Taehyung’s small apartment felt stifling, the air heavy with tension. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the blank walls that surrounded him, walls that had once been covered with notes, art, and photographs from a life that now seemed so far away. The suffocating quiet of his room was pierced by the vibrating buzz of his phone on the floor beside him.
One new message.
Mom: “We’re on our way. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell us?”
Taehyung stared at the screen, the words blurring together as his chest tightened. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He thought he could escape it—at least for a moment. But now his parents knew, and the overwhelming sense of failure hit him like a wave.
He hadn't asked for Jungkook to call them. He hadn’t asked for anyone to interfere. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he thought back to the night before. That cop. Jungkook. He’d said he wanted to help, but this wasn’t help. This was worse. This was exposing everything he had been trying to hide.
---
Meanwhile, Jungkook sat at his desk at the police station, filling out the report from the night before. He’d spent hours thinking about Taehyung, wondering what could have driven someone so young, with so much ahead of them, to feel like there was no other way out. It gnawed at him, the weight of it heavy in his chest.
He had debated whether to inform Taehyung’s parents. As much as Taehyung hated it, Jungkook felt like he had no choice. They needed to know what their son was going through. They had a right to step in, to support him—didn’t they?
Yet something about it didn’t sit right with him. He had seen the look in Taehyung’s eyes when he mentioned the call. It was like the last shred of trust had shattered in an instant.
Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that he had betrayed him.
"Jeon," his partner, Seokjin, called out, breaking him from his thoughts. "You look like you're about to fall into a black hole. What’s up?"
Jungkook leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Just thinking about the kid from last night."
"Taehyung, right? The self-harm case?"
Jungkook nodded. "I called his parents this morning. Felt like the right thing to do, but now I’m not so sure."
Seokjin gave him a sympathetic look. "It’s hard to say what’s right in situations like this. But you did your job. His parents needed to know."
Jungkook let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I just... something about it feels off. The way he looked at me when I told him. Like I’d ruined everything.”
Seokjin shook his head. “Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. You can’t fix everyone’s life, Jungkook. Sometimes you just have to accept that.”
But Jungkook couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t let it go.
---
The sound of the front door slamming open shattered the silence of Taehyung’s apartment. His parents’ voices echoed through the hallway, full of urgency, but also a strange bitterness, as if they had been holding onto this moment for far too long.
"Taehyung, where are you?" His mother’s voice trembled with something between fear and frustration.
Taehyung remained seated on the couch, staring blankly at the floor. The words his mother had sent him earlier still weighed on his chest, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at her now. His father entered the living room behind her, eyes hard, a vein pulsing in his temple.
His mother collapsed into the chair beside him, her voice rising with panic. "What were you thinking? You had us all scared half to death! We had no idea, Taehyung. You should have told us, you should have come to us sooner!"
Taehyung flinched at her words, but he remained silent, staring ahead. His father crossed his arms, glaring at him with a mix of disappointment and anger. “You’ve been hiding things from us, Taehyung. Why? Why didn’t you talk to us?”
His voice was cold, cutting through the tension. But before Taehyung could respond, his mother cut in again, this time her tone shifting dramatically, as though suddenly realizing something. “No, no. This isn’t about blame. You’re our son. We’re just... we’re just worried about you. We need to get you help, don’t you see?”
The erratic shift in her emotions left Taehyung more confused than ever. One moment, they were angry with him, their words accusing, demanding answers, and the next, they were overwhelmed with pity, speaking in a soothing tone like he was some fragile thing in need of saving.
Taehyung wanted to scream. He wanted to tell them to leave him alone, to stop pretending that they understood, that they had any idea what it was like to live in his head. But all he could do was remain still, as if his body had forgotten how to react.
His father cleared his throat, breaking the fragile silence. “We’re taking you to a therapist. This has gone on long enough.”
Taehyung’s heart sank. Therapy. He had heard it all before. It was always the same empty solution—go talk to someone, get some advice, take some pills. But nothing ever changed.
His mother nodded in agreement, her face softening. "You need help, Taehyung. We can’t do this on our own. Please, just listen to us for once."
The overwhelming sense of failure tightened its grip on him. His parents’ unpredictability—one moment criticizing him, the next offering comfort—only made the situation worse. He felt like he was caught in a storm, unable to find any stable ground. He hated that he couldn’t make them understand, couldn’t make them see that this wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few therapy sessions or empty promises.
He looked out of the window, watching as the city blurred past him. It didn’t matter. None of it did.
