THE HEIRS | JK FF✔️

Chapter 14

                         Jungkook

I exactly knew what it meant to kiss her. I had held everything in me to not look at her, to resist the pull that burned in the back of my throat. But in that confined space, her reaching out and touching my lips... It was something I couldn’t control. It stripped me of the last bit of composure I had. Her lips grazing the piercing, her warmth—it was enough to shatter something inside me. Yet, when she suddenly pulled away, it hit me like a brick wall.

It didn’t mean anything to her.

That realization was a gut punch, an ache I couldn’t shake off. All I could do was hold on to the memory like it was my lifeline. Because, hell, I knew deep down—something like that would never happen again. The fuck with these thoughts. I had been replaying everything over and over for the last half hour just to keep my heartbeat from spiraling out of control. There was no way I could just let it go, though. No way I could convince myself it was nothing.

Getting out of the office, I walked outside, hoping the fresh air would snap me out of it. I didn’t have a destination in mind, so I ended up on the third floor of the villa. It was a massive, five-story structure, but I gravitated toward the balcony that overlooked the dense, shadowy garden below. I leaned against the rail, trying to clear my head, when I saw him.

He stood in the corner, unmoving, unbothered. Even though his back was to me, I could tell he knew I was there. It annoyed me, the way he pretended I didn’t exist.

I decided not to stay. I didn’t need my mood soured further.

“You can stay here. I’ll go back. Jungkook,” he said, his voice calm but edged, still not turning to face me.

“No, it’s okay. After all, it’s your house. Why would you leave for someone like me?” I said, lacing my tone with mockery.

That got his attention. He turned slowly, his eyes meeting mine. They were red-rimmed, like he had been crying. But he wasn’t crying anymore. No, his face was a mask now—just like always.

“Jungkook,” he started, his voice quieter, almost desperate. “Tell me one thing. How much longer are you going to take out your anger on me?”

The way he said it, like he was trying to sound composed but couldn’t hide the cracks in his voice, only pissed me off more.

"Until the day you die," I said with a smirk, the words dripping venom. The cruel, biting cold of early February didn’t faze me—it only heightened the clarity of my voice. There wasn’t even the distraction of snow, just the sharp, unrelenting silence that amplified every word.

“I can’t take it anymore. I can’t focus on one thing,” he burst out, his voice cracking like a child’s, desperate and unguarded.

I scoffed, my jaw tightening as old wounds clawed their way to the surface. “So now you realize, Taehyung? Now? How desperate Ji Hoon must have felt? How we couldn’t—couldn’t think of anything, anyone, on that road. No one came to help him. And he—he only believed in you. He thought you’d help him.”

My voice broke slightly, my words spilling out in fragments. I hated it—hated the way my mouth moved faster than my brain. Talking about him again, reliving it—it left a toxic bitterness on my tongue, one I couldn’t wash away.

“Do you not realize I’ve been suffering too?” Taehyung’s voice rose, trembling with a mix of frustration and grief. “Because of it… because he only trusted me. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t—” His words faltered, choked off before he could finish.

“You’ve spent your whole life taking from people,” I snapped, the ice in my tone sharp enough to cut. “You’ve never given anything—not even in our friendship. And you killed him, Taehyung. That won’t change. Ever.”