Chapter 12
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Jungkook had never felt failure—not in the way he felt it now. Failure was foreign to him, a stranger he never thought he’d meet.

But here it was, settling in his chest like a lead weight, suffocating him with its unrelenting grip.

Devastation.  Not the kind that broke you in a single blow, but the kind that ate at you slowly, eroding your sense of self piece by piece.

Solitude. The kind that wasn’t chosen but imposed, isolating him in a world where even the echoes of his own thoughts were too loud.

Failure.

Even after he finally had Jimin beneath him, trembling, vulnerable, and his for those fleeting moments, it wasn’t victory. Not even close. The pleasure of it was hollow, a bitter reminder that Jimin’s heart wasn’t with him—it was still wrapped around Kai. The way Jimin’s eyes had burned with something other than passion, something closer to regret, had left Jungkook with nothing but ashes in his chest.

Weeks had passed since that night, and the memory clung to him like the scent of smoke on his clothes. He’d spent every one of those nights drowning in beer bottles and cigarette packs, letting the burn of alcohol and nicotine try to numb what couldn’t be erased.

Each drag of his cigarette felt like a lifeline, even as it killed him a little more. Each sip of beer was like a bandage on a wound that refused to close.

And if anyone dared to look his way when he was stumbling out to buy another pack or dared to call him, their concern disguised as meddling, he’d snap. His words were sharp, his temper shorter than ever, and his patience nonexistent.

He couldn’t stand the way people stared at him, as if they could see through the cracks he worked so hard to patch up. As if they knew how deeply he’d failed.

Failed to win Jimin.
Failed to keep himself together.
Failed to be anything other than a mess of anger, regret, and bitterness.

Jungkook leaned against the grimy wall of his favorite convenience store, a half-empty pack of cigarettes in his hand. He lit another, the flame flickering in the cold wind as he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs and numb the ache in his chest.

But the numbness never lasted.

No matter how many packs he burned through, no matter how many bottles he emptied, the image of Jimin—eyes wide, lips trembling, whispering Kai’s name—was branded into his mind.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Jimin was supposed to forget Kai.
Jimin was supposed to choose him.
Jimin was supposed to feel something for him, anything.

Instead, Jungkook was left with the bitter realization that he’d only ever been a distraction, a fleeting escape from the love Jimin couldn’t let go of.

And that? That was the worst kind of failure.

He stubbed out the cigarette against the wall, the ember dying in a burst of ash. His jaw tightened as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking aimlessly through the dark streets.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like a storm cloud he couldn’t outrun.

“Jimin…” he muttered under his breath, his voice raw and broken.

Even now, even after everything, his name tasted like poison and salvation all at once.

Jungkook’s aimless steps faltered as his gaze landed on a figure slouched on a park bench beneath the dim glow of a streetlight. Even from the distance, he recognized him—Jimin. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily breathless.

Jimin looked worse than Jungkook ever thought possible. His shoulders were hunched, his head bowed, and his hands trembled as they gripped the edges of the bench. There was a heaviness to him, an exhaustion that went far beyond the physical.

For a brief moment, Jungkook considered turning back. But his feet moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him closer until he was just a few steps away

“Jimin.” His voice was soft, hesitant.

Jimin froze. Slowly, he turned his head, his bloodshot eyes narrowing when they landed on Jungkook. The flicker of surprise was quickly replaced by anger, sharp and burning.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jimin spat, his voice venomous.

Jungkook flinched but didn’t move. “I—”

“No.” Jimin shot up from the bench, his movements abrupt. “You don’t get to ‘I’ me. Not after everything. Not after you ruined my life!”

Jungkook’s chest tightened as Jimin’s words hit him like blows. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Jimin laughed bitterly. “You didn’t mean to what, Jungkook? Manipulate me? Use me? Destroy everything I had?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Jungkook said, his voice cracking. “I—”

“Don’t,” Jimin cut him off, his hands shaking as he gestured wildly. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like the victim. You knew what you were doing. You knew, and you didn’t care!”

Jungkook reached out as if to calm him, but Jimin jerked away

“No,” Jimin cut him off, his voice sharp and trembling. “I’m not doing this with you. Not here. Not now.” He started to walk away, his steps hurried, desperate to escape.

But Jungkook wasn’t going to let him leave. Not again.

He grabbed Jimin’s wrist, spinning him around. “Just stop for a second!”

Jimin yanked his arm back, his voice rising. “Let me go, Jungkook! Haven’t you done enough?”

“Jimin—”

“You ruined everything!” Jimin’s voice cracked, and his chest heaved as the words spilled out like venom. “Do you even get that? You destroyed my life. My family. Kai. Everything I had—everything that mattered—you tore it apart!”

Jungkook’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but for once, he didn’t lash out. His voice was low, steady, but filled with an ache that matched Jimin’s. “I know. I know I ruined everything. And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

Jimin froze, the unexpected apology cutting through his anger like a blade. He stared at Jungkook, searching his face, his lips trembling. “Sorry? You think that changes anything? You think saying sorry fixes this?”

“No,” Jungkook said quietly, his dark eyes locking onto Jimin’s. “But it’s the truth. I was selfish. I wanted you so badly that I didn’t care about anything else. Not about Kai. Not about what it would do to you. And now I hate myself for it.”

Jimin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands curling into the fabric of his coat. “You should hate yourself. Because I hate you.”

The words hung in the air, cold and heavy, but even as Jimin said them, his voice wavered.

Jungkook stepped closer, his eyes searching Jimin’s face. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really hate me?”

Jimin’s breath hitched, and he stepped back, but Jungkook followed, closing the distance between them.

“Stop,” Jimin said, his voice shaky.

But Jungkook didn’t stop. He reached out, cupping Jimin’s face gently, his thumbs brushing against his cold, tear-streaked cheeks. “Tell me to leave, Jimin. Tell me you don’t feel anything for me, and I’ll go.”

Jimin’s lips parted, but no words came. His eyes glistened, his body trembling as Jungkook’s touch burned against his skin.

“Jungkook…”

And then, before he could think, before he could stop himself, Jungkook leaned in. Their lips met in a clash of desperation and pain, the kiss heavy with everything unsaid.

Jimin tried to pull away, tried to resist, but his hands betrayed him, clutching at Jungkook’s jacket, pulling him closer. His tears mingled with the kiss, his body trembling as the weight of everything he’d lost crashed over him.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

But then a voice shattered the fragile bubble around them.

“Jungkook?”

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how are we feeling ? Who do you think called out to Jungkook? I need more comments TT imma write the next chapter and update write now
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