the Kims felt surreal, like I'd stumbled into someone else's life. The mansion was overwhelming at first—its grand rooms and endless corridors were nothing like the small apartment I used to call home. I felt like an outsider in this world of luxury, where every room seemed to hold secrets and stories I wasn't ready to discover. But, slowly, I began to settle in, finding my rhythm in the vastness of their home.

Each of them had quirks I started to recognize and anticipate. Jin was the mother figure, constantly fussing over us and making sure we'd eaten enough. Taehyung's antics and playful nature kept everyone's spirits high, his energy infectious. Jimin's laughter could lift even the heaviest of moods, and Jungkook's competitiveness turned every little task into a game or challenge.

With each passing day, it became easy to forget who they really were... until I'd catch glimpses that reminded me exactly who I was living with.Sometimes, I'd see men in dark suits moving through the halls, their faces impassive and eyes sharp, clearly not part of the family.

Occasionally, I noticed odd items stored away—knives, weapons disguised as decorative pieces, lurking in corners I wasn't quite brave enough to explore. This was their world, one filled with shadows and unspoken threats. I was just... borrowing a small, temporary piece of it.

One day at school, things took a sudden turn. I was standing in line at the vending machine, my mind wandering, when I felt a sharp shove from behind. A group of students had surrounded me, their sneers obvious as they threw insults my way, calling me a 'loser' and a 'fake tough guy.' 

I wanted to ignore them, to just walk away like I always did, but before I could even decide on my next move, I heard familiar, quick footsteps behind me.Jungkook.

He pushed through the crowd, his intense glare enough to make the students scatter like leaves in the wind. His fists were clenched, and he barely looked at me as he muttered, "yoongs, you can't let them push you around. You need to learn to defend yourself."

I felt a flush of embarrassment, the sting of the earlier confrontation fresh in my mind. "I'll be fine, kook. I don't need—"But he was insistent, ignoring my protests. "Starting tonight, we're training. No arguments."

I glanced at Jimin, who gave me an encouraging nod, and I realized that resistance was pointless. If anything, they'd be more stubborn than I was.

That night, they led me down an unfamiliar corridor in the mansion, to a part I'd never seen before. Jungkook opened a set of heavy doors, revealing a huge, private gym—massive, and filled with training equipment. And people. Men who looked like they could handle anything and everything glanced our way but quickly returned to their routines, the quiet murmur of conversation and focus filling the air. It felt as if I'd stumbled into a den of lions.

Jungkook guided me to a secluded corner, his expression serious. Training was intense, to say the least. Jungkook drilled me through the basics of defensive stances, blocks, and punches, moving at a relentless pace. Jimin joined in, cheering me on whenever I looked like I wanted to give up, but with each of Jungkook's strikes, something strange kept happening.

Flashes. Bits of memory I'd forgotten—or maybe never fully processed—kept creeping in. Quick, jarring images: shadows, dark rooms, hands reaching toward me, and words that sounded muffled, like a distant memory. The harder I tried to make sense of them, the foggier they became, until all I was left with was a dull ache and a sense of dread that clung to my thoughts long after training ended.

I told myself it was nothing, just my mind playing tricks on me. But the flashes didn't stay confined to the gym. Every night, as I fell asleep, those fragments of memories reappeared in my dreams, vivid and harsh. Someone yelling at me, an overwhelming sense of fear, faces I couldn't recognize. I'd wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, the remnants of the nightmares too real to shake off.

I tried to hide the growing exhaustion. When Jin, with his careful gaze, noticed the dark circles under my eyes, I'd brush it off as a small cold or just a lack of sleep. My fatigue soon gave me a constant cough, which only added to their concern. "Yoongi, you look terrible," Jin told me one morning, his eyes scanning my face with unmistakable worry.

"It's nothing," I lied, forcing a smile. "I'm just a little under the weather."

But they weren't convinced. Each of them took turns trying to get me to talk, prodding at the edges of my silence. Finally, one night, when I found myself alone with Jimin in the kitchen, I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I don't know, Mini," I murmured, staring into my cup of tea. "It's like there's this fog in my head. Every time I try to remember certain things, I just get flashes—someone yelling, someone... hitting me. It's all broken up, but it feels like... like it's my own memory."

He looked at me with soft, understanding eyes. "yoongs, you don't have to carry this alone. We're here for you."

I nodded, grateful for his words but still hesitant. A part of me didn't want them to worry, to know the extent of whatever haunted me. But my fears only seemed to grow, their shadows looming over me each night. Sleep became a battleground I wasn't winning.

One evening, we all gathered in the living room to watch a movie. I was struggling to stay awake, exhaustion weighing heavily on my eyelids. Eventually, I drifted off, slipping into a shallow sleep. I wasn't even aware of my surroundings until I felt someone touch my shoulder. Panic flooded my senses, and I jolted awake, shouting, "No, please! I'll be good! Please don't hurt me!"

Silence fell over the room. I opened my eyes, breathing heavily, to see Namjoon watching me with a mix of shock and worry. Taehyung's face was filled with concern, and Jimin's expression mirrored the same fear I felt in my chest.

"Yoongi, are you... okay?" Taehyung asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I took a shaky breath, trying to laugh it off. "Yeah... I don't know what came over me. Just a nightmare."

But Jungkook didn't look convinced. His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer. "yooni, if something's wrong, you can tell us."

Something about his steady gaze made me feel safe enough to share a little more. They listened, each of them offering reassurances, their voices soft and comforting. After we'd all gone to bed, I heard a quiet knock on my door. Jungkook slipped in, closing the door gently behind him.

"I'm sorry, yooni," he murmured, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I didn't realize... I didn't know you were struggling like this."

I shook my head, embarrassed. "It's okay, kookie. I didn't want to make it a big deal."

He didn't seem to hear me. Instead, he pulled the blanket over my shoulders and lay down beside me. "I'll stay here tonight, so you don't have any nightmares, okay?"

I was too tired to argue, and a part of me felt relieved by his presence. I fell asleep to the steady sound of his breathing, comforted by the rare feeling of not being alone. For once, as sleep took over, I wasn't haunted by my past.