Spring Day // Kim Taehyung ( V )

Chapter 42 - its the end.

TRIGGERING CHAPTER.

Weeks have passed since the day the girls arrived—an event that marked both a surprise and the beginning of what I now realize was a deeper connection with Taehyung. The days that followed unfolded in an unexpected yet wonderful way; the girls and the guys genuinely got along, and Taehyung and I grew closer, our bond shifting into something I hadn't anticipated.

We became inseparable in our playful antics—pranking the others, pushing boundaries, and sharing countless laughs. Our reputation as the "king and queen of pranks" became well-known among the group, and honestly, it brought a sense of lightness I hadn't realized I needed.

For a while, calling them "oppa" felt strange—unnatural even. But they refused to let me forget, teasing me relentlessly, insisting, "That's just how it's supposed to be, George." Eventually, the word slipped into my daily vocabulary, becoming a small, familiar part of my life. The irony was that Jungkook called Joan "noona," a term she despised, making her face twist in annoyance every time he said it. The sight of her frustration made us all burst into laughter—those little moments were a balm to the chaos of everyday life.

As for Jackson, though... his presence has become more distant. Our interactions are limited to brief exchanges—lunches, quick goodbyes at the bus stop. Lately, he's been getting off at different stops, evasive and noncommittal. When I ask where he's headed, he brushes it off, saying, "Dad wants me to do something," before disappearing into the crowd. It's odd, and honestly, it's starting to hurt.

"George! Wake up! Get ready for school," Joan's voice snaps me back to reality.

"Sorry," I reply, laughing softly as I shuffle to put on my shoes. Their care in preparing my outfits each morning is comforting—I'm not used to caring about fashion, but they insist I look good, saying it's underrated. Their concern feels genuine, and I appreciate it, even if it sometimes feels overwhelming.

"You and Jackson okay?" Michelle's voice is soft with worry.

I've shared snippets of our recent struggles with them. Jackson isn't as sweet as he was during our first month together. It's approaching two months now, and the distance between us only seems to grow. I tell myself he's busy, that it's temporary. I want to believe that. I try to stay positive, convincing myself everything will be fine.

"We're fine. He's just busy. Hopefully, he'll find time soon," I say with a forced smile, though inside, I'm not so sure.

I secretly hope that's true. I want to believe he still cares.

Later, I wave goodbye, joking, "Jal gayo," trying to mask the faint tremor in my voice. Taehyung ruffles my hair affectionately. "Take care, shorty," he teases. I groan and fix my hair, stepping out into another routine—another day of chasing after Jackson, trying to make sense of the silence.

Then, unexpectedly, Mark calls my name in a deep, calm voice. My heart sinks—this isn't what I hoped for.

"Jackson wanted me to tell you he needs to see you in the dance room," Mark says softly.

My stomach twists. Another surprise? I hesitate, unsure whether to feel nervous or hopeful. The last time I was in that room, Jackson asked me out. Now, I wonder what could be so urgent that he couldn't wait until lunch or after school.

Despite my mixed feelings, I follow his instructions, walking towards the dance studio. The lights are on, music echoes faintly through the halls. I pause, take a breath, and knock softly.

"Mark said you wanted to see me?" I say with a gentle smile, leaning in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he pulls the door open slightly and gestures for me to come in. The air inside feels tense, thick with unspoken emotion. Jackson's expression is strained—anxious, almost. Stress lines etch his face, and my stomach tightens.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I ask, cupping his face, searching his eyes for answers.

He pulls my hand away, avoiding my gaze. A coldness washes over me, and alarm bells ring in my mind. Something is off, and I'm terrified of what I might learn.

"Jackson... what is this?" I whisper, dread creeping in.

He hesitates, voice trembling. "We should... stop seeing each other."

Time seems to freeze. My world collapses in that instant. The heaviness of betrayal, confusion, and heartbreak crashes down on me all at once. Tears threaten to spill, but I fight them, desperate for clarity.

"Why?" I manage to choke out. "What do you mean, stop?"

"I... I'm breaking up with you," he says quietly, almost ashamed.

The words hit like a punch. My knees weaken, and I feel the rain of tears starting to fall. His eyes are filled with pain, yet he seems resigned. I can see he's hurting, too, but he's pushing me away.

"Please," I beg, voice cracking. "Let's talk about it."

He looks away, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers before turning and walking out of the room, leaving me stunned and broken.

I sink against the door, clutching my knees, tears streaming uncontrollably. The ache inside is familiar yet devastating—like the pain I felt when my father left this world, but this time, he's still here, and yet, he's gone.

He didn't give me a reason. Didn't look back. Didn't try to understand what I was feeling. It's as if I no longer exist to him. The silence, the abandonment—it's worse than any heartbreak I've known.

Anger, hurt, confusion—all collide within me. I sit there, trembling, overwhelmed by the chaos of emotion. Jackson's departure feels like an echo of loss, a void that no words can fill.

Without thinking, I bolt out of the school, ignoring Sarah calling after me. I can feel Jackson chasing, but I'm too overwhelmed to stop. This pain is unfamiliar—more intense than anything I've endured before. It's as if the person who promised to love me has slipped away, leaving me with only questions and heartbreak.

Why? Why did he leave? Did I do something wrong? Is there someone else?

I clutch my chest, trying to breathe through the ache, tears blurring my vision. All I know is that I loved him—still do—and now, I'm left with nothing but a hollow ache and a thousand unanswered questions.