"I wish someone would help me, hug me tightly, and reassure me that everything will be fine."

- Jeon Jungkook

Content Warning: The following scene themes of child abuse, including explicit descriptions of trauma, and instances of sexual harassment and rape. These themes are addressed sensitively, but they may still be distressing or triggering for some readers. We encourage you to take care of yourself and proceed with caution if you choose to continue reading.

I sit in the car, gripping the delicate necklace I took from Y/N's jewelry box earlier today. It's a small thing, but holding it reminds me why I'm doing this. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I need to do this.

It's been fourteen years since I last saw Dr. Minwoo. I was twenty-one then, a young man drowning in my own darkness. Fourteen years of pretending everything is fine, of ignoring the storm inside me.

The office looks the same as I remember it. I push the door open, and Dr. Minwoo glances up from his desk. His eyes widen slightly, recognizing me. He hasn't aged much—his sharp features are still youthful, his dark hair neatly styled. His tailored suit and calm demeanor exude confidence and professionalism.

"Jungkook," Dr. Minwoo says, standing up. "Long time no see."

I nod, my jaw tight. "Yeah. It's been a while."

I sit down, my back straight, every muscle in my body tense. My mind is racing. I need to figure out what to say, but everything feels jumbled inside. How do I explain why I'm here?

"You stopped coming when you were twenty-one," Dr. Minwoo says, leaning back in his chair. "What changed?"

"I thought I could handle it," I mutter, my voice low. "Thought I could bury it all... ignore it." My fingers twist around the necklace in my hand. It's from her. It's the only thing that keeps me grounded right now.

"And now?"

I look down at the necklace. It's her. It's always been her. "Now, I realize I was wrong."

Dr. Minwoo waits. He's quiet, letting the silence pull the truth out of me, like he always does. I hate it. Hate how easy it is for him to read me. But I can't stop myself.

"There's someone," I say, almost quietly. "Someone who's worth coming back here for."

"Tell me about that someone."

"My wife," I say, feeling the weight of the words. "She... she's different. And I've been failing her. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to..." I stop, frustrated at myself. "I don't know how to love her properly."

Dr. Minwoo is a trusted man. He knows everything. He knows what I could do to him if I wanted to, but he still sits there, patiently waiting for me to speak. He knows how to handle me. How to make me talk. I hate how much control he has over me.

"Do you want this session recorded, like we used to do?" he asks, pulling out the recorder.

I open my mouth to tell him no, to stop it. But then I think about it. Maybe one day, Y/N would want to listen to these. Maybe it would help her understand what I'm feeling. I take a slow breath.

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "Record it."

He clicks the recorder on, placing it between us on the table. The sound of the recording starting makes my heart race. I've done this a thousand times, but it still feels like the first.

"Do you love her, Jungkook?" Dr. Minwoo asks, his voice soft but firm.

"I don't know what I feel towards her," I admit, rubbing my face. "It's... confusing. It's all so confusing."

"Tell me about these feelings," he presses gently. "Describe them to me."

I want to scream. I want to punch something. I want to just leave. But I don't. I can't. "I want her to be happy. I want to see her smile, see her eyes light up. I don't want her to be indifferent. I want her to need me, to rely on me, to crave me. But... but when she's not with me, I feel like there's this hole inside me. And when she's there, it's like I can breathe again. But I've hurt her. I've caused her so much pain, and it drives me crazy."

Dr. Minwoo nods, like he understands it all. He's always calm, always collected. Always in control. "Jungkook, those are the feelings of someone who loves. You may not know how to express it, but what you're describing... that's love."

I turn my head away, my jaw tight. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to feel it. "I don't like it. It's too much. It feels like chaos. Like I'm losing control."

"Love can be chaotic," Dr. Minwoo says, his voice gentle. "But it's clear that you care deeply for her. That's the foundation. The rest... we can work on."

His words hit me harder than I expected. I love her. All those times I was at her feet, I convinced myself it was all part of the plan. But it wasn't. It wasn't.

I can't breathe. My chest tightens, and my vision blurs. It's like my lungs are filled with cement. The weight of it all is crushing me.

I grip the armrests of the chair, trying to ground myself, but it's no use. My head is spinning. Her touch, her voice... it's all I can feel, hear, see.

My mind flashes back to memories I can't escape. Her voice in my ear, soft, needy, "I love you so much, my little apple my Jungkookiee. Don't you love me back? Don't you?"

Her hands were everywhere. I hated it. I hated her touch. But it never stopped.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. "I hate this. I hate it."

Her cold hands would wrap around my dick. She would stroke and stroke and stroke. My body tightens. I hated it. She would giggle over me, compare my body to my father's. Tell me that I'm much better, bigger. I was only fucking thirteen.

The images of her naked haunt me, it feels like I'm going to throw up. She would insert me inside her, moaning like crazy. I can still hear her sounds, they grate my ears. Fuck, I'm going to puke.

I clench the chair's handles harder.