Taehyung was once the bright light in every room-the boy who's laughs had the power to light up another's world, who spread positivity and warmth to everyone around him. He was the friend you could count on, the one who never let anything dull his s...
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POV:
Jungkook’s body shook as he knelt on the cold floor, his hands clutching his head, trying to suppress the overwhelming storm of emotions that threatened to swallow him whole. His chest ached with an intensity that felt like it was physically tearing him apart. It was the kind of pain that no amount of apologies could ever heal. The realization of what he had done—of the harm he had caused Taehyung—crushed him in a way he had never known.
"Taetae, you're koo—kookie needs you," Jungkook whispered through choked sobs, his voice trembling, as though saying Taehyung’s name might somehow make him real again. He clung to the hope that somehow, somewhere, Taehyung could hear him. He needed Taehyung. He needed him like he had never needed anyone else.
But deep down, Jungkook knew that it was too late. He had pushed Taehyung away. He had been too selfish, too proud, too focused on his image, his so-called "bad boy" reputation, and the hollow praise from friends who didn’t care about him in the way Taehyung did. Taehyung had always cared. Taehyung had always been there—steadfast, gentle, and full of love. And yet, Jungkook had treated him like he was disposable.
It hit him harder now than ever before. The weight of his actions was suffocating, and the emptiness in his chest was all-consuming. His heart physically hurt. It was a deep, painful ache that wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the realization that Taehyung was no longer a part of his life.
___
The night was getting colder than Jungkook had anticipated, the air sharp and biting against his skin as he stood in front of Taehyung’s apartment door. His fingers hovered over the keypad, trembling slightly with the weight of the decision. He didn't want to be here—not now, not like this. But there was something undeniable pulling him toward this place, the same force that had guided him through the years of their friendship, and later, the devastating silence between them.
His gaze fell to the numbers on the keypad—his birthday. Taehyung had never changed it, never erased the one thing that still tied them together. A small part of him had always hoped, prayed even, that Taehyung would keep it as a reminder, even if they were no longer in each other's lives. It had always been their secret code—Taehyung's way of holding onto the past.
Jungkook took a deep breath, then punched in the numbers. The door clicked open, and for a brief moment, he thought about turning around. But his feet moved before his mind could catch up, and before he knew it, he was standing in the familiar, silent entryway. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the faint rustling of a distant breeze through the curtains—everything about this place felt like home. Everything except the fact that Taehyung was no longer here.
The apartment felt cold, despite the warmth of the summer night outside. It was as if the life had been drained from the walls, leaving only echoes of what once was. Taehyung’s presence lingered like a ghost, in every room, in every corner. His scent—vanilla and citrus—still clung to the air. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t him.
