Invisible Affection | Taejin

37. Pieces of Me

A/N: This chapter follows several important stages in Seokjin's therapy journey, each building on the last. Thank you for being patient as the process unfolds.

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Flashback: Three Months Ago

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The door clicked shut behind Seokjin, and the sound lingered longer than it should have in the quiet of Taehyung's room.

Taehyung didn't move right away. He stood there, his eyes fixed on the space where Seokjin had just been, as if maybe if he stared long enough, he would come back. But he didn't. And Taehyung's chest began to tighten with a slow, suffocating ache.

His body moved on its own. He sank onto the edge of the bed and leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his knees, his head into his hands. The silence around him felt heavy and harsh. Tears filled his eyes before he realized he was crying, and then they flowed freely, hot and unstoppable. His shoulders shook under the weight of what he had done and said. For the first time that day, his words started to feel real.

He had broken up with Seokjin. He had finally walked away, but it didn't feel like freedom; it felt like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

He had loved Seokjin. He still did. But love hadn't been enough to hold them together anymore. He was tired—tired of apologizing for needing space, tired of explaining why he felt hurt, tired of being made to feel like he was always overreacting. And the kiss had been the final crack in something already struggling to stay whole. Still, none of this made the situation any easier.

He thought about how Seokjin had looked at him before leaving. There was no devastation or even remorse in his expression—just confusion. It felt as if Taehyung were the one making things worse by not forgiving him, as if his pain didn't matter. It seemed to suggest that it was his responsibility to move past the betrayal simply because of who Seokjin was and what he meant to Taehyung. That look had affected him more deeply than anything Seokjin had said.

He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to push away the memories, but they kept flooding back. He remembered the nights they spent together, the way Seokjin's fingers curled around his while they watched movies, and the softness in Seokjin's voice during their conversations over the phone.

Then his phone vibrated.

He reached for it quickly, too quickly, his heart leaping with a hope he hated himself for. Seokjin's name lit up the screen. He froze.

The phone rang. He remained still, and when it went to voicemail, he stared at the screen as if it might burn a hole through him.

Another phone call came in. Then, another one followed.

By the fifth one, his hand had begun to shake, and the ache in his chest had only grown sharper. He wanted to answer. He wanted to hear Seokjin's voice, to know if he was crying or having an outburst. But that was the problem. That had always been the problem. Every time he went back, he lost a piece of himself in the process, and he wasn't sure how much more he had left to give.

So he turned the phone off. He placed it facedown on his desk, far out of reach, and backed away as if it were dangerous because it was.

Then he sat down again, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, and let himself fall apart.

He stayed in the darkness for a long time, enveloped by the silence that followed. It didn't bring him any comfort or improve the situation. But it made something clear: this was it. This was the end of their relationship, and he could no longer pretend otherwise.

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Present time

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"I guess it's true," Taehyung said quietly as he leaned back on the sofa, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.