silent symphony

51.

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“Woah… how are you still alive, Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice echoed through the spacious living room, thick with disbelief. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, his sharp eyes scanning Jungkook from head to toe, as though searching for visible battle scars.

"I thought Mr. Park killed you already.. " He chuckled.

Jungkook, slouched on the plush sofa, barely reacted. He was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, checking on Taehyung’s messages for the hundredth time since leaving him at home to rest.

“Tell me…” Jimin’s voice cut through, far more dangerous than Yoongi’s sarcasm. The fiery omega stood in front of him, hands on his hips, a scowl deepening on his otherwise delicate face. His lips twisted in a mix of anger and disbelief. “Which font do you want on your gravestone, Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook finally looked up, raising an eyebrow, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “You planning my funeral already?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jimin snapped, and in an instant, he was in Jungkook’s face, pointing a trembling finger at him. His nostrils flared, and his fury which are usually warm and playful, burned with fury.

“You… a twenty-six-year-old bastard… got a barely nineteen-year-old pregnant?” Jimin’s voice rose.

Yoongi, still leaning in the background, let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show but also watching with a hint of curiosity—like he was waiting to see if Jungkook would survive the wrath of his fiery sweetheart.

Jungkook sighed heavily, tossing his phone onto the coffee table, the tension finally getting to him. He rubbed his face with both hands before leaning back, arms sprawled over the back of the sofa, legs spread wide—a picture of forced nonchalance.

“Look, I didn’t plan for this to happen, okay?” His voice was low, but firm, with a tired edge to it.

“That’s not the fucking point!” Jimin exploded. “You’re supposed to protect him, not— not—”

“I am protecting him,” Jungkook interrupted, his tone suddenly sharp, eyes flashing dangerously. “I love him, Jimin. I didn’t take advantage of him. Don’t talk like I did.”

Jimin’s expression faltered for a brief second, but the anger wasn’t gone. “He’s a kid, Jungkook. You know that, right? He’s barely know the world, and now he’s—he’s—pregnant.”

“I know.” Jungkook’s voice softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. His gaze dropped to the floor, his tough exterior cracking just a little. “I know how it looks. But I didn’t force anything. We—he—wanted this. And now, I’ll protect him with my life. No one’s taking him from me.”

The sheer determination in his voice made both Yoongi and Jimin exchange a glance.

“Mr. Park tried,” Jungkook added, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Tried to take him. Tried to keep us apart. But Tae chose me.”

Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly torn between wanting to throttle Jungkook and understanding the gravity of the situation.

“This is crazy…” Jimin whispered, pacing the room. “You know how hard this is going to be, right? Not just for you, but for Taehyung. He’s too young for this, Jungkook. What if he’s scared? What if—”

“He’s not alone,” Jungkook said quietly. “I won’t let him feel alone. I know how young he is. I know what this means. But I’d die before I let anyone hurt him. ”