𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 10

The house was still. Too still.

You stood in the entryway, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, a strange unease crawling up your spine. The air felt different today—charged, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

You had learned, over the past week, that Taehyung was not one to share his past easily, but every conversation with him had brought you closer to something... something you didn't fully understand yet. But you were starting to feel that something.

The chilling, heavy silence had grown thicker since your discovery of the letter—one filled with cryptic fragments about betrayal, loss, and names that meant nothing to you.

Taehyung had gone quiet when you found it. His eyes darkened, his posture stiffening in that way that only made your questions burn harder.

He hadn't spoken much since, retreating further into himself.

You couldn't let it go.

The house creaked under the weight of unspoken words as you made your way to the sitting room. There, standing by the window, was Taehyung—his figure outlined against the pale light of the late afternoon sun.

His face, as always, was unreadable. But there was something about the way he looked out at the horizon, something distant, as if the world he was seeing was not the one you stood in.

"You've been quiet," you said, your voice tentative but firm. "I don't like it."

Taehyung's gaze shifted toward you, dark eyes locking with yours, but his expression remained unchanged. "You never like it."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You can keep avoiding this," you continued, stepping closer, your own frustration creeping into your voice, "but it won't change anything. You can't just keep hiding from me, Taehyung. Not after everything."

The smirk faltered, just slightly, before his gaze hardened. "I'm not hiding," he said, his tone colder than it had been in days. "I just don't have anything to say."

You took another step forward, now only a few feet away from him. The air between you both felt thick, laden with tension. "Then why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?" You searched his face for any sign that he would relent. "You think I don't know you're hiding something? The house, the letter, the strange feeling I get every time I'm near you—it's all connected. I need to know the truth, Taehyung. I'm not leaving until you tell me."

His eyes flickered, the faintest crack in his composure. For a split second, you saw the ghost of something—regret? Fear? But then it was gone, replaced with the familiar mask of indifference. He turned away from you, walking toward the fireplace without a word.

You weren't about to let him pull away again. The mystery of his death, of the strange energy that seemed to hover around him, had become an obsession. You needed answers. And you couldn't do this alone.

"I know you're not the same person you were," you said, your voice quieter, softer now. "You think I don't see that? You think I don't feel the way you look at me? You're not alone in this, Taehyung. I want to help you, but you need to let me in."

He stopped in front of the fireplace, his back to you. A long beat passed. Then, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with something you couldn't quite place.

"Maybe I don't want your help," he muttered, almost to himself.

You stepped closer, your heart thundering in your chest, but your steps were slow, deliberate. "But you do," you whispered, the words coming out before you could stop them. "You don't have to keep pushing me away. You don't have to do this alone."