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It had been weeks since Jungkook first saw the bruise shadowing Taehyung’s jaw. He could still hear Taehyung’s flat voice telling him why, words that had cut straight through his ribs: because I took your name in my sleep.
The bruise had faded now, but the memory hadn’t.
When Jungkook entered the practice room, Taehyung was already there with Jimin, laughter spilling from his lips. But Jungkook knew the sound too well—it was brittle, hollow, nothing like the real thing. His eyes were sunken, dimmed, as though something inside him was quietly withering away.
The music started. Jungkook danced on instinct, but his eyes betrayed him again and again. They caught on Taehyung’s wrist where his sleeve slipped back, exposing the faint bruise of fingers dug too deep.
His jaw locked. Fury swelled hot in his chest, tangled with guilt that never left him, and he forced his body to move through the choreography.
During the break, Taehyung bent down for his water bottle. His hoodie lifted just enough for Jungkook to see it—the mark across his waist, dark, cruel, fresh.
Jungkook’s body moved before his mind did.
“Hyung,” he rasped, stepping forward, voice cracking under its own weight. “What are you doing to yourself? What is he doing to you?”
Taehyung didn’t flinch. Didn’t even turn. His words came quiet, worn.
“It’s none of your business, Kookie. Let it be.”
“Don’t say that.” Jungkook’s fists curled so tight he felt his nails pierce his skin. His chest rose and fell too fast, panic choking him. “You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to forgive me. But don’t let this keep happening. Please, Hyung. If not me, then Jimin. Namjoon. Someone. Don’t let him break you like this.”
At that, Taehyung turned. His eyes met Jungkook’s, and the hollowness in them made Jungkook’s body recoil as if struck. He flinched, shoulders tightening, but still he stepped closer. His hand lifted—hovered for a trembling second above Taehyung’s sleeve, desperate to hold him back, to anchor him. But at the last moment, guilt crashed through him, and he let his hand fall uselessly to his side.
“Maybe this is what I deserve,” Taehyung whispered, lips curving into a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “The ones I love… they either betray me, or they hurt me. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
The words gutted Jungkook. His breath stuttered, vision blurring at the edges. He staggered back a step, fists trembling, his entire body shivering with the effort of holding himself together.
“No,” he choked, shaking his head, voice tearing ragged from his throat. “No, Hyung, you can’t believe that. You’re—everything good, everything gentle. You don’t deserve this. Not from anyone. Not ever.”
But Taehyung only gave him that same broken smile, gaze unreadable, before turning away.
Jungkook’s hand twitched again, aching to reach out, to pull him back. But he stayed frozen, fists clenched at his sides, drowning in the unbearable knowledge that he had been the first to break him.